The fierce battle had come to an end. The Supreme Dragon Commander, Xyvarion, knelt before the new Dragon Monarch—Hakan Raihan.
Soren, Iffah, and Sylvia, along with Shahbaz and Imran, stepped closer, their expressions a mix of relief and awe.
"Looks like everything is settled," Shahbaz said with a small smile, exhaling deeply.
"Well, that's what a 7-star hero is capable of," Imran added, his usual confident tone returning.
Iffah smiled at Hakan and walked toward him. He turned to her, offering a soft yet knowing smile in return.
Hakan and Soren shared a classic dab, the sharp clap of their hands echoing through the woods—a sound that spoke louder than words.
The battle was over.
The man who was once powerless, who had been born without abilities in a world where everyone else had them, was now the only human to have ever defeated both a Dragon King and a Supreme Dragon Commander.
Hakan turned his gaze toward Xyvarion, his voice firm and commanding.
"Get up, Xyvarion!"
Xyvarion rose slowly, his body still bearing the damage from Hakan's relentless counterattacks—especially the devastating Death's Knock that had sealed his defeat.
"Stand beside me."
At Hakan's command, Xyvarion stepped forward, and Veyrath and Vealthor followed, aligning themselves beside the new Monarch.
Soren crossed his arms, looking around at the destruction left in the battle's wake. "We should probably leave and let the Accord handle the cleanup."
"You guys go ahead," Hakan said, his tone shifting to something more serious. His eyes, sharp and focused, held an unshaken resolve. "I have something to take care of."
The sudden change in his demeanor made Iffah frown. "Where are you going?" she asked with concern.
"There's something still unresolved," Hakan said. "I need to check the other towers."
"Then I'm coming with you," Iffah declared without hesitation.
Soren let out a sigh but grinned. "Well, can't let you two have all the fun. I'm coming too."
Hakan gave a nod, then turned to the dragons. "You three, with me."
Without another word, Hakan, Iffah, and Soren disappeared into the depths of the forest, moving toward the remaining towers.
The battle was over, but the real mystery had only just begun.
What was happening?
Why had all of this started?
And most importantly…
Who was behind it all?
As Hakan, Iffah, and Soren moved deeper into the dense forest, the air grew thick with an unnatural presence. Shadows twisted unnaturally among the trees, and the ominous structure of the second tower loomed ahead like a dark monolith against the night sky. The moment they set foot near its base, the ground trembled.
Hakan narrowed his eyes, sensing movement from within. "It's crawling with them," he muttered.
Xyvarion, standing tall beside him, cracked his neck. "So, we wipe them out?"
Hakan didn't hesitate. "Vealthor, Veyrath, Xyvarion—you three handle the beasts. I don't want a single one left alive."
Veyrath grinned, stretching his claws. "With pleasure."
Without another word, the three dragons launched forward like living calamities.
The moment they neared the entrance, the tower erupted with activity. A horde of monstrous creatures surged outward, their grotesque forms barely visible through the dark mist emanating from the structure.
Xyvarion was the first to engage. His abyssal-black exoskeletal armor pulsed as he carved through the creatures with brutal precision, his clawed hands ripping through flesh and bone as if they were nothing. He moved like a living shadow, appearing and disappearing between the chaos, his strikes so swift that the beasts barely had time to react before being torn apart.
Veyrath took a more destructive approach. With a single motion, he inhaled deeply and released a devastating breath attack—a spiraling black inferno that consumed everything in its path. The shrieks of the burning beasts filled the air, their bodies melting into the cursed ground beneath them.
Vealthor, on the other hand, was precise and relentless. His claws moved with calculated brutality, each strike severing limbs and heads with ruthless efficiency. Unlike the others, he fought in absolute silence, his glowing eyes fixated on the slaughter before him.
Hakan, Iffah, and Soren stood back, watching as the dragons decimated the horde.
Soren smirked. "Not bad. You really got them on a leash now, huh?"
"You bet!" Hakan replied with a smirk.
Xyvarion approached, kneeling before him. "The job is done."
Hakan gave him a firm pat on the back before turning toward the entrance. "Come on, let's go in."
With Iffah and Soren following closely, he stepped inside the tower.
The sight that greeted them was pure devastation. The aftermath of the battle was evident—everywhere they looked, grotesque, disfigured bodies of monstrous creatures lay motionless. The walls were smeared with dark ichor, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and death.
Moving deeper into the chamber, Hakan's gaze locked onto Veyrath, who was seated on a throne—one that had once belonged to the previous ruler of this tower. That ruler was now nothing more than a headless corpse slumped at the base of the throne, his severed head discarded beside it.
As soon as Hakan entered, Veyrath rose and immediately knelt before him.
Iffah crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Well, looks like they respect you a lot."
Hakan didn't respond. His attention was elsewhere.
His steps were slow and deliberate as he walked toward the center of the chamber, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. His expression darkened, his mind lost in thought.
"What's he thinking?" Iffah asked, her tone firm and curious.
Soren shrugged, keeping his eyes on his brother. "No idea, Big Sis."
Hakan continued scanning the chamber, but nothing made sense. The symbols, the writings—none of it was comprehensible to him. Frustration crept in until he remembered what Veyrath and Vealthor had told him.
His sharp gaze locked onto Xyvarion.
"Xyvarion… where did you come from?" His voice was firm, demanding answers.
The sudden question caught Iffah and Soren's attention as well, their eyes shifting toward Xyvarion.
Xyvarion knelt without hesitation. "My liege, we—alongside many others—hail from the land of dragons, also known as Drakareth."
For Iffah and Soren, this was new information. But for Hakan, it was the first real clue—the first piece of the puzzle he had been searching for.
His eyes narrowed. "Can you take me there?"
Xyvarion's posture stiffened. "Yes, Master, but…" He paused, hesitating.
"But what?" Hakan's expression darkened, his arms crossing.
Xyvarion clenched his fists, frustration evident in his abyssal eyes. "My liege… Monarch… King of Dragons… We who stand before you have witnessed your strength and leadership. We have acknowledged you. But the dragons in Drakareth…" He stopped again, reluctant to continue.
Hakan exhaled sharply. "You think they won't accept me as their king?"
Xyvarion hesitated before answering, his voice heavy. "Yes, my liege."
"What will happen if I go there?" Hakan pressed.
"As soon as we set foot in Drakareth, news of Vealzaryon's defeat will spread like wildfire. It will shake the land. The dragons… they will search for another Monarch," Xyvarion admitted.
Hakan's eyes narrowed. "And then?"
Xyvarion hesitated again before speaking. "Chaos will engulf the region. Power struggles will erupt. Many dragons will fight for dominance. However…" He looked at Hakan. "As soon as we reach the capital, your presence will be undeniable. Word of you will spread, and dragons from across Drakareth will come to see you for themselves."
Hakan's lips curled into a smirk. "And they won't question anything until they see me in person… because you three are with me."
Xyvarion nodded. "That is correct."
"Then we go." Hakan turned toward the others.
"Wait—you're not leaving again, are you?!" Iffah and Soren said in unison.
Hakan let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry. I won't die this time."
Iffah stepped forward, grabbing Hakan's wrist before he could take another step. Her golden eyes burned with frustration.
"You're seriously doing this again?" she asked, her voice firm but laced with concern. "You just went through hell, Hakan. You fought Xyvarion, nearly brought down an entire tower, and now you want to march straight into Drakareth without resting?"
Soren crossed his arms, standing beside her. "She's right. You can't keep doing this, brother. You always push yourself too far. We don't even know what's waiting for you in Drakareth. What if it's worse than what you've faced so far?"
Hakan sighed, glancing between them. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Iffah challenged, tightening her grip. "Because to me, it looks like you're just running toward danger again without thinking!"
Hakan met her gaze, his voice calm yet unwavering. "Iffah… I need answers. This is the only way. The scroll, the towers, Drakareth—everything is connected. If I don't go now, we'll be left in the dark, and I can't allow that."
She looked at him, trying to find some hesitation, some doubt. But there was none.
Soren exhaled heavily. "Damn it, Hakan." He rubbed the back of his neck before shaking his head. "You always do this."
Hakan smirked. "Yeah, I do."
Iffah let go of his wrist reluctantly, her frustration shifting into resignation. "At least… promise me you'll come back."
Hakan placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I promise."
She scoffed. "I don't trust your promises, you stubborn idiot."
He chuckled, stepping past them. "Then trust me."
As they began marching out, Iffah and Soren still walked beside him, trying once more to convince him to reconsider.
"At least take more people with you," Iffah argued.
"You should wait and prepare first," Soren added.
Hakan exhaled. "We'll talk later. At home." His tone left no room for debate.
Iffah and Soren exchanged glances, clearly dissatisfied, but they knew there was no stopping him now.
Hakan Raihan was already looking ahead.
The Raihan household was filled with a heavy silence as everyone sat around the large dining table. The warmth of home, the scent of fresh tea, and the comforting presence of family should have made this moment peaceful. But it wasn't.
Hakan sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Across from him, his mother, Zainab, watched him with worried eyes. His father, Raihan, sat beside her, his usual aura even more intense. Mahira, his younger sister, fiddled with her sleeves, struggling to meet his gaze.
Iffah, his fiancée, sat close to him, her arms crossed, clearly frustrated. She had barely spoken since they arrived. Soren, ever the calm presence, leaned back in his chair, watching everything unfold. Sylvia, one of Hakan's closest allies, stood near the door, observing quietly.
Hakan took a deep breath and finally spoke.
"I'm going to Drakareth," he said firmly.
His mother's face fell immediately. "Hakan, you just got back yesterday." Her voice was filled with emotion. "You were gone for four years, Hakan. Four years! We thought you were dead, and now—now you're leaving again?"
Mahira lowered her head. "You promised you'd stay for a while…"
"I know," Hakan said softly, looking at them. "But this isn't something I can ignore. I've found a lead—something that could answer everything. The towers, the scroll, the reason behind all of this chaos. It all connects to Drakareth."
His father, Raihan, remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "Are you ready for this?" His deep voice carried weight, a test in itself.
Hakan met his father's gaze without hesitation. "Yes."
Raihan studied him, and after a moment, he sighed. "Then go."
Everyone turned to him in surprise.
"Baba—" Zainab started, but Raihan raised his hand.
"He's already made his decision." He looked at Hakan again, his sharp eyes softening just slightly. "Just promise me one thing. Come back alive. And come back as the Hakan we know."
Hakan nodded, a rare warmth in his expression. "I will."
Zainab sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She reached out and cupped Hakan's face. "You're too much like your father," she muttered. "Stubborn, reckless… but strong."
Mahira hesitated before getting up and hugging him tightly. "You better come back!!."
Soren smirked and patted his shoulder. "If you don't, I'll find a way to drag you back myself."
Iffah still hadn't spoken. She simply stood up, her arms still crossed. Then, after a long silence, she sighed and hugged him. "You always do whatever you want," she murmured. "Just don't make me regret letting you go."
Hakan held her close. "I'll be back before you know it."
She scoffed, pulling away. "You better." She then turned to grab her coat. "I have to go. The Silver Valkyries need me."
With one last look at Hakan, she left.
Soren stayed behind, enjoying his rare day off at home, while Sylvia stepped up. "We should get moving," she said.
Hakan nodded. He turned back to his family one last time. "I'll see you all soon."
And with that, he and Sylvia left for the airport. Their next destination—Shizumi.
The soft hum of the plane's engines filled the first-class cabin as Hakan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes gazing out the window. Beside him, Sylvia sat comfortably, scrolling through her device, though she occasionally glanced at him.
"We need a private jet," Hakan said suddenly.
Sylvia raised a brow. "A private jet?"
Hakan turned to her. "Yeah. It'd be useful for the guild. We're constantly traveling, and dealing with commercial flights is a hassle. Having our own plane would save time."
She smirked. "And let me guess—you're not planning to fly commercial once you come back from Drakareth?"
Hakan chuckled. "You know me too well." He stretched his arms. "It's just a practical move. With the way things are going, we need mobility."
Sylvia tapped her chin. "Alright, I'll bring it up with the others. Speaking of the guild, what are your plans for us when you are gone?"
Hakan's expression grew serious. "Alaric will be in charge. You, Torren, Alaric, and Rina will oversee everything before I return." He leaned forward slightly. "I trust you to keep things in order."
Sylvia nodded. "Of course. But are you sure about leaving me behind? Wouldn't it be better if I came with you?"
Hakan sighed. "I need you here, Sylvia. The other guilds will be busy, and the Accord relies on us. If something happens while I'm gone, I need people I trust running things."
Sylvia leaned back, arms crossed. " Fine. Just don't take too long."
Before Hakan could respond, the announcement came through that they were landing.
As soon as they stepped out of the plane, flashing cameras and loud voices greeted them. The media swarmed the area, reporters eagerly snapping photos and broadcasting live.
"Shizumi's protector has returned!" one reporter announced.
"Hakan Raihan, the 7-star hero, is back after his latest mission!"
Questions were thrown in every direction—about his fight, about his return, about what was next. But Hakan ignored them, walking straight toward the black car sent by the Hero Accord. Sylvia followed closely behind, her expression unreadable.
They entered the vehicle, and the driver wasted no time leaving the chaotic scene behind. As the city blurred past them, Hakan exhaled, shaking his head. "Every time."
Sylvia smirked. "You're famous, Monarch. Get used to it."
When they arrived at their headquarters, an eerie silence greeted them. Hakan frowned as he stepped out of the car. The building was supposed to be bustling with guild members, but instead… nothing.
Sylvia stepped ahead and pushed open the door.
Inside, the entire place was empty. No furniture. No equipment. No trace of the people who were supposed to be there.
Hakan's gaze darkened.
Everything was gone.
Hakan pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Alaric's number. The call rang. No answer.
His brows furrowed as he tried again. Still no response. He glanced at Sylvia, whose expression had shifted to something colder—something laced with unease.
"He's not picking up?" she asked, her voice calm but edged with tension.
Hakan shook his head. "No."
Sylvia clenched her fists. "This isn't normal. What if something happened to them?" There was an element of fear in her voice—not just concern, but the raw dread of losing comrades.
Without another word, Hakan turned and sprinted toward the rooftop of the building. He took a deep breath and unleashed a roar that shook the very air.
"ONE OF YOU, COME FORTH NOW!!!"
It was no ordinary shout—it was the bellow of a ruler, the cry of a Monarch. The sheer force of his voice echoed across the city, sending ripples of power through the air.
Dragons across Shizumi froze in place, their instincts screaming in response to the call. Within moments, a massive rush of wings filled the sky. From every direction, dragons soared toward him, their eyes filled with reverence and urgency.
Sixty dragons landed before him, bowing their heads slightly in respect. Hakan's sharp gaze swept over them.
"Where are the black dragons?" he demanded.
The dragons looked at one another, hesitant, until one arrived a bit later than the others, panting slightly before kneeling. "Master! They are to the south of here."
Hakan's eyes darted in that direction, and immediately, he saw it—a massive flame rising into the sky. His jaw tightened. Trouble.
Without wasting a second, he activated Skyward Fist, lifting off the ground, and combined it with Sonic Boom, accelerating instantly. The wind screamed past him as he shot forward, moving at speeds five times faster than sound.
Sylvia didn't hesitate either. She leaped onto one of the dragons and gave a sharp command. "Follow him! Now!"
The dragon took flight, carrying her as fast as it could, but it was clear that even at full speed, it would take time to catch up to Hakan.
By the time Hakan reached the source of the flames, he was already preparing for battle—only to pause midair as he took in the sight before him.
Down below, Alaric and Torren stood in an open training ground, their bodies pulsing with power.
Torren's flames roared wildly, burning brighter and hotter than before. His control over them had sharpened significantly, the sheer intensity of his fire warping the air around him.
Alaric, on the other hand, moved with an eerie precision, his kinetic energy manipulation now refined to the point where he wasn't just enhancing his own attacks—he was transmitting it into other weapons. His strikes carried an unnatural force, shattering the ground beneath him with every motion.
They had grown stronger.
And it had only been two days.
Hakan narrowed his eyes. What the hell happened here?
Torren lunged forward, flames bursting from his fists as he launched a devastating attack at a training dummy reinforced with kinetic barriers. The sheer force of the impact sent him skidding back, his feet digging into the ground as he steadied himself.
As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his gaze instinctively shifted upward—and then he froze.
A familiar figure hovered in the air, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Torren's eyes widened in disbelief before his expression shifted into pure excitement.
"HAKAN!!!"
His voice boomed through the training grounds, causing Alaric to turn sharply. As soon as Alaric's gaze landed on their leader, his usual composed demeanor cracked, replaced by an uncharacteristic joy.
Without a second thought, both of them sprinted toward Hakan, their exhaustion from training forgotten.
"Hakan, you're back!" Torren grinned, his flames crackling with excitement as he ran.
Alaric, though usually more reserved, couldn't hide the relief in his expression. "Took you long enough."
Hakan landed effortlessly, a smirk playing on his lips. "You two look like you've been busy."
Torren scoffed, crossing his arms. "You could say that. We weren't slacking off while you were gone."
Alaric nodded. "We've been training non-stop. But seeing you back… it feels right."
Hakan looked between the two, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. They've grown.
At that moment, Sylvia landed behind him, jumping off the dragon she had ridden. She took a deep breath and glanced between the three of them before rolling her eyes with a smirk. "You two idiots had us thinking something happened to you."
Torren chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… yeah, our bad. But you have to admit, our progress is kinda crazy, right?"
As Hakan listened to Alaric's words, his eyes widened with curiosity. "You shifted our headquarters?"
Alaric smirked and nodded. "Yeah. To a place you love the most."
Hakan's heart skipped a beat. "Where?"
Alaric simply motioned for him to follow. "You'll see."
With that, they started walking. For twenty minutes, the group moved through the streets, then onto a dirt path leading into a dense forest. Along the way, laughter and conversation filled the air. They talked about training, battles, and the insane improvements Alaric and Torren had made in such a short time. Sylvia rolled her eyes at their boasting, but even she couldn't deny how much stronger they had become.
Finally, they emerged into a vast clearing—and Hakan stopped dead in his tracks.
Before him stretched a massive 50-acre stronghold, seamlessly blending into the surrounding forest. The architecture was breathtaking, a fusion of black dragon aesthetics and modern grandiosity. The main headquarters loomed ahead—a towering fortress of obsidian and dark stone, its intricate carvings resembling dragon scales. The entrance was framed by two colossal black dragon statues, their eyes glowing faintly as if watching over the place.
Beside the main headquarters stood their residential quarters, an enormous two-story complex with a sleek yet imposing design. Each apartment was structured for comfort and practicality, boasting two bedrooms, a dining room, and a kitchen.
What caught Hakan's attention next was the massive dragon sanctuary, a dedicated resting place for the Dragons. Sprawling platforms, caves, and perches were designed specifically to accommodate dragons of all sizes. Even from here, Hakan could see some of them lounging in their new home.
And then, right in the center of the entire compound, stood a monumental flagpole—and on it waved a massive black flag bearing their insignia, the very symbol of the Black Dragons.
Hakan took a deep breath, eyes locked on the flag. The logo was identical to the one from his past—the stylized dragon encircling a rising sun, wings forming a protective barrier. The sight of it stirred something deep within him.
Alaric grinned, crossing his arms. "We've been working on this for four months. It wouldn't have been possible without the dragons."
Hakan exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really did all this…?"
Torren chuckled. "Well, yeah. We had to make sure you have something better."
Sylvia placed a hand on Hakan's shoulder. "This is our head quarters , Hakan. And it always will be."
Hakan clenched his fists, his emotions swelling in his chest A stronghold for his people. A sanctuary for his dragons.
He closed his eyes, taking it all in.
Then, with a deep breath, he looked at his comrades—his guild.
"Let's go inside."
Hakan walked through the stronghold, his steps steady as he moved toward the open training grounds—a vast, untouched stretch of land with no construction, just endless space under the sky. It was a place meant for the dragons to train, grow stronger, and hone their abilities without limits.
As he approached, he spotted four massive dragons engaged in rigorous training. Their roars echoed through the air as they unleashed their elemental attacks, testing their strength against each other. Nearby, Rina stood in the midst of them, her hands glowing as she worked on reinforcing her barriers. Waves of energy pulsed from her, creating shimmering shields that repelled incoming attacks.
She was focused, determined—until she sensed him.
Rina's head snapped toward the entrance, and the moment her eyes landed on him, joy flooded her face.
A powerful, synchronized roar of celebration erupted from the dragons, shaking the ground as they turned toward their returning leader. Their massive wings flared, and their eyes burned with excitement at the sight of him.
But before Hakan could even react, Rina sprinted toward him.
"Hakan!!!" she yelled, her voice filled with pure emotion.
She didn't slow down—she lunged, throwing herself at him with a force strong enough to knock down an ordinary man. But Hakan caught her with ease, his arms wrapping around her as she hugged him tightly.
"I missed you so much!" she cried, her voice muffled against his chest.
Hakan smiled softly, one hand patting her head. "I'm back, Rina."
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shimmering with relief. "next time I am going with you !!"
Before he could respond, a heavy thud resonated around them as the dragons kneeled before him. Their heads lowered in deep respect, their bodies perfectly aligned in a display of absolute loyalty.
"Monarch," one of them rumbled, his voice carrying through the air like a rolling storm.
"Meeting. Now." Hakan's voice was firm as he called Alaric and the others.
They gathered at the center of the training grounds, surrounded by dragons. Some of the massive beasts were playing with their young, others resting, while a few watched Hakan intently, their piercing gazes filled with silent understanding.
"So, what's going on?" Torren asked, confusion evident on his face.
Hakan exhaled, crossing his arms. "There's something I need to find."
The group leaned in as he continued.
"It's a mystery… and for that, I have to go to Drakareth."
Rina frowned. "Drakareth? What's that?"
Most of them looked just as puzzled—only Sylvia remained silent, already aware of what Hakan was talking about.
Hakan's golden eyes swept over his dragon followers before he answered.
"Drakareth is the land of dragons." He paused, letting the words sink in. "It's their home."
The air grew heavy as the weight of his statement settled over the group.
Silence.
No one had an answer—because until now, they hadn't even known that dragons had a place to call their own.
"Well, I guess since you're their Monarch, you should go," Alaric said, though he had little understanding of what was truly at stake. Even Sylvia, despite knowing more than the others, wasn't aware of the risks Hakan was taking.
They all assumed this would be some kind of fairytale—where Hakan would be welcomed by the dragons as their rightful ruler, no obstacles in his path.
"Yep, that's exactly how it's going to be." Hakan put on a smile—so convincing, so effortless, that it deceived everyone.
"Well then, when will you leave?" Torren asked.
"In about an hour."
"What?! That's too soon!" Rina protested, confusion and concern clear in her voice. She didn't want him to leave, not like this.
Hakan gave her a reassuring look. "Can't do anything about it, can we?" He stood up, his decision final.
Turning away from them, he raised his voice.
"Vealthor! Veyrath! Come forth!"
In an instant, the two dragons materialized before him, kneeling in submission.
"Where is Xyvarion?" Hakan asked.
Vealthor responded immediately. "My liege, he is in the forest."
Hakan frowned. "Why?"
Veyrath answered. "Monarch… it is because the dragons here fear him. He does not wish to come and frighten them."
Hakan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Hah? That idiot." Disappointed, he stepped forward, leaving the two behind.
His voice boomed across the field.
"All dragons, face me and listen!"
At once, every dragon present turned toward him, lowering themselves into a kneeling position, acknowledging his authority.
Hakan's gaze swept over them. "If your greatest fear stood before you… yet that fear was under my command, what would you do?"
For a moment, silence filled the air—until one dragon spoke.
"Monarch, we are under your protection. We serve you. If that being also serves you, then it does not matter."
A slow smirk crossed Hakan's face. "Exactly."
He strode forward, and the dragons instinctively parted, clearing a path for him.
Hakan took a deep breath, then commanded in a voice so powerful it echoed through the land:
"Come forth and show yourself, Xyvarion!"
The very mention of his name sent shudders through the dragons. Once, Xyvarion had been second only to Vealzaryon—his presence alone was enough to make them tremble.
Before any of them could react further, a gust of wind swept through the area.
And then, he appeared.
Xyvarion knelt before Hakan, his deep voice unwavering.
"My liege, you called."
"As you can see, the one you fear kneels before me. There is no need for any of you to be afraid of him."
Hakan's gaze swept over the dragons as he pointed toward Xyvarion.
"From this moment forward, he is my soldier. He stands among you as one of my own. Is that clear?"
His voice carried a commanding authority, leaving no room for doubt.
The dragons remained silent for a moment, exchanging hesitant glances. Then, one finally stepped forward.
"Yes, Master. Your command is absolute. Your decision is ours to follow."
A smirk formed on Hakan's face. "Good."
He turned, taking a final look at his gathered forces before announcing, "I will be leaving for Drakareth! Take care of this city in my absence!"
With that, Hakan strode away, heading toward his guild members.
Yet, even as he left, murmurs spread among the dragons. They knew the risks of him venturing into Drakareth—especially so soon after dethroning Vealzaryon. Concerned whispers erupted, questions forming among them. Would their King be safe? Was this truly the right time?
Xyvarion stood still, listening to their unease. Then, he turned to face them, his crimson eyes burning with conviction.
"My comrades… my people… worry not for the Monarch." His voice was steady, resolute. "No matter what dangers may lie ahead, as long as I draw breath, I will ensure his safety. I will give everything—my strength, my life—to protect him."
To emphasize his vow, Xyvarion raised his hand and made a small cut on his palm. A few drops of blood dripped onto the ground, dissolving into the earth.
The gathered dragons froze.
They all knew what this meant.
It was no ordinary gesture—it was an ancient oath, a binding promise that could not be broken. To spill one's own blood in declaration was the highest form of loyalty among dragons.
At once, the unease faded. Doubts vanished.
The Monarch would be safe.
And Xyvarion would make sure of it
As Hakan was about to move, he called upon his three most trusted dragon followers—Xyvarion, Veyrath, and Veathor—each of them standing before him in their human forms.
"We move when you wish, my liege," Xyvarion said with unwavering loyalty.
Hakan took a deep breath, adjusting the black cloak draped over his shoulders, its fabric stretching down to his feet. His entire outfit was black, blending him into the shadows like a specter of war.
"Let's go," he commanded, his gaze sharp as steel.
After exchanging final goodbyes with his comrades, he stood at the edge of his domain, staring into the unknown fate that awaited him. Drakareth—a land he would either conquer and command or a place that would erase him from existence.
They moved deeper into the dense forest, their steps silent but filled with purpose.
"My liege, we must take flight from here," Xyvarion informed him as they reached an open clearing.
Hakan narrowed his eyes. "To where exactly?"
Xyvarion hesitated for a moment before answering. "To the palace of Vealzaryon… the one that once stood here."
Hakan came to an abrupt stop. His eyes widened.
It was all in front of him—the key to crossing into the other world. The High Tower.
He had missed it before.
"The High Tower…" he murmured.
It was the bridge between worlds—the place where he had defeated Vealzaryon. Where he had stood at the edge of life and death.
A place tied to his past… and his future.
His eyes sharpened once more. "Fine. Let's go—quickly."
Without hesitation, all four of them took to the skies.
As they soared through the air, Hakan felt something stir deep within him. He could feel the weight of his past pressing against his soul—the memory of his battle against Vealzaryon.
The fight that had nearly killed him.
The fight that had stolen his precious blades—Eclipse Fang.
The echoes of that battle played in his mind, the flashes of fire, the roar of dragons, the pain that had almost consumed him.
And now, he was returning.
As soon as they reached the High Tower, they descended, landing at its towering entrance.
Hakan pushed open the massive doors, stepping inside.
They walked through the dimly lit corridors, moving toward the center of the first floor—the very place where Hakan had once slain Darius.
And from here, his journey to Drakareth would begin.
"How do you plan on taking me there?" Hakan asked, his voice firm as he turned to face Xyvarion.
Xyvarion bowed slightly before answering. "We will open a portal, my liege. That portal will serve as our gateway."
Hakan nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Then get it done."
"Yes, my liege!" Xyvarion stepped forward, preparing himself for the task.
"Veyrath! Veathor! Lend me your power!" Xyvarion commanded.
Hakan furrowed his brows but said nothing, watching as Veathor and Veyrath extended their hands. A surge of raw energy flowed from them into Xyvarion, their combined strength merging within him.
Xyvarion raised his clawed hand, a blinding glow forming around it. The air around them trembled, crackling with ancient magic. His eyes shimmered with power, reflecting the depth of the energy he now wielded.
Moments later, a massive portal swirled open before them, its surface rippling like liquid fire. A deep hum resonated through the chamber, the gateway pulsing with energy.
Xyvarion took a step back and, along with Veathor and Veyrath, kneeled before Hakan.
"It is done, my liege!" Xyvarion declared.
Hakan took a breath, his expression unreadable. Then, without hesitation, he commanded:
"Let's go."
With unwavering determination, Hakan stepped forward, leading the charge.
To his right, Veyrath marched beside him.
To his left, Xyvarion held his stance.
Behind him, Veathor guarded his back, ensuring no threats could follow.
As they crossed the threshold, a brilliant light consumed them, their figures vanishing into the portal.
They were now on their way to Drakareth—a place that held Hakan's answers.
A land that was once his dragons' home.