I was sweeping near the corpse carts when I heard them.
Two female Tainted were cleaning a stained drain nearby. They spoke in low voices, careful, but not careful enough. I wasn't close, but I heard everything.
> "She was still breathing," one of them said.
"What?"
"Your sister. I saw her chest rising. She was thrown in the pile anyway."
My chest tightened. I gripped the broom harder.
"No. I saw her. I saw—" the second one hesitated. "There was blood. Between her thighs. A lot. Not dry."
"I know. Dren Vos brought her in himself."
They both went quiet when a guard passed nearby.
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
I just… stood there.
My sister had still been alive. And he—
He'd raped her. Then tossed her away like trash.
And the system didn't care.
I didn't go back to the worker dorms.
I went straight to the Enforcer House.
The guards at the front gate looked confused when I approached. Maybe no one like me ever did. I wasn't supposed to look them in the eyes, let alone walk up the stairs.
They crossed their spears. "Turn around."
I didn't.
"A crime was committed!" I shouted.
That got attention.
One of them looked back, unsure. Another guard reached for his baton.
But then the door opened.
A tall man in black stepped out, robes stiff with authority. He had silver chains around his wrist — the symbol of a Head Enforcer.
He stepped forward. "Who speaks?"
"I do," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm 06/50. I invoke Law 13.5 of the Divine Order."
The guards blinked.
I forced the words out, trying to keep my face straight.
"Dren Vos raped my sister. She was still alive when she was thrown into the corpse pile. There was blood between her thighs. He tried to cover it."
The Enforcer's expression didn't change — but he stepped closer.
"And you saw this?"
"No," I said. "But he was the last one seen with her. And others saw the blood. I… I ask for her body to be examined before burning."
My eyes burned. I swallowed the tears.
Dren Vos came out of the doorway then, red-faced, furious.
"He's lying!" he barked. "The brat's just angry—"
Then he raised his baton and struck me.
Hard.
I fell to one knee, but didn't stop looking at the Enforcer.
The silver-chained man raised one hand.
"Enough."
The baton stopped mid-air.
The Enforcer turned to the other guards. "Arrest him."
"What?! You believe him?"
"If what he says is true, that's 40 generations for rape... and 30 more for abuse of power. Seventy in total. I suggest you pray it's not."
They halted the burn orders that evening.
I stood outside the corpse pit as a priest sorted through the dead. Most of the workers were forced to stay back — but the Enforcer let me come close.
We searched until they found her.
The priest knelt over her body.
A pause.
Then: "There's blood between her thighs. Torn skin. Faint bruising. It's… consistent."
The Enforcer nodded once. "It's enough."
Two days later, I was summoned to the tribunal hall.
The same place they passed judgment on thieves and rebels.
Dren Vos stood in the center, chained, stripped of armor. His face was blank — but his family, sitting behind him, were in tears. I recognized none of them.
The verdict was read by a priest, his voice flat and final.
"By Law 13.5, and by the witness of the Divine, Dren Vos is sentenced to bear the Mark of Seventy. Thirty for rape. Forty for abuse of divine trust."
They branded it deep onto his back:
1/70
The scream he let out didn't sound human.
They stripped off his badges. Burned his nameplate.
And then took him away — straight to the Lower Levels of the concentration camps.
Where the worst of us go.
I heard they can't even invoke The Divine Law for themselves there .
I didn't smile.
Didn't cry either.
But I'd seen it now — the law works when it's loud enough.
And maybe… just maybe… they weren't invincible after all.