It was a bright and sunny day in Shizumi. The airport was bustling with activity, as air travel had been in short supply following the devastating Tower Break caused by Vaelzaryon. However, under Hakan's leadership and with the assistance of the dragons, the city had managed to recover and restore itself.
Now, Hakan, alongside the Silver Valkyries, White Dragons, and two members of the Ethereal Blades, Aria and Lucian, prepared to depart for Pakistan. Their destination: to meet Mahira, Hakan's sister—an extraordinary healer renowned worldwide for her ability to regenerate lost limbs and organs, even if they were completely destroyed. A treatment that Aria desperately needed after losing an arm and a kidney.
Before leaving, Hakan turned to his Black Dragons for a final farewell.
"I'll be gone for a while, but take care of everything while I'm not around, okay?" he instructed.
"Don't mention it. Shizumi will be safe," Alaric, his second-in-command and the man Hakan trusted most, reassured him.
"When will you be back?" Rina, the youngest among them, asked curiously. She looked up to Hakan as the older brother she needed in her life.
Just as Hakan was about to answer, Sylvia suddenly spoke up.
"I'm coming with you."
Her firm declaration shocked everyone.
"Why?" Iffah asked, her tone filled with suspicion.
"There's someone I need to meet."
Hakan and Soren exchanged knowing smiles. They already understood exactly who Sylvia was referring to.
"Well, you're welcome to join us," Hakan said. The group seemed pleased—especially Lucian, who, for the first time, felt a glimmer of hope for his guild leader's healing.
Just as they were about to leave, Veyrath, along with two other dragons, approached Hakan.
"Respected Monarch." Veyrath kneeled with unwavering respect.
"May I have your permission to accompany you alongside my comrades?"
Hakan was taken aback. Over the past few months, he had come to realize just how deeply loyal the dragons had become to him. But this was different. The world outside Shizumi was not accustomed to dragons—not in the way his people were. To the rest of the world, dragons were monsters, creatures of the Towers.
Hakan exhaled.
"I would take you with me, Veyrath, but…" He glanced at the three dragons. "To the outside world, you are monsters. They aren't used to seeing you, even in your humanoid forms."
"But, Monarch!" Zeldiya, a young female dragon gifted in healing and enhancing ally abilities, protested. "If you allow us, we dragons can shrink our forms to a much smaller size. That way, we can remain close to you without drawing attention."
Hakan raised an eyebrow.
"Is that possible?" he asked, turning to Veyrath.
"Yes, Monarch," Veyrath confirmed.
The entire party looked on in confusion. Even Iffah, Sylvia, and Lucian seemed unaware of what dragons were truly capable of.
"Show me," Hakan ordered.
At once, the three dragons closed their eyes. A small fire flickered across their bodies as their forms began to shrink. When the flames subsided, they had transformed—their once-massive frames now reduced to the size of birds, small enough to hide within clothing if needed.
Hakan smirked.
"Very well. You three may come," he decided.
"Yes, Monarch! Thank you for this prestigious honor," Veyrath said, bowing deeply.
Then, Hakan turned his gaze to Zeldiya.
"Zeldiya." His voice was commanding.
"Yes, Monarch?" Zeldiya's response was filled with loyalty and just a hint of fear.
"Come here."
A tense silence fell over the group. Everyone watched, uncertain of what was about to happen.
"What are you doing, Hakan?" Iffah asked, her tone carrying a hint of concern. Despite Zeldiya being a dragon, Iffah saw her as a female first, and her protective nature kicked in.
Hakan ignored her and led Zeldiya a few steps away, speaking to her in hushed tones.
"Yes, Monarch! I will fulfill my duty until my last breath," Zeldiya vowed, kneeling once more.
When Hakan returned, Iffah immediately stepped forward, her eyes narrowing at him.
"What did you tell her?" she demanded.
Hakan's lips curled into an unreadable smile.
"It's nothing much," he reassured.
But Iffah didn't believe him. Her eyes darted toward Zeldiya, who, despite her usual composure, was also stealing glances at Iffah.
Tension crackled between them.
For now, however, there was no time to dwell on it.
The Black Dragons said their final goodbyes as their leader prepared to leave. Soren's private jet was already waiting on the runway.
Without further delay, Hakan and his team boarded the plane.
The engines roared to life.
Their journey to Pakistan had begun.
As the private jet soared through the sky, an uneasy silence settled over the cabin. Despite the luxury of Soren's personal aircraft, tension clung to the air like a storm waiting to break.
Iffah sat with her arms crossed, eyes locked onto Zeldiya, who remained quiet beside Veyrath. Sylvia leaned against the window, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Lucian stayed close to Aria, ever-watchful of her condition. Though she didn't say a word of complaint, the pallor of her skin and the subtle winces of pain made it clear—she needed medical attention soon.
Near the front of the cabin, Soren took a seat across from Hakan, watching him with a calculating gaze.
Then, breaking the silence, Soren finally spoke.
"What will the family's reaction be… seeing you now?"
Hakan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the small flame flickering in his hand, his thoughts lost in the past.
"Some will be happy. Some… not so much," he finally replied.
Soren chuckled, shaking his head. "Understatement of the year. You were presumed dead, Hakan. Now you're returning not just alive, but as the 7 star hero The Dragon Monarch.."
Hakan smirked. " I just hope everything is alright ."
Soren raised an eyebrow. "And Mahira,Father , mother? How do you think they'll react?"
Hakan's expression softened just a little.
"I don't know," he said simply.
Soren scoffed. "Well not that you have a choice you did leave the house ."
Before Hakan could reply, Sylvia spoke up from across the cabin.
"Hakan, how long will we be staying in Pakistan?"
Hakan turned his attention to her. He already knew what she was really asking.
"We'll stay as long as necessary," he answered. Sylvia nodded, satisfied with the answer.
But Iffah wasn't done. She had been silent for too long, her patience stretched thin.
She turned to Zeldiya, her voice sharp.
"What did Hakan tell you?"
Zeldiya blinked, then lowered her gaze.
"It is not my place to say."
Iffah's jaw tightened.
Hakan looked at her and gave a small smile.
But Iffah didn't let things go. She never did.
Before she could push further, the cockpit door opened, and the pilot's voice rang through the cabin.
"Sir , we're approaching Islamabad International Airport. We will begin our descent shortly."
Everyone braced themselves as the plane began its slow descent.
As the aircraft touched down smoothly, the group readied themselves.
They had arrived.
Pakistan.
A land of family, power, and unresolved pasts.
And somewhere within it, waiting for them, was Mahira—the legendary healer.
The landing was smooth. As the plane descended, Iffah, seated beside Hakan as always, tightened her grip on his hand. It was so firm that Hakan could feel her fingers trembling slightly. Her face was flushed, and he knew exactly why.
Once they disembarked, Hakan took a deep breath and exhaled.
"We're back… where it all happened."
This was the same city where he had once been powerless, a burden to his family's name. He remembered it all—the dinner when Galem revealed his lack of power, his mother's taunts and constant tears, his father's cold gaze, and his so-called friends laughing at him, mocking his weakness. The memories were burned into his mind.
Sensing his unease, Iffah stepped closer, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm.
"It's okay. I'm still here," she said softly.
Hakan looked at her and gave a small smile.
"That's all in the past now. I can't change it."
"The air smells nice, doesn't it?" Iffah asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Hakan inhaled again and nodded. "Yes. The beautiful scent of my own nation, my own city… it's always amazing."
"Sorry to interrupt, but our ride is here," Soren said, breaking the small moment between them.
Several black SUVs pulled up near the terminal. As they climbed in, Veyrath and his comrades remained concealed, hidden within Hakan's clothing in their shrunken forms.
Hakan gazed out the window as the city passed by. "So much has changed, hasn't it?"
Seated beside him, Iffah nodded, while Soren, sitting in the front, glanced back with a smirk.
"Well, you know what they say," Soren said. "You can live in the most luxurious place, but nothing comes close to home."
They all smiled.
"Welcome back, brother," Soren added.
Hakan gave a small, genuine smile as their car neared their destination.
In another SUV, Lucian turned to Aria.
"Do you think she'll be able to heal you?" he asked.
Aria's gaze dropped to where her missing arm used to be. "I don't know… but we don't have any other option." Her voice was filled with disappointment—at herself, at her weakness against Zareth.
Sylvia, who had been listening quietly from the seat beside Aria, spoke up.
"Don't worry. It's going to be alright."
Aria turned to Sylvia, hesitation in her eyes.
"Hey… I wanted to ask you something."
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead. Is something bothering you?"
Aria hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I want to talk to Iffah." She glanced down at her remaining hand, clenching it slightly.
Sylvia studied her expression, sensing there was more to this request. "Is everything alright?"
Lucian, who had been sitting silently, subtly shifted, trying to listen in on their conversation.
But before anything else could be said, the SUVs came to a stop.
The driver turned and spoke. "We've arrived."
As the doors opened, the group stepped out, taking in the sight before them—Raihan's Villa, the grand estate that housed the White Dragon and the Dragon Monarch.
Home.
As Soren and Hakan approached the grand iron gates of Raihan's Villa, Iffah followed closely behind them, along with the rest of their companions. The towering structure loomed over them, its intricate designs a blend of traditional elegance and modern luxury.
A house worker, dressed in a pristine uniform, stood at the entrance. He was the male equivalent of a maid—an attendant responsible for maintaining the estate. As soon as he saw Soren, his expression brightened, and he stepped forward with a welcoming smile.
"Sir Soren, welcome home," he said with a respectful nod before turning toward the house. "Sir Soren has returned!"
His words carried through the vast halls of the estate, reaching the ears of those inside.
Inside the villa, three individuals sat in different corners of the grand living space.
Mahira was at her study desk, a book open in front of her, though her focus wavered as she absentmindedly twirled a pen between her fingers. Across the room, Hakan and Soren's mother sat in silence, her gaze fixed on an old family photo—one taken when they had all been together. Her eyes held a deep sadness, a longing for the time before everything fell apart.
Raihan, their father, stood beside her, his broad frame exuding quiet authority. Though his expression was stern, his voice was gentle as he tried to reassure her.
"He's alive," Raihan said. "You saw it yourself. The entire world saw it. The man who fought Vaelzaryon—that was our son."
Their mother's fingers trembled over the photograph. "But does he hate us?" she asked softly. Her voice cracked as she continued, "For everything that happened—the constant blame, the harsh words… the lack of support from your side."
Raihan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the house worker arrived at the doorway, bowing respectfully.
"Sir Soren has arrived, along with some guests. Lady Iffah… and a tall man."
Hakan's mother's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded as realization dawned upon her. She didn't need to hear his name—she knew.
Her son had come home.
Quickly, she adjusted her dupatta, covering her head out of respect. The others in the room followed suit, their movements hurried yet deliberate.
As the grand doors of the villa swung open, Hakan and Soren stepped inside. The familiar scent of home washed over Hakan, stirring old memories buried deep within his heart. The polished floors, the intricate patterns of the carpets, the faint scent of freshly brewed chai lingering in the air—nothing had changed. And yet, everything felt different.
At the far end of the room, his family stood motionless.
His mother's eyes widened in disbelief, her lips parted as if trying to form words that refused to come. Raihan, his father, stood beside her, his strong posture faltering for the first time in years. Their gazes were locked on him—on the son they had believed was gone forever.
Mahira was the first to move.
Tears streamed down her face as she rushed toward him. She threw her arms around Hakan, sobbing uncontrollably. Her fists pounded weakly against his chest as she cried, her voice breaking with every word.
"You absolute idiot! Do you have any idea what you put us through?!" she yelled between sobs. "We thought you were dead! I thought I lost you forever!"
Hakan felt his throat tighten. He let her hit him, let her pour out all the pain and anguish she had bottled up for so long. Then, gently, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she trembled against him.
"I'm sorry, Mahira," he whispered, his voice heavy with guilt and love. "I'm so sorry…"
Their mother's sobs grew louder as she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her body shook with the weight of emotions she had suppressed for too long.
Hakan turned his gaze toward her, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. Slowly, he stepped forward, still holding Mahira, and stood before the woman who had once cast him aside.
And then, without hesitation, she collapsed into his arms.
She clung to him desperately, as if afraid that he would disappear again. Her sobs were muffled against his chest, her hands gripping his back tightly.
"Forgive me… please forgive me," she cried. "For everything I said… for every cruel word, every taunt. I—" Her voice cracked. "I failed you as a mother… I—"
Hakan held her even tighter, closing his eyes as he felt her tears soak into his shirt.
"I don't hate you, Ammi," he said softly. "I never did."
Her sobs grew louder at his words.
"We will talk," Hakan continued. "I will tell you everything… but not now. Right now, I just want to be home."
Behind them, Raihan took a deep breath, his body trembling slightly. His eyes, usually so stern, were glistening with unshed tears. He took slow steps toward his son, each movement filled with hesitation and pain.
Hakan turned to face his father.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—father and son, separated by years of silence, now standing inches apart.
Then, Raihan broke.
He pulled Hakan into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around his son as though trying to make up for all the years they had lost.
"I failed you," Raihan whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I should have stood by you. I should have fought for you. I should have believed in you."
Hakan felt his father's tears against his shoulder.
He had always imagined this moment—always thought about what he would say if he ever saw his parents again. But now that he was here, now that he was holding his father, all he could do was embrace him back.
"You're here now," Hakan murmured. "That's all that matters."
Their mother wiped her tears and turned to Iffah.
She took a shaky breath before stepping forward and pulling the young woman into a tight embrace.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing my son back to me."
Iffah smiled softly, hugging her back. "He was never lost. He just needed time."
Soren, who had been watching the entire reunion, suddenly scoffed.
"Uh, excuse me?" he said, crossing his arms. "Who do you think actually brought him here? Don't I get any credit?"
Their mother let out a teary laugh before breaking away from Iffah and wrapping Soren into a tight hug.
"I could never forget you, beta," she said warmly. "You've always been my good boy."
Soren grinned. "Damn right."
Mahira, still wiping her eyes, turned to Iffah and gently took her hands.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "For everything."
Behind them, Sylvia, Lucian, and the others stood quietly, watching the emotional reunion unfold. Even Sylvia, usually composed, felt her own eyes sting with unshed tears.
For the first time in a long time, Hakan was home.
And this time, he wasn't alone.
Hakan's mother, Zainab, wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and turned toward Iffah, her expression softening. Beside her, Mahira—still dabbing at her wet cheeks—straightened herself, regaining her composure.
"Oh, how rude of me," Zainab said quickly, pressing a hand to her chest. "Please, come inside."
She gestured warmly toward the others, inviting them in with a gracious nod.
Sylvia, Aria, and Lucian, who had been standing respectfully near the entrance, exchanged quick glances before stepping forward. They politely wiped their shoes on the mat before entering the villa, their eyes subtly admiring the grandeur of the home.
Meanwhile, in the entryway, Hakan and his father, Raihan, still held onto each other in a firm embrace, neither wanting to let go just yet. There was a deep unspoken understanding between them—a father's regret and a son's quiet forgiveness intertwined in that silent moment.
Zainab gently called out to the women. "Come, let me show you inside," she said, leading them further into the home. Mahira followed suit, walking beside Iffah with a newfound warmth in her eyes.
Soren and Lucian, however, remained near the entrance, watching as Raihan and Hakan finally parted. Raihan took a deep breath and stepped back, his eyes filled with emotions he struggled to put into words.
After a pause, he turned to Lucian.
"My apologies, young man," Raihan said, his deep voice laced with sincerity. "I was so overwhelmed that I neglected to greet you properly. That was most discourteous of me."
Lucian, ever composed, gave a respectful nod. "Please, sir, think nothing of it. It is entirely understandable, given the circumstances." His tone was formal yet respectful, reflecting the way he carried himself.
Raihan extended his hand.
"I am Raihan Khan," he introduced himself, his tone exuding the quiet authority of a man who had spent a lifetime commanding respect.
Lucian reached forward and clasped his hand in a firm handshake, intending to meet the gesture with equal respect.
The moment their hands met, a jolt of realization coursed through Lucian.
The sheer strength in Raihan's grip was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. It wasn't just the grip of a strong man—it was the grip of a warrior, someone whose very presence commanded deference. Raihan's grasp was steady, unwavering, yet exuded the kind of power that spoke of years of experience, battle, and sheer dominance.
Lucian's eyes flickered with intrigue. He had always prided himself on his own strength, but this man—this father of Hakan—was on a completely different level. There was an effortless might behind his handshake, a quiet warning that beneath his composed exterior lay a man not to be underestimated.
Lucian tightened his grip slightly in response, a silent acknowledgment of the strength he felt.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," he said, keeping his tone measured.
Raihan gave a small nod, his gaze sharp.
"And you as well, young man."
For a brief moment, neither spoke. It was a mutual understanding between warriors—no need for excessive words, just silent recognition.
Soren, watching from the side, smirked slightly.
"Careful, Lucian," he teased. "You might have just shaken hands with the strongest man in this country."
Lucian exhaled lightly, shaking his hand once as if to test its movement. "I can believe that," he admitted.
Raihan chuckled, a deep, rich sound. "You flatter me, but I am just a man who has lived long enough to learn the value of strength."
Soren patted Lucian on the back. "Come on, let's head inside before they eat all the food without us."
Lucian nodded, still somewhat intrigued by Raihan, and followed Soren into the villa. As they stepped inside, Hakan—who had been watching the interaction with mild amusement—exchanged a brief glance with his father.
Raihan only smiled slightly.
As they entered the dining room, they saw that the food had already been placed. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the air, a testament to the hospitality of the nation.
"Soren said that guests were coming, so we made sure to prepare a proper meal," Raihan said as the men took their seats. According to custom, the men and women sat separately, the women gathered in another section of the lounge.
"But he didn't tell us exactly who was coming, so we were a bit uncertain," he added with a small chuckle.
"There was no need to go through so much trouble, Mister Raihan," Lucian said respectfully.
"No, no. It is something that is compulsory for us," Raihan replied, waving off the remark with a warm smile.
Lucian was taken aback by the level of hospitality. He had heard that this nation was famous for its generosity, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter entirely.
At that moment, Soren, who had been quiet until now, turned toward Hakan.
"Brother, why don't you start by telling us what really happened that day?" Soren asked, his voice calm but filled with curiosity.
Hakan leaned back slightly, exhaling as he gathered his thoughts. "Well… where should I even begin?"
The conversation on the women's side of the lounge quieted as their attention shifted toward Hakan. Even though they had initially been engaged in their own discussions, his words carried across the room, drawing them in.
"I was standing on the cliff that day—the day we first encountered the tower breaks," Hakan began, his voice steady. He paused for a moment, as if reliving the memories, before continuing.
He recounted the battle—the chaos, the monstrous creatures, and how he had lost his limbs. He described the sudden burst of light that had wiped out the monsters, the immense force that had thrown him back into a body of water. When he woke up, he was in an unknown place, surrounded by people who were healing him.
He went on to explain how he had recovered his limbs thanks to the healers and began his training under Wang Wei and Master Liang Jun. He spoke of his journey to the Valley of Death, where he met Sylvia, and how they had cleared it together, obtaining teleportation stones in the process.
After parting ways with his mentors, he and Sylvia had arrived in Shizumi, where a tower break was occurring. Hakan had stopped the calamity and slain the boss, which led to him being escorted by the Hero Accord and ultimately declared a Six-Star Hero.
Then came the greatest threat he had ever faced—the High Tower. It was there that he battled Vealzaryon, the one foe who had nearly broken him, nearly made him give up. He detailed the grueling battle and how, after his victory, the dragons swore their loyalty to him, granting him the title of the Dragon Monarch and elevating him to a Seven-Star Hero.
"And now… I'm here," Hakan concluded, his gaze steady as he looked around the room.
A heavy silence settled in as everyone absorbed his words.
Then, Raihan, who had been deep in thought, suddenly muttered, "Sylvia… I remember that name."
Sylvia remained quiet, her fingers tensing slightly. She knew he would recognize her name—but not necessarily her.
Raihan leaned back into his sofa, studying her more closely before realization dawned upon him. His eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Thank you, Stallion, for taking care of my son," he said, his voice filled with warmth.
Sylvia's breath hitched. Stallion. The name Raihan had given her when she had served under his brigade.
"You… remember me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. A single tear escaped her eye, the first any of them had ever seen from her.
Raihan's gaze remained firm. "How could I ever forget you?"
For Sylvia, Raihan had been more than just a commanding officer—he had been a father figure. Someone who had looked after her when no one else had.
She quickly wiped her tears and forced a smile. "Thank you, sir."
Raihan shook his head, his expression full of gratitude. "No… I should be the one thanking you."
"Soren," Hakan called out, curiosity evident in his voice.
As Soren turned toward him, Hakan asked, "Is there a light user among the Seven-Star Heroes?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the room tensed. Everyone except Hakan and Sylvia seemed unsettled—they already knew where this conversation was heading.
Soren exhaled before answering. "If you're talking about the light that knocked you into the sea… it came from Luxarion Graves."
That name alone was enough to silence the entire room.
Hakan immediately caught onto the shift in atmosphere and pressed further. "How strong is he?"
Before Soren could respond, Raihan interrupted, his voice firm.
"Luxarion Graves isn't just powerful—he is the embodiment of light itself. Both in its raw destructive force and its untouchable purity. His abilities push the limits of speed, endurance, and perception, making him nearly invincible."
Hakan was stunned. His father had never spoken so highly of another man's strength before.
"Luxarion doesn't just use light—he is light," Raihan continued. **"He can move at speeds rivaling, if not exceeding, the speed of light in short bursts, making him functionally untouchable in combat. He converts photons into kinetic energy, allowing him to strike with star-shattering force while barely exerting himself. His mind operates at light-speed processing—he absorbs information instantly, anticipates attacks before they happen, and outthinks opponents before they even move.
Luxarion can generate, shape, and weaponize light, from simple flashes to planetary-scale beams of destruction. His body passively absorbs all forms of light, making him effectively unkillable as long as a single source of illumination exists.
And in his final form… he becomes a literal star, radiating an aura of absolute illumination that incinerates anything unworthy of its presence. It is said that when he unleashes his full power, night ceases to exist wherever he stands."**
The sheer weight of this introduction was overwhelming. It felt less like a description of a man and more like the arrival of an inevitable catastrophe. Just knowing about Luxarion was more devastating than any attack—because before you even met him, your mind had already accepted defeat.
But Hakan?
He laughed.
"That's one hell of a guy you've got." A grin spread across his face, unfazed by the terrifying description.
Iffah, however, saw through him immediately. "Hakan, I know what you're thinking. Please—don't. Luxarion is too strong!"
Hakan simply waved her concern away. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." He laughed it off, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
Soren decided to bring the conversation back on track. "Anyway, let's focus on the task at hand." He stood up, shifting the mood.
Turning to Mahira, he gave her a directive. "Mahira, help this woman recover her hands and body." His gaze landed on Aria.
Mahira stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning Aria with quiet concern. "What happened to you?" she asked gently.
Aria hesitated for a moment before exhaling. "I lost my arm… and part of my lower abdomen." Her voice was steady, but the weight of her words carried the pain of the past. "It happened during a battle in the High Tower—against Zareth."
At the mention of that name, Mahira's expression darkened. Zareth. A name associated with carnage.
Without another word, Mahira reached for Aria's hand. "Come with me."
Aria didn't resist. She followed Mahira out of the hall, the sound of their footsteps fading into the corridor as they moved toward Mahira's quarters.
Upon arriving, Mahira shut the door behind them and turned to Aria. "Take off your clothes."
Aria blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
Mahira, noticing the hesitation, sighed. "I need to examine your injuries properly. Don't worry—I'm only here to heal you."
Understanding, Aria nodded. She unfastened her garments, revealing the harsh reality of what remained—her missing arm, the deep scarring where her lower abdomen had been damaged, the lasting marks of battle.
Mahira's gaze softened. "You endured this much… and you're still standing."
She stepped closer, placing a hand just above Aria's wounds. A radiant light began to form in her palms, its golden glow filling the room. As the energy surrounded Aria, a strange warmth spread through her body.
Then—it happened.
Before her very eyes, her missing arm began to regenerate. Muscle, bone, and skin wove together seamlessly, as if time itself had reversed. The damaged areas of her lower abdomen mended completely, leaving no trace of the brutal wounds she had once carried.
When the light finally dimmed, Aria lifted her arm in disbelief. She flexed her fingers, feeling the familiar sensation of movement. Her injuries—gone. As if they had never been there in the first place.
But before she could say anything—
Mahira stumbled backward, her body losing strength.
Aria reacted instantly, catching her before she could fall. "What happened?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
Mahira leaned into her support, breathing heavily. "I can only use my power after a certain period," she explained between breaths. "If I try to heal too soon… I drain too much energy and become exhausted."
Aria tightened her grip. "You shouldn't have pushed yourself this hard for me."
Mahira gave a tired chuckle. "It was necessary."
Moments later, the door opened, and Iffah stepped inside. She paused, taking in the sight before her—Aria, standing completely healed, supporting a weary Mahira.
A smile spread across Iffah's face. "You've made a full recovery. That's a relief."
Turning back toward the hallway, she gestured for the maids. "Help Mahira onto the bed."
The maids rushed in, carefully guiding Mahira toward the soft sheets. Aria lingered beside her, watching as Mahira's exhaustion took hold.
Iffah placed a gentle hand on Aria's shoulder. "You should rest too. You've been through a lot."
But Aria simply looked at her newly restored arm, clenching and unclenching her fingers.
She had lost a part of herself in that battle with Zareth.
And now, thanks to Mahira—
She had reclaimed it.
Iffah was about to step out of the room when Aria, now fully dressed, suddenly called out.
"Wait."
Iffah turned, raising an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"
Aria hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I need to talk to you."
At that, Iffah gave a small smile. "That's interesting… I was about to say the same thing."
Aria blinked in surprise. "You wanted to talk to me too?"
"Seems like we both have things to say," Iffah said as she gestured toward the balcony. "Let's talk there."
They stepped outside onto the open balcony, the cool night air brushing against their skin. The city below was alive with faint lights, but up here, there was an almost serene quiet.
Aria leaned against the railing, crossing her arms. "So… what did you want to talk about?"
Iffah didn't hesitate. "Do you like Hakan?"
The directness of the question hit Aria like a sudden gust of wind. Her eyes widened, and she nearly choked on air. "W-What?"
Iffah tilted her head slightly, watching her reaction. "I mean… do you have feelings for him?"
Aria's face turned slightly red as she stammered, "No, no! I mean—No! It's not like that at all!"
Iffah gave her a knowing look. "Then why were you flirting with him?"
Aria felt her face heat up more. "That wasn't real flirting! That was just something Rina and Sylvia do to mess with you—to make you jealous."
Iffah raised an eyebrow. "They do that on purpose?"
Aria sighed. "Yeah… they think it's funny." She rubbed her temples, then let out another breath. "Besides, I…" She hesitated, looking down at her hands before continuing. "…I already have someone I love."
That caught Iffah's attention. "Oh?"
Aria nodded, a rare softness in her expression. "But… it's complicated."
Iffah leaned against the railing beside her. "How so?"
Aria bit her lip before answering. "He's… not as strong as me."
Iffah stayed quiet, waiting for her to explain further.
"I don't care about that," Aria continued. "But I don't know how to approach him. I don't want to make him feel small. I don't want him to think I pity him. And… I don't know if I can have the kind of life I want with him."
Iffah listened carefully before responding. "And you wanted to ask me about that because of Hakan, didn't you?"
Aria gave a small nod. "Yeah. Hakan… he wasn't always this strong, right? But you still stood by him."
Iffah smiled softly, looking up at the stars. "Hakan's strength has never been the reason I stood by him."
Aria turned to face her, curious.
Iffah continued, "He was always reckless, always trying to take on things beyond his limits. But he never let his lack of power define him. And that's what made me believe in him." She then looked at Aria directly. "So tell me… is the man you love weak? Or is he simply not as strong as you?"
Aria opened her mouth but then paused, truly thinking about it.
Iffah smiled. "If you love him, then that means he already has something greater than power—he has your heart. And trust me, that's worth more than strength."
Aria exhaled, a small smile forming on her lips. "You make it sound so simple."
Iffah smirked. "It's not. But if you don't take the first step, you'll never know what's possible."
For the first time in a while, Aria felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She still didn't have all the answers, but at least now, she knew what she had to do.
She glanced at Iffah and grinned. "I see why Hakan loves you."
Iffah rolled her eyes with a playful chuckle. "He'd better."
The two women stood there in quiet understanding, the night air carrying their unspoken thoughts into the endless sky.
Iffah leaned on the railing, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. "So… who is this man that has captured the heart of the great Aria Lysander?"
Aria hesitated, looking away as if debating whether to say the name aloud. "I… It's—"
Coming back to Hakan as he sat at the head of the long, polished table, surrounded by his closest allies. The atmosphere was tense but not hostile—his comrades were simply concerned.
Soren leaned forward, his fingers laced together. "Hakan, are you absolutely certain you can control them?"
Raihan, arms crossed, added, "Dragons aren't just powerful creatures—they're forces of nature. If something goes wrong, it won't just be your problem. It could turn into a disaster for everyone."
Hakan met their gazes with unwavering confidence. "I understand your concerns. But trust me, they aren't just any dragons. They are my dragons."
His words carried a weight that silenced the room.
Sylvia, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Then prove it."
A knowing smirk formed on Hakan's lips. "Fine." He slowly raised his hand, the air around him thickening with an invisible energy.
"Come to me."
A pulse of draconic energy rippled through the room. Within moments, three distinct presences emerged from the ether.
Veyrath.
Zeldiya.
Vaelthor.
The three dragons, in their smaller forms, stood before Hakan, bowing their heads in deference. Their voices echoed in his mind, a shared consciousness that only he could hear.
"We are here, Monarch."
Hakan turned back to the others, his smirk never fading. "Still think I don't have control?"
Soren exhaled, shaking his head. "You really are something else…"
Raihan sighed in resignation. "I suppose we'll just have to trust you on this."
Hakan folded his arms. "Good. Because trust isn't something I demand—it's something I earn."
The dragons remained still, their gazes unwavering, their loyalty absolute.
Hakan stood firm, his gaze unwavering as he issued his next command.
"Go back."
His voice carried authority, and without hesitation, the three dragons—Veyrath, Zeldiya, and Vaelthor—instantly obeyed. Their bodies shimmered before dissolving into radiant energy, returning to their dormant state within him.
Just as the last traces of their forms faded, the doors to the hall opened, revealing Aria and Iffah, carefully supporting Mahira between them. The exhaustion on Mahira's face was evident—her body was weak, her steps sluggish, and even with their help, she struggled to move forward. The immense effort of regenerating Aria's lost limbs and damaged abdomen had left her utterly drained.
Hakan's eyes darkened with concern. His sister rarely showed signs of weakness, and seeing her in such a state unsettled him.
Without hesitation, he turned to one of his dragons.
"Zeldiya! Come forth."
At his command, a surge of energy filled the room as Zeldiya materialized once more, kneeling before him. Her ethereal scales shimmered under the dim lighting, her presence exuding a serene yet powerful aura.
Hakan took a step forward, his expression firm but resolute. "Can you help my sister?"
Zeldiya lifted her gaze, golden reptilian eyes observing Mahira carefully. She studied her for a moment before responding, "Yes, Master. It is possible."
"Then do it."
With a graceful motion, Zeldiya spread her translucent wings and took flight, gliding toward Mahira before perching gently on her shoulder. A soft hum resonated in the air as her body pulsed with light, sending waves of energy cascading through Mahira.
A radiant glow enveloped her completely. It was unlike anything she had felt before—warm, comforting, yet filled with power beyond comprehension. Strength surged through her limbs, washing away her exhaustion as if it had never existed. The dull ache in her muscles vanished, replaced by a newfound vitality, stronger than before.
Mahira looked down at her hands in shock, flexing her fingers as if testing the energy coursing through her veins. "What… what is this?" she breathed, eyes wide with wonder.
Hakan crossed his arms and smirked slightly. "Zeldiya possesses the power to heal wounds and restore lost energy. But more than that—she enhances the strength of those she heals, pushing them beyond their natural limits."
Mahira clenched her fists, feeling the raw potential coursing through her, the boost unlike anything she had ever experienced.
She turned to Zeldiya, eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you…"
The dragon dipped her head respectfully. "It is my duty, Lady Mahira."
Aria and Iffah, who had been watching in awe, exchanged glances. Even among dragons, this level of power was rare.
Iffah smiled. "It looks like your brother's bond with his dragons is far deeper than we imagined."
Hakan simply chuckled, his arms still folded. "I told you—I have full control."
Mahira placed a hand over her chest, still feeling the invigorating energy coursing through her veins. She turned her head slightly, glancing at the small yet regal form of Zeldiya perched on her shoulder.
"Thank you, Zeldiya," she said sincerely. "I can feel it—my strength is even greater than before."
The little dragon flicked her tail, her violet scales shimmering under the dim light. Her golden eyes remained steady as she responded, "It is not necessary to thank me, Lady Mahira. This is an order from my Monarch. I will follow it, no matter what."
A wave of surprise spread through the room. Her Monarch. The weight of those words was not lost on anyone—Zeldiya wasn't merely a servant or a companion. She had acknowledged Hakan as her ruler, her absolute authority. This level of devotion wasn't something easily obtained, even among dragons.
Hakan's mother, who had been observing everything in silence, finally stepped forward. Her expression was warm, yet deeply emotional as she gazed at Zeldiya.
"Thank you… for staying by Hakan's side."** She spoke softly, yet there was an undeniable sincerity in her tone.** "If you are with him, I can rest a little easier, knowing that someone with your abilities can heal him if he is ever injured."
Zeldiya, ever composed, bowed her small head. "As long as my Monarch commands it, I shall fulfill my duty."
A brief silence fell over the room as everyone processed the depth of the bond between Hakan and his dragons. But amidst the awe and gratitude, someone else was feeling something entirely different.
Iffah.
Her golden eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the exchange. Zeldiya was clinging to Hakan far too much. The way she devoted herself so completely to him… it was annoying.
Without thinking, Iffah reached out, gently but firmly grasping Zeldiya with both hands. The small dragon let out a surprised sound as she was suddenly lifted from Mahira's shoulder.
"You're coming with me," Iffah said bluntly.
Before anyone could question her, she turned on her heels and walked straight out of the hall, carrying the tiny dragon in her hands.
Zeldiya blinked, tilting her head in confusion. "Where are we going?"
Iffah didn't answer right away. Her grip tightened just slightly, her lips pressing together in a faint pout as she strode down the corridor, away from everyone else.
As Iffah walked towards the exit, Aria, Mahira, and the others exchanged confused glances.
"Iffah, where are you going?" Aria called out, stepping forward.
Mahira, now fully recovered and standing properly, also looked at her curiously. "Yeah, what's with suddenly taking Zeldiya away like that?"
Iffah, still holding Zeldiya in her hands, turned her head slightly but didn't stop walking. "It's not something important," she said in a casual tone, but there was something almost defensive in the way she spoke.
The others weren't entirely convinced, but before they could press her further, a soft chuckle came from behind them.
Hakan.
He had been watching the scene unfold with amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. A knowing smile played on his lips as he watched Iffah walk off.
"Just let her go," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I think she has something to discuss… privately."
Aria raised an eyebrow at that, glancing back at Iffah's retreating form. Mahira tilted her head in curiosity, while even their mother observed the interaction with mild interest.
Iffah didn't acknowledge any of them further. She simply strode out of the hall, still carrying Zeldiya in her grasp, her pace firm and unwavering.
Zeldiya, meanwhile, blinked her golden eyes up at Iffah, still confused. "Why do I feel like this isn't really about me?"
Iffah didn't answer.
She just kept walking.
As soon as Iffah stepped out of the hall, she shut the heavy doors behind her with a decisive thud. The sound echoed in the corridor, making Zeldiya, still in her small form, flinch slightly.
Iffah brought Zeldiya up to her face, her grip tightening just enough to make her point clear. Her emerald eyes burned with something between jealousy and frustration.
"You better start talking," Iffah's voice was calm, but the sharp edge in her tone sent a shiver down Zeldiya's spine. "Tell me exactly what Hakan said to you."
Zeldiya hesitated. "The Morach?" she stammered, wings twitching slightly.
Iffah narrowed her eyes. "Don't act dumb with me. I know there was more to it. Speak, now."
Zeldiya gulped. She could feel a cold pressure wrapping around her. Despite her immense power, in this moment, Iffah was the truly terrifying one.
"I... I can't," Zeldiya finally whispered, looking away.
That was the wrong answer.
Iffah pulled her even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper—dangerous, unyielding. "I am the wife of the Monarch. That makes me your superior. So I order you—tell me everything."
Iffah said knowing exactly that this was a certain command she could not disobey.
Zeldiya's golden eyes widened in fear. She felt trapped, unable to defy a direct order from Hakan's queen.
Finally, she sighed in defeat and spoke in a hushed tone.
"The Monarch ordered me to always stay by your side and ensure your safety."
Iffah's expression softened slightly, but she wasn't satisfied yet. "And?"
Zeldiya swallowed hard before continuing. "He gave me strict orders… that if anything happens to you, I won't be spared."
Silence.
Iffah stared at her, processing those words. Her heart clenched at the realization.
Hakan had placed Zeldiya's life as collateral for her safety.
For a moment, she didn't know how to feel. Should she be angry? Touched? Frustrated? She looked away, biting her lip, before glancing back at the small dragon in her hands.
Zeldiya, still nervous, watched Iffah closely, waiting for her reaction.
Finally, Iffah let out a sigh, loosening her grip just a little. "That idiot…" she muttered under her breath.
Hakan turned his gaze toward his father, Raihan, his expression serious yet calm. He had been watching as Iffah left with Zeldiya, but he knew now wasn't the time to focus on that.
"baba." His voice was steady, commanding attention. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
Raihan raised an eyebrow, studying his son's face carefully. The weight behind Hakan's words wasn't lost on him. This wasn't something that could be discussed casually in a hall full of people.
"This isn't the place for it," Hakan continued. "Let's step outside."
A quiet tension settled over the room.Zainab watched in confusion , Mahira, who was still recovering from her exhaustion, glanced at Hakan but said nothing. Aria and the others exchanged looks, sensing that whatever Hakan wanted to discuss was of great importance.
Raihan remained silent for a moment before giving a slow nod. "Alright."
Without another word, Hakan turned on his heel and walked toward the large doors leading to the outer courtyard. Raihan followed closely behind, his powerful presence making even the air feel heavier.
The others stayed behind, watching as father and son left the hall, stepping into the open night air.
As they stood beneath the vast, moonlit sky, Raihan folded his arms and cast a sidelong glance at his son. "So, what is it?" His voice was calm, but his gaze carried the weight of experience.
Hakan remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the twinkling stars above. Then, without looking away, he finally spoke.
"If I'm not mistaken, you were responsible for researching powers, right?"
Raihan furrowed his brows slightly but nodded. "Yes, that's correct. I was."
Hakan turned to face his father now, his expression unreadable. "And what about the towers? Were you involved in researching them as well?"
Raihan narrowed his eyes. There was something in Hakan's tone—something deeper, more urgent.
"Yes, I was." He studied his son carefully. "Is something bothering you?"
Hakan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small piece of cloth—carefully wrapped around something.
Raihan's sharp eyes caught the subtle movement. "What is that?"
Hakan unfolded the cloth, revealing a simple scroll. No glow, no surge of energy—just aged parchment, worn from time.
And yet, when Raihan's gaze landed on it, a wave of unease passed through him.
"This," Hakan said, his voice steady, "is the key that allowed me to stand against Vealzaryon."
The moment those words left his lips, Raihan's expression shifted. Genuine shock. Hakan had seen his father react to many things before, but never like this.
"That's impossible," Raihan muttered, eyes locked onto the scroll.
Hakan exhaled slowly. "This scroll contains martial techniques—techniques from the past." He hesitated before adding, "Or maybe… from somewhere else entirely."
Raihan's eyes darkened. "What do you mean?"
Hakan clenched the scroll tightly. "When I used these techniques against Vealzaryon, he wasn't just surprised." His voice grew colder. "He was terrified."
Raihan remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"He said, 'These techniques were wiped from existence.' And then he said something else…" Hakan took a breath before repeating the words that had been haunting him since that battle.
"No mortal should know them."
Raihan's entire body tensed. He stared at the scroll as if it held an answer he didn't want to hear.
"Wiped from existence?" Raihan finally spoke, his tone slow and measured. "Mortals shouldn't have them?"
The weight of those words sank into the air between them, making the night feel heavier.
Hakan nodded. "Father, something is wrong." He turned his gaze back to the sky, deep in thought. "I think there's more to the towers and the powers the asteroid grant."
Raihan watched his son in silence, letting the tension settle.
Hakan continued, "Something out there is planning all of this… or…" He took a slow breath.
"This isn't the first time these powers have emerged."
Raihan's eyes snapped toward him. "What are you saying?"
Hakan turned to face him fully now. "Think about it, Father. These towers appeared out of nowhere, yet there already existed a force—a counter—to the abilities they granted. Martial techniques designed specifically to fight against them. How is that possible?"
The logic in his words struck like thunder. Raihan hadn't considered that before.
Hakan tucked the scroll back into his coat. "I need to find the first tower that ever appeared." His voice was resolute. "I need to know the truth."
Raihan studied his son carefully, his mind racing through every bit of knowledge he had gathered over the years.
"…You're sure about this?" he finally asked.
Hakan nodded. "More than ever."
For the first time in a long while, Raihan felt a chill run down his spine. There were things even he had never questioned—things he had accepted as simply 'how the world worked.'
But now?
Now, his son was forcing him to look deeper.
And deep down, Raihan had a feeling that neither of them were going to like the answers they found.
Raihan exhaled, rubbing his chin as he processed Hakan's words. His son was right—there was something unnatural about all of this.
After a brief silence, he finally spoke. "Hakan… do you realize what you're asking?"
Hakan met his father's gaze, unwavering. "I do."
Raihan sighed, crossing his arms. "The first towers that appeared across the world… they're all classified to the average person. Only 6-star and 7-star heroes are allowed to go near them."
Hakan's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Raihan's expression darkened. "Because there's a chance that something still lingers within them. Something unknown."
He paused for a moment before continuing. "Below 6-star, heroes might not be able to handle it. The towers—especially the original ones—don't just house power. They hide something… something the world is not ready to face."
Hakan clenched his fist. "And yet, these towers keep appearing. More power spreads, and we're left grasping at shadows."
His father nodded. "That's why the first towers are under constant guard."
"By who?"
"The Accord." Hakan new that it had to be them .
Raihan looked at his son again, this time with a knowing gaze. "You, however, can go."
Hakan tilted his head slightly. "Because of my rank?"
Raihan smirked. "Because you are a 7-star hero—the Dragon Monarch. No one in the Accord can deny you access."
Hakan took a deep breath. He had known that reaching 7-star status gave him more privileges, but this was different. This was access to secrets the world had long buried.
Iffah stepped back into the hall, her expression unreadable, but resting on her shoulder was Zeldiya—tears streaming down her small, dragonic face as she sniffled like a child.
Zainab, noticing the distress, immediately narrowed her eyes. "Iffah, what did you do to her?" she asked, her voice laced with both authority and concern.
"Mama, I didn't do anything, it's just…" Iffah began, but before she could explain, Hakan and Raihan entered the hall.
Hakan's eyes scanned the room, his tone sharp with irritation. "What's going on?"
Before anyone could respond, Zeldiya suddenly flew from Iffah's shoulder and rushed toward him. Landing in front of him, she immediately dropped to her knees, her head pressed against the ground.
"Monarch!!! Please forgive me!!" she sobbed uncontrollably, her tiny body trembling.
Hakan blinked, confused. "Zeldiya, what happened?"
Aria, her voice edged with anger, turned to Iffah. "Just tell us—what did you do?"
Iffah crossed her arms, pouting slightly. "I only asked her a few questions… that's all."
Hakan turned back to Zeldiya, who was still crying. "Explain."
Through her sobs, she barely managed to say, "M-Monarch, I… I told Lady Iffah what you ordered me before coming here…" she trembled, her wings drooping. "Please… spare my life!!!!"
Hakan raised a brow, utterly perplexed. "That's impossible."
Zeldiya would never reveal something unless he explicitly commanded her to do so. She was bound by his will—there was no way she would have disobeyed.
Then, realization dawned on him. He smirked.
His eyes flickered to his fiancée. "Iffah…" he leaned forward slightly. "How did you make her talk?"
Iffah's lips curled into a playful, mischievous smile. "Well, I told her…" she flipped her hair dramatically. "I am the wife of the Monarch, and you do as I say!!"
The entire room fell silent for a moment.
Then, laughter erupted.
Aria shook her head, chuckling, while Mahira covered her mouth, amused. Even Zainab, who had been initially worried, sighed and smiled at her daughter in law's antics.
Hakan, arms crossed, let out a deep laugh, his gaze softening as he looked at Iffah. His love and admiration for her only grew stronger.
Still smiling, he turned back to the tiny, trembling Zeldiya. "It's okay. I forgive you."
Zeldiya sniffled and wiped her tears, peeking up at him with big, watery eyes.
Hakan gently lifted her into his hands, her small form still shuddering slightly. "From now on, you will be responsible for Iffah's safety. Take orders from her as you would from me."
Zeldiya, still teary-eyed, nodded furiously. "Understood, Monarch!!!"
Iffah, smugly satisfied, placed a hand on her hip and looked at Hakan with a victorious smile.
Hakan just shook his head, amused.
This woman was truly something else.