The battlefield was silent, save for the soft crackle of dissipating energy where the swordsman once stood. His defeated form dissolved into a faint shimmer, leaving behind no trace but the blood-soaked earth and the deep scars of the battle. Hakan lay motionless in the center, his breathing ragged and shallow. His swords, Eclipse Fang, rested beside him, glowing faintly as though they, too, had endured the weight of the fight.

Elara was the first to reach him. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she pressed them against his battered chest. "Hakan! Stay with me!" she pleaded, her voice breaking as the soft golden glow of her healing power began to spread over his wounds.

Kael, limping heavily but resolute, knelt beside her, his face pale but filled with admiration. "You madman," he muttered, his voice tinged with both awe and frustration. "You actually did it... you won."

Hakan’s eyes fluttered open, his lips curling into a weak smile. "Told you… I could handle it," he rasped, though his voice carried no arrogance, only the quiet satisfaction of someone who had given everything and prevailed.

Elara shot him a sharp look, though tears of relief were welling in her eyes. "Handle it? You’re half-dead! What were you thinking taking him on alone?"

Hakan coughed, wincing at the pain. "I was thinking… I couldn’t let you get hurt. Either of you."

Sylvia stood a few paces away, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She had watched the entire fight, her heart pounding as the boy with no powers, no otherworldly gifts, had done the impossible. He had fought the swordsman—a foe who had felled countless warriors—and not only survived but defeated him. Her mind reeled with the sheer audacity of it. How? How could someone without powers triumph where even seasoned veterans had fallen?

She stepped forward, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "Hakan, was it? Do you even realize what you’ve done?"

Hakan tilted his head toward her, his smile faint. "I think... I just took down the swordsman."

Sylvia shook her head, her tone sharp. "You didn’t just take him down. You defied everything this valley stands for. He was a test no one was supposed to pass—an immovable force designed to crush anyone who dared challenge him. And you, with no powers, no advantages, did what others couldn’t even dream of. How?"

Hakan’s smile faded slightly as he looked at her. "I don’t know. I just kept moving forward. I’ve failed so many times before, but every failure taught me something. And today, I couldn’t let failure be the end. Not with them depending on me." His gaze shifted to Elara and Kael, who were still at his side, their expressions softening at his words.

Sylvia studied him for a moment longer, then let out a small, incredulous laugh. "You’re insane," she said, though there was no malice in her tone. "But maybe… maybe that’s exactly what this valley needs. Someone who refuses to follow the rules."

Kael chuckled weakly, leaning against Elara for support. "That’s Hakan for you. The man who never stops."

Elara finished her healing, wiping sweat from her brow as Hakan slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. "Don’t move too much," she chided, though her voice was gentler now. "You’re still recovering."

Hakan gave her a grateful nod, his exhaustion evident. "Thanks, Elara. I owe you."

Elara smiled, shaking her head. "We’re a team, Hakan. You’d do the same for me."

For a brief moment, the four of them—Hakan, Elara, Kael, and Sylvia—sat in the aftermath of the battle, the tension easing as laughter and camaraderie filled the air. It was a rare reprieve in the dark, unrelenting valley, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, hope and unity could prevail.

But as the shadows of the valley crept closer, Sylvia’s gaze drifted toward the distant horizon, where the faint outline of the Third Gate loomed. Her expression darkened. "You may have won this fight," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, "but the valley isn’t done with you yet."

“I know” Hakan with a simple smile on his face “This was only the second gate ” Hakan tried standing and as he stood up he continued “The first gate took our intelligence the second our physical strength the third will probably go after our spirits but it doesn’t matter as long as we stay together ”turning back to his party “we would be unstoppable” “May I ask your name ” hakan turned towards sylvia “Oh me .. you can call me Sylvia Moonhadow ” Elara continued with explaining everything to them afterwards Hakan offered her to join there party which Sylvia gladly agreed upon and now all four of them went forward to conquere the valley.

The group pressed on through the shadowed terrain, the oppressive mist of the valley thickening as night began to fall. With each step, their bodies grew heavier, the fatigue of the day’s battles pressing down on them. Even Hakan, still recovering from his fight with the swordsman, couldn’t mask his exhaustion.

Eventually, they came upon a small clearing, sheltered by ancient, gnarled trees whose twisted branches formed a natural canopy. The soft glow of bioluminescent moss clinging to the trunks provided just enough light to see by.

"This’ll have to do," Kael said, his voice weary but steady. He lowered himself onto a moss-covered rock with a wince, his injuries still bothering him despite Elara’s earlier healing.

Elara set down her pack and began gathering twigs and dry leaves for a fire. "We need to rest. We’re no good to anyone if we push ourselves too hard."

Sylvia lingered at the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed as she gazed into the darkness beyond. She seemed hesitant, as though unsure whether she should join them or continue on her own.

Hakan noticed her hesitation and gestured toward the fire Elara was now coaxing into life. "Come on, Sylvia. You’re part of this team now. No use standing out there like a ghost."

Sylvia glanced at him, her expression guarded. "I’ve always worked alone. I’m not sure I know how to be part of a… group."

Kael chuckled softly, leaning back against the rock. "Trust me, you’re in good company. None of us knew what we were doing when we started this journey. We’re just figuring it out as we go."

Elara smiled warmly, patting the ground beside her. "Sit with us, Sylvia. We’re all in this together now."

For a moment, Sylvia hesitated. But then, with a small sigh, she stepped into the circle of firelight and sat down, her movements stiff and uncertain.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth pushing back the chill of the valley night. For a while, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. Then, to everyone’s surprise, it was Sylvia who broke the quiet.

"I’ve spent years surviving this valley," she said, her voice low but steady. "Fighting monsters, avoiding the gates, and trying to stay alive. I never thought I’d see anyone else make it this far." She looked at Hakan, her gaze sharp but not unkind. "And then you showed up. A boy with no powers, wielding swords that shouldn’t even obey him, and you did the impossible."

Hakan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t do it alone. I had them." He nodded toward Elara and Kael.

Sylvia’s eyes softened slightly. "Maybe. But you were the one who stood against the swordsman. That takes more than strength. It takes something most people don’t have."

Kael grinned, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You’ll get used to it. Hakan’s got this annoying habit of doing the impossible and making the rest of us look bad."

Elara laughed, her voice light and melodic. "It’s true. But that’s why we follow him. He reminds us what we’re capable of."

Sylvia looked around the circle, her defenses beginning to lower. "You’re an odd group," she said, though there was no malice in her tone. "But… maybe that’s not such a bad thing."

As the night deepened, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Hakan recounted some of their earlier adventures, exaggerating just enough to make Elara roll her eyes and Kael groan in protest. Elara shared stories of her training as a healer, and Kael chimed in with tales of his own, his humor bringing smiles to the group. Even Sylvia found herself laughing softly at their banter, the walls she had built around herself beginning to crumble.

For the first time in years, she felt a sense of belonging—a tentative bond forming with these strangers who had faced the same trials and hardships she had.

As the fire burned low and the group settled in for the night, Hakan spoke one last time, his voice soft but resolute. "Tomorrow’s another challenge. Another test. But we’ve made it this far because we’ve stuck together. And no matter what the valley throws at us next, we’ll face it as a team."

Sylvia, lying back against a mossy tree trunk, closed her eyes and let the words sink in. Maybe, just maybe, she had found something worth fighting for again.

The morning sun crept through the thick mist, casting pale light on the valley as the group packed their belongings in silence. Hakan’s muscles still ached from the previous day’s battle, but there was a quiet determination in his eyes. Each step forward felt like a victory, though the weight of the valley pressed heavier with each passing moment. Sylvia, ever-watchful, walked just ahead of the group, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

After hours of trekking through the winding paths of the valley, they came to a clearing. There, ahead of them, stood a breathtaking sight—a waterfall, its water cascading down from towering cliffs, creating a mist that shimmered like ghostly tendrils in the air. The sound of the water crashing into the pool below filled the air with a soothing rhythm.

But something about the serene beauty of the waterfall felt... wrong.

The group stopped in their tracks as they noticed the massive structure looming before the waterfall. It was the third gate.

The gate was unlike anything they had encountered before. Towering above them, it seemed to pulse with a dark, oppressive energy. Made of dark stone, its surface was intricately carved with symbols and runes that seemed to shift when they looked directly at them. The gate was framed by twisted vines, blackened by time, creeping up from the base of the waterfall, intertwining with the stone and giving the impression that the very earth was trying to pull it back into its depths.

The air grew colder the closer they drew, the heavy mist around the waterfall thickening as though the gate itself demanded space. The ground beneath their feet was uneven, with cracks running deep into the earth, as if the valley was trying to swallow them whole. There was an unsettling sense of being watched, a feeling that prickled the hairs on the back of their necks.

Hakan stepped forward cautiously, his eyes locked on the imposing gate. The closer they got, the more his instincts screamed at him to turn back. His swords felt heavier in his hands, their weight becoming an unwelcome presence.

"This place..." Elara whispered, her voice hushed. "It feels wrong. Like the very air here is alive."

Kael, usually the one to lighten the mood, said nothing. Even his usual bravado seemed to have melted away in the face of the gate. Sylvia, however, was unnaturally still, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the gate’s structure.

"I’ve heard stories," she said quietly. "This is no ordinary gate. It is said that it doesn’t just test your strength, like the others. It tests your spirit. Your very essence. Those who fail… they vanish. The valley doesn’t let you leave."

Hakan’s grip tightened on the hilt of his swords, his jaw set. "Then we’re not turning back." His voice was steady, but there was a fierceness there—an edge that wasn’t there before.

They approached the gate slowly, their every step echoing ominously in the silence. The waterfall roared behind them, as if protesting their advance. As they neared the gate, the stone door began to shift. The runes and symbols glowed faintly, the light pulsing in a rhythm that felt unnervingly like a heartbeat.

A low, guttural voice came from the gate, emanating from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Who dares seek passage through the Third Gate?"

The voice was deep, carrying a sense of authority and threat. It seemed to resonate not just in their ears, but within their very souls, vibrating through their bones. The air grew colder still, the mist swirling around them as if it had a mind of its own.

"I do," Hakan said firmly, stepping forward. The others remained behind him, but their presence was strong.

As the massive gates of the Third Gate creaked open, a chill swept through the air. The light dimmed as if the very atmosphere itself was pressing in, and the world before them seemed to hold its breath. Standing on the edge of the waterfall, the path ahead appeared endless, consumed by a dense fog that clung to the edges of the valley. For a moment, everything stood still.

But then, the ground beneath their feet trembled. Hakan, Elara, Kael, and Sylvia exchanged uneasy glances, their instincts urging them forward.

"Are you prepared?" came the voice, as foreboding as the air around them. "Then you will face your trials."

The four of them stepped forward, only to be immediately met with a strange and unsettling sight. Four dark shadows, not of monsters but of themselves, materialized before them. They flickered in the air like smoke but were undeniably real. The shadows grew larger with every passing moment, until they became solid forms, their twisted versions of themselves. These were no mere illusions. They were the deepest reflections of their own fears, their doubts, their failures.

As Hakan stepped forward into the heart of the third gate, his shadow materialized before him—not as a mere reflection, but as a grotesque distortion of himself. The figure was darker, its form shifting like black smoke, its hollow eyes drilling into him with silent judgment. A

suffocating weight settled over the air, pressing down on him like an unseen force.

"You think you're strong, Hakan?" the shadow sneered, its voice a twisted echo of his own. "You’re nothing. You’ve failed every time it counted."

Hakan froze. His pulse pounded in his ears as memories he had tried to bury clawed their way to the surface.

He saw himself standing alone, watching the flames consume everything he once called home. He saw his father turn away, his mother’s tears of shame, the sneers of those who once called him friend. The words of scorn, the laughter, the rejection—it all came rushing back, an avalanche of despair.

The shadow took a step forward, and with it, Hakan’s breath hitched. His body felt heavier.

"You're just a boy with no place in this world," the shadow hissed, its tone laced with disgust. "You’ve been a failure since the beginning. A coward who could never rise up. You couldn't protect your family, your people. You couldn't even save yourself."

Hakan’s knees buckled. The weight of his past bore down on him, threatening to crush him where he stood. The air turned thick, suffocating, as if the world itself rejected him.

I’m nothing. I’m not worthy of this power.

His hands trembled around the hilts of his swords, Eclipse Fang. But the blades suddenly felt foreign in his grip, as if they no longer belonged to him. As if they, too, had abandoned him.

The shadow grinned wider. "See? Even your weapons know the truth. You don’t deserve them. You don’t deserve anything."

Hakan staggered back. His vision blurred. He saw himself as he was before—powerless, weak, unwanted. A failure.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind—calm, steady, unwavering.

"True strength isn’t found in the weight of a weapon, or in the praise of others. It’s found in the ability to rise after every failure, to keep moving forward. You are not defined by what others think of you, Hakan. You are defined by your heart, your resilience."

Wang Wei’s voice.

The words cut through the fog of despair like a blade through darkness.

Hakan’s breathing steadied. He clenched his fists, his grip tightening around his swords. No.

His shadow took another step forward, ready to finish him off.

But this time, Hakan stood his ground.

"You’re wrong," he said, his voice steady, stronger than before. "I’ve failed, yes. I’ve fallen. I’ve been weak. But I am still here."

A flicker of light pulsed along the edge of his swords. The oppressive weight on his chest lifted just slightly.

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The shadow's sneer faltered.

"And I am not alone," Hakan continued. "Because I choose to stand. To rise again. To keep fighting."

With a roar, he surged forward.

The battle erupted in a clash of steel and darkness.

The shadow fought viciously, its attacks fueled by doubt, each strike aiming to drag Hakan back into despair. Their swords clashed in a furious blur—each blow heavier, faster, more brutal than the last.

At first, Hakan struggled. The shadow fought like a demon, exploiting every past failure, every weakness. A strike cut across his arm, pain lancing through him, but he refused to fall.

The more he fought, the more he realized—this wasn’t just a battle of strength. It was a battle of will.

With each swing of his sword, he was not just fighting the shadow. He was fighting his past. His doubt. His fear.

And he was winning.

The shadow grew more frantic, its strikes desperate, erratic. The confidence in its hollow eyes wavered.

Hakan seized his moment.

With a final, decisive strike, he drove both his swords through the shadow’s chest.

The figure let out a piercing, unnatural wail as cracks of light spiderwebbed across its body. Its form twisted, writhing, before it shattered into nothingness—fragments of darkness dissolving into the air like ashes in the wind.

Silence fell.

Eclipse Fang pulsed with a radiant glow, as if acknowledging his victory—not just over his shadow, but over himself.

Hakan exhaled, his stance relaxing, but his spirit standing taller than ever.

He was no longer shackled by his past.

He had proven himself. Not to the world.

But to himself.

And that was enough.

Elara stepped forward into her trial, and the air around her grew heavy. A thick, unnatural fog curled around her feet, and the silence pressed against her ears like a vice. Then, her shadow manifested—a young version of herself, standing barefoot in the mist. Her fragile frame trembled, her wide, tear-streaked eyes filled with an accusing sorrow. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but each word carried a razor’s edge.

"You couldn’t save us, Elara. You couldn’t heal me. You failed."

The fog thickened, swallowing the space around her, and suddenly, she was back in the moments that haunted her most. Faces from her past—patients she had lost, people she had failed to heal—emerged from the mist, their eyes hollow, their whispers like the rustling of dry leaves. A younger version of herself stood among them, staring at her with heartbreak.

I promised to heal them, Elara thought bitterly. I couldn’t even save myself.

"You’ve always been too weak," her shadow spat, her voice rising in a crescendo of bitterness. "You could never save anyone. Every time you tried, you failed. Your powers were never enough. You were never enough."

The fog coiled tighter around her, and the weight of their stares bore down on her shoulders. She saw them all—every patient whose life had slipped through her fingers. She remembered the first time she had ever lost someone on her watch, the way the light had faded from their eyes, the crushing weight of helplessness.

But then, her younger self’s voice softened. "You were never supposed to be perfect, Elara. You were just supposed to try. You’ve always done your best. That’s enough."

Elara’s breath hitched. She had never allowed herself to accept that. Her entire life had been about healing others, but she had never given herself the grace to heal her own heart.

"I... I am not perfect," Elara whispered, her voice steady despite the pain. "I’ve failed, but I’ve tried. I did everything I could. And that’s enough."

The younger Elara blinked, and for the first time, she smiled. As she faded, so too did the fog. The heavy guilt that had bound Elara’s heart lifted, leaving her lighter than she had felt in years. She had forgiven herself.

Kael entered the trial, and the moment he took a step forward, the ground beneath him trembled. The world around him warped, twisting into a battlefield littered with bodies. The sky was dark, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Then, his shadow appeared—a twisted version of himself clad in black armor, his eyes void of emotion, his lips curled into a sneer.

"You led them to their deaths, Kael," the shadow said, its voice cold as steel. "Every choice you made, every decision you led them to, ended in their downfall."

Kael’s heart pounded. He saw the faces of those he had led into battle, their bodies lying on the battlefield, their blood staining the earth. His hands clenched into fists. I promised to protect them.

"You couldn’t save them," the shadow continued, stepping closer. "You call yourself a leader? A leader doesn’t make excuses. A leader doesn’t fail. But you did. And they died for it."

The accusations sliced into him like a blade, and for a moment, his knees nearly gave out. The weight of command, of every decision he had ever made, crushed him.

But then, he forced himself to breathe. Leadership wasn’t about saving everyone—it was about bearing the weight of the decisions you made, accepting the consequences, and learning from them. He had led with conviction, and he had to trust that his choices, though flawed, were made with the best of intentions.

"I can’t save everyone," Kael said, his voice steady now. "But I will lead, and I will learn from my mistakes. I won’t carry the weight of failure alone."

The battlefield around him dissolved into dust, and his shadow crumbled. He was not perfect, but he was still a leader.

Sylvia’s trial was the hardest. The air was thick with a suffocating pressure, and when she exhaled, her breath turned to mist. Then, her shadow took form—not a single entity, but a group. The twisted forms of her fallen companions emerged from the darkness, their faces twisted in sorrow and rage.

"You left us," one of them spat, their voice trembling with anger. "You abandoned us when we needed you most."

Sylvia’s stomach clenched. She had been running from the truth for so long. She saw their faces—Tara, Garen, Thorne—all of them gone because she had left them. Her heart ached with the weight of her failure. She had been afraid—afraid of the monsters, afraid of the swordsman—and so, she had run. And her friends had died for it.

"You were supposed to be strong," another shadow hissed, its voice venomous. "But you ran away. You couldn’t even fight for us. You’re a coward, Sylvia."

Sylvia’s knees buckled, and her hands trembled. I failed them. I failed the only people who ever believed in me. Tears stung her eyes. I am a coward. I don’t deserve to live.

Her shadow lunged at her, its twisted hands reaching for her throat—but this time, Sylvia didn’t move. Her body tensed, but she stood her ground. She refused to run.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I couldn’t save you. But I will carry your memory with me. I will live for you, and I will never run away again."

The figures hesitated, their forms flickering. And then, one by one, they faded into light. Sylvia’s heart still ached, but the crushing weight of her guilt was gone. She had found the strength to move forward.

As the trials ended, the four of them stood together, each having faced their own darkest fears, each having come to terms with their past. They were no longer the broken individuals who had entered the valley; they were warriors, each with their own scars, but each stronger for it. The valley had tested them in ways they could never have imagined, but they had passed. Together.

Now, the real journey would begin.

As the trials came to an end, the air around them grew still, almost too still. The weight of their individual confrontations with their shadows still hung over them, but they could sense the presence of something else—an unknown force watching them, judging them.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from nowhere, its tone cold and commanding, as if it had been there all along, hidden in the dark corners of their minds.

“You may have passed the third trial, but there is something more,” the voice said, its words heavy with menace. “A traitor lurks among you—someone out of the ordinary, someone who has deceived you, misled you.”

The words rang in the air, a palpable tension building as each of them looked at one another in confusion. The weight of the accusation seemed to press on them, the notion of betrayal seeping into the cracks of their fragile trust. Who could it be? Who among them was the traitor? Sylvia’s eyes darted nervously from person to person, Kael’s jaw tightened, and Elara’s hands trembled at the thought of someone turning on them.

But before anyone could react, a commanding voice pierced through the silence—a voice that did not waver, did not falter. It was the voice of a leader, unwavering in its conviction.

“Shut up!” Hakan’s voice rang out, louder than it had ever been before, filled with an authority that sent shockwaves through the group. His tone was sharp, sharp enough to cut through the rising doubts and fears.

The others looked at him in shock. Hakan stood tall, his eyes glowing with an intensity none of them had seen before. His body was battered, the scars of his battles still fresh, but there was a quiet power in the way he held himself now, as if all the trials had forged something inside him—a resolve like steel.

“This is what it wants,” Hakan continued, his gaze unwavering as he stepped forward. “This voice, this force—it's trying to break us. It’s trying to turn us against each other. It’s trying to make us doubt ourselves. We’ve faced our fears, our regrets, our failures. We’ve all been tested, but this? This is just another trick.”

Hakan’s voice carried a weight of finality, like a man who had walked through darkness and emerged stronger for it. The group stood silent, as if waiting for the tension in the air to settle, but it was clear that Hakan had made his decision. He wouldn’t let them be manipulated.

“The trials are over. We’ve passed them—together,” he said firmly, looking each of them in the eye. “No traitor. No one here is out of the

ordinary. We’re a team, and we’re going to finish this together, no matter what.”

The voice that had echoed through the valley fell silent, as if it had been defeated by Hakan’s conviction. The weight of doubt that had momentarily clouded their minds began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of unity.

For a long moment, the group stood in silence, the stillness stretching out before them. But Hakan’s words hung in the air, a defiant declaration that they would not be swayed, no matter the challenges ahead.

Then, Elara stepped forward, her voice steady and calm. “Hakan’s right. We’ve come this far. Whatever comes next, we face it together.”

Kael nodded, his expression hardening. “No turning back. We’ll finish this.”

And Sylvia, her gaze finally lifting from the ground, gave a quiet but firm nod. “Together,” she repeated.

The echo of the voice was gone, silenced by their collective resolve. With renewed strength, they turned toward the path ahead, ready to face whatever the final trial would throw at them.

As the group moved forward through the valley, the weight of the past trials seemed to lift just slightly, replaced with an unexpected sense of camaraderie. The air around them had grown heavy with anticipation, but they found themselves laughing together, lightening the mood despite the looming presence of the final gate.

Hakan, walking at the front, stole a glance back at the others. His body still ached from the grueling trials, but a sense of peace had settled over him. He had faced the darkness within himself, and somehow, through it all, he had come out stronger. He had learned that true strength wasn't in the swords he wielded but in his adaptability, his resilience, and his ability to keep fighting no matter the odds.

“You know, I never thought I'd be walking through a place like this with a group of people,” Hakan said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

Kael, always serious, raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And what exactly did you expect, Hakan? You really thought you’d be alone forever, like some kind of lone warrior?”

Hakan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, I wasn’t exactly good at trusting others.”

“I think we’ve all learned something about that, haven’t we?” Elara added, her voice soft but filled with warmth. Her eyes met Hakan’s, and she gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust isn’t easy, but here we are.”

“Yeah,” Kael grunted, “It’s not like I was begging for company, but... I guess I’m glad you guys are here.”

Sylvia, walking just behind them, laughed lightly, the sound of it a rare and sweet thing. “Look at you all, acting like we’re some sort of family,” she teased, though her voice was filled with a hint of fondness.

Hakan’s smile faltered as he turned to face Sylvia, a sudden tension building in the air. Without warning, he drew one of his swords, the metal gleaming in the dim light, and moved toward Sylvia, his expression shifting into something more serious. The others froze, their laughter dying in their throats as they watched in confusion.

“You know, I’ve got to admit, I wasn’t expecting to bond with someone like you,” Hakan said, his voice quieter now, though still filled with that same edge. “I thought you were a bit of a mystery at first.”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the shift in the air. But before she could respond, Hakan stepped closer, his blade resting just a fraction of an inch from her neck. The action was swift, precise, but his gaze was intense, searching.

Hakan’s grip tightened around his sword’s hilt, his expression serious. The air between him, Kael, and Sylvia thickened with tension. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and without a word, drew his sword, its blade glinting in the faint light.

Both Kael and Elara instinctively took a step back, unsure of Hakan’s intentions. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed, but she remained still, as if she’d anticipated this moment.

Hakan raised the sword, the tip pressing lightly against Sylvia's neck. His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. “How did you know?” he asked, his voice quiet but intense. “How did you know I was powerless?”

The question seemed to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Sylvia’s eyes widened in shock, then quickly narrowed, her mouth twitching into a wry smile.

Kael stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. “Hakan, what are you—?”

But Hakan raised a hand, signaling Kael to stay quiet.

“I’ve trained long enough that my senses are sharper than any human’s,” Hakan continued, his voice steady. “And you… you don’t belong here, Sylvia. You don’t smell like you’ve been through the same trials as us. I can feel it. And you knew about my power, too. No one should have known that unless…” He let the words trail off, his suspicion now clear.

Kael’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting between Hakan and Sylvia. “Wait. Hakan’s right. I haven’t seen you use any powers. You’ve never shown anything, not even a trace.”

Sylvia stood perfectly still, the sword still pressed lightly against her neck, but her expression softened. She gave a resigned sigh, and in that moment, she seemed less like a mysterious figure and more like someone finally letting down their guard.

“You’re right, Hakan,” she said, her voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness. “I’m not from this island. I came here two years before you did. Back when the world had no powers. I was just a soldier, part of your father’s brigade. I didn’t have any abilities when I first arrived. But after the asteroid, the world changed. I gained the power of illusions.”

Hakan’s grip loosened on the sword, but he didn’t sheathe it yet. “So, you knew me… but how?”

Sylvia’s gaze hardened as memories flickered in her eyes. “I knew about you because the news of a powerless man’s death spread like wildfire. You were a symbol. A man who was supposed to be weak, powerless... and then you just vanished. But when I saw you here, showing no signs of

power, I knew immediately. I didn’t know what had happened to you, but it was clear. You’re the same person—the man who defied the odds... the man who was supposed to be dead.”

Hakan stood frozen for a moment, processing the weight of her words. The connection between them was now clearer than ever. Sylvia had seen the same world, the same tragedy, the same powerless future he had once feared. But where he had fallen into despair, she had embraced her newfound powers.

Kael stood, speechless, before slowly nodding in understanding. “So you knew about him all along…”

Sylvia’s eyes softened, her earlier coldness giving way to something closer to regret. “I didn’t watch him, Kael. I didn’t know where he went. But when I gained my powers, I learned to communicate with the outside world from where I came. I started getting all the information I needed from that side . I knew about you, Hakan. When I heard about the your death from the outside world I thought that it was mere fate for a powerless man to die but here you are going against all odds.”

The sword finally lowered, and Hakan stepped back, his thoughts a whirlwind. The bond between him and Sylvia—once an enigma—now made sense. They were both products of the same world, one shaped by powerlessness and the asteroid’s aftermath. They were survivors.

“Then,” Hakan said quietly, “you knew who I was all along… but you never told us.”

Sylvia turned her face slightly, gazing into the distance, as if contemplating her own decisions. “I didn’t know how to tell you. How could I explain that I knew the man everyone thought was dead? How could I explain the weight of that history?”

“I get it,” Hakan muttered. “You didn’t want to carry that burden alone. I understand.” He looked down at his sword, the weight of it suddenly feeling less oppressive.

There was a long silence, broken only by the distant sounds of wind stirring the valley.

Elara spoke up, her voice gentle, but there was a firmness to it. “We’re all here, and we’ve all been through our own struggles. We’ll face the next trial together. Whatever it holds.”

Sylvia nodded, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. “I’m not alone anymore,” she said quietly. “None of us are.”

Kael and Elara exchanged concerned glances as Hakan slowly sheathed his sword, his intense expression softening. The tension in the air lingered for a moment longer before Kael took a cautious step forward.

"Hakan," Kael started, his voice tinged with worry. "Are you alright? You’ve been acting... different since the last trial."

Elara nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed. "You’ve been carrying a lot. If something’s wrong, you can tell us."

Hakan blinked at them before a small chuckle escaped his lips. “You two worry too much,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Really. Just had a lot on my mind after everything we’ve been through.”

Kael crossed his arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Fine? You just pulled a sword on Sylvia, and now you’re acting like it’s nothing.”

“I said I’m fine, didn’t I?” Hakan replied, smirking. “Besides, Sylvia and I cleared the air, didn’t we?” He glanced at Sylvia, who gave a wry smile, though the tension hadn’t completely left her posture.

Elara sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching upward despite herself. “You’re unbelievable, Hakan. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoy keeping us on edge.”

Hakan grinned, his usual cockiness returning. “Well, I can’t make it too easy for you all. Where’s the fun in that?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes, but a reluctant laugh escaped her. “You’re something else, Hakan. I don’t know whether to admire your confidence or question your sanity.”

“Oh, question it, by all means,” Kael chimed in, smirking. “It’s probably safer that way.”

They all laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet valley. For a moment, the weight of their journey lifted, replaced by a shared sense of camaraderie.

Elara grinned, shaking her head at the group. “You know, for a team that just survived the third gate, we’re a mess.”

Hakan leaned back against a rock, his grin widening. “A mess, maybe. But a good one.”

Kael chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. Let’s pack up and move out before someone decides to pull a sword on me next.”

The laughter resumed, easing the lingering tension and reaffirming the bond between them.

As the group continued their trek through the valley, the earlier tension had settled into a quiet camaraderie. The towering cliffs loomed ominously, their shadows stretching across the uneven terrain. Hakan walked slightly ahead, his mind churning with thoughts of the trials they had faced and the weight of Sylvia’s revelations.

Finally, breaking the silence, Hakan turned to Sylvia, his tone probing but calm. “Sylvia,” he began, “you told me about my father’s brigade… but you haven’t told me everything about my family. What happened to them? What happened to Iffah and Soren after… after they thought I was dead?”

Sylvia hesitated, her steps slowing. The others glanced at her, sensing the weight of the question. She exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders visible. “You really want to know?” she asked softly.

Hakan stopped walking and faced her, his eyes resolute. “I need to know.”

Sylvia nodded, her expression solemn. “When the asteroid struck and the towers appeared, the world was thrown into chaos. But even before that, the news of your… supposed death changed everything for your family.”

Hakan’s jaw tightened. “What news? What did they hear?”

“They were told you had died in an attack,” Sylvia explained. “A government official delivered the message to your family estate. They said a powerless man—a man who refused to give up—had fallen in a

tragic incident. They never recovered your body, but they were certain you were gone.”

Hakan’s heart sank as the weight of her words settled over him. He could almost hear the echoes of that announcement, the cold, sterile way it must have been delivered.

Sylvia continued, her voice quieter now. “Your father… he tried to stay strong for the family. He buried himself in work, protecting what was left of your home. But he wasn’t the same. The loss weighed heavily on him, Hakan. I saw it in his eyes.”

“And Iffah? Soren?” Hakan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sylvia’s gaze turned downward. “Iffah collapsed when she heard the news. She was hospitalized, and when she finally woke up, she wasn’t the same person anymore. The gentle, kind-hearted girl you knew had been replaced by someone… sharper. She took her grief and turned it into determination, channeling it into her guild—the Silver Valkyries. Under her leadership, they became an unstoppable force. Elegant, disciplined, precise. To the world, she’s the Valkyrie of Dawn—a beacon of hope. But deep down… she’s still mourning you.”

Hakan closed his eyes, picturing his fiances face—the way she used to smile, the way she’d always help him when he was lowest. The thought of her carrying that sadness alone cut him deeply.

“And Soren?” Hakan asked, his voice trembling.

Sylvia hesitated, her expression darkening. “Soren… he didn’t handle it well. He blamed himself for not being there to protect you. The guilt consumed him. One night, he disappeared from your estate. They found the aftermath in the mountains—scorched earth, shattered cliffs. He unleashed his fury on the world, and when he returned… he wasn’t the same.”

“What do you mean?” Hakan pressed, dread creeping into his voice.

“Soren became the Dragon Prince,” Sylvia said, her tone heavy. “He founded the White Dragons, a guild feared across the continent. They’re brutal, efficient, and unmatched in power. Soren led them to the top, but it wasn’t out of ambition. It was out of anger. Out of pain. He roared at

the world that took you from him, and now… he’s one of the most feared men alive. But inside, he’s still that boy who lost his brother.” she further added “Once coming to media he said that the world had taken something important from him and that to make sure the world doenst thinks about taking someone else from him ”

Hakan’s hands clenched into fists. He could see it—Soren’s fiery temper, his unwavering loyalty. He could almost hear Soren’s voice, calling him “big brother” like he used to.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Hakan asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Sylvia looked at him, her expression pained. “Because I didn’t know how. Because I wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear it. But Hakan… they’ve never stopped mourning you. They’ve never stopped loving you.”

The group fell silent, the weight of Sylvia’s words settling over them like a shroud.

Elara stepped closer, her eyes filled with empathy. “Hakan… I can’t imagine what it’s like to hear this. But you’re still here. You’re still fighting. And maybe… maybe one day, you’ll get the chance to see them again.”

Kael placed a reassuring hand on Hakan’s shoulder. “When you do, they’ll see the man you’ve become. The man who’s faced impossible odds and never backed down.”

Hakan nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his swords. “I’ll see them again,” he said quietly. “And when I do… I’ll make things right.”