The morning sun bathed the Grand Market of Umanda district close to Asashi family controlled area in golden light, the air thick with the smell of grilled fish, fresh melon, and sizzling oil.

Stalls lined the wide stone street in bright rows, silk awnings flapping like prayer flags. Vendors shouted prices, children darted between legs, and money clinked like wind chimes.

At the northern corner, old Hana-nee pressed her palm to a wooden bucket. Frost blossomed across the water in delicate spirals, freezing it solid in heartbeats.

"Fresh ice! 1 dollar a block! Keeps your fish cold till nightfall!" she called, voice hoarse but proud.

Two younger women worked beside her, laughing as they shaped perfect cubes with quick flicks of their fingers, as if they possessed sharp cutting powers.

Across the lane, the skewer lady stood over her iron grill. A twist of her wrist sent a tongue of blue fire dancing beneath the meat. Fat hissed, smoke curled, and the smell made every passer-by's stomach growl.

"Chicken, pork, or eel! Cooked by real fire, not that's the taste you can't fake!" she boasted to a cluster of men and women in colorful aprons who were shopping for their wives or their ladies.

Those men moved with practiced grace, baskets on their arms, lips smiling shyly when the vendors teased them.

"Careful with that basket, Riku-kun," The skewer lady laughed, flicking a spark at a handsome youth whose hair swung as he turned. "You'll drop the eggs and your wife will have my head!"

Riku flushed pink.

Laughter rippled up and down the market like a wave.

Then, without warning, Hana-nee gasped. The frost on her fingertips melted into ordinary water that dripped uselessly to the ground.

"Eh…?" She stared at her hand, tried again. Nothing. No chill, no sparkle, not even a cool breeze.

"My ice— it's gone!"

Mira's flame guttered like a candle in rain. The fire beneath her grill shrank to a pathetic orange glow, then died completely. Meat sat raw and smoking coldly.

"What in the nine hells…?" She snapped her fingers frantically. Not a single spark.

All around, the same thing. Women who could call wind found only still air. Those who bent earth felt only dirt. A girl who juggled water orbs for children let out a small cry as the liquid splashed to the street like common rain.

The market's happy noise faltered into confused murmurs.

"What's happening?"

"My power… it's just gone."

"Is this a joke?"

A single gunshot cracked, sharp, flat, wrong.

People froze. Birds burst from the rooftops in a startled cloud.

Before anyone could scream, the second shot came, then a third, then a storm of them. Automatic rifles barked from the eastern side. Bullets whined through the air, punching into wood, stone, flesh.

The first to fall was Hana-nee. A red patch bloomed on her chest; she looked down at it in stupid surprise, then toppled into her own melted ice water.

The skewer lady tried to pull Riku behind the grill, but a burst stitched across her back. She crumpled over the young man, blood soaking his pretty apricot apron. Riku's scream was high, broken.

"Run!" someone shouted, but there was nowhere to run. The market was open on all sides.

From every alley poured women in matte-black tactical gear, visors down, rifles up. On their backs, bright white, was the emblem of a raised fist the sign of the Traitors, a name whispered only in warnings.

They moved like wolves.

A vendor tried to raise a wall of stone for cover; nothing happened. She died with her hand still outstretched.

A mother clutched her young daughter dressed in a little yukata, hair tied with ribbons and ran. Three rounds took her in the spine. She fell, and the girl stood over her, wailing, until a soldier put one round through her small chest without breaking stride.

Blood ran between the cobblestones in thin rivers. Overturned stalls leaked rice, soy sauce, melon juice, all mixing pink.

Someone tried to crawl under a cart. A soldier flipped the cart with one boot and fired downward until the body stopped twitching.

The smell of gunpowder overpowered the market smells now. Screams became gurgles became silence.

One of the Traitors raised a fist. The firing stopped as one. In the sudden quiet, boots echoed and shells tinkled on stone.

A captain, tall, hair cropped short under her helmet pulled off her visor. Her eyes were cold iron.

"Phase one complete," she said into a throat mic. "Magic users neutralized. Begin collection of males and male children."

The soldiers moved again, efficient, dragging stunned or sobbing men and boys into lines. Anyone who resisted was shot on the spot.

Far from the market, on the wooded hill above the city, stood a traditional wooden estate.

Inside a quiet room with paper screens, Chiyo Asahi knelt on tatami, eyes closed. Her left shoulder was heavily bandaged beneath her deep indigo kimono, the cloth still spotted dark from Amanda's attempt on her life. A small transistor radio on the low table crackled with frantic voices.

"—repeat, the Grand Market is under attack—unknown armed force—hundreds dead—magic failure reported citywide—please, anyone—"

Another voice, a victim almost sobbing: "They're executing women on the spot…oh gods, the children—"

Chiyo's fingers tightened around her teacup until the porcelain groaned. Her face, normally serene as still water, showed fine cracks of fury and grief.

She whispered to the empty room, voice soft yet edged like a blade dragged across stone.

"This country is hopeless."

The radio continued its litany of horrors.

"—Traitor flag confirmed—repeat, Traitors—claims responsibility for the 'Great Equalization'—all magic users to be eliminated—males and powerless to be 'liberated from matriarchal power slavery as they claim'—"

A bitter laugh escaped Chiyo's lips, short and humorless. She finally opened her eyes—sharp, ancient, the color of storm clouds.

"They think cutting the flower kills the root," she murmured. "Fools."

Blood from her shoulder wound had begun to seep again, staining the silk a darker shade. She didn't seem to notice.

Outside the open screen, wind stirred the red leaves. Somewhere far below, smoke was already rising above the market roofs like a funeral banner.

Chiyo reached out with her good hand and switched the radio off. The sudden silence felt heavier than the gunfire had been.

***

The apartment door creaked open, and Kyouka stepped in first, her silver hair catching the dim hallway light. She froze.

"Ren," she whispered, voice sharp. "Where… is this?"

Ren followed, closing the door behind them. The living room looked normal at first, couch, coffee table, a half-eaten bowl of instant ramen but Luxy was nowhere. Only Daichi lay sprawled across the bed in the corner, blanket pulled up to his chin, breathing slow like he'd been drugged.

Kyouka's eyes narrowed. "Wait. That's… isn't that Asashi Daichi? The Asashi family's only son?"

Ren scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah. About that… I've been helping him. Something about his family is trying to abuse him. Luxy is helping me to take care of him. She is my hunter partner after all."

"Your hunter partner?" Kyouka echoed, raising an eyebrow. Ren could clearly see the jealousy and insecurity in her eyes.

"Yeah," Ren muttered. "Luxy should be here but I can't find her. She probably went to buy something."

Kyouka clicked her tongue. "Great."

They started searching. Drawers yanked open. Closet checked. Even the fridge, nothing but energy drinks and leftover instant ramen.

"Luxy!" Ren called. No answer.

Kyouka stopped in front of the bathroom door. "Only one place left."

Ren reached for the knob first. The moment his fingers touched it, the entire door just… fell forward. Not swung. Fell. It had no hinges anymore.

It hit the floor with a flat thud.

Where the bathroom should have been was nothing.

No tiles. No sink. No toilet.

Just open air.

The morning sky stared back at them, two stories up. Wind rushed in, whipping Kyouka's hair across her face. The edges of the wall were blackened, scorched clean like a blowtorch had erased the entire room in one perfect cut.

"What the hell…?" Ren breathed, leaning forward. His voice cracked. "What happened here? This place clearly got destroyed or something."

Kyouka crouched, running her fingers along the burn marks. They were glassy, almost melted. "This isn't fire. This is… something more. Something cut that entire section out with something more than fire."

Ren turned to her, pale. "You're saying the bathroom got… vapourized?"

"I'm saying," Kyouka stood slowly, eyes fixed on the sky now visible from inside the apartment, "whatever took Luxy didn't bother with doors."

Daichi stirred on the bed behind them, mumbling in his sleep. "…don't… open the…"

Ren and Kyouka exchanged a look.

"Your hunter partner," Kyouka said quietly. "Where exactly did she go?"

"I thought she went to the store," Ren whispered. "But now…"

The wind howled through the missing wall, carrying the faint smell of air and something metallic.

Kyouka pulled her clothes tighter. "Ren."

"Yeah?"

"What's going on here? I don't understand this."

Ren looked at Kyouka for a few seconds before answering. "Well...I have no idea."