Sanctuary: Safe Haven

The battlefield was a maelstrom of power and destruction. The trio of figures, now desperate, seemed to sense their inevitable demise. Their eyes, glowing with a sinister light, locked onto Canna and his team, their expressions twisted with a mix of fear and rage. Then, as if synchronized, the trio suddenly stilled, their bodies emanating a dark, ominous aura.

Without warning, they let out a deafening shout, their voices merging into a singular, unholy cry. The air around them crackled with raw energy, and the ground beneath them shook violently as their power surged to unprecedented levels. Canna could feel the pressure mounting, the sheer force of their growing strength threatening to overwhelm him and his team.

Realizing the escalating danger, Canna's mind raced. They had already been pushed to their limits, but now the trio was ascending to a level that was beyond anything they had faced so far. He had no choice but to play his final card.

"Mortem!" Canna's voice rang out, cutting through the chaotic storm of energy.

Mortem, ever the vigilant necromancer, understood immediately. With a nod, he raised his hands, dark energy swirling around him as he called forth the most formidable undead from his collection. The ground trembled as 428 great calamities, along with thousands of mid and low calamities, rose from the shadows.

Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, their skeletal forms radiating malevolent power as they surged forward to confront the trio.

The battlefield transformed into a warzone of clashing titans. The great calamities, towering and monstrous, charged at the trio with earth-shaking steps, their roars echoing through the enclosed space. The mid and low calamities swarmed around them, creating a whirlwind of undead fury. But even with this overwhelming force, the trio remained steadfast, their power growing with every passing second.

Canna gripped the Bloodfang Scythe tightly, the weapon's dark energy pulsing in rhythm with his own heartbeat. He could feel the scythe's insatiable hunger for blood, its power begging to be unleashed. With a swift motion, he swung the scythe, unleashing a wave of dark energy that tore through the battlefield, cutting down enemies in its path.

But the trio was far from finished. The figure in the center, its power now reaching a terrifying peak, unleashed a shockwave of pure energy that sent the great calamities flying back. The force of the blast shook the very foundations of the chamber, cracks splintering through the walls as the room threatened to collapse under the pressure.

"Keep pushing!" Canna shouted, his voice carrying above the din of battle. "We can't let them overwhelm us!"

Grimruk and Vorgrim, battered but unbroken, renewed their assault with ferocity. Grimruk's battle axe and halberd cleaved through the air with the force of a hurricane, while Vorgrim's greatsword struck with precision and power. But their opponent, the swordsman of the trio, was relentless. His blade moved like a blur, parrying and countering their attacks with almost supernatural speed.

Flora, her vines lashing out like whips, struggled to keep the third figure at bay. Her defenses were weakening, the relentless barrage of arcane energy from her opponent slowly wearing her down. But Flora's resolve was unshakable; she was determined to protect Canna and the others, no matter the cost.

Despite their best efforts, it was clear that the battle was at a stalemate. The trio's power continued to grow, fueled by the chaos and destruction around them. Their attacks became more precise, more powerful, and the strain on Canna and his team was becoming unbearable.

Canna gritted his teeth, frustration boiling within him. They were losing ground, and if they didn't do something soon, the battle would be lost. The Bloodfang Scythe pulsed in his hands, urging him to unleash its full power. He hesitated for a moment, knowing the cost of such a move, but there was no other choice.

With a fierce resolve, Canna activated one of the scythe's most devastating abilities: Reaper's Sweep. The scythe's blade glowed with a blinding crimson light as Canna swung it in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of dark energy that cut through the air like a scythe through wheat. The wave slammed into the trio, forcing them back as it tore through their defenses.

At the same time, Mortem unleashed the full power of his necromantic magic. His hands moved in intricate patterns, dark energy coalescing around him as he summoned even more undead warriors to the battlefield. The great calamities, reinvigorated by Mortem's power, surged forward with renewed fury, their eyes burning with a dark fire.

But the trio was not done yet. With a final, desperate act, they tapped into the last reserves of their power, their bodies glowing with an unholy light. The ground beneath them shattered as they unleashed a final, devastating attack, their combined power aimed directly at Canna.

Canna's instincts screamed at him to dodge, but he stood his ground, the Bloodfang Scythe raised high. The trio's attack collided with the scythe, the impact sending shockwaves through the battlefield. For a moment, it seemed as though the scythe would break under the sheer force of the attack, but Canna held firm, his will unyielding.

And then, with a roar of defiance, he unleashed the scythe's ultimate attack: Judgment of Blood. The scythe glowed with a blinding red light as it released a massive wave of dark energy that engulfed the trio. The energy tore through them, their bodies disintegrating into ashes as the wave of destruction swept across the battlefield.

The battle was over.

Canna stood amidst the ashes of his fallen enemies, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The battlefield was littered with the remains of the great calamities, their bodies reduced to rubble by the sheer intensity of the battle. Half of Mortem's undead army had been destroyed, the great calamities reduced to mere shadows of their former selves.

As the dust settled, Mortem approached Canna, his expression grim. "Those were homunculi, Master," he said, his voice low. "Inside them was a core strong enough to power an entire kingdom for a month. It's a miracle we survived against three of them."

Canna's brow furrowed in frustration. A miracle? He had fought with everything he had—his dragonkin form, his harbinger powers, the Bloodfang Scythe—and still, it had taken everything they had to defeat the trio. He had lost two hundred great calamities in the process, creatures that could bring a village to its knees in half a day. The thought of it made his blood boil.

But he couldn't dwell on it. Whatever the trio had been protecting behind that gate had to be valuable—so valuable that they had sacrificed themselves to keep it safe. Canna knew he had to see what it was, or all their efforts would have been in vain.

After fifteen minutes of resting and regaining his strength, Canna stood up, determination burning in his eyes. Vorgrim and Mortem slipped into his shadows, ready to move at a moment's notice. Grimruk and Flora, still recovering from the battle, returned to the domain to recuperate.

With a deep breath, Canna approached the gate. Whatever lay beyond it had better be worth the cost. He reached out, his hand resting on the cold metal as he prepared to open it.

It was time to see what the trio had been protecting.

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