Five years passed, but the tranquility was a fragile illusion. The silence of Kutbike's secluded cavern was shattered not by the gentle awakening of new life, but by the calculated approach of invaders, determined to breach her sanctuary.
In the morning, outside the cavern, powerful explosions and tremors shook its very depths. Humans—a mix of mages and aura users—were relentlessly targeting the sanctuary where Kutbike and her child lived.
Kutbike was anxious and terrified under the unceasing assaults, struggling to maintain the barrier Karasungur had set while assuring her child with a faint, sorrowful smile.
"D-don't worry, Küntigin," she stammered, her voice strained by the relentless attacks, "this barrier, set by your father, they can't breach it. I sent a message with a jinn; before they can even scratch this barrier, your father and reinforcements will surely come to save us!"
Küntigin, the child of Karasungur and Kutbike, resembled his mother more than his father. His scales were white as snow, like his mother's, but his horns were two dark green, jade-like spears piercing towards the sky. Now, at five years of age, he stood approximately 16 meters tall, with a wingspan of 25 meters.
Küntigin was still a child, even though he was a dragon. After all, he had lived only five years; from a dragon's perspective, he was still a newborn. He was in utter panic. His mother's attempts were in vain. He hid his head between his two wings while the cave trembled under powerful attacks.
Outside the cave, a man with an expressionless face was observing the barrier.
'It seems even his barrier absorbs power from others. If we continue this way, not only will we fail to break it, we'll actually make it stronger and more durable.' He waved his hand, and everyone ceased their attacks.
His face, once impassive, now contorted into a stark contrast. Veins bulged in his neck, every muscle in his face twitched, and his eyes blazed like molten magma. "WHAT A GODDAMN HEADACHE! ARE YOU ALL UTTERLY USELESS?! CAN'T A SINGLE ONE OF YOU MISERABLE WRETCHES DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!"
Everyone on the stacge stepped back a bit from him. The weakest among them hid their faces, not daring even to breathe. Som powerful ones seemed annoyed with his behavior but didn't dare to utter their thoughts.
He was a mage more powerful than any human in this place, he was at the Arın—the seventh level—making him a match for Kutbike.
There were nine levels of power, each one more formidable than the last, with the gap in strength widening at higher levels.
Not even all of them combined were a match for him, so they kept quiet. After all, power decided who was right and who was wrong.
After his burst of anger, he began to emit heat. His clenched fists opened, revealing bleeding palms. Fresh blood flowed from his wrists.
He breathed angrily while murmuring words, preparing adevastating magic.
The temperature of his surroundings rose rapidly; grass withered and scorched.
His blood flow accelerated, and his eyes blazed red, like engorged veins. This was not as overbearing as Karasungur's presence, but it was powerful enough to shock the surrounding mages and aura users.
He pressed his hands together, forming a small hollow between his palms. Then he whispered a word—Alaz—that echoed in everyone's ears. With a steady breath, he blew into the space, igniting a blast of fire that erupted forward like a living inferno.
The flame was like a raging sun, a giant, formless inferno that resembled neither human nor animal. It grew larger and larger, making its way towards the barrier enveloping the cave; on its way, the very air trembled.
After reaching seven hundred meters, it stopped growing and began to dance around the barrier. Its movements were crude, almost as if it didn't know how to dance, yet within that raw clumsiness lay an ancient, profound grace. With each movement, the already soaring temperature rose rapidly, and its red color grew more striking.
The very air shimmered, distorting the figures of the distant mages and aura users into wavering blurs. Patches of rock began to glow a dull red, and the ground beneath their feet grew uncomfortably hot, forcing them to shuffle nervously.
Even the hardiest vegetation around the cavern's entrance shriveled, turning to brittle ash as the immense heat radiated outwards, consuming everything in its path.
After a few more moments, the giant fire stopped and turned towards the cave.
Its formless seven limbs soared skyward, and then, with the speed of light, it struck the barrier. Under this tremendous attack, the barrier started cracking, though it rapidly began repairing those fissures.
Three of its seven limbs were absorbed by the barrier, but its regeneration speed couldn't keep pace with the destruction. Then, on the verge of collapsing, the remaining fire condensed into a tiny, searing dot.
In the cave, Kutbike stood perplexed. Her control over the barrier was lost, and it vanished as if it hadn't been there a moment ago.
She felt utter despair. Without the barrier's protection, she might still escape, but she couldn't save Küntigin.
And the attack was still descending upon the cave like four guillotines. She covered Küntigin with her white wings.
Küntigin stuck his head out from between his wings and looked at his mother's face in terror, but he could only manage a choked whisper. "Mother? What's happening? Why is it gone?!"
"Hush, my little one," she murmured, her voice trembling, "just hold on. Just hold on..."
At that very instant, the tiny dot struck with powerful and domineering black flames. Fortified by the three absorbed limbs of Alaz's attack and amplified by Karasungur's pre-arranged defenses, it was now far more potent than the initial assault itself.
Sazan Alazkhan, the mage who cast Alaz, had already reverted to his expressionless self, as if he hadn't just cursed in fury moments before.
The unexpected counter-attack caught him, like the others, completely off guard, and he was struck by its force.
Those farther from the cave were fortunate enough to face less of the assault, but the ones nearest to the impact faced absolute hell.
Even Kutbike was shocked by this sudden change.
The impact tore through the attacking lines, sending a devastating shockwave of black flame and raw energy outwards. Where moments before stood confident mages and aura users, now lay charred bodies and smoldering ruins.
The very earth was scarred, blackened craters dotting the landscape where the fortunate had once stood.
Amidst the carnage, a few figures, those of greater power and perhaps a sliver of luck, struggled to their feet, their bodies battered and their faces contorted in terror, before turning and fleeing in disarray.
The air hung heavy with the stench of ozone and burnt flesh, a chilling testament to the overwhelming counter-attack.
After the turmoil ended, Alazkhan emerged from the dust, seemingly indifferent to the sudden change. He was slightly hurt, but it was nothing more than a scratch.
He looked at the escaping figures, memorized their faces, and then turned towards the cave.
Now the sole defense was gone, and Kutbike with her child lay completely exposed.
He was still calm at the moment, a stark contrast to his previous outburst. He now was like an ice statue, his gaze a bone-chilling cold.
This time, his surroundings grew colder and colder, opposite to his previous fire magic.
His skin grew pale and glistened like ice crystals. He began murmuring again, and formed his hands into the shape of a snowflake. Then he said, "Ayaz."
The whole surroundings froze, and a snowstorm erupted. Snow began to fall, rapidly blanketing the charred ground and turning the air a frigid white.
The very breath of the mages and aura users plumed into frosty clouds, and a biting wind whipped through the area, carrying sharp flakes of ice that stung exposed skin.
Kutbike understood then that no reinforcements were coming, nor was Karasungur, for some unknown reason.
Even if the reinforcements had encountered a problem, Karasungur should have already come.
A cold, dreadful certainty settled in her heart. She came to the agonizing realization that it was planned from the beginning, a meticulously crafted trap, but now it was too late to change anything.
She was helpless, utterly without a choice, a queen stripped of her power and her hope.
Kutbike knew that these were her final moments, so she clung to every precious breath with her child, trying to etch each fleeting second into her heart. Her despair was a tangible weight, pressing down on her spirit.
Unknowing of what was to happen next, Küntigin was rendered unconscious by Kutbike's touch. She had prepared herself for this moment from the beginning; there was no hesitation in her beautiful face, only a profound, aching sorrow and the bitter regret that she wouldn't see her child grow, that she couldn't even bid farewell to her beloved Karasungur.
She neared her head to Küntigin's and delivered to his soul some memories and information and the black orb Karasungur had prepared for Küntigin.
Then gave him a final kiss, a tear tracing a path down her cheek, a silent testament to a love that would soon be lost, before she flew out from the cave with him, while he was still unconscious.
Alazkhan was prepared for her escape and had already made arrangements. As he willed, ice spears flew towards Kutbike.
If she had fully recovered after giving birth, she would have been on par with Alazkhan, even a bit more powerful, but she was not.
She was trying to create a situation where she could hide Küntigin and attract Alazkhan to somewhere else.
Ice spears struck her and slowed her a bit, but she refused to give up.
In the meantime, Alazkhan prepared a more powerful magic; this magic was a fusion of fire and ice.
Activating his Third Eye—a latent ability some could unlock, but which for him manifested as his unique Soul Eye—he prepared his signature magic, uttering, "Tuŋ Od."
Unlike Alaz or Ayaz, this one wasn't overtly destructive or bone-chilling, nor did it emit killing intent.
It was a paradoxical glow, a shimmering, ethereal flame that felt neither hot nor cold, but rather an unsettling, profound stillness that touched the very essence of being. It consumed light without burning, and froze sound without chilling, a silent, absolute void that drew all warmth and motion into itself.
Kutbike felt something amiss and met Alazkhan's gaze. Her face was deadpan, stripped of all emotion. She knew time was running out, and there was no more need for pretense.
She also prepared her signature technique with her third eye. She glowed like the sun, shedding light until the world was utterly covered in it.
Tuŋ Od was swiftly closing the distance, each moment faster than Kutbike's preparations.
Just when it was about to touch her, Kutbike activated her prepared technique, uttering with a hurried yet elegant command, "Akkuznek Kıyık"
This was neither for defense nor for offense; it was for movement—Teleportation. She couldn't use it while the barrier was active, because it even restricted space, but now that it was destroyed, there was no obstacle.
The world was bathed in pure white light; only Tuŋ Od remained ominously evident.
At the moment of activation, however, a terrible mishap occurred. Alazkhan's magic interfered with the teleportation.
Kutbike's desperate intent had been to whisk Küntigin away, but instead, it was she and Alazkhan who were ripped from the battlefield and vanished.
Küntigin's unconscious body fell from the air like a lump of meat, plummeting towards the scarred ground below.
After a few hours... The battlefield lay in deathly silence.
Küntigin was lying amidst countless wounds. His snow-like scales were covered in dust, many shattered or cracked. Of his emerald-like horns, only one remained intact after such a fall—a miracle in itself.
He opened his bloodied eyes with immense effort, just a sliver. Groans of agony tore from his throat; most of his bones were broken or shattered from the impact.
He was barely conscious, severely concussed, his mind a hazy fog of unbearable pain. Every breath was a searing torment, a fresh wave of agony radiating from deep within his broken body.
Through the haze of pain, a profound emptiness gnawed at him. Where was she? Where was his mother? His head swam, and his awareness flickered, but the chilling absence beside him was undeniable. He was alone.
Overwhelmed by a sudden, inexplicable sense of loss, memories flooded in—not his own, but Kutbike's final farewell, a silent message of love and sacrifice.
He saw her sorrow-filled eyes, heard her whispered words of regret for a future they would not share, and felt the crushing weight of her goodbye.
The physical agony paled in comparison to this searing, emotional pain, a wound far deeper than any broken bone. His mother was gone, and he was left with only the echo of her love and the heavy burden of her final, desperate act.
He tried to express his overwhelming anguish with desperate, frantic movements, but to no avail.
Just then, a faint, warm light, seemingly from nowhere, began to emanate from within him. It spread slowly, gently, through his mangled body, numbing the searing pain and wrapping him in an almost blissful warmth.
He thought, for a fleeting moment, that this must be death, a peaceful release from his torment. But as the light intensified, he felt a strange, unfamiliar surge of power stirring deep within his core, a nascent strength he hadn't known he possessed.
The light pulsed, urging him, pulling him towards an unknown destination. With newfound, though still agonizing, effort, he dragged his broken body across the desolate ground, following its ethereal guidance.
He stumbled forward, driven solely by the light, until he found himself near a dying mage who shared his grim fate, lying amidst the scattered debris. Just as he reached the mage's side, his barely-held consciousness finally slipped away, and his massive body collapsed directly onto the fallen figure.
In that final instant before oblivion, the light within Küntigin flared, and a profound, unseen merging took place, binding his fading awareness to the mage's dying essence. The world blurred, then plunged into absolute darkness.
Though the mage's spirit would fade, Küntigin's ancient draconic soul, fueled by the light and his mother's final gift, was the one that endured, destined to awaken within a new, unexpected form.