The battle was over.
Humans and elves now stood face to face, both sides unsure if trust was even possible. At the head of the elven army stood their king—towering, radiant, and unlike the elves Seraphina and Aurelian had known. These were not the same kind.
On the human side, Hakan and Ren stepped forward, flanked by the Silver Valkyries, Alaric, and the other heroes who had fought through the war.
Ren's eyes stayed locked on the elven king, a being whose power rippled in the air around him.
"What do you think?" he asked quietly.
"There's only one way to find out," Hakan said, and began walking forward.
Instantly, tension surged. Both armies raised their guards, powers humming, weapons half-drawn. But the two leaders—man and elf—kept moving, step by step, until they met in the middle. Eyes cold. Unblinking.
"What are you doing here?" Hakan asked.
The elven king gave a smirk. "Strange question, coming from someone I just saved."
He straightened. "I am Elarion Vaereth, King of Eldorwyn."
Hakan held his ground. "Hakan. The Seven-Star Continental."
A brief silence.
"Now that introductions are done…" Hakan glanced back at his people. His voice hardened.
"Why are you here?"
"An enemy of my enemy is a friend don't you think that is true ??" he met hakans eyes .
"and why should I trust you though we have the same enemy " hakan replied his golden eyes sharp and cold
"you don't " the king said this and went silent .
But before anythign could be said Rhalvion apperaed behind Hakan and the sage of dawn Elarien Solvannis,apperead behind Elarion .
"My liege, there's no need to distrust them. They're our allies," Rhalvion said, turning to meet Hakan's gaze. "This, my liege, is the King of Eldorwyn. You've already—"
"Cut to the point," Hakan interrupted, eyes still locked on the elven king.
Rhalvion hesitated, then pressed on. "They're here to help us. A greater war is coming—and we'll need more allies."
Hakan frowned. "What war?"
Before Rhalvion could answer, Elarion spoke, drawing Hakan's attention back.
"There's no need to worry. You are safe from my elves," he said calmly. "And I expect the same from you."
He stepped forward and removed his armored glove, extending a bare hand.
"I want your trust, Hakan. And I offer you mine."
Hakan glanced at the hand, then at his army behind him.
"I can't trust you fully… not yet. But I'll try. And I hope you hold up your end."
He clasped Elarion's hand. A flicker of tension passed through the gathered warriors on both sides—but the weapons lowered, the magic dimmed. Peace, for now.
"You've earned my word," Elarion said with a smirk. "We elves keep our promises."
Then, with a shift in tone, he asked, "So, Hakan, where is your king—the King of Anerion?"
Hakan blinked. "My king? Anerion?"
Rhalvion stepped in. "My liege, in other realms, Earth is known as Anerion."
"…I see," Hakan murmured. "But we don't have a king. Earth has no monarch. We're governed by two major bodies—the Accord and the UN."
"It's more like a council."
"I see," Elarion said thoughtfully. "Then my council will speak with yours. Eldorwyn and Anerion will handle diplomacy from here."
He turned. Massive portals opened behind him, and his army began to file through. But just before stepping into the swirling light, he looked back at Ren and Hakan.
"Humans are strong. But are they trustworthy?" A faint smile touched his lips. "Only time will tell."
And with that, he vanished.
As the elven portals closed and their army vanished, helicopters from the Accord thundered overhead, flanked by U.S. military escorts. Reinforcements had finally arrived—but the war was already over.
Still, no one knew what had just happened.
Cheers erupted as the soldiers touched down. Relief swept through the exhausted human forces. Ren turned to Hakan, his expression unreadable.
"We'll meet again, Hakan Raihan," he said—and disappeared without another word.
Later, in the American Accord Headquarters—Conference Hall, Washington D.C.
Kaelen stood before the global leadership, flanked by Alaric. A massive briefing was underway.
Representatives from every major Accord around the world were present:
Mr. Iqbal (Pakistan)
Mr. Shiro Tanaka (Japan)
Ms. Priya Rajan (India)
Mr. John Marshall (United States)
Mr. Sergei Volkov (Russia)
Mr. Thiago Santos (Brazil)
Ms. Chidinma Okeke (Nigeria)
Mr. William Carter (United Kingdom)
Ms. Sofia Müller (Germany)
Mr. Jacques Moreau (France)
Mr. Mateo Valdez (Mexico)
Mr. Yuri Petrov (Ukraine)
Mr. Gabriel Costa (Argentina)
Ms. Hannah Berg (Sweden)
Each leader wore the same expression: shock barely concealed beneath a mask of diplomacy.
Kaelen's voice was steady as he detailed the events—monsters breaching through rifts, dragons intervening through Hakan, and now the elves of Eldorwyn appearing out of nowhere to help end the war.
It was a lot to absorb.
Sergei Volkov finally stood up, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "First monsters try to wipe us out, then dragons help us through Hakan, and now elves show up to save us? This is madness."
The room fell silent. No one had an answer—yet.
A heavy silence settled over the room after Volkov's outburst.
Kaelen remained at the front, hands clasped behind his back. Alaric stood nearby, stone-faced. The council had heard the facts. Now came the judgment.
Mr. Iqbal from Pakistan leaned forward, voice calm but sharp.
"Before we speak of trust," he began, "let us not forget what happened in this battle . An elf—one of theirs—pushed Soren to his absolute limits. If that being hadn't stood down when he did, we might have lost one of the Seven."
Several heads turned.
"He wasn't an enemy, was he?" Ms. Rajan of India asked. "That elf—was he with Eldorwyn or against it?"
"That's the problem," Iqbal said. "We don't know. And if a single elf can nearly overwhelm one of our strongest defenders, what happens if they're not all on our side?"
"I agree," said Ms. Okeke of Nigeria. "We can't assume unity among them. For all we know, their politics are just as fractured as ours—if not more."
"And what if that elf," added Shiro Tanaka of Japan, "was rogue? Or worse, what if he wasn't, and that was a sanctioned show of power?"
Arguments began to rise, overlapping.
"They saved us—"
"—or positioned themselves to look like saviors."
"We can't afford blind faith."
"They bled alongside us—"
"Only at the end."
Mr. Marshall of the United States raised a hand. The room quieted. His voice was steady, authoritative.
"We're not ready to answer this," he said. "Not in this room. Not from behind desks."
He turned toward the front, where Kaelen and Alaric stood.
"We need a judgment from those who've faced these beings. Those who've fought, bled, and nearly died. The ones our enemies are clearly targeting."
A pause. Then he said it:
"Let this decision fall to the Seven Stars."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"Hakan, Ren, Luxarion, Dimitri, Soren, Kaelen, and Colton," Marshall continued. "They've earned that trust. More than any of us."
No one objected.
"I support that," said Müller of Germany.
"As do I," added Moreau of France.
"Unanimous," Volkov grunted. "Good."
Kaelen met Alaric's eyes, then nodded.
The fate of Earth's alliance with Eldorwyn now lay in the hands of its seven strongest defenders.
And time was already running out.
The decision had been made.
Each of the Seven Stars was notified. A high-level meeting was scheduled for Tuesday morning at a secure Accord facility in Washington, D.C., where the fate of humanity's alliance with the elves would be placed in their hands.
Meanwhile, in Room 217 of the Meridian Hotel, Hakan sat sprawled on a wide leather sofa, arms stretched across the backrest, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like he was staring through it.
Across from him sat three Accord chairmen—Mr. Iqbal of Pakistan, Mr. John Marshall of the United States, and Mr. Shiro Tanaka of Japan. Each carried the weight of their nation, but in this moment, they were here not as politicians, but as men seeking truth.
"Mr. Hakan," Marshall began, stepping forward with a seriousness that didn't waver, "would you please try to explain everything to us?"
Hakan didn't move. "What exactly do you people want to know?"
"Everything," Tanaka said plainly, his voice quiet but firm.
"Everything," echoed Iqbal. "From what happened during the war to the dragons—where they came from, where you went, your battle with Luxarion... There are gaps we can't fill, and you're at the center of all of them."
Hakan let out a slow breath, as if the memories had weight.
"Where should I begin?" he muttered, still staring at the ceiling.
Tanaka adjusted his glasses. "How about where you disappeared to after saving Shizumi in Tokyo?"
Hakan's lips twitched at the corners—half a smile, half a scar.
"I went to Pakistan," he said finally. "Visited my family for the first time in years. Thought I'd get peace. I didn't."
His voice dropped slightly, almost reverent.
"That's when I met him. Xyvarion."
The moment the name left his lips, a ripple passed through the air.
A hum of ancient energy pulsed through the room as a form shimmered into being—Xyvarion, a great dragon cloaked in ethereal shadow and silver flame, knelt before Hakan in silence. The room dimmed under his presence, though no light source had changed.
The three chairmen stood stunned, eyes wide.
"He told me about a place," Hakan continued, unfazed. "A realm beyond this world. A sanctuary—no, a civilization—of dragons. Hidden since the Fall. They call it Drakareth."
He finally looked at the men, eyes sharp now.
"I went with him. I wanted answers. I needed to know what really started after the asteroids fell."
He stood slowly, every motion deliberate. Xyvarion remained kneeling.
"I found a world built by dragons. Cities, empires, even philosophies older than anything we've ever known. And I didn't just visit."
He paused.
"I conquered. Fought my way through trials, through clans, through fire and myth. And when it was done, I became their Monarch."
Silence.
The three leaders exchanged glances, the gravity of his words sinking in.
A human… ruling dragons.
The implications were seismic.
Hakan sat back down, his posture relaxed again—but now, the room felt smaller. Heavier.
"I didn't ask for a crown," he added, almost to himself. "But when you step into fire and it doesn't burn you… they tend to notice."
"So you're saying…" Marshall's voice faltered as he took a step forward, his hands trembling slightly, "there's a realm of dragons?"
"Yes," Hakan said without hesitation. "And not just that."
He leaned forward now, no longer lounging—his tone sharpened, more deliberate.
"As of now, I know of three realms: Drakareth, Eldorwyn, and Anerion."
The names hung in the air like ancient echoes.
"Drakareth belongs to the dragons," Hakan continued. "A vast realm—structured, ancient, militant. Eldorwyn is the domain of the elves. And Earth… Earth is known in the other realms as Anerion."
The weight of that revelation slammed into the room like a silent explosion.
None of the three chairmen spoke. Even Xyvarion, still kneeling, bowed his head lower—as if the truth itself demanded reverence.
Tanaka was the first to move. He reached for a pen that wasn't there, eyes unfocused, his mind clearly racing.
"Anerion?" Iqbal finally said, his voice low. "We're… not even calling ourselves by the name the rest of the cosmos recognizes."
Marshall sat down slowly, as if the ground beneath him had tilted. "This changes everything."
"No," Hakan corrected. "This explains everything."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"The monsters, the rifts, the celestial alignments... We thought it was random. It's not. The realms are converging. Boundaries are collapsing. What was hidden is surfacing. Earth—Anerion—isn't just a battlefield. It's the centerpiece."
A long silence followed. You could hear the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of sirens outside the hotel.
"We're not alone," Hakan said, quieter now. "We never were. We were just late to realize it."
"But… what do we do now?" Marshall asked, his face still pale, voice barely above a whisper.
Hakan leaned forward, gaze steady. "That's where I need your help."
Marshall looked up. "Help? With what?"
"I want three things from the Accord," Hakan said, his tone firm and precise.
He paused to let that land.
"First—I want the alliance with the elves to become official. Not just words. Diplomatic exchanges, resource sharing, and inter-realm protocols. I recommend the White Dragons serve as our liaisons."
He looked at Iqbal. "But you'll need permission from Soren first. He's here in D.C. You can ask him yourself."
Iqbal's composure cracked. "Hakan… do you realize what you're asking?"
"Soren is our pride," he continued, voice rising. "Our protector. If we send him into another realm, what do I tell Pakistan? What do I tell our people? That we gave away our strongest asset? What about our national security—our neighbors?"
His words hit the room like gunfire.
Hakan didn't flinch.
"I understand the concern," he said calmly. "But Pakistan still has the Silver Valkyries, led by Iffah, and other elite defenders. You're not defenseless."
He turned his attention to Marshall now.
"As for the neighbors—India in particular—I'll need your word. No conflict. No political opportunism in Soren's absence. Can your government guarantee that?"
Marshall's jaw clenched. Then slowly, he nodded. "These are critical times. If peace ensures survival, I'll make sure Washington backs it."
Hakan nodded once, respectfully.
"Good. Because my second request is bigger."
He stood, slowly.
"I want Grade Zero access. Absolute knowledge clearance."
The words dropped like a thunderclap.
The three chairmen froze.
Grade 0—access to every classified file, every black-site record, every interdimensional protocol, every weapon, every secret. Only three people on Earth held it. Even Marshall wasn't one of them.
"You know what you're asking, right?" Marshall said quietly, eyes narrowed.
"I do. And I also know that as Guild Leader of the Black Dragons, I can't hold that level of clearance."
Hakan took a breath. "That's why I'm stepping down."
Iqbal's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"I'm resigning as leader. Effective immediately," Hakan said. "Alaric will take command. He's strong, experienced, and trusted. He can carry that weight."
It was too much. The room spun with implications.
In less than ten minutes, Hakan had proposed sending a national symbol into another realm, demanded access to the deepest vaults of human knowledge, and relinquished leadership of one of the most powerful military guilds on the planet.
The three leaders sat stunned. Shocked. Speechless.
But Hakan wasn't done.
"This isn't about politics anymore," he said, eyes like steel. "This is about survival. Realm convergence has already begun. We either lead the future, or we watch it crush us."
The room had barely begun to recover from Hakan's earlier demands when he delivered the next blow.
"There's more," he said, his voice low, almost grave. "A war is coming. Not just battles like we've seen—a true inter-realm war."
Marshall looked up sharply. "What are you saying?"
"We don't know who's truly with us… or who's waiting to strike," Hakan continued. "That's why I'm leaving. I'll go to the other realms and wherever else I can reach. We need clarity. We need truth."
"Alone?" Iqbal asked, stunned. "You're talking about a multiversal scouting mission. What exactly are you hoping to find?"
"Answers." Hakan's tone shifted, quiet but full of pressure. "There was a war once… long before our time. The dragons speak of it in fragments. They say those who fought in it weren't kings or armies—they were something more. They were called the Primordials."
Tanaka leaned forward. "The what?"
"The original defenders of the realms," Hakan said. "Each realm had them. The dragons had theirs. The elves, too. I'm certain of it. Which leads me to one question that's been haunting me ever since the rifts began: what about humans?"
Silence.
"If we weren't part of that ancient war," Hakan said slowly, "then Earth—Anerion—should've remained hidden. Unknown. But we are known. By name. By presence. Every realm knew of us before we even saw them."
Marshall's voice was cautious. "You're suggesting humanity did fight in that war. That we had our own Primordials."
"I'm not suggesting it," Hakan said. "I know it. I just don't know who they were, or what they left behind."
He let that sit for a second, then added, "The problem is, the Earth Primordials left nothing behind. No records. No ruins. No signs."
Iqbal frowned. "Or maybe… someone erased them."
Hakan nodded. "Exactly. That's why I'm not just going to the other realms. I'm going across Earth. Every forgotten ruin. Every sealed vault. Every myth buried in stone and time. If humanity had Primordials, they left something—some tool, some message, some warning."
Tanaka spoke next, quieter now, the weight finally settling on him. "And if the same enemy is returning…"
"Then we're already behind," Hakan finished.
The three leaders sat in stunned silence.
Marshall was the first to speak, voice like dry gravel. "You'll have everything you need. The Accord will authorize global clearance. If there's anything buried on Earth that ties to this, we'll help you find it."
Iqbal nodded reluctantly. "We'll inform archaeological branches and secret archives. But be warned—if something did erase the Primordials, it might not want to be found."
"That's the idea," Hakan said with a grim smile. "If it's still out there… I want it to know I'm looking."