Emma walked.
Not rushed.
Not stumbling.
Not trembling.
Just walked.
The battlefield where Valeria had fallen was silent now. The smoke had cleared. The dust settled. The world felt too still—as if it was holding its breath.
Valeria's body lay where it had been left.
No care.
No order.
No respect.
Just discarded—in the dirt—as if she were nothing.
Emma stood there. Motionless.
Her shadow stretched long under the setting sky.
She didn't breathe for a moment.
Didn't blink.
Slowly… she knelt down beside Valeria.
Her knee touched the cold ground.
Valeria's eyes were half-open.
Her face was relaxed.
Calm.
Peaceful.
There was a small smile.
Not wide.
Not bright.
Just… soft.
A smile like someone who knew—
She did her part.
She helped.
She protected the one she believed in.
Emma didn't touch her.
She just stared.
Her eyes scanned Valeria's hands.
Her chest.
Her wounds.
Then her face again.
No tears.
But her breathing… slowed.
Deep.
Controlled.
Quiet.
A breath that is holding back a storm.
Emma's voice came out low.
Barely above a whisper.
Like it hurt to speak.
"…You smiled… even at the end."
Her fingers finally moved—very slowly.
She brushed one strand of hair away from Valeria's forehead.
"I told you not to fight him," Emma whispered, but there was no anger in it.
Just weight.
She closed Valeria's eyes with two fingertips.
Carefully.
Gently.
Like she was afraid she might break her if she pressed too hard.
The wind blew.
Soft.
Cold.
Emma stayed kneeling, one hand resting lightly on Valeria's arm.
Not gripping.
Not clinging.
Just… being there.
She didn't cry.
She couldn't.
Emma doesn't cry.
But her jaw clenched hard enough to hurt.
Her breathing tightened.
Her eyes sharpened to something colder than ice.
A quiet sentence left her lips.
"…I will never forgive them."
Not loud.
Not shouted.
Not dramatic.
Just truth.
Real.
Sharp.
Final.
Emma stood up.
She lifted Valeria—with respect, with care—and carried her.
Not like a corpse.
Not like a burden.
But like a friend.
Like someone who mattered.
Because she did.
---
They found a place where it was quiet.
Far from the city.
Away from gangs.
Away from noise.
A field.
Empty.
Cold wind.
Just them.
White World.
Emma didn't speak.
She simply walked forward, shovel in hand.
And began to dig.
One shovel.
Then another.
Then another.
No one helped.
No one tried.
They knew—
This was her to do.
Diana stood nearby.
Holding Valeria's body in her arms.
Not bridal style.
Not dramatic.
Just… securely.
Respectfully.
Like holding a friend who is just sleeping.
Kane was standing farther back.
Hood on.
Hands inside sleeves.
Eyes wet.
Quiet.
Silent crying.
Mostang…
He wasn't smoking.
He didn't have the strength to lift a cigarette.
His gun hung loosely in his hand.
But even that seemed too heavy.
Celeste…
Her hands were shaking.
She kept wiping her eyes.
But the tears kept coming again and again.
She didn't try to stop them.
Carlo sat on the grass.
Looking down.
Saying nothing.
His jaw locked.
When the grave was ready—
Emma stepped back.
Nodded.
Just once.
Diana understood.
She walked slowly forward.
And lowered Valeria into the grave.
Emma stepped closer.
Kneeling.
Her movements gentle.
Careful.
As if Valeria could still feel pain.
She placed one hand under Valeria's head.
One under her shoulder.
And adjusted her.
So she looked comfortable.
So she didn't look discarded.
Emma's fingertips brushed Valeria's hair back.
Like she always did when Valeria teased her.
Her voice came out—
Soft.
Flat.
Steady.
"…Rest."
No long speech.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just one word.
Because anything more would break something inside her.
Emma stood.
Took a breath.
Picked up the shovel.
And began to bury her.
One shovel of dirt.
Falling.
Soft.
Muted.
This was the last time she would ever see Valeria's face.
But Emma didn't pause.
Didn't hesitate.
Her eyes did not look away.
She watched.
Until the very last moment.
Until Valeria's face—
Her smile—
Disappeared under the earth.
Dirt.
Dirt.
Dirt.
Silence.
When the grave was filled—
Emma placed her palm on the mound.
Just one second.
Then she stood.
Looked at her team.
Her voice—barely above a whisper:
"…Let's go."
No one protested.
No one broke down.
Not yet.
Not here.
They walked away together.
United.
But each of them
carried a piece of Valeria
in their chest
in silence.
Emma, after the funeral. She went to the Owls organisation, she asked aria to come with her, To her old prison, Perhaps the police, Might arrest her, that's why, she brought aria, for her, to help her.
Emma and Aria walk side-by-step through the metal corridor of the prison — the same hallway Emma once walked in chains.
Now she walks free. But she looks far heavier than before.
The guards recognize Aria's authority and the gates open after a short exchange. No one questions Emma. No one dares to.
---
Inside the Yard
When Emma steps into the courtyard, the prisoners who once followed Valeria slowly look up.
Faces Emma knew. Faces Valeria knew. Faces that once breathed because Valeria protected them.
Emma says nothing at first.
She stands in the center.
Her expression is… empty.
Aria stands behind her silently, arms crossed, letting Emma speak.
Emma inhales…
And her voice breaks only once:
"Valeria is dead."
The silence is immediate.
Then—
A voice cracks from the crowd.
"L–Liar…"
Then another:
"W-Where is she?"
Emma doesn't respond.
She simply lowers her head.
And that was all it took.
The courtyard erupts.
Some fall to their knees.
Some slam their fists into walls.
Some scream.
Some whisper like ghosts.
But all of them cry.
Because Valeria wasn't a leader.
She was their hope.
---
Kaela Appears
Light footsteps.
A familiar girl with trembling hands and glasses too big for her small face steps forward.
Kaela.
The quiet genius.
The one Valeria always protected.
The one who made Valeria smile.
Her voice is barely audible:
"Emma… w-where is she?"
Emma doesn't speak.
She doesn't need to.
Kaela understands.
Her knees give out instantly.
She falls into Emma's chest.
Not hugging —
Collapsing.
Her fingers clutch Emma's coat desperately, as if she's trying to hold herself to the world.
And Emma…
Emma stands still.
Her hands do not rise to comfort.
Her face does not change.
Only her eyes lower.
Kaela sobs so hard she can't breathe.
"S-She always said… she would leave with you someday.
She wanted to s-see the world with you both…
She kept telling me dumb stories in the prison to make me laugh…"
Emma finally moves.
She places one hand — slow, steady — on Kaela's back.
No warmth.
But presence.
Emma (quiet):
"She fought smiling.
She died proud."
Kaela chokes.
Because that sounds exactly like Valeria.
Kaela wipes her tears, face red, voice shaking:
"Don't let her be forgotten."
Emma looks at all the prisoners — their eyes, their grief, their loyalty.
And for the first time since the battle…
Her voice holds feeling.
"Valeria will not be forgotten."
"Her name will be spoken in White World."
"Her life will be remembered."
"By me."
That was enough.
The prisoners kneel.
Every.
Single.
One.
Not to worship.
But to respect Valeria.
And Emma stands in front of them, a shadow of anger, grief, and iron-solid resolve.
Because the world took from her again.
But this time?
She will take something back.
"the prison. Feels empty without you. Valeria."
Emma. Said.
------
In the car,
emma and aria left the prison.
Aria drove in silence.
The car moved through the empty city roads — night, cold, only streetlights passing like dim ghosts.
Emma sat in the passenger seat, back straight, hands on her knees, staring out the window. Not crying.
But her breathing was too steady — controlled — the kind of breathing someone uses to keep from shattering.
Aria didn't speak.
She understood Emma well enough to know that silence was the only language that fit right now.
---
The Car Stops
They pull up to the hideout.
The engine idles.
Aria grips the steering wheel, looking at Emma out of the corner of her eye.
Aria: "…You did what you needed to do."
Emma doesn't answer at first.
She just watches the building — where Diana and the others wait — where Valeria should have been.
Finally, her voice is low:
Emma: "Thank you.
For coming with me."
Aria turns her head fully now.
She sees the exhaustion.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
And Aria, who is normally confident, composed — doesn't know how to respond.
So she speaks honestly:
Aria: "I'm sorry, Emma."
Emma blinks.
Once.
She doesn't ask why.
She doesn't say it's okay.
She doesn't soften.
She simply answers:
Emma: "She was my First and last friend, in prison"
Aria nods. Slowly. Carefully.
Aria: "Then we remember her.
We don't move on.
We carry her."
Emma opens the door.
Before stepping out, she pauses…
Just enough to show this moment matters:
Emma: "Aria… if I call again — come."
Aria gives a small, tired smile.
Aria: "Always."
Emma steps out.
The door closes with a quiet but heavy thunk.
The engine hum fades as Aria drives away.
---
Emma Stands Alone
Cold wind brushes her face.
The hideout lights glow softly through the windows.
Inside…
Diana and the others wait, grieving.
Emma looks up at the sky.
No tears.
Just a look — the kind that promises something will change.
Then she enters.
And the door closes behind her.
Chapter end