Hakan barely had time to process the pain before a devastating punch sent him flying.
His body crashed through the stone floor, tumbling across the ruined battlefield like a broken doll. Debris scattered, the shockwave tearing through the air with a thunderous roar.
His back slammed against the far wall, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips as his vision blurred.
Across from him, the Dragon King laughed.
A deep, resonating sound that shook the very foundation of the tower.
He stepped forward, his clawed feet crushing the remains of Eclipse Fang beneath them as if it were nothing more than discarded trash.
"You amuse me, human," he rumbled, his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of respect and condescension. "It has been centuries since anyone has forced me to fight with this much effort."
The air around him seemed to bend and distort under the sheer pressure of his presence.
"In honor of that, I shall grant you my name."
The temperature seemed to drop, as if reality itself trembled at what was about to be spoken.
"I am Vaelzaryon."
The very name seemed to shake the air, as though the weight of his existence had been carved into the world itself.
"Dragon King. Destroyer of Continents. Monarch of the Abyssal Sky."
Hakan felt the power behind the name.
The name of a being that had ended civilizations, turned empires to ash, and stood at the precipice of legends only whispered in fear.
Vaelzaryon approached.
His movements were slow, deliberate—a predator walking toward its prey, savoring the inevitable kill.
Hakan's breath was ragged. His body was broken. His power was gone.
Was this it?
His mind drifted—past the pain, past the blood, past the shattered remains of Eclipse Fang.
His thoughts took him back—to his past.
To the countless battles fought, the scars earned, the strength he had built.
And in those moments, one memory stood above all.
A voice.
His master's voice.
A lesson spoken long ago, now echoing louder than ever in his mind.
"You fool… Do you truly believe strength lies in the powers or weapons you wield?"
"Swords break. Shields shatter. Power fades."
"True strength… true power… is not in the weapon you hold."
"It is in the hands that hold it."
"In the soul that wields it."
"The blade is nothing without the warrior."
"But a warrior… a warrior is everything even without a blade."
Hakan's eyes snapped open.
His breath steadied.
The shattered remains of Eclipse Fang no longer mattered.
The pain in his body no longer mattered.
For the first time since the fight began—
He stopped fearing Vaelzaryon.
He understood now.
And the Dragon King saw it.
A shift.
A glimmer of something dangerous.
Hakan smiled.
And then—
He stood.
Hakan stood there, his breath steady, his body screaming in pain—yet his spirit unbroken.
Vaelzaryon, the Dragon King, narrowed his burning golden eyes.
A low rumble escaped his throat, something between a growl and a chuckle. "You should be dead," he mused. "Your weapon is gone. Your strength should have crumbled. And yet… you stand."
Hakan exhaled, his fingers tightening into fists. His gaze didn't waver.
"That's because…" he whispered.
"I was never relying on a weapon to begin with."
He lowered himself into a stance—one that had been etched into his muscles after endless training.
Vaelzaryon's gaze flickered with intrigue.
And then—
Hakan moved.
A violent explosion of air erupted as he vanished.
Vaelzaryon's eyes widened.
Then—
BOOM!
A shockwave blasted through the chamber as Hakan reappeared, launching a devastating punch toward the Dragon King's gut.
But Vaelzaryon reacted.
His clawed hand shot forward, intercepting the strike mid-air—
Yet the moment Hakan's fist connected—
The space around it shattered.
A pulse rippled through the air like broken glass, distorting reality itself.
Vaelzaryon's expression darkened. "What—"
Before he could finish, the force of Void Crusher sent him skidding back, his feet grinding against the stone floor, carving deep trenches into it.
The Dragon King looked down at his scales.
They were undamaged.
Yet—he had felt that.
The disruption. The force. The sheer unnatural impact.
A slow grin spread across his face. "Interesting."
Then, without warning, he vanished.
A streak of crimson light—
And suddenly—
A claw came for Hakan's head.
But Hakan was already moving.
Sonic Boom.
Another sonic explosion tore through the battlefield as Hakan narrowly dodged, weaving around the attack at blinding speed.
Vaelzaryon grinned wider.
The chamber became a storm of shockwaves and violent motion.
A battle of speed.
Hakan flashed forward, throwing another Void Crusher punch aimed at the Dragon King's ribs—
But this time, Vaelzaryon was ready.
His wing snapped outward like a blade, intercepting Hakan mid-strike. The sheer force sent him spiraling backward—but Hakan twisted mid-air, rebounding off the ruined walls, launching himself forward again at supersonic speed.
Another clash.
Another shockwave.
Vaelzaryon laughed.
"You have surpassed my expectations, warrior," he rumbled. "Very well…"
Then, suddenly—
His power surged.
A roar erupted from his throat, and a violent explosion of primal energy flooded the chamber.
The entire tower shook.
Cracks spread through the walls, debris rained from the ceiling, and the sheer pressure of his presence forced Hakan to slide back.
Vaelzaryon's eyes gleamed brighter, his aura shifting into something even more monstrous.
"…I shall elevate this battle further."
And then—
He vanished.
This time, Hakan couldn't react.
A crushing force slammed into his stomach—Vaelzaryon's knee.
Blood spilled from Hakan's mouth.
His vision blurred—
Then—
A claw gripped his head.
And before he could resist—
Vaelzaryon hurled him like a meteor.
Hakan's body exploded through the chamber wall, smashing through countless floors of the tower, stone and steel crumbling in his wake.
Hakan lay amidst the rubble, his body screaming in agony, his mind teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Dust and broken stone surrounded him, the aftermath of being hurled through multiple floors of the abyssal tower. Blood dripped from his lips. His vision blurred.
He tried to move.
His arms trembled. His legs felt like they were made of lead.
But then—
A presence.
A shadow loomed over him.
Vaelzaryon descended slowly, his clawed feet landing on the shattered ground with a thunderous impact. The sheer weight of his existence sent cracks splintering beneath him.
The Dragon King smiled down at him.
"I will admit," Vaelzaryon said, his voice rich with amusement, "it has been centuries since I have used this much of my power in battle."
Hakan panted, his fingers curling into the dirt.
Vaelzaryon's eyes gleamed. "And you, a mere human, have forced my hand."
He stepped forward.
Hakan's body tensed.
"I shall reward you," Vaelzaryon continued. "With death."
The Dragon King raised his claw—
And brought it down.
The force behind it—enough to split mountains.
Hakan's mind screamed.
But then—
A voice.
Faint. From the depths of his memories.
"True strength does not come from wielding power or weapons."
"It is not in the steel of a blade, nor the might of sorcery."
"It is in the will to stand when all else is lost."
"It is in the refusal to yield."
"A true warrior… is one who fights even when fate has decided he should fall."
Hakan's eyes snapped open.
And at that moment—he moved.
BOOM!
The ground shattered as Hakan vanished in a burst of speed, dodging the devastating claw strike by a hair's breadth.
Vaelzaryon's gaze flickered with surprise—
And then—
CRACK!
Hakan's fist, wreathed in the power of Void Crusher, slammed into Vaelzaryon's side.
Reality itself bent and cracked around the impact, sending a massive shockwave rippling through the battlefield.
For the first time—
Vaelzaryon staggered.
His feet skidded backward, his massive frame bracing against the force.
Hakan did not stop.
Before the Dragon King could recover, he vanished again.
Sonic Boom erupted, the sheer velocity of his movement warping the air itself.
A rapid sequence of Void Crusher punches followed—
One to the ribs.
One to the jaw.
One to the knee.
Each impact sending distortions through space, each strike forcing the Dragon King to step back.
For the first time—
Vaelzaryon was being pushed.
And he knew it.
As Hakan launched another devastating strike—
Vaelzaryon's lips curled into a smirk.
"ENOUGH!"
A burst of pure, draconic energy exploded from his body, sending Hakan flying backward like a ragdoll.
The entire tower quaked, the very air vibrating from the sheer force of his unleashed power.
Vaelzaryon cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, his golden eyes burning with newfound excitement.
"Magnificent," he murmured.
He vanished.
Hakan barely had time to react before—
BANG!
A devastating punch to the gut sent him crashing through another wall.
BANG!
A tail whip followed, hurling him across the battlefield.
Hakan barely caught himself, skidding across the broken stone.
Vaelzaryon grinned.
"I had thought you an insect," he admitted. "But no…"
His aura erupted, flames flickering along his body, his very presence shaking the air.
"You… are a true warrior."
A clawed hand flexed.
"In honor of that…"
He raised his arm—
"I shall erase you properly."
Then—
Vaelzaryon attacked.
Faster.
Stronger.
Holding nothing back.
Hakan braced himself.
And the true battle began.
The world around them became a blur.
Hakan barely had time to react before—
BOOM!
Vaelzaryon's claw tore through the space where he had been standing, shattering the ground into molten fragments. The sheer speed was beyond anything Hakan had faced before—faster than any monster, faster than any hero he had ever fought.
But he wasn't the same warrior he had been moments ago.
His instincts screamed, and his body moved on its own.
Hakan vanished—a blur of pure acceleration.
Sonic Boom!
A violent explosion of air detonated behind him as he dodged at the last possible second, pivoting mid-air.
He retaliated—
Void Crusher!
His fist collided with the Dragon King's outstretched claw—
And for the second time—
Reality shattered.
A wave of spatial distortion rippled outward, warping the battlefield as both forces clashed. The very air seemed to crack, folding into itself before violently snapping back.
The impact was enough to send both combatants skidding backward.
Hakan barely had time to breathe before—
Vaelzaryon was already upon him.
A tail whip came from below.
Hakan twisted—just barely dodging—
But a knee followed, ramming into his ribs like a warhammer.
CRACK!
Pain shot through his body. Blood erupted from his mouth.
He couldn't afford to stop.
Pushing through the pain, Hakan focused everything into his footwork.
He lunged, vanishing—
Sonic Boom!
He reappeared behind the Dragon King, twisting mid-air for a crushing counterstrike—
But Vaelzaryon anticipated it.
The Dragon King's tail lashed out with monstrous speed, coiling around Hakan's leg like an iron whip.
"Too predictable, warrior."
And then—
Vaelzaryon slammed Hakan into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Each impact sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield, the ground caving in beneath them.
By the time Vaelzaryon released his grip, the tower's entire foundation was crumbling.
Hakan gasped for air, his body screaming in agony. Bones broken. Vision spinning.
He could feel his consciousness slipping—
But no.
He refused to stop here.
Something inside him ignited.
A flicker. A pulse.
A warrior's instinct honed by battle and sheer refusal to surrender.
"A true warrior fights even when fate has decided he should fall."
His breathing slowed.
He could still move.
He could still fight.
His fingers dug into the shattered ground, his knuckles tightening.
And then—
He rose.
Vaelzaryon raised an eyebrow.
"…Still standing?"
He grinned.
"Impressive."
Hakan exhaled sharply.
He focused.
No distractions. No fear.
His body settled into a stance.
His footwork adjusted.
His mind cleared.
Vaelzaryon's eyes flickered with recognition.
"Oh?"
A slow smirk spread across his draconic face.
"You're adapting."
Hakan didn't answer.
He simply moved.
BOOM!
Sonic Boom activated, but this time—it was different.
He didn't just move.
He phased through the Dragon King's next strike, weaving between the attacks like a specter.
He was no longer just using raw speed.
He was reading the movements.
Anticipating.
Countering.
His footwork was razor-sharp. His body flowed between offense and defense like a storm—each motion a perfect execution of martial mastery.
Vaelzaryon's claws sliced the air, but never found their mark.
And then—
Void Crusher!
Hakan's punch landed directly into the Dragon King's chest.
A direct hit!
The shockwave sent Vaelzaryon reeling backward, his clawed feet skidding against the stone.
The Dragon King laughed.
A deep, booming laugh.
"This… this is what I wanted!"
His aura exploded outward, an inferno of raw destruction.
His wings unfurled.
His presence became suffocating.
Hakan clenched his fists, breathing heavily, preparing for the next clash.
And as the tower crumbled around them, the battlefield now nothing but a floating mass of shattered stone—
The true war raged on.
The battlefield trembled beneath their feet, the very foundation of the tower crumbling as if the world itself was rejecting its existence. Jagged cracks raced along the walls, and massive chunks of stone and debris plummeted from above, shattering upon impact. The once-mighty stronghold of the King was now nothing more than a dying ruin, collapsing under the weight of the battle raging at its peak.
Iffah, bloodied but unbroken, stood a midst the chaos, her eyes locked onto the highest point of the tower where Hakan was facing the King. The sky above was dark, twisted with swirling clouds, flickering with crimson lightning that mirrored the devastation below. A deafening roar thundered through the air—whether it came from the King or the heavens themselves, no one could tell.
"MOVE! GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE!" she commanded, her voice sharp with urgency.
Kaede, still catching her breath, turned to see the remaining forces scrambling for escape. The Silver Valkyries and the warriors from every guild worked together, supporting the injured, shielding one another from the falling wreckage. Selena, still overseeing the survivors, called upon her power, casting protective veils to keep the falling debris from crushing those below.
Torren and Victor carried Alaric, who was barely conscious after his brutal clash with Vael, while Dante helped Rina onto her feet. Mira stood alongside them, her crystalline armor cracked, yet her determination unwavering. They all knew—if they didn't leave now, they would be buried beneath the ruins of the tower.
Yet, as Iffah took a step toward the exit, she hesitated.
Her heart pounded against her chest as she looked up once more. Hakan was still there. Still fighting.
Her fingers clenched into fists. She had always believed in him. Always stood beside him in battle. But this... this was different. This was beyond anything they had ever faced.
The tower groaned, its structure fracturing apart like shattered glass. Flaming debris rained down, forcing Iffah to shield her face. The others had nearly made it to safety, but she couldn't move—couldn't turn away from the storm of power erupting at the summit.
"Hakan…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
A brilliant explosion of black and silver light tore through the sky, illuminating the battlefield like the final flare of a dying star. The sheer force of it sent a shockwave rippling through the collapsing tower, forcing everyone to brace themselves against the impact.
Iffah's breath hitched. She knew this battle was beyond them now. It was no longer a war between warriors.
It was a war between Titans.
Kaede grabbed her wrist. "We have to go! Hakan will find a way!"
Iffah gritted her teeth but nodded, forcing herself to move. She turned her back on the battle, on the friend she had sworn to stand beside, and ran.
As they fled from the collapsing ruins, the only thing she could do was pray—pray that Hakan would walk out of that battle alive.
The air trembled.
Vaelzaryon's laughter echoed across the ruins of the battlefield, a deep, resonant sound that carried both amusement and something else—something primal.
Excitement.
"You're truly fascinating, warrior." The Dragon King's voice rumbled like a storm. "This isn't just instinct anymore. You're evolving."
Hakan wiped the blood from his lips, his breathing steady. His body was battered, bruised, screaming in agony—but it no longer mattered. His mind was sharp. His movements precise. He could feel it now—the rhythm of battle, the invisible threads of combat weaving around him.
And he was threading through them perfectly.
He launched forward— BOOM! —a burst of speed that shattered the ground beneath him.
Vaelzaryon countered immediately, a clawed strike aiming to bisect him in a single motion.
Hakan slipped through the gap.
A slight angle shift. A breath-timed sidestep.
Not dodging—flowing.
He twisted mid-air, pivoting his entire body for a devastating counter—
Void Crusher!
His fist crashed into Vaelzaryon's ribs, sending another ripple of force across the battlefield. The impact sent the Dragon King skidding backward, his massive claws dragging against the floating debris to steady himself.
And yet—
He grinned.
His golden eyes gleamed with unrestrained exhilaration.
"YES!"
The sky roared with his voice. The sheer pressure of the battle had destroyed the entire room they could see the outside sky, Shizumi in a far distance. Lightning forked across the abyss above, as if the very heavens responded to his excitement.
Hakan didn't hesitate. He pressed forward, his movements sharpening with every step. His strikes became faster, more refined, each blow aimed with surgical precision.
Vaelzaryon matched him blow for blow.
A clash of raw power against honed mastery.
Each strike shattered the remnants of the battlefield.
Each movement carved through space itself.
The warrior and the Dragon King danced through destruction, two forces colliding at the peak of their power—
Until suddenly—
Vaelzaryon stopped.
His smirk widened, his massive wings unfurling to their full span.
"Ah… I see now." His voice was quieter, but no less powerful.
Hakan remained in his stance, watching, calculating.
Vaelzaryon exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"This form…" he gestured to himself, as if dismissing it. "It was enough to enjoy the warm-up."
The air shifted.
Something deep, something ancient stirred beneath his words.
"But a warrior like you?" The Dragon King's golden eyes began to burn—literally.
"You deserve to see the real me."
The battlefield shook.
A pulse of energy erupted from Vaelzaryon's core, distorting reality itself. The floating ruins began collapsing inward, drawn toward him as if he were a singularity of overwhelming power.
Hakan's instincts screamed.
This wasn't just an increase in power.
This was transcendence.
Vaelzaryon's smirk never faded.
"Try to keep up, warrior."
And then—
He unleashed his true power.
A pulse of energy exploded outward.
The very air fractured—like the fabric of reality itself had been ripped apart. The sky twisted, darkened into an abyss that swallowed all light. The battlefield, already reduced to floating ruins, buckled beneath the sheer force radiating from Vaelzaryon's body.
Hakan's instincts screamed, his muscles tensed.
This wasn't just power.
This was dominion.
Vaelzaryon's form shifted, his obsidian scales pulsing with abyssal corruption. Twin void-born wings unfurled behind him, not of flesh and bone, but of pure darkness, stretching far beyond their physical limits. His golden eyes burned brighter, like twin dying suns consuming all in their gaze.
"Witness true despair."
His voice did not just echo—it crawled through the air, slithering into the cracks of the world itself, invading thought, overwhelming reason.
Then—he moved.
Faster than thought. Faster than light.
A clawed hand tore through the battlefield—except Hakan did not see it move. There was no motion, no time between cause and effect.
Reality Distortion!
Hakan felt it before he saw it—a warping of distance itself, an attack that defied logic, striking from everywhere and nowhere at once. The battlefield betrayed him. The space between them folded—Vaelzaryon's attack was instantaneous.
The force hit like a celestial hammer.
Hakan's body crashed through floating ruins, tearing through stone and debris, a distant mountain cracking beneath the sheer impact. His vision blurred. Ribs fractured. Breath stolen.
Unavoidable. Undeniable. Absolute.
He gasped for air, mind spinning.
How do you counter an attack that shouldn't exist?
And yet—
His body moved.
Not by thought. Not by plan.
By instinct.
Before he even understood what he was doing—his foot dug into the broken ground, absorbing the impact. His stance stabilized. His weight shifted.
A counter-strike lashed out.
Iron Requiem!
The moment Vaelzaryon struck again, Hakan's body absorbed the force of the impact, twisting it, redirecting the sheer momentum back at his foe.
A shockwave erupted outward—the battlefield itself cracked beneath the force of the reversal. Vaelzaryon skidded back, his claws gouging deep trenches into the stone as he steadied himself.
For the first time, his smirk faltered.
Not in pain.
Not in anger.
In confusion.
His golden eyes narrowed.
His voice was quieter now, thoughtful, tinged with something bordering on disbelief.
"...That technique."
He took a step forward.
"That shouldn't exist."
Hakan panted, sweat dripping down his brow, his body screaming from the strain of battle. Yet, despite the chaos, something in him remained perfectly clear.
The way his body reacted.
The way his stance adjusted.
The way his fist moved.
He knew that technique.
His breath caught.
Iron Requiem.
He had read about it.
A technique that absorbs and redirects force. A technique said to be lost to time—erased from history.
And yet… he had used it.
Vaelzaryon's gaze sharpened.
"How?" The Dragon King's voice rumbled, something dark, something dangerous brewing beneath the surface.
"These techniques were wiped from existence."
Lightning crackled through the abyss above, the heavens themselves answering his fury.
"NO MORTAL SHOULD KNOW THEM."
His voice alone sent a shockwave tearing through the battlefield, rupturing the very air itself.
Hakan staggered, breath stolen, the sheer force of the words nearly crushing him.
And then—Vaelzaryon laughed.
A deep, resonant sound that shook the world.
"Ahh… but of course." His smirk returned, fangs gleaming. Realization dawned in his eyes.
"You don't even know you're using them, do you?"
Hakan's breath hitched.
"You're not fighting with knowledge." Vaelzaryon's wings stretched wider, his presence swelling.
"You're fighting with instinct."
Hakan gritted his teeth. His mind was catching up.
He had studied these techniques in the scrolls.
He had committed them to memory.
But his body and mind had become one.
And in that unity—he was using them instinctively.
Vaelzaryon's laughter boomed.
"This is what makes you fascinating, warrior." His golden eyes gleamed with unrestrained exhilaration.
"Show me more."
Then—he howled.
Void Howl of the Abyss!
The world broke.
The air screamed.
A wave of pure, abyssal corruption exploded outward, a sound beyond sound, a scream beyond comprehension. It was a roar that crawled into the soul, a howl that tore through reality itself.
Hakan staggered, his vision splitting, his mind fracturing.
Memories bled into nightmares.
Victory turned to failure.
Strength crumbled into despair.
His knees nearly buckled.
No.
Something in him refused.
His heartbeat steadied.
He exhaled.
And without thinking—his hand moved.
Fist of Resonance!
His palm struck his own chest, sending a precise pulse of vibrations through his body.
The corruption shattered.
The illusions flickered.
Reality snapped back.
His breath returned.
His mind was his own again.
Vaelzaryon watched. And for a long moment—he said nothing.
Then—
He grinned.
"You're remembering."
Hakan's fists clenched.
He had remembered two.
And he would remember them all.
Because this was his fight.
And he was far from done.
The wind howled.
The battlefield trembled beneath them.
Hakan exhaled slowly, his fingers reaching up to his hood.
With a sharp motion, he ripped it away.
The fabric fluttered to the ground like a fallen banner. The mask followed—tossed aside, shattering against the broken ruins.
His face was fully visible now.
No more barriers.
No more hesitation.
Vaelzaryon grinned.
"Finally." His golden eyes burned, wings stretching as his aura swelled.
"No more hiding."
Hakan rolled his shoulders, blood dripping from fresh wounds, but his movements were light. Effortless. Balanced.
Because now—his mind was clear.
And the techniques he had once struggled to recall?
They were coming back to him.
Vaelzaryon moved.
A flicker. A distortion in space.
Chains of Endless Decay lashed out—jagged, shadowy tendrils of void energy, writhing like living serpents, hungry for his life force.
A death sentence.
Unless.
Hakan's stance shifted.
His arms moved in tandem, a controlled, fluid motion.
His feet adjusted—just enough.
And then—
Phase Sever!
A sharp, precise strike pierced the chains mid-air.
The void energy shattered, like glass struck by a hammer. The chains vanished into nothingness, their connection to reality severed in an instant.
Vaelzaryon's smirk twitched.
He hadn't expected that.
His massive clawed foot slammed into the ground, and suddenly—
Dark Dominion!
A wave of abyssal energy exploded outward.
Light died.
The battlefield was swallowed in pure, oppressive darkness—an abyss where nothing could be seen, where Vaelzaryon was the only master.
Hakan heard a whisper—a voice not his own.
"There is no escape."
The Dragon King's presence moved unseen.
A clawed hand reached through the void.
A kill-strike—undetectable, unstoppable—
Unless.
Hakan closed his eyes.
He didn't need to see.
He only needed to feel.
His body reacted on instinct.
His hands moved without hesitation.
Void Crusher!
His fist lashed out, not at the claw—but at the very air itself.
A shockwave rippled outward, distorting the darkness, crushing the very void that Vaelzaryon commanded.
The abyss fractured—cracks of light piercing through the blackened sky.
For the second time—Vaelzaryon looked genuinely surprised.
And then—Hakan attacked.
He moved like lightning, his strikes coming faster, stronger, sharper.
A spinning strike—Crimson Tempest!
A piercing thrust—Dragon's Fang!
Each attack pushed Vaelzaryon back, the Dragon King's massive form skidding across the broken battlefield.
Hakan's strikes were no longer just instinct.
They were mastered.
The tide had turned.
Vaelzaryon's grin grew wider.
His golden eyes burned with something beyond excitement.
Recognition.
"Good."
He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as his aura exploded outward.
"Very good."
The heavens rumbled.
And Vaelzaryon's true power surged forth.
The storm above raged.
The ground below trembled.
And in the heart of it—two warriors collided.
Hakan threw himself forward, his fist aimed straight for Vaelzaryon's core.
Vaelzaryon met him head-on, talons outstretched, his colossal force descending like a falling meteor.
BOOOOOOOM!
The impact was cataclysmic.
The ruins of the tower screamed as they crumbled, the very foundations unable to withstand the sheer force of their clash. Stone and steel burst apart, massive chunks of debris spiraling outward as the battlefield collapsed beneath them.
They were no longer bound to the earth.
They had ascended.
Vaelzaryon's massive wings unfurled, catching the turbulent winds as he took to the sky. Lightning cracked across the heavens, illuminating his form—a titan bathed in abyssal energy.
Hakan did not fall.
He rose.
Sky Ripper!
A burst of momentum propelled him skyward, his body twisting through the air with impossible agility. He met Vaelzaryon's altitude in an instant, his eyes locked on the Dragon King.
For the first time, they stood before the world.
And the world watched.
Below, the battlefield was silent.
The Black Dragons,his precious guild, badly beaten stared in awe.
Iffah's breath caught in her throat, her hands clenched as she whispered, "Hakan…"
Every giuld, every hero, every soul gazed upward, witnessing a battle that should not exist.
The Dragon King, an eternal being of destruction and dominion.
And Hakan, a lone warrior challenging the impossible.
A slow, thunderous laugh rumbled from Vaelzaryon's chest.
"This… This is where you truly belong, warrior."
His wings beat once, and the sheer force of the movement sent shockwaves cascading downward, flattening what little remained of the battlefield.
His golden eyes blazed.
His aura exploded outward.
And the world bent.
The sky darkened, not from clouds—but from his will. The stars above seemed to wither, swallowed by an abyss of pure power.
Reality itself wavered.
"This is my true form, Hakan."
Abyssal energy poured from his body, his form becoming something more.
His once-shadowed scales glowed with unholy brilliance. His talons sharpened, his entire being radiating raw, cosmic destruction.
Vaelzaryon had ascended beyond a mere dragon.
He was a force of nature.
A living nightmare.
Hakan felt it.
The weight of power.
The overwhelming presence.
But—
Something stirred within him.
A memory—not from his mind, but from his very soul.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
But recognition.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't waver.
He breathed.
And in that breath—he understood.
These techniques. These abilities.
They weren't just something he had read from a scroll.
They were something deeper.
Something older.
His body had moved before he could think, countering attacks only a handful in all of history had ever known how to counter.As if someone had scene these powers and created these techniques but how could it be possible. As powers only came recently but there he had them the perfect counter.
Techniques that were lost.
Techniques that should not exist.
And yet—he wielded them.
Vaelzaryon's smirk returned.
"You finally feel it, don't you?"
Hakan's fists clenched.
His heart pounded, but not from exertion.
From clarity.
From purpose.
He looked down at his hands, the very essence of martial mastery flowing through his veins.
These techniques weren't just things he had memorized.
They were a part of him.
He wasn't just a warrior.
He was a legacy reborn.
A fighter who had transcended time itself.
Hakan lifted his gaze—and for the first time, he smiled.
Vaelzaryon roared, wings beating violently as the heavens trembled.
"THEN SHOW ME!"
And the final clash began.
The sky crackled with tension. The battle between Hakan and Vaelzaryon had surpassed anything the world had ever witnessed. The guilds—Black Dragons, Silver Valkyries, Tempest Vanguard, Obsidian Wardens, Lunar Sentinels, and all the others—watched from the distance, their bodies battered, unable to intervene. They were barely holding on, weakened by the relentless onslaught of Nyxara, Veal, and Zareth. Even Aria Lysander, the head of the Ethereal Blades, had fallen unconscious, her guild members in no better shape.
It was clear: this battle was beyond anything they had prepared for.
But all eyes were now on Hakan, who, in his final moments of struggle, had become something more. The man who had once been seen as powerless, the one who had trained tirelessly with only his wits and spirit to rely on, was now a force of nature. His once shaky movements were now sharp, instinctive—each strike a blur of devastating speed.
The moment Vaelzaryon unleashed his final form, a pulse of raw power exploded outward, destroying the very remnants of the tower. The sky twisted with chaos, but Hakan—unstoppable—was already in motion.
With a roar that echoed across the broken battlefield, Hakan drew on every technique he had mastered, and those he had only just remembered in this moment of pure clarity.
Sky Ripper. His body surged with a force that seemed to warp reality, propelling him into the air as he launched himself toward Vaelzaryon. His strikes were swift, unpredictable, and relentless. For every devastating claw that Vaelzaryon swung, Hakan countered with perfect precision, his fist cutting through the air, the ripples of energy clashing with Vaelzaryon's.
And then it happened—the ultimate clash.
Both warriors collided with such force that the air itself seemed to shatter. The world trembled as the ground beneath them disintegrated, and their battle brought down the very heavens. Lightning crackled through the sky, as if even nature was helpless to hold back the fury of their power.
For a moment, everything was still.
The guilds, watching from a distance, held their breath. They were in awe of the sheer intensity of the battle. To them, it was as though they were witnessing the very definition of strength.
Hakan, breathing heavily, eyes filled with an intensity that mirrored his opponent's, stepped back, only for a moment.
Vaelzaryon's golden eyes narrowed. "How... How are you using those techniques?" He muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Those were supposed to be lost! The true techniques—sealed away for eternity!"
Hakan didn't answer. He didn't need to. His body, in perfect unison with his mind, was working instinctively, the memories of the techniques flooding back as though his very essence had called upon them.
Void Crusher. His punch was a blur of destructive power, striking Vaelzaryon's side, cracking the Dragon King's armored scales. Vaelzaryon stumbled, eyes widening in shock as he felt the energy disrupt his very being.
Phase Sever. The second Hakan saw the opening, he struck—his fist moving like a shadow, disrupting Vaelzaryon's attempts to phase in and out of existence, locking him into the physical realm for a brief moment.
Death's Knock. A flurry of lightning-fast strikes landed on Vaelzaryon's chest, each blow landing with surgical precision, overwhelming the Dragon King's defense.
Vaelzaryon roared, his wings unfurling in a display of raw power as he retaliated. "Impossible! You… You should be nothing but dust by now!" His massive form shifted, the air warping around him as he summoned Dark Dominion, blanketing the entire battlefield in a pitch-black void.
But even as darkness consumed the area, Hakan was unphased. He wasn't relying on his eyes. His body, his senses, were tuned to something deeper—something primal.
Crimson Tempest. With a massive spin, Hakan's body whipped into motion, his strikes forming a whirlwind of destruction. Each kick sent blades of wind slicing through Vaelzaryon's defenses, leaving the Dragon King struggling to maintain his balance.
The guilds watched in stunned silence as the battle raged above them, feeling the air shift with every pulse of energy.
Sylvia, Torren, Alaric, Rina—each of the Black Dragons guild members, despite their wounds, couldn't help but stare at Hakan. He was no longer the same man they had known. This warrior—the one standing toe-to-toe with Vaelzaryon—was something else entirely. Something far beyond them.
Iffah, from the Silver Valkyries, could only gaze up at the battle. Her heart raced in awe and fear. "Hakan…" she whispered, her voice trembling, "...Is that really him?"
The destruction continued. Abyssal Judgment Blade. Vaelzaryon swung the massive weapon, tearing through the air, intent on ending it all. But Hakan, timing his strike perfectly, met the Dragon King's attack with his own Dragon's Fang, the energy crashing together with an explosive shockwave that ripped the very sky apart.
Hakan's next words, though, rang clear.
"I will not fall."
And with that, he continued his relentless assault.
The final clash between Vaelzaryon and Hakan was upon them—two titans locked in a battle for supremacy, the world watching in a mixture of awe and terror as they pushed themselves to their absolute limits.
But there was no going back now.
The true battle had only just begun.
The battlefield shook as the two titans collided once more, their powers pushing the very fabric of reality to its breaking point. Vaelzaryon's mighty claws slashed through the air, dark energy crackling around them, while Hakan, his body a weapon forged through pure martial arts mastery, moved with grace and speed that defied logic.
The Dragon King snarled, his form shifting like molten shadows as his wings beat the air, sending gusts of destructive force toward his opponent. Hakan, however, remained calm, his mind clear as the pressure of the battle threatened to consume everything.
Then, in an instant, Hakan's muscles tensed and his eyes burned with clarity. He charged.
BOOM! A shockwave erupted from his body as he used Sonic Boom, moving at supersonic speed. He closed the distance between them faster than the eye could track, his fists moving like blurs, aimed for the heart of the dragon king.
Vaelzaryon raised his claws to block, but Hakan was already gone. In a blink, he was behind the Dragon King, his body flowing with a fluid grace. The air seemed to tear as his Sky Ripper technique kicked in. His leap into the air was no longer just a movement but a force of nature—his strike aimed with devastating precision from above.
Vaelzaryon twisted mid-air to retaliate, his claws slicing through the air in a deadly arc, only to meet nothing but empty space. Hakan's strikes were already pushing forward, but Vaelzaryon's massive wings flared, sending a gust of energy to throw Hakan back.
The two clashed again in mid-air, a storm of raw power and pure martial prowess colliding. Vaelzaryon's Abyssal Judgment Blade and Chains of Endless Decay lashed out, but Hakan dodged, his body weaving through the storm with incredible precision. Void Crusher struck true, his fist shattering through one of the dark chains and breaking the very space around him.
Yet the Dragon King only grinned wider, the golden fire in his eyes burning brighter. He was enjoying this.
Hakan's breath came steady. No powers. No magic. Just his body, his mind, and his will. Every strike, every movement was the result of years of sacrifice and discipline. His body felt the toll, but his spirit surged, burning brighter with each counterattack.
The destruction around them intensified—buildings crumbling, the ground cracking beneath their feet. But neither Hakan nor Vaelzaryon would yield. The battle was nearing its peak, but neither was willing to give the other the final blow.
And so, the final clash loomed—Hakan, the martial artist with nothing but raw strength, against Vaelzaryon, the embodiment of destruction and shadow. The outcome remained uncertain, the answer hidden in the storm that raged above them, in the very air that trembled with the weight of their power.
The battle raged on with intensity. Hakan and Vaelzaryon, two forces of nature locked in an eternal clash, were pushing their limits with every strike. The entire sky above Shizumi seemed to bend with the force of their blows, the earth cracking beneath their feet.
Hakan's body was battered, but his resolve was unshaken. Each punch, each kick, each movement flowed with precision and power. Vaelzaryon, with his draconic form, lashed out with claws and wings, but Hakan was in sync with the rhythm of the fight, dodging and countering with brutal martial skill.
Vaelzaryon roared, summoning his immense power, tearing the air around him with claws that could split mountains. But Hakan had no fear. His training had brought him to this moment, his body a weapon refined by years of discipline.
Suddenly, Hakan shifted his stance, and in a blur of motion, his body launched forward with a burst of raw speed. He used Sonic Boom, his body moving faster than the eye could track. The shockwave from his movement sent debris flying in every direction, and he instantly closed the gap between himself and Vaelzaryon. The Dragon King tried to counter with a retaliatory swipe, but Hakan was already behind him.
With the force of his acceleration still propelling him, Hakan struck with Sky Ripper, launching himself into the air and driving his fist down at the Dragon King's exposed back. The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the battlefield, a collision of power and speed that shattered the ground beneath them.
Vaelzaryon staggered, but he quickly regained his stance, enraged and surprised at Hakan's audacity.
Hakan's mind was clear, focused on the techniques he had learned—ancient movements that defied logic. He remembered each one in perfect detail, instinctively moving as his body and mind worked in harmony.
Void Crusher—A brutal punch that cracked through Vaelzaryon's defenses, disrupting the energy around him and sending ripples of force through the air. Hakan's fist collided with the Dragon King's ribs, sending him stumbling back.
But Vaelzaryon was relentless. With a bellow, he swiped his massive claws through the air, creating a shockwave that could flatten buildings. Hakan swiftly dodged, bending his body into a Crimson Tempest spinning strike, his foot slicing through the air to strike Vaelzaryon's side. The movement was fluid, effortless—an embodiment of perfect martial art.
Vaelzaryon grunted but retaliated with a fury. His wings beat the air, sending torrents of energy in every direction. Hakan gritted his teeth, closing in, using Dragon's Fang to strike through Vaelzaryon's wing, his fist piercing the air with the destructive force of a dragon's tooth.
The Dragon King faltered for a moment, but only to let out a laugh—filled with amusement and recognition. "You've come far, warrior," he said, shaking off the blows. "But I am not done yet."
Hakan didn't give him time to recover. The battle had reached its fever pitch, and Hakan was in perfect harmony with it. He used Iron Requiem to absorb a heavy strike, the force of Vaelzaryon's claw passing through him and into his core. But instead of falling, Hakan redirected the energy with a crushing Fist of Resonance, sending a shockwave that rattled the air itself.
The Dragon King, visibly shaken for the first time, stumbled backward, looking more enraged than ever. Hakan pressed forward, his every movement a deadly dance of strikes and counters. He was a true warrior now, not just a man of raw strength but a master of his art.
With a roar, Vaelzaryon summoned all his power, his form shifting, his wings spreading wide, preparing to unleash his final devastating attack. But Hakan was ready.
In the blink of an eye, Hakan moved faster than ever before. His body a blur, he used Sonic Boom and Sky Ripper together, blitzing Vaelzaryon from every direction, delivering a final flurry of blows that shattered the last vestiges of the Dragon King's defenses.
The clash was unstoppable. The air shattered, the very world around them trembling with the force of their fight. And as the dust settled, both warriors stood, battered, broken, but not yet finished.
Vaelzaryon grinned, blood dripping from his mouth, his golden eyes gleaming with respect and fury. "You have awakened something within me, warrior," he growled, his power surging once again. "But this fight is far from over."
Hakan, standing tall despite the exhaustion, met his gaze. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his body scarred but unbroken. The fight had reached its peak, but neither of them was willing to back down.
The sound of the helicopter blades sliced through the air, their rhythmic hum barely audible over the roar of destruction below. The battle between Hakan and Vaelzaryon raged on beneath them, the city of Shizumi all but reduced to rubble.
In the helicopter, two people—both photographers—clutched their cameras, eyes wide as they filmed the epic confrontation. The battle had completely severed connections across the city. Communications were down. The news had ground to a halt. Yet, in the sky above the ruins, these two were witnessing something no one could have anticipated.
The woman, her hand steady despite the chaos around her, zoomed in on the fighters below. Hakan, the 6-star hero, was a blur of motion. His movements were fluid, precise, and impossibly fast. He dodged and struck with a force that seemed to defy logic. The beast he faced—Vaelzaryon—was unlike anything she had ever seen. The creature wasn't in its full draconic form, but still, its presence was intimidating. Standing before Hakan was a twisted, humanoid being with draconic features—claws like razors, wings vast enough to blot out the sun, and eyes that burned with a fiery intensity.
"This is insane," the man beside her muttered, his voice shaken as he filmed. "A human... fighting that thing?"
She nodded, her eyes still fixed on the viewfinder. "And not just any human. This is Hakan—the leader of the Black Dragons. I can't believe it. The world thought he was a myth. But here he is—fighting a beast that could level the city."
The camera zoomed in closer on Hakan as he moved with breathtaking speed. His every strike was a testament to his strength, a product of years of training and precision. No magic. No supernatural powers. Just raw, unrelenting martial skill. The fight was a symphony of calculated moves, the collision of human might against a creature of unimaginable power.
"How is he even doing this?" the man asked, still recording as the helicopter hovered above the battlefield. "That thing could tear him apart with one swipe."
The woman didn't answer right away. Her focus remained on the fight below. She saw Hakan dodge a deadly swipe from Vaelzaryon, rolling to the side and landing a strike that sent the beast stumbling backward.
"He's not just fighting it," she finally replied. "He's... outmaneuvering it. He's faster, more precise than anything we've seen before. This isn't just some random fight. This is history in the making."
Their helicopter circled above the chaos, the wind whipping through the open door as they kept their focus on the battle. Through the lens of their cameras, they could see Hakan's face now, his mask gone. His expression was intense, focused—yet there was something human about it that resonated deeply with the two photographers.
"This is it," the man said, his voice low. "This is the moment people are going to remember."
The woman nodded silently, a mix of awe and fear in her eyes. "The whole world will see this. A hero... a human... standing against a monster."
Below them, Hakan landed another blow, his fist colliding with Vaelzaryon's chest, sending the beast staggering back with a deafening roar. The city around them shook as debris flew into the air. The ground quaked with every strike from the two combatants.
The photographers, now completely absorbed in the incredible battle before them, continued to film. This wasn't just a fight—it was a clash that would be remembered for generations. It was a battle between man and the impossible. And they were capturing it all, as the world below watched in stunned silence.
As they continued to hover, the city seemed to hold its breath, the battle far from over. Hakan was relentless, and though Vaelzaryon's massive form loomed over him, it was clear that the human warrior wasn't backing down.
"Do you think he can win?" the man asked quietly, the roar of the battle echoing around them.
"I don't know," the woman answered, her eyes locked on Hakan as he dodged another blow. "But... right now, he's holding his own."
The tension in the air was palpable as Hakan and Vaelzaryon locked eyes, the two warriors poised for the inevitable. Without a moment's hesitation, they charged at each other, a collision of raw power and fierce determination.
The ground beneath them trembled as their bodies met in a cataclysmic clash, a shockwave of force rippling out from the impact. The air itself seemed to crackle with energy, and the world around them appeared to freeze for a moment. The resulting shockwave sent debris flying in every direction, buildings rattling as the force of the clash spread out across the entire area.
The photographers, too stunned by the sheer magnitude of the collision, were momentarily caught off guard. They tried to brace themselves, but the blast hit them with such force that it sent the helicopter into a wild spin. One of them, the woman, was flung violently towards the open door. Without thinking, Iffah leapt into action.
With a burst of speed, Iffah reached out and grabbed the woman by the wrist, pulling her back into the safety of the helicopter. The woman gasped for breath, wide-eyed in shock as Iffah's strength held her steady.
"Are you insane?" Iffah snapped, her voice harsh with both concern and anger. "This place is a war zone, and you're filming this? Get a grip!"
Meanwhile, the man, still trying to stabilize the camera, was thrown back against the wall of the helicopter. Before he could recover, Dante, appeared like a blur of motion. With a single hand, he caught the man by the collar and yanked him to his feet, slamming him against the seat.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dante growled, his voice low but filled with authority. "You're making videos while chaos is unfolding around you? This place is hell, not a tourist attraction! Stay focused, or I'll throw you out myself!"
Both photographers, now fully aware of the danger they were in, looked sheepishly at the two guild leader's who had saved them. Their hearts were racing, and for the first time, they realized just how close they had come to disaster. The battle below raged on, Hakan and Vaelzaryon locked in a relentless struggle, but the danger was no longer confined to the ground.
"Stay low and keep your heads down," Iffah ordered. "This is no place for amateurs."
Dante, ever the enforcer, nodded. "We'll keep you alive. But no more recording. We've got enough footage to last a lifetime."
As the battle between Hakan and Vaelzaryon reached its boiling point, both combatants were battered and bruised, each pushing their limits. The world around them seemed to distort with every movement, the clash of their powers resonating in the very air, sending tremors across the ravaged city of Shizumi.
Hakan, his body bloodied and fatigued, locked eyes with the Dragon King. He could feel the oppressive force of Vaelzaryon's presence, his monstrous energy pulsating like a beating heart. Yet, the warrior remained resolute. He had no magic, no unnatural powers—only his body, honed to perfection through years of brutal training. Every strike, every move, had led to this moment. And now, it was time to end it.
Vaelzaryon, his draconic body now transformed into a grotesque humanoid form, grinned with a knowing malice. His crimson eyes gleamed, and his monstrous claws flexed, ready to bring down the full weight of his power. Despite his massive size and the destructive aura that surrounded him, Hakan knew that victory was within reach.
The battlefield was silent for a fleeting moment—each fighter gathering the last of their strength before the final clash.
With a sudden roar, Vaelzaryon lunged, his claws slashing through the air with deadly intent. Hakan moved in response with blinding speed, his body a blur as he dashed toward the Dragon King, sidestepping the massive claws. The sound of his movement created a shockwave that cracked the ground beneath him.
But Hakan's focus was laser-sharp. He raised his fist, preparing for his ultimate strike, and with a flash of raw power, he unleashed Dragon's Fang.
A piercing punch that mimicked the deadly precision of a dragon's claw, it flew toward Vaelzaryon with incredible force. The energy behind it crackled in the air as it hurtled toward its target. Vaelzaryon's eyes widened as the attack came, and in that instant, he tried to raise his defenses, but it was too late.
The blow connected with Vaelzaryon's chest, and the sound of crushing bone and tearing flesh echoed through the battlefield. The strike punctured through the Dragon King's defenses, shattering his hardened exterior and sending a shockwave of force through his entire body. Vaelzaryon staggered backward, his monstrous form cracking under the intensity of the blow.
But the battle was not yet over. Vaelzaryon roared in fury, his body surging with destructive energy as he sought to retaliate.
Hakan, seeing the danger, did not hesitate. He surged forward with unmatched speed, using his Sonic Boom technique to close the gap. His body became a blur as he shot through the air, faster than the speed of sound. The shockwaves of his movement rattled the battlefield as he reached Vaelzaryon in an instant.
With precision honed through countless battles, Hakan struck with a series of devastating blows, his fists a blur of power. Vaelzaryon tried to block, but Hakan's strikes were too fast, too overwhelming. The Dragon King's defenses cracked with each punch, and in a final, climactic moment, Hakan unleashed Death's Knock.
The air around them seemed to still as Hakan's body moved in a flurry of punches and kicks. His fists rained down on Vaelzaryon with lethal precision, each strike targeting weak points in the Dragon King's body. Finally, Hakan landed the finishing blow—a single, heart-targeting punch that created an explosive shockwave, sending Vaelzaryon sprawling back into the ruins of the city.
For a moment, there was silence.
Vaelzaryon's massive form lay motionless amidst the wreckage, the once-mighty Dragon King defeated at the hands of a human warrior. Hakan stood over him in the air, breathing heavily, his body battered and worn, but his spirit unbroken.
As the dust settled, the world seemed to hold its breath. The impossible had been achieved. A human had defeated a being of unimaginable power. Hakan, leader of the Black Dragons, had prevailed.
Hakan's body plummeted through the air, battered and broken beyond recognition. His once-mighty form—now marred by deep wounds, blood-soaked clothes, and shattered armor—was a testament to the war he had fought, the limits he had defied. Time slowed as he fell, the battlefield blurring into meaningless chaos.
And then—
Arms caught him.
Iffah.
The impact barely registered as she cradled his limp form against her chest, but the sight of him—his mangled, lifeless body—hit her with the force of a thousand blows. Her breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Hakan.
His face—scarred, bloodied, far too pale—was still his. But his body was terrifyingly still. Too still.
For a moment, her mind refused to accept it.
No. No, this couldn't be real.
A horrible chill seeped into her bones, drowning out the raging battlefield. Her trembling fingers brushed the blood-matted strands of his hair from his face. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Her whole world had reduced to the man in her arms—the man she had dreamed of, the man she had ached for, the man they told her was dead.
Her vision blurred with tears.
"Hakan…?"
A whisper. A prayer. A plea.
There was no response.
Her breath hitched. Panic clawed at her chest, raw and suffocating.
She shook him gently, as if that could somehow bring him back to her. "Hakan, wake up. Please wake up."
Still nothing.
The battlefield faded. The sounds of destruction, the roaring winds, the clash of steel—all of it became meaningless noise.
"Hakan!"
Her scream tore through the air, breaking into a choked sob. Her hands clutched at him desperately, shaking, pleading, begging. "No, no, no—please, not like this!"
Tears streamed down her face as she pressed her forehead against his, her body wracked with the kind of grief that only years of suffering could create.
She had already lost him once.
She couldn't do it again.
"I waited for you," she whispered brokenly, her voice cracking. "I never stopped waiting for you. I fought for you when no one else did. I searched for you when they told me I was a fool. And now you're here, and you're just going to—" Her breath shuddered. "You're just going to leave me again?"
No.
No, she refused.
Her hands curled into fists, clutching at the tattered remains of his cloak, her knuckles turning white. "Somebody, please!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and raw. "Sylvia! Eli! ANYONE! HELP HIM!"
But even as she cried out, she knew—
It might already be too late.
His skin was so cold. His breathing—she couldn't even tell if there was any. The warmth was fading from his body, slipping away like sand through her fingers.
"You promised me," she choked out, her tears spilling onto his bloodied face. "You promised you'd come back."
Her grip tightened, her entire body trembling. "You don't get to break that promise, Hakan. Not now. Not now!"
And then—
A breath.
The faintest, most fragile inhale.
She froze.
And then—
A whisper, so weak, so barely there, she almost thought she imagined it.
"You… shouldn't cry… you know…"
Her entire world stopped.
She gasped, her head snapping up to look at him.
"Hakan?"
His eyelids fluttered—heavy, struggling—but they opened. His eyes, though dim, were unmistakably alive. A flicker of something—something familiar—gleamed within them.
And then—
A ghost of a smile.
"Hey… Iffah," he rasped, his voice so hoarse, so broken, yet so undeniably him.
A sob escaped her lips, raw and uncontrollable. "You're awake… Oh my God, you're awake!"
Her hands cupped his face, her fingers trembling as if she couldn't trust what she was seeing. She could feel his warmth again—faint, weak, but there.
"You idiot," she whispered, laughing through her tears. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?"
His lips twitched, the weakest chuckle barely escaping. "I… can guess."
"You disappeared for four years, Hakan!" she snapped, her sobs thick with both relief and fury. "Four years! Do you know what that did to me? Do you know what I went through?"
His hand—weak, trembling—lifted, brushing against her cheek. She gasped at the touch, leaning into it as though it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
"I knew… you wouldn't give up on me," he murmured.
A fresh wave of tears flooded her vision. She let out a broken laugh, clutching his hand tightly. "Of course, I didn't," she whispered. "I love you, you stupid, reckless, infuriating man."
She sucked in a shaky breath. "I have always loved you. I will always love you."
His tired smile widened just slightly, his eyes struggling to stay open. "I… love you too."
Her body trembled. "Then don't you dare leave me again," she whispered fiercely, pressing her forehead against his. "Do you hear me? Don't you dare."
For the first time in four years, Hakan was in her arms.
For the first time in four years, he was alive.
And this time—
She would never let him go.
Iffah barely had time to process Hakan's faint smile before a whirlwind of motion surrounded them. Shadows streaked across the ruined battlefield as The Black Dragons arrived—Alaric, Rina, Torren, and Sylvia—forming an unbreakable circle around them. Their bodies bore the brutal marks of war—armor cracked, clothes torn, blood streaking their faces and limbs—yet their eyes remained sharp, unwavering.
Kaede Arashi landed with less grace than usual, stumbling slightly as she hit the ground. Even the storm-touched leader looked worn, bruises and gashes lining her arms, exhaustion dulling the usual fire in her gaze. But she pushed through the pain, her golden eyes locking onto Hakan's battered form.
"Healers! Now!" she ordered, her voice hoarse yet sharp, allowing no hesitation.
Behind her, a team of medical specialists rushed forward despite their own injuries, some barely holding themselves together. Even Victor Steele, Dante Cross, and a still-recovering Raiden Jin pushed their exhausted bodies forward, fueled by nothing but sheer determination.
Iffah barely acknowledged them.
Her entire world was still wrapped around the man in her arms.
"You're going to be healed," she whispered fiercely, her grip tightening around him as if holding him together. "Do you hear me, Hakan? They're going to heal you."
His breathing was shallow, his body heavy, but his weak fingers curled around hers in response.
"Stay with me," she pleaded, pressing her forehead against his temple. "Just a little longer. Please."
Kaede staggered as she knelt beside them, sweat and blood dripping from her face. "Lay him down," she said, her voice tight. "We need space to work."
Iffah hesitated—her body screamed at her to keep holding him, to never let go—but she nodded shakily. She guided Hakan onto the ground as gently as possible, his weak groan sending fresh panic through her veins.
Victor's usually steady hands trembled from fatigue, but he gritted his teeth and placed them over Hakan's chest, metallic energy flickering weakly before surging to stabilize his shattered frame.
Dante, his breath ragged, knelt opposite him. His flames sputtered at first, his reserves nearly depleted from battle, but he pushed forward, forcing warmth back into Hakan's freezing body. "He's lost too much blood," he muttered. "Sylvia, Torren—help me keep his core temperature stable."
"On it," Sylvia rasped, her own hands shaking as golden light flickered over Hakan's wounds. Even she looked dangerously pale—her healing reserves stretched thin from the battlefield.
Torren pressed a palm to Hakan's forehead, his usual calm shattered by his exhaustion. "Hold on, dammit," he muttered through clenched teeth, forcing what little healing energy he had left into him.
Rina, her face slick with sweat and dirt, gritted her teeth as she worked over his broken ribs. "His body is barely holding together—Kaede, we need more support."
Kaede, her breathing heavy, forced herself to stay upright. "Do whatever it takes."
Alaric, whose armor was half-destroyed and bloodied, kneeled at Hakan's side, his jaw tight. He extended what remained of his strength, focusing on stabilizing his breathing. "Come on, Hakan. Fight this."
Even Raiden, despite the injuries that had nearly taken him out of the fight earlier, forced himself forward. His steps were sluggish, his wounds reopened, but his voice was steady. "He's strong," he murmured, his words laced with exhaustion. "If anyone can survive this, it's him."
Iffah clung to those words, but fear still gnawed at her.
Hakan's eyes fluttered open again, barely holding on. "Iffah…" his voice was weaker now, his body trembling.
She grasped his hand and brought it to her lips. "I'm right here. You're not going anywhere."
He exhaled softly, as if surrendering to her warmth, to her promise.
The healers worked tirelessly, pushing past their own limits, their own injuries, their own pain. It was a battle against time, against death itself.
Kaede's jaw was tight, her knuckles white from strain. "Faster," she growled, even as her own strength wavered. "We don't have time to waste."
Victor gritted his teeth, blood trailing from a cut above his brow. "We're giving him everything we have. Just keep him conscious."
Dante's flames flickered dangerously low, barely holding. "You'd better not die on us, Hakan," he muttered, his voice weaker than usual. "We didn't survive all of that just to lose you now."
Iffah felt his grip in her hand loosen, and panic surged again. "Hakan! Stay with me!"
His breath was shallow. Too shallow.
A final surge of golden light pulsed through his body—weaker than before, but enough.
Then—
A deep, ragged inhale.
Hakan's back arched slightly, his body convulsing before finally—finally—his breathing evened out. His heartbeat, faint but steady, thrummed against Iffah's fingertips.
The world around them slowed.
Victor nearly collapsed backwards, exhaling sharply. "It worked."
Dante fell onto his hands, shaking his head. "Barely."
Torren sat back with a sharp breath, wiping his forehead. "We're all dead on our feet."
Sylvia, swaying slightly, caught herself before she could fall. "We're alive," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "And so is he."
Iffah didn't respond at first—she was still gripping Hakan's hand like it was the only thing keeping her anchored.
His fingers twitched.
A weak, exhausted voice reached her ears.
"…Still here…"
Tears spilled down her cheeks again, a choked, half-laugh escaping her.
"Yeah, you are."
For the first time since she caught him, she allowed herself to breathe.
This time—
He was safe.
And she wasn't letting go.