Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Canna journeyed through the vast, untamed lands of Sepra, his thoughts consumed by the challenges that lay ahead. The world around him was as wild and unpredictable as the tasks he faced: gathering resources, expanding his knowledge, and forging alliances to aid in the revitalization of the Sanctuary. Mortem, his loyal subordinate, trailed in his shadow, ever the silent guardian.

Back at the Sanctuary, his other subordinates were diligently fulfilling their roles. Vorgrim, the stoic leader of Canna's army, dedicated himself to training warriors and civilians alike, ensuring that none would ever again experience the helplessness of their past lives. Grimruk, solitary by nature, immersed himself in rigorous training, pushing his limits to become an even more formidable force.

Flora and Elandra tended to the Sanctuary's gardens and magical wards, maintaining the natural beauty and defenses of their home. And then there was Sylvanar, the ancient guardian of the Sanctuary.

Sylvanar was a towering figure, standing 150 feet tall—a magnificent blend of nature and power. His form was woven from the strongest, most ancient wood, entwined with living vines that pulsed with life, adorned with emerald leaves that shimmered with an ethereal glow. His eyes, glowing with a deep, wise green light, reflected the ancient knowledge and power within him.

His body was inscribed with glowing runes of protection and strength, making him nearly invincible. The essence of the forest seemed to breathe through him, and his presence was a constant reminder of the Sanctuary's eternal guardianship.

Sylvanar rarely moved. He was often seen standing vigil, a sentinel watching over the Sanctuary. But when he did move, it was for one of three reasons. First, if Canna summoned him—a rare occurrence that Sylvanar never questioned. Second, when the mighty dragon Stormbringer awoke, prompting Sylvanar to engage in epic sparring matches that shook the very foundations of the Sanctuary.

And third, when he was provoked by an equally formidable opponent: Terrorfang, the Primal Titan.

Terrorfang, a colossal gorilla standing 150 feet tall, was an awe-inspiring sight. His fur was a vibrant crimson, almost as if it were ablaze, and his muscles bulged with raw, primal power. His eyes burned with an intense, untamed fury, and his every movement sent tremors through the earth. His roars echoed like thunder across the Sanctuary, a reminder of the raw power contained within him.

Terrorfang was one of the three legendary beings Canna had rescued from the dungeon depths of the kingdom of Arenthia. From the moment Terrorfang set foot in the Sanctuary, Sylvanar had sensed him as a potential threat.

Their first encounter was explosive, a clash of titans that shook the Sanctuary to its core. The ground quaked, trees bent under the force of their blows, and the skies seemed to darken as their titanic forms collided. The inhabitants of the Sanctuary were initially terrified, fearing that their home might be destroyed by the sheer power of these two legendary beings.

But Canna, understanding the nature of their rivalry, allowed the battles to continue. He knew that Sylvanar and Terrorfang were not enemies but rivals—a test of strength and a ritual of respect.

Over time, these battles became a daily spectacle, something the inhabitants of the Sanctuary came to anticipate with a mix of awe and excitement. Sylvanar and Terrorfang's clashes were more than just fights; they were displays of power, endurance, and skill.

The earth would crack, the air would buzz with energy, and the very fabric of the Sanctuary would seem to tremble under the weight of their immense power.

Sylvanar, with his ancient wisdom and unyielding strength, was a wall of defense that Terrorfang's raw, primal fury could not easily breach. Despite Terrorfang's relentless assaults, Sylvanar's health never dropped below 80%, a testament to his resilience and the protective runes that covered his form. The battles were long and grueling, but neither side ever emerged as a clear victor.

Instead, they ended in a stalemate, with both titans retreating to prepare for their next encounter.

For the inhabitants of the Sanctuary, these battles were not just entertainment; they were a symbol of the strength and resilience that defined their home. The daily clashes between Sylvanar and Terrorfang were a reminder that even the most powerful beings in the world respected the rules of honor and rivalry.

It also reinforced the notion that within the Sanctuary, legends were not just stories—they were living, breathing entities that shaped the world around them.

As Canna reflected on the state of his domain and the activities of his subordinates, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He wished he could be more present, more involved in their lives. But his current quest for knowledge and resources was essential. The biggest challenge he faced now was the lack of reliable information.

In a world as vast as Sepra—eighteen times the size of Earth—simply traveling from place to place was a monumental task. He needed a faster way to gather intelligence, to navigate this sprawling world without wasting precious time.

Deciding it was time to consult with Mortem, Canna summoned him from the shadows. The air around him grew colder as Mortem's form materialized—a dark, spectral figure cloaked in an ethereal mist, his eyes glowing a haunting blue.

"Mortem," Canna began, his voice thoughtful, "we need a more efficient way to gather information. This endless wandering is not sustainable. Sepra is far too vast."

Mortem nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Indeed, master. We need a source that can provide us with swift and accurate intelligence. Wandering aimlessly will not yield the results we seek."

Canna sighed, frustration evident on his face. "But where do we find such a source? We cannot rely on directions from passersby forever."

It was then that Mortem's eyes gleamed with a sudden idea. "There is one who might assist us… Tonitrum."

Canna's eyes widened at the mention of the name—Tonitrum, an ancient dragon whose name had not crossed his mind for a while.

Canna considered the prospect carefully. There were no immediate dangers in visiting the ancient dragon, but a sense of unease lingered. Tonitrum was unpredictable, and Canna couldn't shake the feeling that the dragon would make him engage in something outlandish or challenging, as he had done in the past. Still, the need for swift and reliable information outweighed any reservations.

With a resigned sigh, Canna made his decision. He needed answers, and he knew that Tonitrum could provide them.

Without another word, Canna opened the red portal. This time, instead of leading back to the Sanctuary, it opened to the lowest floor of the dungeon—a place where it had all begun.