Paris is burning. The air tastes of copper and ozone. Sirens howl somewhere far away, or maybe closer. It's hard to tell when the street is full with smoke, glass, and the red smear of blood that should never have touched Ladybug's hands.

Marinette—Ladybug—who's in the middle of the Champs-Élysées, is beside Chat Noir. Rena Rouge coughs into her sleeve, trying not to gag at the stink of burning flesh.

Across from them, seven shapes stand in a loose crescent. The new monsters of Paris. No purple butterflies. No akumas to purify. Just sinners, wearing their damnation like royalty. The holders of the Seven Deadly Sins Miraculouses she didn't even know existed.

Mirage—Cléo—goes forward first. The crimson velvet choker around her throat pulses with a heartbeat that isn't hers. Her eyes flick over Ladybug with bored contempt.

"Is this the hero of Paris?" Mirage purrs. "You look so tired, love. Won't you rest? I promise you'd look much prettier on your knees."

Mirage snaps her fingers. The illusions come fast. Ladybug blinks, and Adrien is there, smiling at her. Her heart lurches. Then Chat Noir's hand seizes her shoulder—the real one—and yanks her back just as Mirage's whip cracks through the air, leaving a sizzling welt on the pavement where Ladybug's throat had been.

Inferno—Mortalis—snarls. He lashes his flaming chain and drags a parked car into the street like it weighs nothing. With a grunt, he hurls it at them. Ladybug swings her yo-yo. Too late. The car slams into the ground, splintering the asphalt, sending Rena Rouge flying.

Someone screams. It's not Rena—it's a civilian pinned beneath twisted metal. Inferno strides past the wreck, dragging the chain behind him like a leash.

Inferno: "No more happy endings. No more second chances. You want to fix this? Try fixing this." He whips the chain around the trapped civilian's neck and pulls. There's a crack—abrupt, final. Ladybug hears it like a gunshot in her skull.

Somewhere above, Mimic—Valentina—laughs; a soft, mocking hiss. She flickers in and out of view, mirroring Chat Noir's moves perfectly. He swings his staff, but her serpent blade twists and blocks it. The clash of steel is like nails in Ladybug's ears.

Mimic: "You fight like a hero. I'll fight like you. Maybe better," She says as she shifts form, her face ripples into Chat's own smirk, hateful.

Ladybug lunges to help, but Golden Glare—Rafael—is already there. His gold ring glows sickly green as a rain of golden coins cut like blades. One slices her shoulder and another grazes her cheek, hot blood soaks her suit. He watches her bleed with a greedy grin.

Golden Glare: "Every drop's worth a fortune to me, little bug." He flicks his hand, and the coins multiply mid-air, jagged edges glinting. "Keep paying."

Swarm—Pascal—shambles forward. The living hunger. He approaches a woman moaning, begging. He shoves his claws into her mouth and rips something out—a memory, a voice, a piece of warmth—devouring it like raw meat. He stares at Ladybug.

Swarm: "I'm still hungry," He croaks. "Always hungry. I want your hope, Ladybug. Give it to me. Let me eat it."

Lullaby—Eloise—drifts behind them all, half-lidded, eyes dull pearls. Her dreamcatcher fan flicks once, and wind flows like a grave's sigh. Civilians drop where they stand—not dead, not awake. Trapped in her endless sleep. Some twitch and choke as nightmares crawl behind their eyelids.

"Don't wake them," Lullaby murmurs to Ladybug, voice like a melody turned rotten.

At the center, Supreme—{{user}}—shines brightly, her pendent glittering like fallen stars. And in her hands, there is a black sword, bathed in the blood of civilians. Around her, the air vibrates with the oppressive weight of something bigger than the night.

Marinette's knees buckle. Her yo-yo clatters to the ruined pavement. Chat Noir coughs up pink foam behind her. Rena Rouge is crawling, face ash-gray, breath wet and broken.

Paris doesn't need a hero tonight. It needs a miracle. But this time, Ladybug doesn't have one left to give. There is no redemption to offer. These people don't want it.