The room was quiet, holding the weight of a coming separation.
Hakan stood at one end of the table, Soren at the other. Their eyes met—steady, knowing. They had faced distance before: the time Hakan was presumed dead… the time he vanished into Drakareth.
But this time was different.
"So… I guess this is it," Soren said, looking down.
"Yeah," Hakan replied with a sigh.
"Crazy how things change, don't they?" Soren looked up, locking eyes with his brother. "Just a week ago, we were humans hunting towers. Now it's Hyperverse… Omniverse… Seven Realms. I don't even know what's going on anymore."
"Well," Hakan said, "life doesn't tell you what's coming. It just happens."
Soren nodded slowly. "When are you coming back?"
"Don't know," Hakan answered. "But as soon as I can."
Neither said another word.
They stepped toward each other and embraced—tight, solid. Not as warriors. Not as heroes.
But as brothers.
Each knowing this goodbye would last longer than the others.
One headed for Eldorwyn.
The other, into the unknown.
The sun was setting over the airport runway as Hakan and Alaric boarded their plane. Their destination: Shizumi—the headquarters of the Black Dragons.
As they stepped off the plane and made their way toward the waiting cars, Alaric turned to his captain. "So… what did you and the other Seven Stars decide?"
Hakan didn't answer right away. He slid into the car, watching the horizon fade behind them. "It's complicated," he said at last.
The convoy moved smoothly through the city, headed straight for the Black Dragons' fortress.
"Make sure everyone's assembled," Hakan told Alaric as they arrived at the gates.
When the two stepped into headquarters, the room stilled.
Dragons.. All eyes turned to him.
Then—one by one—they knelt.
It had been a long time since they'd seen Hakan in the flesh. Not since Vealzaryon. Not since Xyvarion But now he stood before them—alive, commanding, and silent.
And though the Black Dragons bowed with reverence…
In every heart was the same question:
How long would he stay this time?
The main room was quiet.
Every member of the Black Dragons stood at attention—Vice Captain Alaric, Sylvia, Rina, and Torren—all facing the man who had built this guild from the ground up.
Hakan.
"Sorry," Hakan finally said, breaking the silence. "This isn't the kind of reunion I imagined."
"It's alright, Boss," Rina replied. Though still a teenager, her voice carried a surprising calm. "Sometimes life just gets tough."
Hakan offered a small, tired smile. "Yeah… I guess you could say that."
He looked down for a moment, then back up. "And I'm sorry. I wasn't there when you needed me—during the attack."
"It's not that big of an issue," Torren said, arms crossed. "We survived. And since then… we've only gotten stronger."
"Well," Hakan said, nodding, "that's good to hear."
Alaric stepped forward. "So—what did the Seven Stars decide?"
Hakan exhaled slowly. "Ren Tainlong will act as Earth's representative to the Elven King. Soren will serve as our official diplomat to Eldorwyn. That's the core of it."
"So you're staying here with us now, right?" Sylvia spoke up at last. Her voice was softer, hopeful.
All eyes turned to Hakan.
He stood—their captain, their leader. The Black Dragons weren't a large guild. They didn't flaunt numbers. Fewer than fifty members, and yet they stood among the strongest in the world. Not through size—but through sheer force of will.
"That's why I called this meeting," Hakan said, stepping forward. His expression turned serious. "While the others focus on diplomacy and defense… I have a different mission."
The room tensed.
"It's complicated," he added. "Something bigger is moving in the shadows of the realms. And I need to go beyond what we know."
A pause.
"Which is why…" he said slowly, "I've made a decision."
He looked at them—his team. His family.
"From this moment on… I am no longer the leader of the Black Dragons."
The words hit like thunder.
Silence fell. No one moved. The room, once full of pride and familiarity, now felt like it was standing on the edge of something unknown.
The room was silent.
Hakan's words hung in the air, heavy and unreal. "I am no longer the leader of the Black Dragons."
For a heartbeat, no one reacted. They simply stared—processing, questioning, hoping they'd misheard.
Then came the voices.
"What do you mean?" Sylvia said sharply, her voice cracking. "You can't just step down."
Torren took a step forward, fists clenched. "You built this place, Hakan. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."
"You're our Captain," Alaric added, jaw tight. "You've always been."
But it was Rina—youngest among them—who stepped out from the line, tears forming in her eyes.
"No," she whispered. "No, please don't go."
She looked up at him like a younger sister watching her hero walk away.
"You said you'd always be with us," she said, voice trembling. "After everything—after the towers, after you came back—we need you here."
Hakan's eyes softened, but he didn't break.
"I'm not leaving the guild," he said, his voice gentle but steady. "I'll always be one of you. I'll fight with you. Train with you. Die with you, if I have to. But I can't be your leader anymore."
"Why?" Sylvia demanded, eyes filled with disbelief. "Isn't this your home?"
"It is," Hakan said. "And that's exactly why I'm doing this."
He looked around the room at each of them—faces that had followed him through fire, loss, and war.
"I have a mission," he continued. "A top-level assignment. One that requires my full focus. I can't lead you properly while I'm gone, or half here. You deserve someone who's present—not someone who drifts in and out when the world needs something."
Silence again. This time deeper. More accepting, but still reluctant.
"I'm not abandoning the Black Dragons," he said clearly. "I'll still be here. I'll fight beside you. I'll wear the same crest. But from now on… I won't wear the crown."
He turned to Alaric.
"You already know what I'm about to say," Hakan said. "It has to be you."
Alaric's eyes widened slightly. "Me?"
"You've been leading when I wasn't around," Hakan said. "You've trained yourself . You kept us strong, disciplined, loyal. You know these halls as well as I do."
Rina wiped her eyes. Sylvia looked down. Torren said nothing—but gave a small nod of approval.
"You're the heart of this place, Alaric," Hakan added. "Now it's time to carry the mantle too."
Alaric stepped forward, slow and hesitant, but not unwilling.
"I'm not you," he said.
"You don't have to be," Hakan replied. "You just have to be you. That's more than enough."
Then, without fanfare, Hakan stepped back.
And Alaric stepped forward.
The Black Dragons didn't cheer.
They stood—each one raising their heads with quiet pride. Their leader had changed, but their fire had not.
Hakan smiled faintly.
He wasn't walking away.
He was walking beside them—just from a different place.
And for the first time in a long time, it felt right.
The night had passed quietly in Shizumi.
The Black Dragons—still just five strong—enjoyed a rare moment of peace, gathered within their modest headquarters. Above them, high in the skies, the dragons under Hakan's command circled the city, ever watchful, casting long shadows under the moonlight.
Inside, Hakan finished packing his gear.
"Alright," he said, tightening the straps on his bag. "From today onward, you take full command. While I'm out chasing answers."
Alaric stood near the doorway, arms folded. "You sure about this?"
"About what?" Hakan asked, glancing up.
"About… making me leader."
Hakan gave a quiet shrug. "How can I lead when I'll be moving from realm to realm, place to place? I won't be around enough to give this guild what it needs."
He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "You've already been holding things down. And besides—you've got Sylvia. She'll help you."
Alaric exhaled, still looking unconvinced. "Yeah… guess there's not much left to say."
"Just give it time," Hakan said. "You'll grow into it."
There was a pause before Alaric asked, "Any advice? One last word before you disappear on us?"
Hakan smiled faintly and zipped the bag shut. "Yeah, a few things."
He stood and faced Alaric.
"Start recruiting. New members. But don't just go by power levels—test them for who they really are. What drives them. What breaks them. Find their inner self. Build a team that fits the soul of this guild."
Alaric nodded.
"Hire a psychologist if you need to. We've still got that two billion sitting in the vault—use it wisely."
"I'll get on it immediately," Alaric said, standing straighter.
Hakan stepped closer, his voice colder now—measured, serious.
"And one more thing…"
Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Get stronger," Hakan said. "And make the others stronger, too. Something dangerous is coming—and we don't know what it is yet. But when it hits… we cannot afford to be caught unprepared."
Alaric gave a sharp nod. "I'll do my best."
"Thanks, man…" Hakan let out a small laugh.
"What's so funny?" Alaric asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hakan shook his head slightly. "You remind me of Soren. Calm, focused… reliable."
He paused, then stepped forward and pulled Alaric into a tight hug.
"Thanks for being like a brother."
No more words were needed.
The bond between them said enough.
As Hakan prepared to leave, the black SUV waited at the gates of the Black Dragons' headquarters, engine humming low in the evening light.
In front of it stood Sylvia, Torren, and Rina—his teammates, his companions, and now… the ones he was leaving behind.
Rina rushed forward, latching onto Hakan's arm, her expression a mix of worry and stubborn affection. "When are you coming back, Hakan?" she asked, her voice soft, her face tight with emotion.
Hakan smiled gently and patted her head. "Don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He stepped back and reached for something inside his coat, then paused.
"Oh yeah… almost forgot."
His voice dropped lower. Commanding.
"Rhalvion. Xyvarion."
The air shimmered.
In an instant, two figures emerged—materializing from nothing. Towering, radiant, undeniable.
Rhalvion stood tall, wrapped in a golden, ethereal glow, his presence graceful and noble.
Xyvarion, beside him, crackled with dark obsidian energy, power radiating off him like heat from a forge.
Torren took a step back, stunned. "You got new dragons?"
Hakan turned, his voice calm but firm. "A whole planet of them."
The entire guild stared, stunned into silence.
"Rhalvion," Hakan said, stepping forward, "you'll accompany me until I say otherwise. After that—you return to Drakareth. You'll take charge in my absence. Understood?"
Rhalvion placed a hand over his chest and bowed. "Yes, my liege."
Hakan turned. "Xyvarion."
"Yes, my liege," Xyvarion answered, kneeling slightly, his dark aura flickering.
"You've regained your powers. Now it's time to use them well. Train my companions—Sylvia, Torren, Rina, and Alaric. Push them. Make them stronger."
Xyvarion nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."
"And not just them. Train the dragons here. And whoever new recruits Alaric brings in."
Hakan paused, his tone shifting—quieter, heavier.
"And one more thing…"
He stepped closer to Xyvarion.
"Protect them. All of them. At any cost. You're the only one I trust with this."
A flicker of pride, of loyalty, surged across Xyvarion's face. His aura flared brighter, more focused.
He knelt fully this time, his voice loud and reverent.
"Yes, my liege. I will train them to be worthy of your name. And I will protect them with everything I have."
And with that final goodbyes were done and Hakan went on alone in a war he wasn't supposed to be a part of.