Days passed.
The city hadn't recovered from the chaos yet—sirens still haunted the nights, and everyone whispered about what had happened to Vencor.
Then, one morning, the whole world saw it.
Every channel. Every screen. Every phone.
The news broke like thunder:
"Breaking news—Vencor confirmed dead."
The broadcast cut between shaky footage of the aftermath, crime scene tape flapping in the wind, and the solemn faces of reporters trying to make sense of it.
Vencor—the man who had terrified nations, whose name carried the weight of violence and fear—was gone.
And then came the headline that froze everyone:
"The killer identified as Emma Elarat."
The footage was raw. Security cameras had caught glimpses of her: bloodied, bruised, standing over Vencor's fallen body. Her expression—calm, cold, final.
The anchor's voice was careful, almost reverent.
"Sources confirm that the individual responsible for Vencor's death is Emma Elarat, a known figure previously connected to the Elarat operations. It appears… she stopped the man no one else could."
Within hours, her name spread across every platform.
Some called her a murderer. Others—a savior.
Others.
A hero.
For the first time, the world's fear turned into admiration. Crowds gathered in cities holding her picture; journalists debated her motives. Was she justice? Or vengeance?
But Emma didn't see any of it.
She sat alone in the hideout's back room, the faint light of the TV flickering across her face. Her body was wrapped in fresh bandages, her hands trembling slightly from the pain she still carried.
The TV showed her name again—Emma Elarat: The Woman Who Ended Vencor.
Kane stood behind her, arms crossed, watching the same report in silence. Mostang sat slumped on a chair in the corner, cigarette smoke curling into the air, his face hollowed out by exhaustion and grief.
Emma didn't move. Didn't speak.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
She had done it.
Vencor was dead.
The goal that had kept her breathing for years was gone.
And for the first time in her life—she didn't know what came next.
The world outside saw a hero.
But sitting there, in the dim light, Emma looked like someone who'd lost everything that made her human.
Emma decided to go to sleep, and just calm down and rest.
The darkness was quiet.
Emma stood there barefoot—no pain, no blood, no wounds. Just… silence. The kind she hadn't felt since childhood.
Then, from the black void ahead, came a familiar voice.
"Emma."
She turned.
And there he was.
Ethan Elarat.
Her father. The man whose face she had tried so hard to forget but never could.
He looked the same as she remembered—calm, strong, kind eyes. He smiled faintly, his voice steady but warm.
"Congratulations, my daughter."
For a moment, Emma couldn't speak. She wanted to say so many things—to ask him why, to tell him everything—but the words got lost in her throat. Her lips trembled.
Instead… she walked forward.
And hugged him.
Tightly.
Ethan's arms wrapped around her, steady, comforting—the way they did when she was little.
"You did it," he whispered. "You ended the nightmare."
Emma's breath hitched. She wanted time to stop right there. But before she could speak, another figure stepped into the faint light.
Valeria.
Her excited Grin cut through the darkness. She looked alive again, full of warmth.
"Emma!! My equal… you saved them all," she said softly. "You carried the pain of everyone… and still stood tall."
Emma's chest tightened.
"Valeria…" she muttered.
Then, behind Valeria, came someone she never expected so soon.
Diana.
Her presence was bright, almost blinding against the void. She smiled through tears, eyes filled with the same goofy kindness Emma remembered.
"Hey, Em," Diana said lightly, trying to sound like her old self.
"You did it."
Emma stared at her, lost, guilt flooding her heart.
Diana shook her head.
"Don't. Don't stick in the past. You carried enough of it already."
"Live. Be happy. Marry. Laugh again."
"You're a hero now. The whole world knows your name."
Emma lowered her eyes. "A hero…?"
Ethan stepped closer again, placing a hand on her shoulder. His tone was gentle, but it carried the weight of pride only a father could have.
"You truly are… born a hero."
The words echoed softly.
The light began to rise, swallowing the darkness.
Emma. Smiled.
A real smile
She looked up at them one last time.
Ethan. Valeria. Diana.
All smiling.
Then the dream faded into white.
And Emma's eyes opened—back in the real world, sunlight filtering through the window.
For once…
she didn't feel empty.
Just calm.
----
Emma walked through the city streets — the same cracked pavements she'd once crossed with a knife in her hand, eyes empty, heart locked behind pain.
Now, it was quiet.
For the first time in years, there were no gunshots, no screams. Just… morning air.
She kept walking, hands in her pockets, hair unkempt, The sky above her was soft blue — almost too peaceful to believe.
Then she noticed it.
The stares.
A whisper, somewhere behind her —
"That's her… Emma Elarat."
Another voice, trembling —
"The one who killed Vencor!"
People began to gather.
Phones raised. Cameras. Reporters pushing through.
Before she could react, a small crowd had formed around her.
"Emma! Emma Elarat!"
"How does it feel to save the world?"
"Did you really fight him alone?"
"Do you think violence was necessary?"
She froze — not out of fear, but disbelief.
All her life, she had been hunted, hated, hidden.
Now they looked at her like she was something holy.
A hero.
Emma blinked, lips parting slightly. The flash of a camera caught her eyes — calm, tired, yet clearer than ever.
She didn't answer any questions.
She just looked around at them — these faces filled with awe, relief, and gratitude.
And for the first time since she could remember…
she smiled.
Not the cold, unreadable expression she usually wore.
A real smile — small, quiet, human.
Inside, she still carried them all — Ethan, Valeria, Diana, everyone who fell.
But now she knew they were at peace.
They were resting.
So she could finally live.
The reporters kept shouting her name.
But Emma just whispered softly, almost to herself —
"They're safe now."
And with that, she walked forward through the crowd —
the weight of her past still there, but no longer chains.
Just memory.
And peace.
From the far end of the street, voices began to rise again — louder this time, excited, chaotic.
Emma turned her head slightly.
There they were.
Mostang, limping, a bandage wrapping the side of his face. His usual grin gone, but his eyes steady.
Kane, tall and quiet, walking with his hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd cautiously.
Celeste, standing behind them, exhausted but proud, her expression unreadable as always.
They had come.
And just like her — they were recognized instantly.
"It's them!" someone shouted.
"Emma's team! They fought Vencor too!"
The crowd shifted, splitting into two waves — one around Emma, another rushing toward the others. Reporters swarmed them too, cameras flashing like lightning.
Mostang raised an eyebrow, half-smiling through the exhaustion.
"Looks like we're famous now, huh," he muttered.
Celeste crossed her arms, shaking her head lightly.
"About damn time people knew what we've been through."
Even Kane, was surprised, he laughs, typical teenager stuff
"Hero, huh…" he murmured. "Feels strange."
Emma slowly walked toward them through the noise. The crowd parted a bit — enough for her to reach her team.
When she stood beside them, Mostang exhaled softly.
"Guess we did it, Emma."
Emma looked at him, her eyes calm but heavy.
Then she looked at the others — Kane, Celeste — all of them battered, scarred, and alive.
Reporters kept shouting:
"Emma! Mostang! How does it feel to save humanity?"
"Will you all continue working together?"
"What's next for the heroes of the Vencor War?"
But none of them answered.
They just looked at one another — silent, sharing a moment no words could ever describe.
Emma's smile softened again.
For once, the world saw them not as criminals, soldiers, or survivors — but as people who endured.
The world called them heroes.
And maybe… that was enough.
-----
The building still smelled of disinfectant and faint perfume from the flowers that lined the hallway. The nurses, seeing her face, froze for a moment — then hurried forward with stunned respect.
"Emma Elarat…"
"The one who defeated Vencor—she's here."
They didn't question her presence; they simply bowed their heads, guiding her to the room she had asked for.
Where Diana's mother lay in a deep coma, silent for years.
Emma stood at the doorway first, just watching her.
An old woman, pale, unmoving — yet still breathing. Tubes, monitors, faint beeps echoing softly.
She stepped inside slowly, her boots barely making a sound on the floor.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Instead, she pulled a small sheet of paper from her coat pocket — folded carefully, edges creased from her grip. She sat beside the bed and began to write.
Her handwriting was calm, clean, deliberate:
"Your daughter fought until her last breath.
She saved me — and in doing so, she saved everyone.
Don't be sad when you wake up.
She didn't die as a victim.
She died as a hero.
Without her, I would be gone.
And the world would have burned."
Emma placed the note neatly on the nightstand beside the hospital bed.
She looked at Diana's mother one last time.
"When you wake up… tell her I listened," Emma whispered quietly.
Then she turned and left the room.
---
Hours later, she stood before the towering glass building of the Supreme Government Headquarters.
Security guards, officials — all recognized her immediately. No one dared to stop her.
Inside the main chamber, ministers and high-ranking officers stood around a vast circular table. Their eyes followed her as she entered.
Emma's voice was low but unwavering.
"Don't arrest the gangsters."
They looked at each other in disbelief.
"Excuse me, Miss Elarat—?"
Emma continued, cutting through their confusion.
"They've lost their purpose. Their leaders are dead. If you cage them, chaos will return. Let me handle them. I will be their leader. Their order. Their ruler."
Silence.
Then, one of the ministers spoke quietly:
"You… want to rule them?"
Emma nodded once.
"I will be their emperor. They will obey me — not out of fear, but because they need someone to show them what to do."
The room stayed still for a long moment.
Finally, the Supreme Council leader stood.
"You have already saved the world, Miss Elarat. If you believe this will preserve peace… then so be it."
Approval granted.
Emma bowed her head slightly — not in gratitude, but acknowledgment — and left.
---
Outside, the city's underbelly awaited her.
Hundreds of men and women — former gangsters, killers, thieves — gathered in the ruined district. When they saw her, they froze.
Then one dropped to his knees.
Another followed.
And then another.
Until the entire crowd — a sea of chaos once — kneeled before her.
"Emperor Emma"
"Long live the Emperor"
"All Hail. Vencor's legacy!"
Their voices thundered through the streets.
Emma stood still at the center — the wind brushing her hair, her coat fluttering behind her.
No joy. No pride. Just calm acceptance.
Shadow from a far, was staring. He smiled.
And walked away.
The world once feared her.
Now, it followed her.
Here. We end the story of Emma elarat, Defeating the Infamous vencor.
She brought freedom to the world.
And ended evil.
She's the hero of the World.
Before that.
She.
Went to the last guy.
The guard who saved her. To his grave
Without him, emma never did all that.
((Thank you for reading my story. And have a great life
Until we meet again!))
The End.