The cavern, once a sanctuary, lay in a miserable state, utterly ravaged by Alaz's inferno and Karasungur's devastating counter-attack.
Its ceiling had utterly collapsed, and its entrance was choked by massive, melted rocks, still steaming faintly in the cold morning air.
By the time the approaching figures reached the area—still blissfully unaware of the dragon and the ancient mage who had just escaped—Küntigin and Bilge Tonyukuk had already sensed their arrival and vanished into the distance.
On their treacherous path through the destruction, the newcomers stumbled upon the unlucky and hapless corpses of their comrades.
It was a grisly sight: some bodies lay half-torn, others were missing limbs, grotesque in their stillness.
Those closer to the cave's impact zone were barely recognizable, little more than dust and scorched remnants—or perhaps they had indeed turned to dust, making them impossible to discern.
They offered silent, fervent thanks to Tengri that they had kept their distance from Alazkhan during his earlier, devastating spell, for it was clear the brunt of the counter-attack had been primarily aimed at him.
In the group, a man with a heavily muscled physique and a stern face stepped forward.
"Everyone knows what to do," he bellowed, his voice gruff. "Go and find the meteorite in the lake! Don't miss a single part of it." He swept his gaze across their faces, a cold warning in his eyes. "And don't even dare to embezzle, if you don't wish death by Alazkhan."
Among them, a tall, gaunt man with sharp features bluntly asked, "Couldn't there be more valuable things in the cave?"
Near him, an elderly woman, her face a roadmap of deep wrinkles, a long, thin wooden plaque with runic words carved on it hanging from her bent neck, gripped a staff that resembled a twisted eel. "Don't you listen to Alazkhan?" she snorted, her voice thick with disapproval. "He clearly told us what to do!"
With a bony finger, she pointed to the plaque, her voice now filled with praise. "This newly invented thing really works! The Cyclops truly unveiled the full measure of his gifts!"
This plaque allowed them to communicate across vast distances.
The bulky man, growing impatient, clapped his hands. "Enough talking! We have so much to do." With a decisive hand signal, he divided them into groups. "And three of you look for the little dragon," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.
Then he looked towards the sky, murmuring to himself, "The sky's darkening. It should be nearing the end."
———
It was the day before the invasion of the cavern. Karasungur swiftly neared his destination, a faint prickle of intuition warning him as he closed in on the distant shore.
He was headed there to arbitrate a burgeoning conflict between three races—a task that, under normal circumstances, would barely warrant his attention.
The dispute involved a newly settled human town, a nearby Susulu tribe, and to complicate matters, Kargı, a dragon under Karasungur's direct responsibility, also resided in the region.
If this were the entirety of the problem, Karasungur, the undisputed ruler of dragons, wouldn't have given these minor affairs a second thought.
But the world was changing. A profound shift was sweeping across the lands, marking the end of an ancient era and the dawn of a new, chaotic one.
Across the realms, wars between races were erupting with terrifying frequency. And most disturbingly, for the first time in recorded history, dragons and other powerful races were being actively hunted by humans for their bodies – for scales, horns, organs, and blood, prized for their magical properties and immense value.
This wasn't merely a localized skirmish; this was a sign of the escalating tensions that threatened to engulf all living beings, and the harbinger of a new and blood-filled era.
Karasungur's colossal form cut through the sky, his keen eyes scanning the volatile landscape below. In his field of view, a vast lagoon, its dark waters stretching far.
Jagged rocks lined the nearby coastline, and the wind, whipping through their crags, produced an eerie, constant melodical sound, like whispers of ancient secrets carried on the breeze.
At the lagoon's shoreline, a dragon and a lone man awaited him.
The dragon was Kargı. Approximately 90 meters tall with a formidable 210-meter wingspan, his cold, metallic grey scales shimmered faintly in the harsh light.
His long, narrow draconic head ended in a single horn, sharp and deadly like the spearhead, eyes gleamed with a metallic, emotionless hue, reflecting the desolate sky.
His wings, long, thin, and sharply pointed, curved subtly backwards from his powerful frame. Each outer edge was sharp as a sword blade.
And his powerful, muscular hind legs were built for explosive leaps, tipped with sharp, steel-like claws perfect for piercing, tearing, and gripping.
His tail, ending in a hook or dagger-like tip, served both as a balancer and a brutal weapon.
And the man was Cengiz. He carried himself with a silent, focused intensity, a calm demeanor.
His long, wavy hair was meticulously tied back in a topknot, and his lean, near-perfect physique spoke of years of rigorous training.
A thin but vicious sword scar carved a cruel path across his face — slashing straight through both eyes, from above the left cheekbone, slicing through the irises, and dragging across the bridge of his nose to end at his right cheekbone.
The line it traced resembled the stark facial markings of a razorbill, but twisted by violence. His sea-blue eyes, though torn and clouded, still held an eerie calm.
He was dressed in a loose-fitting linen shirt and baggy trousers, known as shalwar, held fast by a wide, long sash made of leather.
Tucked into this sash were his primary weapons: a Kılıj, a type of saber with its deep curve and distinctive flared tip, and a Yatagan, a unique sword with its single-edged blade and a pronounced forward curve, notably lacking a crossguard.
Dumrul, his razorbill companion, hovered mid-air just behind him. Just like Cengiz, he was also calm and still, observing the sky with focused eyes.
Therefore, as Karasungur approached them, Kargı slowly knelt with profound reverence, his colossal form humbling itself before the Dragon King.
Cengiz, typically calm and composed, stood in deep respect, his head bowed. He too, knelt to one knee, a gesture acknowledging the supreme authority and power of the approaching dragon.
But just at that moment, Karasungur's gaze hardened, a sudden, fierce glint in his obsidian eyes. He halted abruptly in mid-air, his colossal form arresting itself with absolute precision, the silent understanding of a trap settling upon him.
However, Kargı noticed this sudden halt. His powerful hind legs, already bulging with raw power, bunched even tighter beneath him like taut steel springs, ready to explode. His entire body instantly tensed, every massive muscle coiling for a sudden takeoff.
Then, with an explosive surge, Kargı shot forward like a colossal spear hurled by a god, tearing through the air with unfathomable speed.
He curled his mighty wings tightly against his body, his spear-like horn pointed straight ahead, piercing the wind.
As he soared towards Karasungur, a series of deafening sonic booms erupted in his wake, shattering the silence of the sky like thunderclaps, each one marking his rapid advance.
To Karasungur's eyes, Kargı was no longer a dragon but a single, immense, silver projectile, a living spear aimed directly at his heart.
He might be powerful, but he was not agile as Kargı. In the blink of an eye, Kargı was already upon him. There was no chance of dodging, nor did Karasungur need to.
His gaze was fixed, burning with a mix of anger and profound disappointment at this messily executed, cheap trick.
With a silent, almost imperceptible smirk of discontent, dark flames instantly engulfed his colossal body. Two giant, clawed hands, formed from pure aura, materialized in the air before him, reaching out to slow Kargı.
Simultaneously, he used his two mighty wings to cover his front, preparing for the impact.
Despite the slowing force of the giant clawed hands, Kargı's immense speed didn't decrease much.
Consequently, Kargı crushed directly into Karasungur with immense, unyielding force.
The moment his spear-like horn touched Karasungur's wings, black flames coiled around Kargı, trapping him in a searing embrace.
With the violent impact, Karasungur and Kargı were violently propelled away from their original position, thrown towards a waiting ambusher.
Just where they were about to crash at the lagoon, Abra erupted from the waters below, his enormous, five-hundred-meter-long serpentine body coiling into the air.
His green scales shimmered, contrasting with his stark white chest. His four crimson legs dangled beneath him, and his forked tail twitched ominously. His distinctive copper-colored eyes, glowing even in the dim light, were fixed on Karasungur.
His powerful, boat-like jaw opened wide, and with an explosive force, a massive water beam erupted from his mouth, targeting the vulnerable back of Karasungur.
However, Karasungur was already prepared for another surprise attack. His flame growing more powerful with friction power that Kargı created while flying toward him and Kargı's aura.
With the help of two clawed hands and his black flames he distanced himself from Kargı.
Hence, with the gained kinetic energy from Kargı, he showed a trump card: his body was like lightning. He escaped from Abra's attack, and meanwhile Abra, slightly dejected, stopped, and his water beam vanished before landing on Kargı.
After the failure of their coordinated plan, Kargı managed to halt his colossal momentum, stopping abruptly in the air.
Abra, his massive serpentine body still coiled above the lagoon, positioned himself opposite Karasungur.
The two dragons, once conspirators in ambush, now found themselves staring at Karasungur's majestic, obsidian form, which still hummed with the residual power of the lightning that had surged through it.
The first to break the tense silence was Abra. His forked tongue flickered as he hissed, "Just as expected from The Black Paragon, yet even I am surprised by your... ruthlessness."
Before continuing, a crooked smile, chillingly out of place, appeared on his unsightly face. "But even I wouldn't expect this from you, the mighty and perfect dragon, to absorb his own kind, even my brother... Hmm, perhaps he might do something like that, but that's not the matter. You! How could you do it, The Black Paragon?"
At Abra's insolent remark, a resigned light flickered in Karasungur's eyes for a fleeting moment, a hint of ancient weariness.
Then, without a pause, Karasungur first fixed Kargı with a meaningful gaze—one that pierced the metallic dragon's composure and made him shudder slightly before he instinctively looked away.
Then did Karasungur turn his full, unwavering attention to Abra. His voice, when it came, was not a roar of fury but a deep, resonant rumble, overbearing like mighty thunder echoing through the very heavens, charged with the undeniable authority of a king.
"What right gives you, an overgrown worm, to judge my actions?" Karasungur's voice boomed, chilling in its controlled power.
"To interfere with the matters of dragons? If you desire such knowledge, then listen. Sazakan was relentlessly disturbing the peace, and with the approaching era of chaos, I could not stand idly by. He first attacked Asena and her tribe, then engaged Bayezid in battle."
He paused a moment, resigned light grew a little more in his eyes.
After a faint breath, "He was already in a weakened state. I merely ended his demise and empowered myself with the thunder he carried within him." As Karasungur finished speaking, the surrounding area visibly grew darker, the ambient light seeming to dim around his formidable presence.
Abra's copper eyes blazed with a fury that distorted his already grotesque features. Karasungur's insult of him being lesser. His massive body coiled tighter, scales rippling with contained aggression.
With a thunderous hiss that echoed across the lagoon, Abra charged forward and attacked Karasungur.
The darkening sky above them seemed to swallow the last vestiges of daylight, plunging the scene into a grim twilight. The wind, once melodious, now shrieked a violent chorus, foretelling the epic clash about to consume the world.