Kay Qobad ascended the throne of sovereign majesty, placing the gem-encrusted crown of the Kianians upon his head. The grandees and champions of Iran gathered in solemn assembly—zal Dastan, Qaren the warrior, alongside Keshvad, Kharrad, and Borzin—showering emeralds and pearls upon the newly anointed king. Kay Qobad hearkened to the wisdom of his lords before casting his stern gaze toward the encamped hosts of Afrasiab. When morning broke, the roar of war-trumpets echoed from the royal pavilions as the Iranian army mobilized. Rostam donned his heavy battle-gear, transforming into a roaring behemoth as dust billowed to the heavens. The Iranian ranks deployed in formidable order, girding themselves for ruthless slaughter. On one flank stood Mehrab, lord of Kabul, and on the other stood the veteran Gozhdaham. At the center of the formation stood Qaren the battle-hardened alongside Keshvad, breaker of hosts; behind them stood Zal alongside King Kay Qobad, moving like fire and wind. Before them floated the sacred Kavian Banner, its ribbons of crimson, gold, and violet illuminating the field. The earth quaked beneath the march like a vessel tossed upon the stormy Sea of China; shields locked into shields across the meadows, and bared blades gleamed like torches in the pitch-black night. So deafening was the blare of horns and the battle-cries of troops that the very sun seemed to have lost its celestial path. Seeing this vast confluence of war, Qaren let out a thunderous roar from his chest and plunged into the enemy lines like a famished lion. Sweeping left and right with mace, sword, and long spear, he carved through the Turanian champions, heaping corpses into mountains until the Turkish brave grew paralyzed with dread. Midst the carnage, Qaren sighted Shamasas, the valiant warrior of Turan, who was roaring like a male lion. Qaren charged like a whirlwind, drew his sharp poison-tempered blade, and struck Shamasas full upon the helmet, shouting, 'I am Qaren the renowned!' Headlong Shamasas tumbled to the dust, yielding his life, demonstrating anew the unpredictable wheel of fate—bending now like a bow, and striking now swift as an arrow.