As Goshtasp neared the shadowed thicket alongside Mirin and Hishoy, terror seized the two nobles of Rum. Pointing with trembling hands toward the lair of the formidable dragon-wolf, they retreated, lamenting the young prince's presumed doom beneath the beast's claws. Goshtasp alighted from his noble charger and bowed in deep prayer before the Almighty. He implored the Lord of Heaven to grant him strength, praying that his father Luhrasp might not be plunged into endless grief by his demise.
Re-mounting his steed with zeal, the sword of Salm in hand and a bow slung over his shoulder, Goshtasp charged into the narrow defile with a roar like spring thunder. The monstrous wolf emerged—an elephantine horror with tusks like a stag, tearing the earth with cataclysmic power. Goshtasp rained arrows upon the beast like hail, wounding its hide. Infuriated, the creature gored Goshtasp’s black charger from groin to navel. Leaping from the fallen mount, Goshtasp swung the enchanted sword of Salm with footed prowess, cleaving the dragon-wolf straight down the spine from head to waist.
Giving praise to Yazdan, the One true Guide, Goshtasp extracted the creature's long tusks as trophies and walked toward the seaside. There sat Mirin and Hishoy, weeping over his loss. When Goshtasp appeared on foot, spattered in dragon-blood but triumphant, they embraced him in shock and tears. Goshtasp recounted the battle, accepted only a fresh horse from Mirin, and returned home to Katayoun.
Katayoun marveled at his fine armor, yet Goshtasp concealed his duel, claiming gifts had arrived from Iranian kin. In his sleep, he tossed uneasily, reliving the monstrous struggle, prompting Katayoun to sense his true royal majesty. Meanwhile, the deceitful Mirin galloped to Caesar, falsely boasting that his dagger had sliced the forest dragon in two. Overjoyed, Caesar ordered ox-carts to drag the colossal carcass into the city, held magnificent feasts, and bestowed his daughter upon Mirin in celebration of the fabricated victory.