By morning, the Blood Moon was no longer mentioned.
The lines were re-formed. The screens were repaired. Orders returned to their usual calm rhythm. Bodies were gone—not buried, not mourned. Removed.
The day continued as if nothing had happened.
Sepion stood at the center of Gosuka, overseeing the restoration. More Percepians had arrived during the night, sealing exits, resetting surveillance, enforcing silence.
Kio was captured before dawn.
There was no resistance. She was already exhausted.
The crowd was forced to watch.
"For attempting revolt," Sepion announced, his voice amplified across the compound, "punishment is issued."
The screens lit up.
"From today onward," he continued, "meals will be provided once per day."
The sound that followed was not anger.
It was fear.
Sepion looked down at Kio.
"This girl will receive her punishment," he said. "You must learn the consequences of attempting revolt. For now, she will remain under our custody. We will decide what to do with her."
Kio said nothing.
Then a shout broke through the silence.
"Wait!"
Helmut pushed forward from the crowd. "Wait—please—"
Sepion turned.
For a moment, it felt like the night might return.
But it was already too late.
I was behind Helmut before he finished speaking. I covered his mouth and dragged him back, hard.
"Stop," I whispered into his ear. "If you speak now, she dies immediately."
His body went still.
By the time he understood, Sepion had already turned away.
Orders were being issued.
Kio was being taken.
Blood Moon had ended.
The consequences had begun.
"Why was Kio taken away?" Helmut shouted once we reached the huts. "They're saying she did everything."
His hands were shaking.
"Are they fools?" he said. "Kio would never do something like that. I'll kill that damn Sepion. What were you doing? We could have saved her."
This was exactly as I planned.
Kio was under Percepian custody now.
A man like Helmut would sacrifice even himself for the one he loved. Fear wouldn't break him. Despair wouldn't either.
Hope would.
"We will rescue her," I said. "We're going to infiltrate."
He turned to me instantly.
For now, Helmut was my strongest support. Emotions would have weakened him—so I removed the only thing he loved.
Now he was complete.
A hundred percent of his hundred percent.
"But they took Kio," he said again. "She's innocen—"
"I'll kill them all," he snarled. "Those damned aliens. Go to hell—no. They should rot here. They should see something far worse than hell."
I listened.
And I said nothing.
Only one day remained before our plan would be executed.
Kio was locked inside a cell.
A Percepian stood before her.
"We are going to torture you," it said calmly. "We will strip you in public and throw you into boiling oil. No—" it paused, "—we will do something worse."
The blows came without rhythm. Not rage. Just procedure.
Kio could no longer scream.
"Helmut is with that monster," she whispered at last. "He must be killed."
The Percepian tilted its head.
"Huh?" it said. "Keep repeating your chants."
Then it left.
Kio remained in the cell, barely conscious.
She was humming.
"I reject this world of lies.
I reject this sorrowful smile.
The day to come
will be mine."
She stopped when she felt a presence behind her.
A boy had been sitting there the entire time, quiet enough to be mistaken for part of the wall.
She turned slowly.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He smiled.
"Why did you stop?" he said. "You were singing really well. Let's sing together."
He hummed first.
"The day to come—"
She answered.
"—will be mine."
They hummed together, their voices low, uneven.
As if they had known each other for years.
For some reason, the boy's smile made her smile too.
Too much had happened to her in too little time.
Somewhere else, things were turning bad.
On Percepia, through Sequol, Sepion stood before the projection of Selp Kotama.
"There was a rebellion," Sepion reported. "I brought it under control."
"How many humans were lost?" Kotama asked.
"Maybe a hundred."
There was a pause.
"A hundred humans could have fed thousands of Percepians for a month," Kotama said. "You have left me with no choice."
The connection cut.
Sepion stared at the empty projection.
"What is Selp Kotama even thinking?" he muttered.
Kotama did not raise his voice.
He stood alone, watching Percepian settlements rotate across the projection. One sector blinked.
A society. Dense. Productive.
"Loss must remain balanced," Kotama said. "Disparity creates inefficiency."
The strike was authorized.
No warning was issued.
The city vanished.
Millions died.
Kotama watched the data settle.
Human loss: one hundred.
Percepian loss: equalized.
"Now," he said quietly, "the equation holds."
Among the Selps, disorder spread.
"Kotama should be executed," Selp Kerios said.
"I agree," Selp Miouse added. "Sepion should be promoted. Kotama is dangerous."
Agreement filled the chamber.
Then the doors opened.
Kotama entered.
"No," he said.
"The casualties were one point five million," he continued. "That is not significant."
Silence.
"I control nuclear authority," he said. "That number can become significant very easily."
Still silence.
"Life is a small price to pay," Kotama said, "for the sake of knowledge."
He left.
Back in the cell, Kio looked at the boy.
"You're cute," she said softly. "How did you end up here?"
"That's a long story," he replied.
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen."
"So sad," she said.
"I'm not sad."
"Why?"
"Because sadness hurts," he said. "Smiling gives me peace."
She laughed.
"What's your name?"
"Trumpy."
She laughed harder. "That's a funny name."
"I gave it to myself," he said.
He smiled.
"I am Trumpy."