The castle alley was cloaked in an icy chill, the air crisp with the touch of an eternal winter. A mesmerizing blue gradient bathed the towering stone walls, shifting from a deep sapphire at the base to an ethereal ice-blue near the spires. Frost clung to the ancient bricks, glistening under the pale glow of the moon, while delicate icicles draped from archways like nature's own chandeliers. The freezing wind howled softly through the narrow passage, carrying with it a flurry of snowflakes that danced in the dim light.
With a sharp bang, the door flew open, hinges protesting as footsteps thundered into the room.
"Master Itharyx!!"
A voice echoed through the vast, frozen corridors of the throne room, carrying urgency and fear. A dragon, its wings tattered from exhaustion, burst into the chamber, ice crystals clinging to its scales as it landed heavily on the frost-covered stone.
"What has happened?" The figure upon the throne stirred, his voice deep and resonant, a whisper of winter storms. Only his eyes—pale silver pools like frozen moons—were visible through the darkness that shrouded the rest of his immense form.
"The dragons of the Vale…" The messenger gasped for breath, steam curling from his maw in the freezing air.
"What of them?" Itharyx's voice remained calm, but the air in the chamber grew even colder, frost creeping up the obsidian pillars.
"They… they are here for war!!" The dragon's breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes wide with disbelief.
A roar erupted from Itharyx, a sound that silenced the entire castle. It cut through the icy winds, rolling across the vast dominion, forcing all who heard it into submission. The silent, undisturbed rule of Cryalis Dominion was now shattered.
"A dragon going to war against another dragon…" Itharyx muttered, his mind racing. Such an act was unthinkable—unless it was decreed by the Primordials or the Monarch, no dragon had the right to raise claw or fang against another's realm.
"But—why?" Itharyx's voice was edged with disbelief. Then, realization struck him like a thunderclap. His silver eyes widened, their glow intensifying.
"The Monarch…" he whispered.
He turned sharply to the messenger. "Is the Monarch among them? The new one we've heard whispers of?"
The messenger hesitated, his entire body trembling—not just from the cold, but from the weight of his answer. "I… I do not know, Master."
"Fine."
Itharyx rose from his throne, the darkness retreating as his full form was revealed. His scales shimmered with an ethereal glow, a deep, crystalline azure shifting between transparent ice and solid silver, reflecting the frozen landscapes he ruled. His massive wings unfurled, woven from storm and ice, each delicate fractal mirroring the beauty and fury of a blizzard. The wind howled in response, whispering the voice of the eternal winter that surrounded him.
Curved horns, etched with ancient runes of permafrost, arched back like frozen spires, a faint, pulsing glow flickering along their markings. Around his head, shards of floating ice hovered like a frozen halo, shifting in response to his growing resolve. His breath, thick and heavy, curled into the air as a mist of frozen eternity, a slow-moving fog that crystallized everything it touched.
The very air trembled as his presence bent reality itself. Snowflakes, once falling, now drifted in frozen stillness, time slowing as if winter itself had seized dominion over the moment.
Itharyx's silver gaze burned with an inner fire, as fierce as it was cold. His voice, now carrying the weight of the ages, resonated through the chamber.
"Then we shall see for ourselves."
Away from the border of the Cryalis Dominion, Xyvarion stood with Eryndor, surveying the land beneath them. The two dragons studied the terrain in silence, strategizing their next moves.
"Xyvarion!"
Veyrath approached swiftly, his tone urgent.
"What is it?" Xyvarion asked without turning.
"There is a messenger from the Cryalis Dominion."
At those words, a tense silence settled over them. Eryndor and Xyvarion exchanged glances—there was no turning back now.
Leaving their vantage point, they made their way toward the main camp. There, illuminated beneath the pale glow of the midnight moon, stood a massive dragon. His deep blue scales shimmered like frozen sapphire, reflecting the starlight with an icy sheen.
Xyvarion stepped forward, his voice steady and commanding. "What message do you bring?"
The dragon lifted his head. "I bring word from my master, Itharyx."
"Speak," Xyvarion ordered.
The messenger's voice echoed through the camp.
"To my brothers of the Vale, I see that you have not come here as mere visitors. Yet I must ask—why? Battle between dragons for conquest is forbidden by the Primordials unless decreed by them or the Monarch. I implore you, return now, and spare both the Sylvaris Vale and the Cryalis Dominion from needless bloodshed."
A flicker of amusement crossed Xyvarion's face. He understood Itharyx well—knew that he would do everything in his power to prevent dragons from spilling each other's blood.
"You," Xyvarion said, stepping toward the messenger.
The blue-scaled dragon tensed as Xyvarion loomed closer.
"Tell Itharyx that he has two choices," Xyvarion declared. "Surrender immediately, swear loyalty to our new Monarch, and follow him until death… or resist—" his eyes gleamed in the moonlight "—and be slaughtered."
The messenger's breath hitched, but before he could turn, Xyvarion leaned in, whispering something only he could hear.
The dragon's eyes widened in shock. His body trembled as the weight of those words settled upon him.
Eryndor narrowed his eyes. "What did he say?"
Vealthor's gaze followed the messenger as he hastily took flight, heading back toward the frozen citadel of the Cryalis Dominion.
"I have a feeling about this," Eryndor muttered, unease creeping into his voice.
Beside them, Elaris, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "What did you tell him?"
Xyvarion simply smirked. "Don't worry," he said, his voice filled with certainty. "This war is already over."
The winds howled through the icy spires of the Cryalis Dominion as the blue-scaled messenger flew with haste, his mind racing. The words of Xyvarion echoed in his thoughts, as heavy as the frozen mountains that loomed over their homeland.
He descended rapidly into the grand citadel, where Itharyx awaited in the throne chamber. The Sage of Winter's Veil sat upon his frozen throne, his massive form shrouded in an eerie, glacial mist. His crystalline azure scales shimmered beneath the pale glow of suspended snowflakes, and his silver eyes, vast as the endless winter, fixated on the returning messenger.
The moment the dragon landed, he bowed deeply, his breath still unsteady.
"Master Itharyx," he began, voice trembling.
"What did they say?" Itharyx's voice was calm, yet there was a biting cold beneath his words, an unspoken pressure that demanded truth.
The messenger hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
"The dragons of the Vale offer you two choices… surrender and swear fealty to the new Monarch, or resist and be annihilated."
Silence fell over the chamber. Even the howling winds outside seemed to hush.
Itharyx's wings shifted slightly, sending a cascade of frost into the air. His glowing eyes narrowed as he studied the messenger's face.
"That much, I expected," Itharyx murmured. "But why do you tremble? Is there something else?"
The messenger swallowed hard.
"Yes… there is more." He lifted his gaze and spoke the words that had shaken him to his core.
"He told me his name… 'I am Xyvarion. Tell this to him and make sure he makes the right decision.'"
The chamber turned deathly still.
Itharyx's breath slowed. His silver eyes, once impassive, now held a flicker of something rare—unease.
Xyvarion.
A name that carried the weight of destruction itself. A dragon whose mere presence on the battlefield could shift the tides of war. Second only to Vealzaryon, he was a force feared even among the rulers of Drakareth.
Itharyx knew better than to test such power.
A low, rumbling murmur spread through the chamber as his commanders, who had been listening, exchanged uncertain glances. The tension in the air thickened like an impending blizzard.
"My lord…" One of the generals, a frost-scaled dragon named Nyxthar, stepped forward. "Surely, we cannot simply yield?" His voice was steady, but there was hesitation beneath it. "The Cryalis Dominion has never bowed to another, not even to Vealzaryon himself."
Another commander, Orivax, exhaled sharply. "But this is Xyvarion. If we resist, we risk the extinction of our kin."
Murmurs of uncertainty filled the chamber. Even the most battle-hardened warriors hesitated to speak against that name.
Itharyx slowly rose from his throne, his horns of permafrost glinting in the pale light. The runes across his body pulsed faintly with frozen magic, responding to his shifting emotions. His wings unfurled slightly, casting long shadows across the chamber floor.
For a long moment, he remained silent, contemplating the weight of this decision.
Then, he spoke.
Itharyx stood tall, his presence casting a frozen stillness over the chamber. His wings of silent blizzards shifted slightly, and the ice that floated around him pulsed as if in thought. The murmurs of his generals had faded into silence as they awaited his decision.
He exhaled slowly, his breath forming a crystalline mist that drifted through the chamber like a whisper of the past.
"Xyvarion…" he repeated the name, as if weighing its significance once more.
A dragon of absolute destruction. A force second only to Vealzaryon. The fact that he was here, leading this charge, changed everything.
Itharyx turned his piercing silver eyes toward his gathered commanders.
"Speak freely," he commanded. "Do any of you believe we can win this war?"
Silence.
None dared to lie. They were proud warriors, each bearing the wisdom of ages, but even they knew the truth—against Xyvarion, victory was an illusion.
Nyxthar was the first to step forward. His frost-laced scales shimmered as he lowered his head slightly. "My lord… I do not believe we can stand against him. Even if we resist, the outcome is inevitable."
Orivax, more battle-hardened than most, growled. "Surrendering without a fight is disgraceful. But even I know that if we do not choose wisely, we may not live to regret it."
Itharyx closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. He had served no king, no ruler. His loyalty was not given—it was earned. Not even Vealzaryon, the former Dragon King, had commanded his allegiance.
And yet, Xyvarion's words were not those of a mere conqueror. They were precise, deliberate.
Itharyx's eyes snapped open, his aura chilling the very air. Something was off.
If Xyvarion was leading this war under the banner of a new Monarch, then the Monarch was no ordinary being.
He had to see for himself.
"I will not make a decision in ignorance," Itharyx finally declared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Prepare a flight. I will meet with Xyvarion myself."
A wave of shock spread through the commanders.
"My lord—" Nyxthar began, but Itharyx raised a claw, silencing him.
"This is not surrender," he said coldly. "This is understanding. I refuse to bow to a name alone." His gaze hardened. "If this Monarch is truly worthy, I will know it when I stand before him."
With that, Itharyx spread his massive wings, a gust of frozen wind sweeping across the chamber. Snowflakes danced in slow motion around him, caught in the sheer weight of his power.
His mind was set.
The Sage of Winter's Veil would face the storm himself.
The night sky above Drakareth was a tapestry of frozen stars, shimmering against the deep abyss of the void. Itharyx soared through the frigid air, his wings leaving trails of glacial mist in his wake. Three of his most trusted generals followed, their presence a silent testament to his authority.
As they neared the Sylvaris Vale's encampment, the silhouette of massive dragons came into view—sentinels standing watch over the battlefield. The ground itself pulsed with life, the very breath of the Vale flowing through its soil.
And there, standing at the center of it all, was Xyvarion.
Even from a distance, his presence was suffocating. His form, wreathed in an aura of power, exuded an unshakable dominance. His long horns, his darkened scales, and his sheer existence felt like the embodiment of destruction itself.
Itharyx narrowed his silver eyes.
This is no ordinary warlord.
Descending, the air stilled around him as his claws met the earth. The generals behind him landed in perfect unison, their bodies tense, their gazes locked onto the being before them.
Xyvarion stood still, his gaze unreadable. Behind him, the warriors of the Vale watched in anticipation.
Itharyx took a step forward. His voice, calm yet absolute, cut through the cold wind.
"Xyvarion," he spoke the name with measured respect. "I have come to understand." His silver eyes darkened, the weight of his next words sinking into the earth itself.
"This Monarch… who is he?"
Somewhere in the Cosmos
Hakan opened his eyes. His breath was steady, but his body bore the weight of his battles. He had fought the Gatekeepers, crossed the Astralis Gate, and now… he stood in a realm beyond comprehension.
The sky above stretched infinitely, a vast ocean of darkness speckled with countless stars, their glow distant yet eternal. Beneath him, silver plateaus rippled like frozen waves, their surfaces reflecting the celestial expanse above.
And then, beyond the endless plains, his gaze fell upon something extraordinary—a pillar of light, rising like a divine beacon into the heavens. It pulsed, alive, twisting with ethereal energy that crackled across the sky like veins of lightning.
Hakan narrowed his eyes.
He had seen many wonders, fought against the impossible, but this… this was something beyond the ordinary.
Where was he?
Hakan took a slow step forward, his boots pressing into the shimmering silver plateau beneath him. The surface was smooth, almost liquid in appearance, yet solid enough to hold his weight. He moved cautiously, his senses sharpened, his instincts screaming at him that he had crossed into something beyond mortal comprehension.
The air was silent—too silent. Not a single whisper of wind, no echoes of life. Just the vast cosmos above and the surreal terrain stretching endlessly before him.
His gaze remained locked onto the pillar of light in the distance, an ever-reaching beacon that pulsed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. If anything existed in this strange realm, it had to be there.
Yet something gnawed at the back of his mind.
There were no dragons.
No celestial beings.
No guardians of the Astralis Rift.
Nothing.
He clenched his fists. Was this truly the domain of the Primordials? Or had he been chasing a myth?
For centuries, the dragons of Drakareth spoke of the Primordials—beings of unfathomable power who had shaped the very fabric of existence. Some believed they were the first rulers of creation, others whispered that they had long since faded, leaving only their echoes behind.
But now that he stood here, in what was supposed to be their domain… where were they?
His mind raced through possibilities. Could it be that the Primordials were nothing more than a legend woven by dragons to justify their rule? A lie passed down to instill reverence and fear?
Or worse—what if they had existed but were no longer here?
What if he was truly alone in this place?
He exhaled sharply and continued forward, determination in his every step. Whatever truth lay beyond that pillar of light, he would find it. Even if it shattered everything he had ever known.
Hakan took another step forward, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the towering column of radiance. It was unlike anything he had ever seen—not a solid form, nor an ordinary beam of light, but something more. It pulsed with an unseen rhythm, as if it were alive. As if it were watching.
Then—it moved.
The light did not fade, nor did it shatter. Instead, it twisted, parting like a curtain to reveal something beyond.
A presence.
From within the brilliance, a massive silhouette emerged, its form gradually taking shape as it stepped forward. At first, it was a mere outline—a towering, regal figure bathed in celestial radiance. Then, as the glow dimmed slightly, its full form was revealed.
A dragon.
But not just any dragon.
Its body shimmered with an ethereal, near-translucent glow, scales woven from the very essence of the cosmos. Each one reflected the light of unseen stars, shifting between hues of deep violet and radiant silver. Its eyes—two pools of endless starlight—locked onto Hakan, studying him with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine.
The dragon's wings stretched wide, their edges dissolving into the light itself, as though they were woven from the very fabric of the universe. And when it spoke, its voice was not just heard—it resonated through reality itself.
"You should not be here."
The words rumbled through the vast expanse, carrying an undeniable authority. It was not a threat, nor a warning. It was a statement of absolute truth.
Hakan's instincts screamed at him. This being—whatever it was—was beyond anything he had faced before. Yet, he stood firm, his gaze unwavering.
Then, the dragon took another step forward, lowering its massive head slightly to get a better look at him.
And then—it froze.
Its celestial eyes widened. Its breath hitched. The light around it flickered, as if reality itself had just suffered a moment of disbelief.
Hakan saw something he had never expected to see in a dragon of such overwhelming presence.
Shock.
A long silence passed before the dragon finally spoke again, its voice no longer carrying the same unwavering certainty.
"You… are… a human?"
There was no mistaking the disbelief in its tone. As if such a thing was impossible. As if what it was seeing should not exist.
Hakan remained silent, letting the question linger in the air. He didn't know why this dragon reacted this way. He didn't know what it expected to see instead.
But one thing was clear.
This dragon—this guardian—had never seen a human before.
And that meant one thing.
Whatever lay beyond this light… had been untouched by humanity.
Until now.
The celestial dragon remained frozen, its radiant form trembling ever so slightly. Its luminous eyes stayed locked onto Hakan, unblinking, as if expecting him to vanish like an illusion. But he did not.
Hakan held his ground, waiting. He had faced countless beasts, monsters, and even dragons before—but never had he seen a reaction quite like this. This was not fear, nor rage. It was something deeper.
Disbelief.
The guardian finally exhaled, its breath shimmering like a gust of stardust. Its wings slowly folded against its massive form as it took a step closer.
"A human… standing at the Gates of Eternity," it murmured, almost to itself. "This is not possible. No mortal should be able to reach this place. Not even the greatest of your kind."
It studied him for a long moment, then narrowed its eyes.
"Who… no—what are you?"
Hakan crossed his arms. "I'm just a man who walked through the Astralis Gate."
The dragon flinched at those words. It glanced back at the towering beam of light behind it, as if searching for some unseen answer. Then, it turned its gaze back to him, its expression unreadable.
"You should not have been able to enter." The guardian's voice was quieter now, but laced with something strange. "The Primordials do not allow any to set foot here unless summoned. And yet, here you are… standing before me."
Its wings unfurled slightly, the air growing heavier. The space around them seemed to ripple, bending under the sheer presence of the being before him.
"This place is not meant for humans," the dragon declared. "Your existence here is an anomaly, a defiance of the order that has existed since the dawn of time."
Hakan frowned. He had heard grand speeches before. But something about this dragon's words carried weight—something beyond just the ramblings of an ancient guardian.
He took a step forward.
"Then tell me something," he said, his voice steady. "If humans aren't supposed to be here, then what are the Primordials hiding?"
The dragon's eyes flashed.
A moment of silence passed. The celestial being exhaled deeply, its gaze shifting—no longer just in shock, but in contemplation.
It was hesitant.
It was conflicted.
And Hakan saw it.
"You don't know, do you?" Hakan muttered, realization dawning on him. "Even you—one of their so-called guardians—you don't know why they refuse to be seen."
The dragon's celestial glow pulsed erratically.
It did not answer.
Hakan took another step forward.
"Are the Primordials even real?"
The moment he spoke those words, the guardian lunged.
In an instant, the air exploded with pressure as the dragon's wings unfurled completely, its colossal form surging forward. Claws wreathed in cosmic energy slashed downward—but stopped mere inches from Hakan's face.
The dragon trembled. Its breathing was uneven.
And then, as quickly as it had moved, it stepped back.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hakan didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He simply stared.
The celestial dragon exhaled once more. Its wings folded, and the starlit glow of its body dimmed slightly.
"You are not supposed to be here," it repeated. But this time… its voice lacked the conviction it once held.
It was not warning him.
It was warning itself.
Something was wrong. Even the guardian knew it.
And now, Hakan had confirmed it.
The Primordials were hiding something.
And he was going to find out what.
The celestial dragon took a slow breath, and the entire space shuddered. The light around them warped as if the very cosmos bent to its will. Hakan clenched his fists, already feeling the overwhelming weight pressing down on him.
"You should not be here," the dragon repeated, but this time, its voice carried the force of a coming storm. "And so, I shall erase you."
The space around them exploded with power.
Hakan barely had time to react before the dragon vanished from sight.
A rush of pure light surged toward him—a claw wrapped in cosmic radiance, moving faster than thought itself.
BOOM!
Hakan twisted his body at the last second, narrowly dodging as the claw shattered the ground beneath him, sending shockwaves rippling outward. A crater formed instantly, silver dust spiraling into the air.
He barely landed before another attack came. The dragon's tail lashed out, a sweeping strike that tore through the fabric of reality itself.
"Tch—!"
Hakan ducked and rolled forward, closing the distance.
His footwork was flawless—Phantom Step activated at its highest level, his body moving so fast that his afterimages flickered like ghosts.
But the dragon was faster.
A beam of divine fire erupted from its maw—a white-hot inferno that could melt stars.
Hakan leapt high into the air, dodging just in time, but the dragon followed him upward, moving with terrifying agility.
"I have guarded this place since time immemorial!" the dragon roared. "A mere human cannot stand against me!"
It slashed again—three simultaneous strikes from different angles.
Hakan's eyes sharpened.
Phantom Step—Flicker.
His body twisted in the air, avoiding two of the strikes, but the third grazed his side. Even a glancing hit sent a sharp pain through him, his ribs screaming from the force.
He landed on one of the floating silver platforms, skidding back but holding firm.
Blood dripped from his wound.
But he grinned.
"Is that all?"
The dragon's eyes narrowed.
Without hesitation, it surged forward again.
Hakan's muscles tensed—this time, he wasn't dodging.
As the celestial beast came in for another strike, he shifted his stance.
Dragon's Fang.
His right arm blurred—a piercing strike, condensed to absolute precision.
The moment the dragon's claw reached him—
Hakan's fist struck first.
A deep shockwave exploded outward—the dragon staggered back, a searing gash now visible on its glowing scales.
For the first time since the fight began…
It felt pain.
The guardian's expression shifted from fury to something else.
Shock.
"Impossible…"
But Hakan didn't give it time to process.
He launched forward.
The real fight was just beginning.
The air itself seemed to freeze as the celestial dragon's expression darkened. No human—no creature unblessed by the Primordials—had ever wounded it.
The dragon exhaled slowly, its breath a cosmic wind that rippled across the silver plains.
"You are not supposed to be here."
The glow around its body intensified.
And then it attacked.
A single beat of its wings sent a shockwave across the entire dimension—a force that shattered the floating plateaus into dust.
Hakan was already moving.
He bent low, legs coiling like a spring, and vanished just as a colossal claw of light came crashing down where he stood. The ground detonated beneath it, sending up waves of silver dust and energy.
Hakan reappeared above, mid-air, twisting his body for a counterattack.
Dragon's Fang—Piercing Strike!
His fist lashed out—so fast that the air screamed.
CLANG!
The celestial dragon's tail whipped around, intercepting the attack. The impact sent a blast of force in all directions, rippling across the battlefield.
But before Hakan could react—
The dragon was already there.
It warped behind him, moving as if space itself had bent to its will. Its claws, wreathed in divine radiance, descended upon him like judgment incarnate.
"Your existence is an insult to this sacred place!"
Hakan crossed his arms just in time—BOOM!
The impact tore through his defenses, sending him rocketing toward the ground. He slammed into a shattered plateau, stone cracking beneath him.
Blood trickled from his lips.
But he was already pushing himself up.
His vision flickered. The celestial dragon was preparing something—it wasn't just another attack.
It was summoning a domain.
The light around them twisted, and suddenly, the entire battlefield shifted.
The silver plains vanished.
Now, Hakan stood within a vast, endless sky, filled with floating constellations and radiant storms. The stars themselves burned with power, and at their center—the dragon loomed, its form now colossal, divine, unstoppable.
"This is where you end, mortal."
Hakan exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"Tch… so this is how dragons fight in the heavens?"
A grin formed on his bloodied lips.
"Then I'll just have to tear the sky apart."
Hakan cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through the celestial battlefield.
The guardian dragon hovered above, wings spread like a god's decree, its divine form pulsing with a radiance that threatened to consume all.
"You do not belong here, human—"
BOOM!
Hakan was already gone.
The celestial dragon's vision blurred for an instant.
A fist buried itself into its ribs.
CRACK!
The dragon's body folded inward as a shockwave detonated from the impact, sending cracks through the very fabric of the celestial realm.
The beast roared in pain, but Hakan wasn't done.
Phantom Step.
He vanished again—reappearing above the dragon's skull. A brutal axe kick smashed down, slamming the guardian straight into the floating plateaus below.
BOOM!
The impact was cataclysmic. The silver plains shattered, glowing debris sent flying in every direction. A crater formed beneath the fallen guardian, dust and energy surging outward.
Hakan landed lightly on the fragmented ground, rolling his shoulders. His breathing steady.
The guardian dragon twitched.
Hakan stood firm, his stance unshaken as the dust settled. The guardian lay within the crater, motionless.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
A low, thunderous chuckle.
The ground shook, and the celestial dust whirled into a storm as an overwhelming force erupted from within the crater.
"You truly are something else, mortal."
The dragon's body began to shrink, light coiling around it like a cocoon. Bones shifted, muscles condensed, his form warping into something more… precise.
And then, he rose.
In his new form, he looked almost human—but he was anything but.
His face was smooth and sharp, with an eerie perfection that made it clear he was no ordinary being. His golden eyes, once draconic, now burned like twin celestial stars, holding the wisdom of an immortal. His body was covered in dragonic scales, forming natural armor across his chest, shoulders, and arms. The color shifted between radiant silver and deep cosmic blue, as if the very essence of the stars was woven into his flesh.
Twin curved horns, massive and inscribed with ancient celestial runes, arched back from his skull, pulsating with an ethereal glow. His wings remained, vast and majestic, resembling a storm of stardust and divine power, shifting in an unseen wind. A long, barbed tail lashed behind him, cutting through the air with a sound like thunder.
He flexed his fingers, his claws glistening like obsidian daggers.
Then—he moved.
WHOOSH!
In an instant, he vanished.
Hakan's instincts screamed.
BAM!
A crushing force slammed into Hakan's ribs before he even registered the movement. His body was sent flying—the air around him distorted, rippling from the sheer power behind the strike.
CRACK!
He crashed through one of the floating plateaus, stone and cosmic debris scattering like shattered glass.
But before he could even touch the ground—
BOOM!
The guardian was already there.
A devastating kick connected with Hakan's torso, sending him even further, crashing into another silver plateau.
Hakan exhaled sharply, feeling the impact reverberate through his bones.
He coughed once. Blood.
For the first time since arriving in this realm, Hakan grinned.
This was going to be fun.
Hakan wiped the blood from his lips, his grin widening. His body ached, but the pain only fueled the fire inside him. He hadn't had a real fight like this in a long time.
Slowly, he reached up and unclasped his black robe, letting it slip from his shoulders.
The fabric fluttered, caught in the cosmic winds, before dissolving into the void.
Beneath it, his physique was a masterpiece of battle-hardened strength. His muscles, carved through years of struggle, bore the faint marks of past wars. His forearms were wrapped in midnight-black bandages, and his stance shifted ever so slightly—a sign that the real fight was about to begin.
The celestial guardian narrowed his glowing eyes.
"You cast aside your cloak… is this your way of showing respect?"
Hakan rolled his shoulders, loosening his limbs.
"No," he said simply. "It just means I'm done holding back."
WHOOSH!
Hakan vanished.
The guardian's instincts screamed, but—
Too late.
A phantom step. A blur.
Hakan reappeared behind him.
BOOM!
A crushing elbow smashed into the guardian's spine, sending a shockwave rippling through the air. His body lurched forward, but before he could recover—
Hakan's knee crashed into his ribs, the impact twisting his form as cracks splintered the floating plateau beneath them.
"GRAH—!"
The celestial dragon whipped his tail, trying to knock Hakan away, but—
Hakan wasn't there.
A flicker.
A blur of movement.
BAM!
A vicious kick to the temple.
The guardian's vision exploded with stars as he was sent hurtling through the air, his body crashing through the terrain like a falling comet.
But Hakan was already moving again.
Before the guardian could even hit the ground—
Hakan appeared above him.
Fist clenched.
Muscles coiled like a drawn bowstring.
And then—
"Dragon's Fang."
CRACK!
Hakan's fist pierced the air like a spear, slamming into the guardian's gut with enough force to distort the space around them. A shockwave erupted, fracturing the very sky, sending silver shards of reality spiraling outward.
The guardian's body caved inward from the strike. His wings spasmed, his breath caught in his throat—his vision blurred.
For the first time in his existence…
He felt fear.
But a warrior of the stars does not fall so easily.
Through the haze of pain, his golden eyes snapped open, burning brighter than ever.
The celestial guardian let out a guttural growl, forcing his battered body to move.
Then—
His form glowed.
A pulse of blinding light. A sudden, violent expansion of energy.
And when the light faded… he had transformed.
Hakan landed lightly on a fractured plateau, exhaling. His eyes narrowed as he took in the new form before him.
The celestial dragon no longer looked purely humanoid.
His wings stretched wider, now wreathed in crackling stardust. His horns pulsed with divine energy, glowing with intricate runes of the cosmos. His body had grown slightly larger, his draconic scales shimmering like molten silver under the void's light. His tail lashed violently, cutting through the air like a blade of pure energy.
And his speed…
BOOM!
The guardian vanished.
And this time—
Hakan's instincts screamed.
The void trembled. Each collision of fist and claw, of strength and will, sent ripples through the fabric of this sacred battlefield. The shattered silver plateaus trembled beneath them, some already reduced to cosmic dust.
Hakan sidestepped, barely dodging a sweeping strike from the celestial dragon's razor-edged tail. He countered with a devastating left hook, but the guardian twisted his body mid-air, evading with unnatural precision.
Their speed was equal.
Each of their attacks blurred through space, shockwaves clashing violently, tearing apart the air itself.
But strength?
That belonged to Hakan.
BOOM!
A well-timed strike to the ribs sent the guardian reeling backward, his golden eyes flashing with momentary surprise.
Hakan panted, his breath controlled yet heavy.
He had fought dragons before. He had defeated dragons before.
But something was off.
No matter how much damage he inflicted, the guardian kept growing stronger. His movements became sharper, his reflexes even faster.
Hakan's brow furrowed.
What is this?
The celestial dragon smirked.
"You're confused, aren't you?" His voice was calm, yet laced with amusement.
Hakan didn't reply, but his stance shifted slightly—a sign he was analyzing.
The guardian raised his clawed hand, flexing his fingers as golden energy pulsed through his veins.
"This battlefield… no, this entire realm… belongs to the Primordials," he said. "As long as I remain near the Light, they grant me power. I will continue to grow—beyond limits, beyond reason."
His wings unfurled, their glow intensifying.
"No dragon can oppose the Primordials."
Then his smirk widened.
"So tell me, human—what makes you think you can?"
The words carried weight.
They carried absolute certainty.
Yet, Hakan did not waver.
Instead—
He grinned.
A sharp, knowing grin.
The guardian's smirk faltered ever so slightly.
Then—
Hakan disappeared.
Not like before.
Faster.
Sharper.
More refined.
The celestial dragon's instincts screamed.
But it was too late.
CRACK!
A devastating blow landed against his jaw, sending his head snapping to the side. The impact shattered the air around them, causing the distant stars to flicker from the sheer force.
The dragon staggered, golden blood dripping from his lips.
Hakan stood before him, his eyes sharp, cold—calculating.
"…I see now."
The guardian wiped the blood from his mouth.
"What?" he hissed.
Hakan rolled his shoulders, the tension leaving his body.
"You're making a mistake."
The guardian's glare sharpened. "Explain."
Hakan took a slow step forward.
"You're growing stronger, yeah." He exhaled, his muscles relaxed. "But so am I."
For the first time, realization struck the guardian.
Hakan was adapting.
Each clash, each blow, each exchange—Hakan was learning.
He was reading the guardian's movements, adjusting his footwork, recalibrating his strikes.
The celestial dragon's expression darkened.
He thought he had the upper hand.
But that was his downfall.
Because the longer this fight went on—Hakan would surpass him.
And the worst part?
Hakan knew it.
The grin returned to his lips.
"Let's see how much further you can push me."
Then the battle continued.
The cosmos trembled.
Every strike, every collision of flesh against scale, of will against divinity, tore apart the very fabric of this realm. The silver plateaus were long gone—reduced to cosmic debris, floating in the infinite void. The starry sky flickered erratically, unable to contain the sheer might of their battle.
And then—
The celestial dragon laughed.
A booming, thunderous roar of pure exhilaration.
"HAHAHAHA!!" His golden eyes burned brighter, his aura expanding like a raging supernova. "Magnificent! This battle—this struggle—it is beyond anything I have ever felt!"
He panted, his breath heavy but filled with excitement. His clawed hands trembled, not from fatigue, but from sheer anticipation.
Hakan stood across from him, his stance firm, his entire body burning with adrenaline. His fists were clenched so tightly that the air around them warped, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.
A slow grin crept onto his lips.
He hadn't felt this since…
Since Vealzaryon.
Since the battle that pushed him beyond mortal limits.
He exhaled, his mind clear, sharp—focused.
The guardian's wings flared, his body pulsating with celestial energy.
"This battle…" he said, his voice a mix of reverence and ecstasy. "It is a battle between the infinite power granted by the Primordials…"
He raised his arm, and the light of creation itself began to gather into his palm, a spiraling vortex of raw divine energy. The very laws of existence bent around it, the stars behind him fading into oblivion.
Hakan's eyes narrowed.
The sheer force of that attack—it could erase anything.
But he was unfazed.
Because he had already adapted.
The guardian's grin widened.
"—versus the limitless adaptability of a human!"
Hakan cracked his knuckles, his body lowering into a stance.
The air distorted around him. His muscles pulsed, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Then—
He took a single step forward.
And in that instant—
The heavens split apart.
The final clash was imminent.
The cosmos held its breath.
The guardian's divine energy surged, the vortex in his palm now a blinding star of destruction. The sky itself cracked, unable to contain the sheer force gathering at his fingertips.
Hakan stood firm, his body adapting at an exponential rate, his muscles refining, his instincts sharpening, his very existence elevating beyond what even he thought possible.
They locked eyes.
The guardian saw it—
Not arrogance.
Not recklessness.
But absolute certainty.
This human truly believed he could defy the Primordials themselves.
And that made the dragon's blood burn with exhilaration.
"Before we end this, tell me, warrior—who are you?" The guardian's voice boomed like the echoes of creation itself.
Hakan clenched his fists, his body radiating an unshakable, unstoppable force.
A deep breath—
"Hakan Raihan." His voice was calm, absolute. "Remember that name."
The guardian's lips curled into a smirk, his fangs glinting under the celestial light.
"Then remember mine, mortal—"
He raised his claw, the vortex swelling into a cataclysmic storm of energy.
"I am AZAROTH, The Tyrant of Eternity! The Celestial Warden of the Primordials!"
A dragon whose very name once made kings kneel.
A being whose might was second only to the gods themselves.
And now—
Hakan was about to defeat him.
With a single beat of his wings, Azaroth vanished.
A single step forward, and so did Hakan.
Then—
They clashed.
Fist against claw.
Mortal against light .
The impact was so great—reality itself shattered.
BOOOOOOOM!!!
Time slowed.
Azaroth's eyes widened as he felt it—his own power failing.
Hakan's fist tore through the vortex, breaking through the very essence of celestial divinity. Adapting. Overcoming. Dominating.
Azaroth's attack never landed.
Instead—
A resounding crack.
His massive body crashed into the silver plateau, his once unstoppable form motionless, his breath ragged.
Defeated.
Not killed—
But undeniably conquered.
The guardian of the Primordials, the Tyrant of Eternity, had fallen.
Hakan stood above him, his breath steady, his body barely scratched. He slowly turned, his black robe fluttering as he faced the pillar of light.
Azaroth watched him go, his vision fading.
And for the first time in eons, he felt something he never imagined possible.
Fear.
Because if a human could reach this far—
Then perhaps…
The Primordials were about to meet a human capable of challenging them.
Xyvarion remained still, his piercing gaze locked onto Itharyx. The Sage of Winter's Veil was one of the few dragons Xyvarion considered a true equal, a being of immense wisdom and power. Yet even he stood here now, demanding answers—seeking understanding.
Behind Xyvarion, Eryndor observed in silence, his golden eyes flickering in the dim moonlight. The warriors of the Vale stood ready, their presence an unspoken warning that should this meeting turn hostile, war would erupt in an instant.
The cold wind swirled between them, yet Xyvarion's presence remained unyielding.
"You ask who the Monarch is," Xyvarion finally said, his voice carrying the weight of a storm. "You ask how he gained my loyalty." His wings shifted slightly, the darkened scales catching the moon's glow. "Tell me, Itharyx, do you fear the answer?"
Itharyx's silver eyes narrowed. "I fear nothing, Xyvarion. But I will not kneel to a phantom. If I am to choose my path, I must know the truth."
A cold chuckle left Xyvarion's lips. "The truth? Then hear it well."
He took a step forward, the ground trembling beneath him. "This war… this conquest… it is not for my own ambition. It is not for dominion or greed." His voice lowered, yet it held a terrifying certainty.
"I do this because I have already bowed."
Silence.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
Itharyx stared at him, his mind racing. Xyvarion… bowed?
Eryndor finally spoke, his voice like steel cutting through the stillness. "We follow the Monarch because he is unlike anything this world has ever seen." His gaze met Itharyx's, unwavering. "Because he is the only being worthy of ruling Drakareth."
Itharyx's claws dug slightly into the earth, the frost around him thickening. "And who is this so-called Monarch?"
Xyvarion exhaled slowly.
Then, with absolute conviction, he spoke a name that shattered the very air between them.
"Hakan Raihan."
The name carried with it a weight Itharyx could not immediately comprehend.
His mind reeled. A human? No… impossible.
No human could stand among dragons. No mortal could ever claim the loyalty of Xyvarion the Calamity.
And yet—
He could see it.
The certainty in Xyvarion's gaze.
The unwavering belief in Eryndor's voice.
This was no trick.
No deception.
This was absolute truth.
Itharyx stood frozen in place, the name echoing in his mind like a prophecy he refused to believe.
Hakan Raihan.
A name he had never heard before. A name that did not belong to a dragon, nor any being worthy of the throne of Drakareth. A human.
And yet Xyvarion—the living calamity, the nightmare of kings—had bowed.
His generals shifted uneasily behind him, their disbelief manifesting in a storm of whispered breaths and tense, coiled muscles. But it was Nyxthar, his most hardened commander, who finally broke the silence.
"Madness." His voice was like the crack of thunder against the frozen night. "This is madness." His deep crimson scales shimmered under the moonlight, his amber eyes burning with rage. "You, of all dragons, kneeling before a human?" His fangs bared, claws digging into the frostbitten soil. "Have you lost your mind, Xyvarion?"
Xyvarion turned his head slightly, his glowing eyes locking onto Nyxthar. "Do you dare question my judgment?" His voice was calm, but within it lurked a storm waiting to break.
"I question your sanity," Nyxthar spat. "You, the one dragons feared to even utter the name of, now serve a mortal? How can this be?" His wings flared in frustration. "Has Vealzaryon's death blinded you? Have you grown weak, Xyvarion?"
A deep, rumbling growl escaped from Vaelgor, another of Itharyx's generals, his navy-blue scales bristling with restrained fury. "No dragon—no being—has ever been worthy of your loyalty, Xyvarion. Not even Vealzaryon himself." His sharp, silver horns gleamed under the moonlight. "And yet you stand before us, declaring allegiance to a human?"
The third general, Zathor, more reserved but no less incredulous, spoke next. "Even if this Hakan is powerful, how could he command you?" His emerald scales shimmered faintly, his voice laced with both doubt and curiosity. "There is no legend, no prophecy, no law that binds us to a mortal." His eyes narrowed. "What has he done to earn your faith?"
Xyvarion did not blink. Did not flinch.
He let the weight of their disbelief settle before he finally spoke.
"I have fought countless foes. I have faced death and emerged victorious every time." His voice was quiet, yet it carried across the gathered warriors like an unbreakable decree. "And I have never bowed." His eyes, dark as the void itself, locked onto Nyxthar, Vaelgor, and Zathor, challenging them to deny his words.
"And yet, he made me kneel."
The three generals stiffened.
Impossible.
Xyvarion kneeling?
The very thought defied reality itself.
Itharyx, silent all this time, exhaled slowly, his breath forming a mist in the frozen air. "You claim he is worthy." His silver eyes gleamed. "Then prove it to me."
Xyvarion's lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"You'll see it for yourself soon enough, Itharyx."
Itharyx's claws flexed against the frost-covered ground, his mind churning through the weight of Xyvarion's words. The air between them remained thick with tension, but beneath it all, an unshakable truth loomed—Hakan Raihan had done the impossible.
Still, one undeniable fact remained.
"If I were to join you," Itharyx finally said, his voice a measured calm masking the storm within, "how do you think the other dragon lords will react?"
His silver gaze locked onto Xyvarion, unblinking. "You expect me to betray our old ways, to acknowledge a human as the Monarch—but tell me, what of Pyrros Abyss? What of the Tenebral Hollow?" His tone grew colder. "Do you believe they will simply kneel, as you have?"
Nyxthar let out a low growl at the mere mention of those names. Vaelgor and Zathor exchanged brief glances, their war-hardened minds already weighing the consequences.
Pyrros Abyss—the domain of unrelenting flames, where dragons were forged in infernos and battle-hardened through relentless war.
Tenebral Hollow—the realm of shadows, where the strongest among them wielded darkness itself as a weapon, whispering in the abyss where no light reached.
Neither faction would accept a human. Not without bloodshed.
Xyvarion, however, remained unfazed. His gaze burned with certainty.
"Do not waste your thoughts on them, Itharyx," he said. "In time, all will be settled." His wings shifted slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Pyrros Abyss will never surrender without a fight. I expect war from them. But I do not fear it."
His words were not arrogance. They were fact.
Then, he exhaled. A deep, slow breath that sent a shiver through even the most hardened warriors.
"As for Tenebral Hollow…" His glowing eyes narrowed. "I will handle them myself."
A silence followed—heavy, suffocating.
Even Itharyx, for all his composure, studied Xyvarion with renewed scrutiny.
"You would take on the Hollow alone?"
Xyvarion did not blink.
"They believe themselves untouchable. Unseen." His voice was a low growl. "But they will learn. I am no mere warlord."
A single step forward. The weight of his power pressed into the ground.
"I am Xyvarion. And I will tear their shadows apart."
The air remained still, the weight of Xyvarion's demand hanging between them. Itharyx, the Sage of Winter's Veil, stood in contemplation, his silver eyes sweeping across the battlefield.
He could see Eryndor in the distance, he knew about his magic , weaving through the wounded, restoring strength to their warriors as if reversing time itself. The soldiers of Sylvaris Vale were unlike any he had encountered—unbreakable not just in might, but in endurance. If war erupted now, even his Cryalis Dominion would be forced to its knees. There was no victory to be had.
He exhaled, his breath visible in the frigid air.
"I will go," Itharyx finally declared. "I will seek this Monarch myself."
The generals behind him stiffened.
"Itharyx—" Nyxthar began, but he raised a claw to silence him.
"I will not be commanded by a phantom. If this human is truly worthy of being Monarch, then I will decide when I stand before him." His gaze locked onto Xyvarion. "Until then… I will follow your command."
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Xyvarion's expression, but before he could speak, Itharyx added coldly:
"But mark my words—I take your vow seriously. If I am to follow, then no dragon of the Cryalis Dominion shall be harmed. If I find a single scale fallen at your hands, Xyvarion, there will be consequences."
Xyvarion's jaw tensed. For a moment, it seemed as if he might refuse outright, his draconic pride resisting the notion of being bound by another's terms. But even he knew the value of having Itharyx on their side.
"Fine." The word left Xyvarion in a low growl. He did not like it, but he accepted it. "Then consider Cryalis Dominion ours."
A new region had fallen under Hakan's banner.
And as the news spread, the world trembled.
Back in Pyrros Abyss a roar shattered the sky .
"A human dares to claim dominion over dragons? Then let him prove his worth in fire and blood!"
The Infernal Lords of Pyrros Abyss immediately declared war. Their warriors, forged in fire and unyielding battles, would never accept an outsider—especially not a human.
The reactions the dragons of Zephyros Expanse were a bit different
"This... cannot be true."
A wave of shock and disbelief coursed through the leaders of Zephyros Expanse. The Skyborn Dragons were neutral forces, always avoiding war unless forced. A great council was called, bringing together their most ancient elders to determine the future.
From the abyss of Tenebral Hollow, its mysterious ruler remained silent. Shrouded in darkness, unseen by even his own kind, he merely smirked. His reaction was neither outrage nor fear—only quiet amusement, as if he had already foreseen this moment long before it happened.
In the heart of the dragon capital,Valtheryon – The Celestial Throne of Dragons, where the mightiest of their kind reigned, whispers filled the air. The High Elders sat in confusion and disbelief.
"What… is to become of us?"
Some believed this was a sign of a new era. Others feared it as the beginning of their downfall.
And at the center of it all—Hakan Raihan's name was now spoken by every dragon in existence.