Dawn finally came.
Not in glory.Not with triumph.
But as a broken whisper, barely slipping through the smoke and blood.
The battlefield, now silent, was unrecognizable.The walls of Echo-Zero lay in ruins.The ground was blanketed in ash and cracks.The sky, clear for the first time in weeks, seemed to whisper,"I'm sorry."
Victory… had come at too high a price.
More than three hundred lives.
Civilians.Soldiers.Awakened fighters.
All now part of the same silent lament.
The names of Vega's captains were spoken in hushed voices—some with tears,others with lips pressed tight in rage.
No one spoke unless necessary.People moved slowly.
Because it was clear now…
this hadn't been a battle.It had been a massacre.
And yet, amid the grief and ruin, Romina refused to stop.
Her body was at its limit.Her runes flickered—fading one by one.Blood dripped from the corner of her lips,but her hands kept glowing.
—Stay with me… you're not going yet… —she whispered, applying pressure to a young man's shattered chest.
She healed one.Then another.And another.
Her legs gave out.
She dropped to her knees.
But she kept going.
The light in her fingers dimmed, but it was enough.
She crawled to the next makeshift stretcher.
—No… not yet… I still have more to do…
Diego saw her.
Bleeding.Shaking.Breathing raggedly.Clinging to that final thread of duty.
He approached in silence.
He knelt before her—and without asking…
he embraced her.
She froze.
Until she heard his voice, trembling:
—Tía… please.Stop.
Only then did her hands finally stop glowing.
Romina clenched her teeth.Tears slipped from her eyes and onto Diego's shoulder.And for the first time in a long while,she allowed herself to rest.
The others worked in silence.
Pablo collected bodies.Patricio recited prayers for every name etched into stone.Vega, her arm bound tightly, coordinated rotating watch shifts.
And Diego, still holding Romina in his arms,walked toward the center of the shattered refuge.
At sunset, a great funeral pyre was lit.The names of the fallen were carved into stone.And a moment of eternal silence was held.
Not out of tradition—
but because no words could carry the weight of that day.
That night, Diego sat alone at what remained of Echo-Zero's northern wall.
The breeze was gentle.The sky was clear.The stars were visible once again.
And for the first time since the invasion…
the world was still.
—Thank you —he whispered, eyes closed.
Not to gods.Not to fate.
To those who died.To those who resisted.And to those who were still worth saving.
Because his Second Awakening hadn't come from power.
It had come from love.
And if the enemy ever returned—
so would he.