Hakan steps out of the grand meeting hall, his mind still processing the weight of the decisions made. The guild leaders had set the course for war, and in four days, they would launch an attack that could change the balance of power forever.

The hum of rotor blades fills the air as a helicopter awaits him on the rooftop. Climbing aboard, he straps in and watches as the capital city fades below him. His thoughts drift to Shizume—his city, his responsibility.

After a smooth flight, he lands at the airport, where a black sedan with tinted windows awaits him. The Accord, the governing body overseeing the guilds, had arranged the vehicle for official use. The moment he steps inside, he gives the driver a nod.

"Take me to headquarters."

The city of Shizume passes by in a blur, its towering skyscrapers and neon-lit streets glowing under the evening sky. But Hakan has no time to admire the view—his mind is already on the next step.

When he arrives at Black Dragon Headquarters, a familiar presence greets him. Sylvia, who had always lived in the headquarters, watches him with her usual composed expression.

"You're back," she states.

Hakan wastes no time. "Call the others. We have a meeting."

Within the hour, the rest of his guild members arrive, each one leaving their homes in haste. Alaric, Torren, Rina, and the others file into the war room, the tension palpable. They know what's coming.

As they take their seats, Hakan looks around, meeting each of their gazes.

"This is it," he says, his voice firm. "We have four days."

Silence settles over the room as they prepare for the battle ahead.

Hakan sat at the head of the long, dimly lit conference table, his hands clasped together. His guild members were gathered before him, waiting for an explanation. The air in the room was tense.

“We have our mission,” he began, his voice steady. “The attack will happen in four days. We’ll be coordinating with multiple guilds to take down the High Tower’s forces.”

A murmur ran through the room. Rina and Sylvia exchanged uneasy glances.

Sylvia was the first to speak. “The High Tower isn’t just another enemy. They control resources, intelligence, and power beyond what we’ve faced before. Are we sure this is the right move?”

Rina folded her arms. “Yeah. I mean, I get that they’re a threat, but a full-scale assault? Against them? This could backfire.”

Hakan expected this reaction. He leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto them.

“I understand your concerns,” he said. “But think about what we bring to the battlefield. You, Sylvia—your illusions can turn the tide by disorienting the enemy. Imagine forcing their monsters to attack their own forces. And Rina, your energy barriers? They could shield our advance and protect key positions.”

The two women remained silent, but their expressions showed they were considering his words.

Alaric, the second-in-command, crossed his arms and nodded. “If Hakan says we can pull this off, I believe in his strategy. He’s never led us wrong before.”

He glanced at Hakan. “Where exactly is this battle happening?”

Hakan’s expression hardened. “Shizume.”

The room fell into silence.

Alaric frowned. “A battle of this scale... right here? In the city?”

Hakan nodded. “That’s the problem I see. If things go south, Shizume could suffer massive destruction.”

Torren, who had been leaning against the wall, let out a breath. “Then we better make sure it doesn’t go south. When are the other guilds arriving?”

Hakan looked at him. “The day after tomorrow.”

Torren let out a low whistle. “Not much time to prepare, huh?”

Hakan smirked slightly. “No. But it’s enough.”

The room remained silent for a few moments, each member processing the weight of the battle ahead. Their city, their home, was about to become a battlefield.

Hakan finally stood. “Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, we train.”

No one argued. They knew what was coming.

The city of Shizume was still asleep when Hakan woke up.

His eyes opened at exactly 6:00 AM, his body trained to rise without hesitation. He sat up, inhaling deeply. Today was going to be intense. The battle was in two days. There was no room for hesitation.

Moving with practiced efficiency, he went through his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, washing his face—every action was methodical. But before leaving, there was one last ritual he always performed before an important day.

Hakan stepped into his private bathroom and approached a large steel tub filled with water and chunks of ice. He clenched his jaw as he removed his shirt, exposing the scars of his past battles. Without a moment’s hesitation, he submerged himself into the freezing water.

The shock was immediate. His breath hitched as the ice-cold temperature bit into his skin, forcing his mind into clarity. His body protested, but he controlled his breathing, inhaling slowly, then exhaling.

The ice bath was more than just a method to wake himself up. It was a test of discipline. A reminder that pain was fleeting, that the body could be controlled by the mind.

Minutes passed. His muscles burned from the cold, but his mind sharpened. When he finally stepped out, the air felt warm against his frozen skin. He grabbed a towel, dried himself off, and got dressed.

By 6:30 AM, he was already leaving the headquarters.

His destination? The woods outside the city, where the training would begin.

His guild members had 15 minutes to arrive. And Hakan expected them to be on time.

The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine as Hakan stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed. His guild members arrived right on time, their expressions a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Alaric, the second-in-command, was the first to arrive, his confident stride and sharp gaze showing his readiness. Torren followed soon after, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles, eager for combat. Rina and Sylvia arrived together—Rina adjusting her gloves, her face thoughtful, while Sylvia, who had never left headquarters, seemed less than pleased about the early hour.

Once they had all gathered, Hakan spoke.

"Listen up," he began, his voice firm. "The Black Dragons are no ordinary guild. The ones who will be fighting alongside us are some of the strongest forces in this war. But that doesn’t mean we step back. No, it means we step up. We show them exactly what we are made of."

His golden eyes scanned their faces, ensuring the weight of his words sank in.

"To prepare, we’re having two sparring matches today. First match: Rina and Sylvia versus Torren and Alaric. Second match: Rina and Alaric versus Torren and Sylvia."

Torren smirked, rolling his shoulders. "So, we’re mixing up our fighting styles, huh?"

"Exactly," Hakan nodded. "Each of you has a different role to play in battle. I want to see how well you adapt to different allies and different opponents."

Without wasting time, the first group moved to the center of the clearing. Rina and Sylvia took one side, while Alaric and Torren took the other.

Hakan walked to a tree at the edge of the training ground, his movements composed. He leaned against the rough bark, settling himself in as an observer. His eyes gleamed with interest.

Now, let’s see how well they fight.

The tension in the clearing thickened as the two teams took their stances, eyes locked on their opponents. A silent signal passed between them, and in the next instant, the battle erupted.

Torren lunged forward first, his hands igniting in bright, flickering flames as he launched a burst of fire toward Rina. She reacted instantly, summoning a translucent energy barrier to absorb the impact. The force of the flames pushed her back slightly, but she held her ground. Meanwhile, Alaric dashed forward with blinding speed, aiming to close the distance between him and Sylvia before she could cast an illusion.

Sylvia smirked, already prepared. The moment Alaric thought he had reached her, his fist cutting through the air, he found himself striking nothing but mist. Her illusion dissipated, revealing that she had already moved to his blind spot.

"Too slow," she teased, her voice playful yet calculated.

Alaric grinned. "We’ll see about that."

He shifted his stance, sensing her energy, and this time, when she moved to create another illusion, he unleashed a controlled pulse of kinetic force, disrupting her technique. Sylvia’s form flickered, the illusion breaking apart, and Alaric took his chance, pressing forward.

On the other side of the battlefield, Torren kept Rina occupied with relentless fire attacks, each strike testing the limits of her barrier. But Rina wasn’t just defending—she was studying his movements, searching for an opening. When Torren launched a particularly powerful fireball, she shifted her energy at the last second, redirecting the explosion to the side rather than absorbing it head-on. The blast sent up a cloud of dust, obscuring her next move.

Sylvia took advantage of the distraction, weaving another illusion—this time making it seem as though there were two of her on the battlefield. Alaric hesitated for just a split second, trying to determine the real one, and that was all the time Rina needed.

"Now!" Rina shouted.

With perfect coordination, Sylvia’s illusions vanished, and Rina slammed her energy barrier into the ground, sending out a shockwave that unbalanced both Alaric and Torren.

Torren clicked his tongue. "Not bad."

Alaric smirked. "Yeah, but we’re not done yet."

He gathered kinetic energy around his fists, readying for another charge. Torren’s flames roared to life once more.

From his spot beneath the tree, Hakan remained still, watching each movement with unwavering focus. His golden eyes followed their footwork, the way they adapted, the moments of hesitation, the bursts of instinct. Each exchange revealed strengths and weaknesses, all of which he quietly analyzed.

They’re improving, he thought. But they still have a long way to go.

The battle raged on, neither side willing to back down. It was a test of power versus precision, instinct versus strategy, and neither team was giving in.

The clearing trembled as all four combatants prepared to unleash their final, devastating moves. Rina’s barrier, which had absorbed Torren's fire attacks, shimmered with intense energy as she concentrated it into a focused blast. She took a deep breath, harnessing every ounce of power she could muster, and sent the energy rippling forward in a concentrated beam aimed straight at Torren.

Torren, momentarily taken aback by the sudden surge of power, barely had time to react. His eyes widened in realization, but his instincts kicked in. With a roar, he summoned his strongest attack, igniting every ounce of his fiery power into a massive wave of flame that clashed head-on with Rina's energy blast. The two forces collided with a shockwave that rippled through the ground, sending dust and debris into the air. The earth trembled beneath them, and the surrounding trees swayed from the force of the clash.

But Torren’s flames, though potent, were no match for Rina’s energy blast. The wave of fire was overwhelmed, and the explosion sent him tumbling back, barely managing to keep his footing. The heat radiated off of him in waves, but he stood his ground, his clothes singed and his body singeing from the heat.

Meanwhile, Alaric and Sylvia had clashed blades in a dance of deadly precision. Alaric’s swords cut through the air with incredible speed, while Sylvia skillfully deflected with her dagger, evading each strike with fluid grace. Sparks flew from the clash of their weapons as their combat became more intense, both of them trying to find an opening in the other’s defense.

But the shockwave from Rina and Torren’s clash reverberated through the clearing, sending shockwaves that disrupted the ongoing battle. Sylvia’s footing wavered, and Alaric, momentarily unbalanced, found his sword parried away by Sylvia’s dagger. The ground cracked beneath their feet, and the landscape itself seemed to buckle under the force of the energy.

As the dust settled, the air was thick with tension. The sound of heavy breathing filled the silence as the four fighters stood, battered but not defeated, still ready to continue their fight.

But Hakan, who had been silently observing the entire time, took a step forward. His eyes were calm, almost calculating, as he regarded each of his guild members. His voice cut through the tense air, firm and commanding.

"Enough," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rina, Torren, Sylvia, and Alaric all straightened, their weapons lowering slightly as they turned their attention to him. They knew that when Hakan spoke, it was time to listen.

He looked over each of them with a critical eye, his golden eyes sharp as ever. "You all showed incredible strength, but I’ve seen your weaknesses. Rina, you’re too reliant on your barriers. They’re strong, yes, but you need to be quicker with your attacks. Torren, your firepower is devastating, but you’ve got a tendency to rush in without considering the long-term consequences. Sylvia, your illusions and quick thinking are impressive, but you can’t afford to be caught off guard like you were earlier. Alaric, you’re powerful, but you’re too focused on brute force. You need to become more adaptable, more unpredictable."

Each of them absorbed his words in silence, the weight of his critique hanging heavily in the air.

"These are things I’ve noticed, and they will be addressed. Now, I want you all to switch partners. Sylvia, you’ll fight alongside Torren. Rina, you’ll fight alongside Alaric. Learn from each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It’s time for you all to evolve beyond what you’ve shown today."

Hakan’s words were harsh, but they were meant to push them to their limits. The Black Dragons needed to be more than just powerful—they needed to be versatile, ready to adapt to any situation that came their way.

"Now, get ready for round two," Hakan added, his gaze unwavering. "And this time, I expect more."

With that, he stepped back, letting them reorganize. The teams quickly began to adjust, readying themselves for the next round of sparring, their resolve strengthening as they prepared for the challenge ahead.

The air was still thick with the lingering effects of the first round as Hakan watched his guild members closely. Each one stood, visibly more focused, their expressions sharper, their bodies tense with anticipation. They knew the challenge ahead wasn’t just about raw power; it was about evolution—about pushing past their weaknesses.

“Round two,” Hakan’s voice rang out, steady and commanding, “This time, I want to see improvement. Focus on what I pointed out. Don’t just rely on what you’re good at. Adapt. Change. And most importantly, learn.”

The teams quickly reassigned, falling into their new pairings without hesitation.

Rina and Alaric faced Torren and Sylvia in the center of the clearing. Their movements were more deliberate this time. Rina took a deep breath, remembering Hakan’s words about her reliance on barriers. Instead of immediately going into a defensive stance, she adjusted her posture, preparing to strike. Her eyes locked onto Torren, assessing the distance, calculating.

Alaric, now working alongside Rina, was quieter this time. He had heard Hakan’s critique about being too reliant on brute strength. His swords gleamed in the dim light of the morning, but he wasn’t charging in recklessly. This time, he approached with caution, studying Sylvia’s every movement. His blades cut through the air, but they were more precise, more strategic.

Torren and Sylvia were equally focused. Sylvia’s sharp eyes flicked between Rina and Alaric, remembering Hakan’s advice to be aware of openings. She wasn’t simply trying to throw off her opponents with illusions now; she was actively searching for gaps in their defenses. Her dagger glinted as she sidestepped, feinting a few quick strikes to test the waters.

Torren, normally quick to rush in with his fiery attacks, held back, his fiery aura crackling around him but under control. He was waiting, watching for the right moment to unleash his power without leaving himself vulnerable. He’d learned from Rina’s earlier counterattack.

The battle began with a new energy, a calm intensity. Rina, recognizing that Torren would go on the offensive, shifted her tactics. Instead of creating a defensive wall immediately, she stepped forward, allowing her barriers to absorb Torren’s attack without expending unnecessary energy. She focused on redirecting the blast into a concentrated burst, aiming for his exposed flank.

Torren reacted quickly, jumping back just in time to dodge her blast, but Rina was already on him. She launched a flurry of energy strikes, testing his defensive capabilities.

Alaric, working seamlessly with Rina, moved with more precision than before. His sword strikes were calculated, cutting through the air with intent. Rather than overpowering Sylvia, he forced her into a series of defensive maneuvers, watching closely for the slightest opening. His focus was now on controlling the pace of the fight, using his speed and agility to outmaneuver her, instead of relying solely on strength.

Sylvia, not one to be outdone, adapted quickly. She used her illusions to her advantage, trying to misdirect both Alaric and Rina with subtle shifts in her movements. She planted false signals, making them think she was in one place while she attacked from another. She stayed on the move, never allowing herself to be a stationary target.

Torren, seeing the shift in strategy from his team, adjusted as well. He no longer used his full-blown fiery strikes recklessly. Instead, he focused on precision. His fire now wrapped around his fists, controlled and compact, designed to break through defenses rather than overwhelm them. Every move he made was with purpose, every burst of flame calculated.

Hakan observed from the side, his golden eyes tracking the evolution of the fight. The improvements were noticeable. Rina’s confidence in her offense had grown. Alaric was less rash in his attacks, using his agility to his advantage. Sylvia’s illusions were sharper, more deceptive, and Torren had shown restraint, using his fire with greater control.

The battle raged on, a chess match of strategies and adaptations. The four combatants moved fluidly, their actions and reactions becoming more synchronized with each passing moment. There was no sign of the disorganization from the first round; now, each movement was purposeful, each strike an attempt to outsmart the other.

Hakan’s eyes glinted with approval. This was the level of improvement he’d been hoping for. He had pushed them to their limits, and they were responding. But there was still room to grow, and he wasn’t about to let them get complacent.

“Good,” Hakan called out after a few minutes, stepping forward with his arms still crossed. “But remember, you’re not just fighting to win. You’re fighting to survive. Never forget that. Keep your heads clear. Control the fight, don’t let it control you.”

The four fighters, breathing heavily, paused for a moment, their weapons lowered as they acknowledged his words. They had learned something today, but there was still much to do.

The intense air in the clearing seemed to hold its breath as Hakan stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. The sparring had ended, but the weight of the moment was far from over. His guild members, though still catching their breath from the fierce fight, looked to him expectantly. They had given their best, but now Hakan was about to take them a step further.

"Enough," Hakan’s voice rang clear, cutting through the silence. "You’ve all improved. But now, the real challenge begins."

His golden eyes scanned each of them, assessing their readiness. The air seemed to shift, the tension in the group growing as they waited for what would come next.

"This isn’t about showing off your strength anymore. This is about survival. Your next challenge isn’t just fighting. It’s a decision—run or fight. You’ll need to think quickly, act swiftly, and give everything you have."

Torren, Sylvia, and Rina shared looks of confusion, though none spoke up. It felt almost like a joke. They had fought hard against each other, each of them pushing their limits..

Alaric, sensing the confusion in the group, gave a slight nod toward Hakan. "You brought what you asked for?" Hakan’s voice cut through the air, and the guild members turned their attention to Alaric.

Without hesitation, Alaric pulled out two cloth-wrapped bundles. He unwrapped them, revealing the weapons inside. The first set of weapons was a surprising sight—wooden swords, crafted to resemble the weight and feel of real weapons, but made for training purposes. They were an exact match to the Eclipse Fang in form, but the material was clearly meant to control the intensity of the challenge.

Hakan took the wooden swords in his hands, feeling the familiar weight. He adjusted his grip before looking toward his guild members. There was no turning back now. This was the true test of their growth, and it would push them to their limits.

"This," Hakan said, his voice calm but carrying a cold edge, "is your challenge. All four of you will face me, but with one condition. I’m using these. Not the Eclipse Fang, not my full power. Just these."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, his guild members were stunned. They had no idea what to expect, but now they realized—this would be no easy sparring match. This was a test of everything they had learned.

Without wasting time, Hakan shifted his stance, the wooden swords held loosely in his hands, waiting for them to make the first move. There was no time for hesitation.

"Now," he said firmly, "come at me. Fight, or decide to run. The choice is yours."

The challenge had been set.

The clearing was thick with tension as the guild members stared at Hakan, each of them filled with a mix of confusion, excitement, and fear. The realization hit them all at once—this wasn’t just a test; this was a challenge to their very limits. They were about to face a six-star hero, one of the most powerful warriors, but this time, he wasn’t using his full strength. Even then, the thought of going up against him still sent a chill through their veins.

Each member took their stance, their bodies tense, but their hearts racing with anticipation. Torren, Alaric, Sylvia, and Rina were ready, but none of them were under any illusion about the difficulty of what they were about to face.

The battle began as Torren and Alaric were the first to charge, moving in sync. Their attacks were swift, their precision impressive, but not quick enough to outpace Hakan. With almost no effort, he dodged their strikes, his movements fluid and effortless. As Torren lunged forward, Hakan shifted his weight and countered with the wooden swords, his strike aimed directly at Torren. Just as it seemed Torren was about to be struck, a glowing barrier appeared, blocking the attack.

Rina stood firm, her energy protecting her comrades. Hakan smiled, acknowledging the protective barrier, but before he could make a move, Alaric and Sylvia switched tactics. Alaric closed the distance with a series of calculated slashes, while Sylvia darted in with her dagger, looking for an opening. Despite their swift coordination, Hakan didn’t falter. He blocked, parried, and countered with surprising ease. Every swing of his wooden swords disrupted their attacks, leaving them no room to gain ground.

Then, Torren came from behind, hoping to land a surprise attack. But before he could even react, Hakan’s foot shot out, delivering a powerful kick to Torren’s stomach that sent him flying across the clearing.

Alaric attempted another strike, but Hakan was already a step ahead. He dodged Alaric’s sword with a fluid twist of his body and, in the same motion, kicked Alaric in the chest, throwing him to the side.

Sylvia, seeing her teammates thrown aside, quickly adapted by creating illusions—multiple versions of herself appeared in front of Hakan, hoping to confuse him. But with a single swing of his wooden sword and a powerful stomp of his foot, Hakan shattered the illusions, revealing the real Sylvia standing behind the others.

Sylvia’s eyes widened, but before she could react, Hakan was already closing the distance. However, just as he approached, Rina’s barriers appeared once more, surrounding Sylvia in a protective cocoon. Hakan's strike was blocked once again, but this time, he focused on Rina, who had enveloped herself entirely in defensive barriers, creating an almost impenetrable defense.

Seeing an opportunity, Sylvia swiftly moved in and healed Torren and Alaric, who had been knocked out of the fight earlier. As they regained consciousness, their eyes widened with disbelief. They had never seen the full extent of Hakan’s power—not like this.

With one powerful movement, Hakan shattered Rina’s barriers, a display of raw power that left the group stunned. The very air seemed to crackle with energy as he broke through what was supposed to be an impenetrable defense.

Now, it was four against one. The guild members, battered but determined, took their positions again, ready to continue the fight. But the true power of their leader had been revealed, and they knew this was no longer just a friendly sparring match—it was a battle to push them to their very best.

The challenge had only just begun.

The battle had been fierce, stretching on for three long hours. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting shadows over the clearing as the fight between Hakan and the Black Dragons reached its peak. The air was thick with the sound of heavy breathing, the only evidence of how grueling the match had been.

Torren, Alaric, Rina, and Sylvia were all on their last legs. Their bodies ached, their movements sluggish, but they stood tall, determination still burning in their eyes. Hakan, on the other hand, was breathing quickly as well, but his posture remained firm. His feet were planted in the dirt, and though his chest heaved, he showed no sign of fatigue. His resolve was unwavering.

Without warning, Hakan dropped the wooden swords to the ground with a sharp thud. The sound echoed in the clearing, causing the team to pause in confusion.

Then, Hakan began clapping.

“Well done,” he said, his voice rich with praise. “You’ve all come a long way today. The improvement is visible, and I’m proud of each of you. But remember, this was just the beginning. You’ve shown me your strengths, but I’ve also seen your weaknesses. Don’t forget what I said—adapt, evolve, and become better. Keep pushing yourselves.”

His golden eyes swept over the team, lingering for a moment on Alaric and Torren. “You two took my hardest blows head-on,” he said with respect. “That’s the kind of spirit we need in this guild. You’ve done well.”

The group stood in silence for a moment, catching their breath. There was a sense of accomplishment in the air, but also a quiet resolve to keep improving. The next challenge was already looming in their minds.

Hakan then broke the silence, his tone lighter. “Alright, that’s enough for today. It’s time for lunch.” He turned toward the direction of the headquarters. “Let’s head back. I’m sure you’re all starving.”

As they began to walk back toward the headquarters, the tension from the battle began to fade. Alaric, Torren, and Sylvia exchanged tired but satisfied looks, their exhaustion giving way to laughter.

“That was insane,” Torren said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think anyone could move like that. Hakan’s a beast.”

Alaric grinned. “He’s more than that. You saw the way he broke through Rina’s barriers? No one else could do that.”

Rina, though exhausted, chuckled softly. “I’ll get him next time,” she said, her eyes glinting with determination.

Sylvia added, “We all will. We’ve come a long way, and we’re going to get even stronger.”

The conversation flowed easily as they walked, the camaraderie that had been forged in the heat of battle now cemented with shared laughter and easy banter. It was a welcome shift from the intensity of the sparring match, and for the first time that morning, there was a genuine feeling of unity among the group.

Hakan, walking a few paces ahead, smiled to himself. He could sense the bond growing between them. This was only the beginning, but he had no doubt that with time, this team would become something formidable. Something unstoppable.

And with that thought, they continued on toward the headquarters, ready to take on whatever came next, their spirits lifted and their bond strengthened.

The group made their way back to the Black Dragons' headquarters, their steps slower now, a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction from the intense training session. Upon arrival, they entered the ante room, a quiet space furnished with plush sofas where they could relax and unwind.

Torren and Alaric immediately sank into one of the sofas, both of them leaning back and letting out a collective sigh of relief. Rina and Sylvia sat down on the opposite side, Rina adjusting herself before getting comfortable, while Sylvia remained more composed, but her eyes flickered occasionally toward Hakan, who had taken the head seat, his posture relaxed but still commanding.

Hakan picked up the phone from the nearby side table and dialed the number of a nearby restaurant. The rest of the group exchanged glances, wondering what he had in mind.

After a few moments, Hakan spoke into the phone, “Yes, I’ll place an order for the Black Dragons. Everyone here has their favorites. Let’s start with—”

Sylvia’s eyes were focused on Hakan as she listened, her expression unreadable at first. Then, unexpectedly, she let out a small laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The sound broke the quiet atmosphere, and all four of them turned to her in surprise.

“Something funny, Sylvia?” Alaric raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

Sylvia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she composed herself. “I can’t believe how far Hakan has come since the forest. It’s like night and day,” she said, the words coming out in a tone that blended admiration with disbelief.

Hakan’s lips twitched into a smile, clearly pleased by the comment. “I’ve had my fair share of struggles, but I’m here because of all of you,” he said, his voice calm but full of meaning. “It’s a team effort.”

The group nodded, their exhaustion fading as they remembered the bond they were creating. The light atmosphere lingered for a moment before Hakan returned his attention to the phone call.

After taking everyone's orders—Torren requested a hearty meat platter, Alaric asked for some spiced seafood, Rina wanted a vegetable stir-fry, and Sylvia opted for a light salad with roasted chicken—Hakan finished the call and placed the phone back in his pocket.

With the orders confirmed, he leaned back into his chair, eyeing his team with a look that could only be described as content. “The food will be here soon. Until then, we can relax and enjoy some downtime.”

The tension that had lingered during their earlier battle began to dissolve as the group engaged in conversation. There was teasing, laughter, and playful banter as the group let their guards down.

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“Alaric, you were looking a little winded earlier,” Torren teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You sure you’re alright?”

Alaric shot him a glare but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. “I’m fine. Just took a few extra hits for you.”

Rina shook her head. “You two never stop.”

Sylvia leaned in slightly, her voice quieter but still carrying the humor from before. “It’s hard to believe you all were so serious before. The battle, the tension... it’s like we’re all different people now.”

Hakan chuckled, his eyes softening as he glanced at each of them. “We are. And we’re stronger for it.”

The conversation shifted between teasing jabs and more serious exchanges, but the mood remained light. In this moment, they weren’t just warriors—they were teammates, allies, and friends. And with every passing laugh and shared story, the bond between them grew stronger.

As the minutes passed, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, signaling the arrival of their food. Their stomachs growled in anticipation, and the group shifted, ready to dig in.

The laughter died down, but the warmth between them remained, each member of the Black Dragons understanding that they had become more than just a team. They had become a family.

And in that moment, the struggles they had faced—and would continue to face—felt just a little bit lighter.

The food arrived just as promised, and the delivery boy handed over the dishes to Alaric and Torren, who stood at the door to receive them. They took their respective bags and nodded in acknowledgment before returning to the table. The rich scent of grilled meats, savory sauces, and freshly baked bread wafted into the room as Sylvia and Rina began placing the dishes in front of each of the Black Dragons members. The room buzzed with excitement as each person eyed their meal, eagerly awaiting the moment they could dig in.

But as the plates were set down, a curious silence filled the air. Hakan’s seat remained empty of food.

Rina, noticing the absence of Hakan's meal, glanced at the others with a furrowed brow. “Is this a mistake? Where’s Hakan’s food?” she asked, a little concerned.

The rest of the group exchanged puzzled looks, a shared uncertainty hanging in the air. Surely, there had been a mix-up. Torren raised an eyebrow, Alaric scratched his head, and Sylvia simply watched in silence, her lips pressed together.

Hakan, however, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He looked at his team, his usual calm demeanor unchanged. A gentle smile curled at the edges of his lips. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice steady. “My food will be arriving soon.”

The others looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean? You should’ve ordered with us!” Rina pressed, her eyes wide with concern. She even offered, “You can share mine, Hakan. We can eat together!”

“No, it’s fine,” Hakan replied warmly. “I’ll be getting mine shortly. There’s no need to worry.”

And as if on cue, a soft, almost imperceptible bell rang from the door, signaling the arrival of something—or someone. Without hesitation, Hakan stood up from his seat, a serene confidence in his movements. He walked toward the door, his steps calm and measured as if everything was exactly as it should be. The others watched in silence, curious, wondering just what Hakan had ordered.

The delivery boy, a new face, handed over a neatly wrapped package. Hakan nodded in acknowledgment before returning to his seat with the food in hand, his posture still exuding the same quiet grace. He placed the dish on the table with careful precision.

The moment the packaging was opened, the air seemed to shift. A fragrant aroma filled the room, unlike anything the others had encountered before. The dish inside was a work of art—an intricate, layered Biryani.

The golden grains of rice shimmered under the dim light of the room, each one perfectly cooked, infused with a symphony of spices. The scent of turmeric, cumin, cinnamon, and coriander swirled in the air, beckoning them closer. The rice itself was flecked with vibrant colors, and beneath it lay tender, succulent lamb, braised to perfection. The rich, earthy aroma of the meat—marinated in yogurt, garlic, and ginger—rose like a warm, inviting mist. A delicate layer of golden fried onions crowned the dish, their crispy texture adding a sharp contrast to the tender rice and juicy meat.

Rina’s eyes widened in awe. The dish was not only stunning in appearance but smelled intoxicatingly good, as if it was something more than just food—it was an experience. Hakan gently lifted a spoonful of the Biryani, letting the others admire the dish for a moment before offering a small smile. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice soft but filled with a quiet confidence. “Let’s begin.”

Before they could dig in, Hakan performed a short prayer, offering thanks for the meal, before nodding for the rest to follow. The group mirrored his gesture, giving thanks in their own ways before finally beginning to eat. But Rina, ever the foodie, couldn’t contain her curiosity. She leaned toward Hakan, her eyes still locked on the plate of Biryani, unable to take her gaze off the dish.

“Hakan, what is that?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. “It looks so different from the food we ordered. What exactly is it?”

Hakan smiled faintly, setting down his spoon as he met Rina’s inquisitive gaze. His eyes softened as he began to explain. “This,” he said, his voice steady and proud, “is Biryani. It’s a traditional dish from a faraway land. A dish that carries centuries of history within it.”

Rina’s eyes widened even further. She had never heard of Biryani before. “But… it’s so different from anything we’ve had here. It smells so rich, so… layered. What makes it so special?”

Hakan took a moment, savoring the aroma that surrounded the table. “Biryani is more than just a meal,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “It’s the perfect balance of spices, the slow-cooked tenderness of the meat, and the delicate rice that brings it all together. It’s a dish that takes time, care, and patience to prepare, and it’s enjoyed by people all over the world. But for me… it’s a connection to the past. A reminder of places I’ve been, the people I’ve met, and the experiences that have shaped me.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Each layer of Biryani—whether it's the rice, the meat, or the fried onions—represents something important. Just like us. Every person brings something unique to the table, and together, we form something greater than we could ever be alone. That’s the power of unity.”

The others looked on in silent awe as they listened to Hakan’s words. Sylvia, who had spent enough time with him to know his deeper thoughts, smiled softly, understanding the deeper significance of the dish.

Rina, who had always been drawn to food for its flavors and textures, now understood it on a much deeper level. “I never thought food could mean so much,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “This Biryani… it’s more than just a meal. It’s a story, a part of something bigger than all of us.”

Hakan nodded, his eyes gleaming with the wisdom of someone who had traveled far and experienced more than most could ever imagine. “Exactly,” he said, picking up his spoon and taking another bite. “Sometimes, it’s not just about the surface. It’s about what lies beneath, the connections that are made, and the stories we carry with us.”

As they ate, the room was filled with the sounds of contentment—clinking cutlery, shared laughter, and soft conversation. The Black Dragons had come together, not just as warriors, but as a team.

As the meal came to an end, the Black Dragons sat back, satisfied and content. The rich flavors of the food still lingered on their tongues, and the warmth of a shared meal filled the room with a rare sense of peace. For a moment, it felt like the war, the struggles, and the dangers that lay ahead were distant—just whispers beyond the walls of their hideout.

Hakan, ever the disciplined one, gently wiped his hands and stood up. “I’ll be in my study,” he announced. “If you need me, knock.”

Alaric, leaning back in his chair, smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stare at that old scroll again.”

Hakan gave a small chuckle. “That old scroll might hold the key to something we’re missing,” he replied. With that, he took the ancient parchment and left the room, heading toward the quiet solitude of his study.

Inside his study, the room was dimly lit by a single lantern, casting flickering shadows across the walls. He carefully unrolled the scroll, his eyes scanning the intricate symbols and faded diagrams once more. The characters were still unfamiliar, the language long forgotten, but the movements depicted in the diagrams held an undeniable flow—fluid yet lethal.

Hakan furrowed his brows, tracing a finger over one particular illustration. It showed a stance, one foot grounded while the other moved in a sweeping motion. There was something about it, something that called to him. He closed his eyes, trying to visualize himself performing the move. His body tensed as he imagined the flow of energy through each motion, but something was missing—something he hadn’t yet unlocked.

“This scroll…” he murmured to himself, tightening his grip. “What secrets do you hold?”

Back in the main room, Alaric and Sylvia had set up a chessboard on the table. The pieces gleamed under the lantern light as the two locked eyes, each calculating their strategy before the first move.

Rina, still energized from the meal, pulled up a chair beside them, resting her chin on her hands. “This should be fun,” she mused. “I’ve never seen you two play against each other before.”

Alaric cracked his knuckles. “I don’t usually play for fun,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll make an exception for Sylvia.”

Sylvia smirked, resting her fingers on her first pawn. “How generous of you,” she said coolly, making her first move without hesitation.

The game began, the quiet clicks of the pieces filling the room as they engaged in a silent battle of wit and patience. Alaric played aggressively, moving his knights and rooks forward in swift, calculated strikes. Sylvia, on the other hand, was more patient—watching, waiting, luring him into traps with deceptive simplicity.

Rina’s eyes darted between the two players, fascinated by their contrasting styles. “Alaric’s charging in too fast,” she whispered to herself. “Sylvia’s going to turn that against him…”

Alaric narrowed his eyes, realizing too late that he had fallen into a trap. Sylvia’s queen glided across the board, cornering his king in a matter of moves.

“…Checkmate,” she said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

Alaric groaned, rubbing his temple. “You’re scary,” he admitted.

“I know,” Sylvia said simply, resetting the board. “Want to go again?”

Alaric smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Why not? This time, I won’t go easy.”

Meanwhile, on the couch near them, Torren was already fast asleep. His arms were crossed, and his head was tilted back, soft snores escaping him. The heavy meal had done its job, and he had surrendered to its effects without resistance.

Rina glanced at him and chuckled. “Looks like the food knocked him out,” she whispered.

Sylvia smirked but didn’t take her eyes off the board. “Let him sleep. He’s going to need it.”

As the quiet game continued, the hideout remained peaceful, but everyone knew that this moment of calm wouldn’t last forever. The war outside was waiting for them, and soon, they would have to step back into the chaos.

For now, though, they allowed themselves to rest—each in their own way.

The dim light of the lantern flickered as Hakan’s eyes remained fixated on the scroll, but this time, he ignored the text. The symbols and letters had been a barrier, an ancient language lost to time, but the diagrams—they held something deeper.

He studied the intricate sketches, each depicting a warrior moving through a sequence of strikes, footwork, and explosive bursts of power. His instincts screamed at him—this was it. The key wasn’t in the words but in the movements themselves.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, letting his body feel the flow of the techniques. He moved away from the desk and into the center of his room, where the sunlight cast a faint glow through the window. With a steady breath, he positioned himself into the first stance and began mimicking the sequences.

Hakan shifted his stance, following the diagram’s depiction. His fists clenched, and he exhaled as he threw a punch forward, twisting his body at the last moment. Suddenly, he felt something—a strange force in the air, as if reality itself had bent around his strike.

His eyes widened.

He threw another punch, this time with more focus. The air rippled, distorting like a shattered mirror before vanishing into nothingness.

This technique… it negates space itself.

Hakan gritted his teeth. “Void Crusher…” he whispered.

He understood it now. This wasn’t just a punch. It was a strike designed to disrupt abilities tied to space—void, gravity, spatial manipulation, even teleportation. Against power-wielders of such abilities, this attack would crush their very foundation, rendering their strength useless.

A smirk formed on his lips.

“If I perfect this, even the strongest void user will be nothing against me.”

Shifting into the next stance, Hakan focused on his footwork. The diagram showed rapid movement, an acceleration that seemed impossible—almost as if the figure disappeared mid-motion.

He exhaled and dashed forward, but his speed was normal.

Not enough.

He tried again, pushing his body harder, forcing his legs to react faster than his mind could process. Still, it wasn’t what the scroll depicted.

Frustrated, he took a deep breath and focused on the sensation. He analyzed the way the diagrams flowed. It wasn’t just about speed—it was about understanding the rhythm of movement, the timing between each step.

Hakan crouched slightly and launched himself forward.

Then it happened.

A sonic boom erupted behind him. The air exploded as his body blurred, moving at speeds beyond human limits. He staggered, nearly crashing into the wall, but caught himself just in time.

He looked back in shock. The floor where he had launched from was cracked, and the force of his movement had knocked over everything in his room.

A grin spread across his face.

“This… this is real speed.”

Sonic Boom didn’t just grant him speed—it allowed him to move four times the speed of sound. He had transcended normal agility, reaching a realm where even the fastest power-wielders would struggle to track him.

The final technique on the scroll was different. The diagrams showed an aggressive assault—a flurry of strikes too fast to counter, ending with a final, decisive blow to the heart.

Hakan took a deep breath. His body was still adjusting to the previous techniques, but he couldn’t stop now.

He took the stance.

A deep exhale.

Then, he unleashed a barrage of punches, each strike chaining into the next with fluid, devastating efficiency. His fists blurred, his kicks followed, and his body moved like a storm of destruction.

The final move came—he lunged forward and delivered an earth-shattering punch straight ahead. The force blasted the air, sending a violent shockwave through the room. The wooden training dummy in the corner exploded into splinters.

Hakan stood there, his breathing heavy.

He clenched his fist and looked down at it.

Death’s Knock… a technique that, if landed correctly, would end an opponent instantly. A combination of precise, brutal strikes, finished with a single, inescapable death blow to the heart.

He took a shaky breath.

These weren’t just ordinary techniques. They were weapons. Skills designed to level the playing field against power-wielders.

He glanced back at the scroll.

This was just the beginning.

And Hakan wasn’t powerless anymore.

As Hakan steadied his breath after perfecting the deadly techniques from the ancient scroll, a sudden vibration echoed through his dimly lit room. His encrypted phone—a device given to all guild leaders by the Accord—flashed on the desk.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and picked it up.

"Aria?"

The voice on the other end was sharp yet controlled. Aria Lysander, leader of the Ethereal Blades.

"Hakan, we’re coming to see you. We’ll be there in thirty minutes."

Hakan furrowed his brows. Thirty minutes?

"I thought we were meeting tomorrow. What’s the rush?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

There was a brief pause before Aria responded.

"We’ll explain when we get there. But Ezekiel Thorn and his second-in-command, Maris Dusk, are coming with me. Lucian Stride will also be joining us."

Hakan's grip tightened slightly. Ezekiel, the leader of the Shadow Reapers, and Lucian, Aria’s right-hand man.

If both Ethereal Blades and Shadow Reapers were coming ahead of schedule, something was up.

"Alright," he said, his tone unreadable. "I’ll be waiting."

The line cut.

Hakan exhaled slowly and set the phone down. His instincts told him this wasn’t just a casual visit—something urgent had happened.

He turned towards the door and stepped out of his room.

The main hall was quiet. Most of his team had already settled in for the night.

Alaric and Sylvia were still locked in their chess game, their eyes darting over the board. Torren was fast asleep on the couch, his heavy breathing the only sound filling the room. Meanwhile, Rina sat cross-legged beside the chessboard, watching with mild interest.

Hakan strode in, his presence immediately drawing their attention.

"We have guests arriving in thirty minutes," he announced.

Alaric raised a brow. "Guests? I thought the meeting was tomorrow."

"Change of plans. Aria, Ezekiel, and Maris are on their way. Lucian is with them too."

Sylvia leaned back, folding her arms. "That’s an unusual group to visit at this hour. Something must’ve happened."

"Exactly," Hakan said. "I want everyone on alert. If they’re coming early, it means there’s urgency. Torren—wake up."

Torren grunted, rubbing his eyes. "Huh? What’s happening?"

"Gear up. We might have a situation."

At that, the atmosphere shifted. Rina immediately stood up, her eyes filled with curiosity but also a hint of seriousness. Alaric and Sylvia exchanged a glance before nodding, and Torren stretched, already getting into a combat-ready mindset.

The Black Dragons weren’t just a guild—they were a force. And if something was happening tonight, they would be ready.

Hakan walked to the entrance, his gaze fixed on the night outside.

Whatever Aria, Ezekiel, Maris, and Lucian were bringing…

It was going to change everything.

The air inside the Black Dragons’ conference room was thick with tension as the doors swung open. Aria Lysander, Ezekiel Thorn, and their seconds-in-command, Lucian Stride and Maris Dusk, stepped in.

Hakan stood at the head of the room, his sharp gaze fixed on them. Around the space, the other Black Dragons had already left, giving the leaders privacy for their discussion.

Aria and Ezekiel took their seats on the plush black sofas, their second-in-commands standing beside them like silent sentinels. Lucian, ever composed, rested his hand on the hilt of his ethereal dagger, while Maris' piercing gaze flickered like a shadow across the room.

"Alright," Hakan broke the silence, leaning forward. "Tell me why you're here ahead of schedule."

Aria exhaled. "It's the High Tower."

Hakan narrowed his eyes. "Go on."

Ezekiel leaned in, his voice a low growl. "We've confirmed the presence of high-ranking enemy operatives inside. They're not just stationed there—they’re moving. Preparing."

Maris added, "We've intercepted communications. They’re planning something big. A coordinated strike."

Hakan’s fingers drummed against the table. "And their targets?"

Lucian finally spoke, his voice as smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath. "The Guild Leaders."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Aria continued. "If we don’t act now, they’ll strike first. We need to take the fight to them before they gain the advantage."

Hakan nodded. "Alright. Let’s hear your plans."

Ezekiel was the first to lay out his strategy.

"We strike at night. Hit them with the Shadow Reapers’ stealth teams first. My squad specializes in infiltration—we can eliminate key targets before they even realize we're inside."

Maris nodded in agreement. "With our ability to weave through the shadows, we’ll get in undetected. Once inside, we neutralize their command structure before they can react."

Aria leaned forward. "That’s risky. If they detect you, you’ll be cornered inside enemy territory."

Ezekiel smirked. "That’s assuming they detect us."

Aria then presented her plan.

"The Ethereal Blades will use precision strikes. We’ll cut off their escape routes and take control of key floors within the tower. Lucian’s spectral warriors can phase through walls and create diversions while my blades eliminate enemy officers. Once we secure the stronghold, we reinforce our position."

Lucian added, "This way, even if they counter, we’ll be in control of the battlefield."

Hakan listened carefully. Both plans had merit—but also flaws.

Ezekiel’s plan relied too much on stealth. If something went wrong, his team would be trapped.

Aria’s plan was too rigid—securing the tower meant limiting movement, making them vulnerable if reinforcements arrived.

He exhaled, tapping his fingers together. "Good plans. But not perfect."

Hakan stood, his eyes cold with calculation.

"We combine them."

Ezekiel raised a brow. "How?"

Hakan began, "We use Ezekiel’s Shadow Reapers for infiltration—but not as assassins. Instead, they will map out enemy locations, disrupt their surveillance, and plant charges on key structures. This way, even if they're detected, we control the chaos."

He turned to Aria. "Your team won’t immediately secure the floors. Instead, they’ll act as fast-moving strike units, eliminating high-value targets while keeping the enemy on the defensive. No fortifications—only momentum. We keep them guessing."

Lucian crossed his arms. "What about reinforcements?"

Hakan smirked. "We lure them in."

Maris tilted her head. "Explain."

"Instead of securing the High Tower as a defensive stronghold, we turn it into a trap. We make them believe they still have control, then hit them where it hurts. Once they call for reinforcements, we collapse the upper floors, cutting their forces in half. No one gets out."

The room was silent.

Ezekiel leaned back, grinning. "I like it. More destruction, less risk."

Aria nodded, a rare glimmer of approval in her eyes. "It’s efficient. It forces them into our hands rather than the other way around."

Lucian and Maris exchanged glances before Lucian spoke. "We’ll need precise timing. If one part of the plan fails, the whole thing crumbles."

Hakan met his gaze. "Then we make sure it doesn’t fail."

Ezekiel chuckled. "You really do think ahead, don’t you?"

Aria stood up. "Then it’s settled. We execute tommorow night."

Hakan nodded. "Make the necessary preparations. We move soon."

As the meeting ended, one thing was clear—war was coming.

Hakan leaned forward, his fingers interlocked as his sharp gaze settled on Lucian. "Do the other guilds know about this?"

Lucian nodded. "Yes. The Doctor informed all of them during the conference."

Hakan’s eyes narrowed. "The Doctor, huh? Makes sense. He always keeps everyone in the loop."

Ezekiel smirked. "You don’t seem surprised."

Hakan shook his head. "Not at all. This operation is too big to be kept in the dark."

Lucian continued. "There’s more. The Accord has made a change in the original plans."

Hakan’s fingers drummed against the table. "Explain."

Lucian exhaled. "Instead of waiting for tomorrow, all the guild leaders and their squads will arrive here by nightfall. Then, tomorrow night, we strike the High Tower directly—each leader using their own strategy."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone absorbed the weight of the situation.

Aria crossed her arms. "That means we’ll have a full-scale battle ahead of us. No more skirmishes—this will be a direct war."

Ezekiel grinned, his voice laced with excitement. "Finally. I was getting tired of waiting."

Hakan, however, remained composed. "That also means every leader is planning their own attack method. Some will be reckless. Others too cautious. If we don’t coordinate properly, we might get in each other’s way."

Lucian nodded. "That’s why the Doctor suggested one final meeting before the battle begins. Once everyone is here, we’ll discuss strategies and make sure no one clashes unnecessarily."

Maris added, "But the window is small. We’ll have to finalize everything before the attack begins tomorrow night."

Hakan took a deep breath, his mind already running through every possible scenario. This was no longer just an infiltration—it was a full-scale siege. Each guild had their own strengths and weaknesses, and if they didn’t synchronize their efforts, things could spiral out of control.

He stood up, his presence commanding. "Then we make this count. Tonight, we refine our strategies. Tomorrow night, we take the High Tower—our way."

Aria smirked. "I like the sound of that."

Ezekiel chuckled darkly. "Let’s give them hell."

As the meeting wrapped up, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind—the war for the High Tower had officially begun.

As the meeting concluded, Hakan leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the remaining leaders. He offered them a place to stay for the night.

"If you don’t have a secure location, you’re welcome to stay here," Hakan said.

Ezekiel smirked and shook his head. "Appreciate it, but we already have a place set up. Besides, I’ve got something important to take care of."

Aria also declined. "Same here. My guild has their own place. We’ll regroup there."

Ezekiel was the first to leave, his second-in-command, Maris, following behind. As Aria and Lucian prepared to leave, Aria suddenly turned toward Lucian.

"You go ahead. I’ll stay here a little longer."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but nodded. "Understood." He cast a quick glance at Hakan before leaving the room.

Now, it was just Hakan and Aria—alone.

Hakan remained composed, but he could feel the weight of her gaze. "Something on your mind?" he asked.

Aria sat down, her expression unreadable. "Yeah. Something personal."

That piqued Hakan’s curiosity. "Go on."

She hesitated for a moment, then finally asked, "How did you get this strong without having powers?"

Hakan’s body stiffened. For a brief second, he felt like the air in the room had changed.

"What makes you think I don’t have powers?" he replied carefully.

Aria leaned forward slightly, her silver eyes sharp. "Most of the leaders don’t know about it. Or rather, they assume you just hide your abilities. But I know otherwise."

Hakan narrowed his eyes. "And how exactly do you know?"

Aria sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Because I was studying in the Subcontinent when I first heard about you."

That made Hakan pause. "What?"

Aria’s expression darkened. "There was a story circulating. A powerless man who met a powerless end." She studied him closely. "For a while, people talked about it. But then, it just… disappeared. No one mentioned it again."

Hakan felt something stir within him, but he stayed silent.

Aria continued. "I tried to gather information, but it was as if every record had been wiped clean. No one knew what happened to that man." She leaned forward. "Then the Tower Break happened. And while we were unable to enter Shizumi… a new hero appeared."

Her eyes bore into his.

"A hero who took down the Tower and became a Six-Star."

Hakan’s expression remained unreadable. He didn’t confirm or deny anything.

Aria exhaled. "You didn’t show any supernatural abilities, yet you stood against monsters that would have crushed even the strongest power users. You relied only on sheer strength, skill, and strategy."

She tilted her head. "That’s how I knew it was you."

Silence filled the room. Hakan finally spoke, his voice calm. "And what do you plan to do with that information?"

Aria smirked. "Nothing."

That caught him off guard.

"I just wanted to confirm it myself," she said. "Because if a man without powers could reach this level… then maybe the world isn’t as limited as we think."

Hakan studied her, then chuckled softly. "You’re a strange one, Aria."

She smiled. "Maybe."

The conversation lingered between them as the weight of unspoken truths filled the air.

Aria took a deep breath before continuing. "I always wanted to be a hero. Ever since I was a kid, I admired those who stood up for others, who defied the odds." She smiled faintly, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "When I moved to Japan, I decided to start my own guild. It wasn’t easy. At first, no one believed in me. They saw me as just another idealist with big dreams."

Hakan listened in silence, his gaze steady. He could tell that Aria wasn’t just reminiscing—she was opening up, something she probably didn’t do often.

"But I didn’t let that stop me," she continued. "I kept pushing forward, recruiting those who shared my vision. Slowly, we became stronger. And now, the Ethereal Blades stand among the top guilds."

She exhaled, leaning back. "But even after all this, I always wondered if I was truly strong enough. Seeing you… a man without powers standing against legends… it made me question everything."

Hakan smirked slightly. "Strength isn’t just about powers, Aria."

She nodded. "I know that now."

As they talked, something unexpected happened. Without much thought, Hakan reached up and unfastened his mask.

Aria was mid-sentence when she suddenly stopped.

Her eyes widened as she saw Hakan’s face for the first time.

Time seemed to freeze.

He was… breathtaking. Not just handsome, but rugged, powerful. His sharp jawline, the deep-set eyes that carried years of hardship and wisdom, the faint scars across his face that told stories of battles long fought. He exuded a raw masculinity that sent a strange feeling through her chest.

She felt heat rising to her cheeks.

Hakan noticed her reaction and smirked. "Something wrong?"

Aria quickly looked to the side, trying to hide the blush on her face. "N-No, it’s nothing!"

"You sure?" he teased.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus. "Anyway, as I was saying…"

Hakan chuckled but let her continue.

Their conversation flowed naturally, shifting between lighthearted banter and deep, emotional exchanges. They laughed about past experiences, shared struggles, and in that moment, a bond began to form—one deeper than simple alliance or friendship.

For the first time in a long while, Aria felt truly understood.

And for the first time in years, Hakan let his guard down.

Aria stood up, brushing her hands on her outfit. "I should leave now, Hakan. There's much to prepare for tomorrow." Her voice carried a softness that hadn’t been there before.

Hakan nodded, rising as well. "Of course. Let me escort you out."

The two walked together to the guild’s main exit. The evening sun bathed Shizumi in a warm golden light, casting long shadows across the streets. The sky was a blend of fiery orange and soft pink, painting a picture of fleeting serenity before the storm they all knew was coming.

At the gates, Aria turned to him, her eyes lingering for a moment. "Thank you, Hakan… for listening."

Hakan gave her a small nod, his expression calm yet genuine. "Anytime."

She hesitated for a split second, as though debating whether to say something more, but then turned and walked away, the golden light catching the shimmer of her hair as she disappeared into the distance.

Hakan stood there for a moment, watching her leave, before turning to head back inside.

The moment he entered the main hall, Alaric, Sylvia, Rina, and Torren were waiting for him with mischievous grins plastered across their faces.

"Well, well, look who’s finally showing some moves!" Sylvia teased, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.

Torren chimed in with a playful smirk. "The great Hakan, the man who never falters in battle, but seems to have a soft spot for a certain guild leader."

Rina giggled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Seriously, Hakan, we’ve never seen you talk to someone like that before. You were… how do I put this? Charming."

Hakan raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable. "You’re all imagining things."

Alaric stepped forward, his arms crossed but his grin as wide as ever. "Imagining things? Oh, come on. We saw her blush when she walked out. And let’s not forget, she stayed here with you alone for how long?"

Sylvia pretended to gasp. "Hakan! You didn’t even offer us snacks, but you kept her entertained for hours?"

Rina clasped her hands together dramatically. "Oh, the scandal!"

Even Torren, usually the quiet one, added in a mock-serious tone, "So, when’s the wedding?"

Hakan sighed, shaking his head. "You’re all ridiculous."

But despite his calm exterior, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Alaric caught it immediately. "Oh, he’s smiling. That’s it. He’s gone, guys."

The group burst into laughter, filling the hall with a rare moment of lightheartedness amidst the tension of the days to come.

Hakan simply walked past them, muttering under his breath, "I can’t believe I put up with you people."

Hakan stopped in his tracks, his smile fading slightly. The playful atmosphere around them shifted as he turned back to face his companions.

"You’re all getting ahead of yourselves," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I’m already loyal to someone else."

The teasing immediately halted. Alaric, Sylvia, Rina, and Torren exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.

"Oh?" Alaric smirked, folding his arms. "And who might this mystery woman be?"

Hakan shook his head. "It doesn’t matter. I won’t entertain another woman unless she…" He hesitated for a moment, his gaze momentarily distant. "Unless she were to die or marry someone else."

Silence filled the room for a brief moment before Rina let out an exaggerated gasp.

"Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling us Hakan—the most cold and battle-hardened man alive—has actually been engaged this whole time?"

Torren let out a low whistle. "Man, I did not see that coming."

Alaric’s grin widened. "Alright, now you have to tell us her name."

Hakan remained silent. His eyes sharpened slightly, as if guarding something precious.

Sylvia, however, smirked knowingly. "No need to ask him. I already know."

The others immediately turned toward her.

"You do?" Rina asked, eyes wide.

Sylvia nodded, crossing her arms. "And trust me, you’re all in for a shock."

Alaric leaned forward, clearly enjoying the suspense. "Well? Spit it out, Sylvia."

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Sylvia let the name slip.

"Iffah."

The reaction was immediate. Rina gasped. Torren’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even Alaric, usually unfazed by most things, looked momentarily stunned.

"Wait a damn second…" Torren started. "You mean Iffah? As in, the Valkyrie of Dawn? Leader of the Silver Valkyries? One of the strongest female fighters alive?"

Sylvia grinned. "Bingo."

The group erupted in chaos.

"You’ve been engaged to her this whole time?!" Rina practically shrieked.

"And you never mentioned this?" Alaric demanded.

Hakan simply sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn’t relevant."

"Not relevant?!" Torren’s voice was incredulous. "She’s a six-star warrior, leads one of the most elite guilds in the world, and is considered a living legend!"

Rina placed her hands on her hips. "You better not be lying, Hakan. Because if this is true, then how the hell did you manage to get engaged to someone like her?"

Hakan turned away slightly, his voice quieter now. "It was a long time ago. Before everything changed."

The others exchanged looks, realizing that this was not something he wanted to talk about—at least not yet.

Sylvia, however, wasn’t done. She smirked and leaned in closer to Hakan.

"So, tell me… do you still love her?"

Hakan didn’t answer right away. His face remained unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes.

Sylvia’s grin softened slightly. "You do, don’t you?"

Still, Hakan said nothing. He simply turned and began walking away.

"Get some rest. We have a war to fight tomorrow."

As he disappeared down the hallway, the others stood there in stunned silence.

Alaric let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, that was unexpected."

Torren crossed his arms. "Hakan and the Valkyrie of Dawn… never thought I’d hear those two names together."

Rina nudged Sylvia. "You knew this whole time and didn’t tell us?"

Sylvia grinned. "Some secrets are worth keeping for the right moment."

They all glanced in the direction Hakan had gone, each of them now wondering just what kind of history their leader had with the legendary Iffah, the Valkyrie of Dawn.

Hakan entered his apartment, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. The place was small, simple, but it was his own. His gaze swept over the familiar surroundings—the worn furniture, the old wooden desk cluttered with papers, the narrow bed by the window. It was a far cry from the grand chambers of the guild hall, but it was here, in this solitude, where he found peace.

Tonight was different.

Tomorrow, the battle would begin.

He set down his coat, rubbing his temples as he walked over to the small window that framed the view of the city. Shizumi, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun, seemed peaceful. The streets below, lined with buildings and homes, were busy with people going about their evening routines, unaware of the storm that was brewing just on the horizon. Hakan sighed deeply, leaning against the window sill.

His mind wandered to his past. To the family he had left behind. The memories of his childhood were a blend of warmth and pain, a strange mix of love and struggle.

Soren, his younger brother, flashed in his mind. He remembered the times they had spent together—sparing in the courtyard, laughing over small victories, comforting each other through losses. Soren had always believed in him, even when Hakan struggled with his own self-doubt. He could still hear Soren’s voice, always full of encouragement, always looking out for him.

And his parents. His mother, with her sharp words and harder expectations, had always pushed him to be more than he thought he could be. It had stung back then, but now, as he reflected, he realized it was because she had always seen something in him that he hadn’t recognized. His father, more quiet and reserved, had been his rock. The strength in his silence. Though their relationship had been distant at times, Hakan knew his father had always been proud of him—just not in the way he could express.

The memories flowed like a river, both comforting and painful. The family dinners. The quiet conversations by the fire. Even the times of tension, when his mother’s disappointment hung in the air. It had all shaped him. It had all made him who he was now.

Wang Wei.

His master. The one who had taken him under his wing when no one else had believed in him. The grueling days of training—when failure felt like a constant companion. The pain of each new lesson, each challenge, each time he felt like he was breaking. But Wang Wei had pushed him, demanded more of him than he thought he could give. And Hakan had grown stronger for it. More than just physically—he had learned to be resilient, to endure.

Tomorrow was a battle like no other. Hakan could feel the weight of it pressing on his chest, but amidst the heavy thoughts and anxiety, something else lingered—something far stronger.

A quiet, steady resolve.

Tomorrow, he would fight—not just for the guild, not just for the city, but for everything that had brought him here. His family, his past, his training, his bonds with those he fought alongside—these were the things that would carry him through.

Hakan walked over to his small table, his hand brushing over the top where a photo sat. It was a simple, worn photograph of his family. The edges were frayed from the years of handling, but the image was clear. He and Soren, standing side by side, their arms around each other, smiles wide. His mother and father stood behind them, expressions soft but proud. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was his foundation. It was what had grounded him.

As he gazed at the picture, he thought of Iffah. The Valkyrie of Dawn. The leader of the Silver Valkyries. The woman who had captured his heart. They hadn’t been together long, but in that time, she had become someone he trusted more than anyone. He had promised her that he would return—alive, victorious.

Tomorrow, the stakes were higher than ever, but he wasn’t alone.

He was fighting for those who had shaped him, those who had stood by him, and those who believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself.

Hakan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him, before placing the photo back on the table. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past for long. Tomorrow, there would be no time for sentiment. There would only be the fight, and the chance to protect everything he held dear.

With one last deep breath, Hakan turned away from the window and sat on the edge of his bed. The weight of the upcoming battle pressed against him, but his resolve only grew stronger. Tomorrow, he would face whatever came with the same determination that had seen him through every challenge before.

And no matter what, he would fight—for his family, his guild, his future.

For everything that mattered.

Hakan picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a moment. He wasn’t sure how the news would be received, but there was no turning back now. The town needed to know that their leaders weren’t hiding in fear. They needed to see that they were ready to face whatever threat lay ahead.

He dialed Alaric’s number, waiting as the phone rang. After a few moments, Alaric answered with his usual confident tone.

“Hakan? What’s up?” Alaric’s voice was calm but there was an edge to it, like he sensed something was coming.

“I need you to tell the media,” Hakan began, his voice steady, “I’ll be addressing the public tomorrow. It’ll be at the Town Hall.”

Alaric’s silence was immediate, followed by a slow exhale. “The Town Hall?” His tone was more serious now. “That’s… unexpected. Are you sure about this? With everything that’s about to happen?”

Hakan nodded, though Alaric couldn’t see it. “I’m sure. The people need to hear it from us. They need to know we’re ready. I don’t want them to think we’re hiding. Tomorrow’s battle isn’t just ours—it’s theirs, too.”

There was a long pause on the other end before Alaric replied. “Alright, I’ll get the word out. But you’re right, this isn’t just about fighting. It’s about showing the people that they’re not alone. We’ll make sure the media’s there, and we’ll get the message across.”

“Thanks,” Hakan said, a small sense of relief washing over him. He knew Alaric would take care of the details. “Make sure the town knows we’re not backing down. Tomorrow, we face whatever comes head-on.”

“Understood,” Alaric replied. “You sure you’re up for it though? Speaking to the public, I mean… You’re not usually one for big speeches.”

Hakan chuckled lightly, despite the tension in the air. “I don’t have to be good at speeches. I just need to tell them the truth. The truth is all they need to hear right now.”

With a final sigh, Alaric gave a quick laugh. “Alright, man. I’ll make sure everything’s set. We’ll be ready. Just… don’t go too overboard with the whole ‘rally the troops’ thing. We’ve got enough on our plates already.”

“I’ll keep it brief,” Hakan assured him, though a part of him wondered if that would really be possible.

“Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“I will,” Hakan said. “You too.”