Sanctuary: Safe Haven

The battlefield lay quiet, save for the crackling of dying flames and the occasional groan of a wounded monster. On the walls of Avaloria, the defenders stood in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the figure descending from the sky.

Relief had washed over them as they watched the monstrous horde decimated by an unknown savior, but that relief quickly turned to apprehension as they recognized the figure's approach.

As Canna floated toward them, blood-stained and emanating an aura of power, the king and his people watched with a mixture of awe and fear. The king, known for his wisdom and strength, stood silently, scrutinizing the figure. His thoughts mirrored the unspoken question in the minds of his subjects: Who was this being that had saved them, and what did he want?

Stopping ten feet away from the king, Mortem, Canna's subordinate, floated beside him. His presence, chilling and menacing, added to the tension. Mortem's voice, cold and authoritative, cut through the silence.

"My master has saved you from your peril, weak humans. The only compensation he asks for are the mana cores of the great calamities, mid-calamities, and low calamities. Collect them and keep them safe until we return to claim our compensation."

The words hung in the air, not as a request but as an ultimatum. The king's eyes narrowed at the tone, a necromancer daring to issue orders to a king. His pride flared, but before he could voice his objections, the sky above them opened again, revealing a red portal. Canna began to ascend, his form bathed in the portal's eerie light.

He looked like a divine avenger, his blood-soaked attire adding to his fearsome visage.

As he ascended, Mortem issued a final warning. "Heed my words, humans. It would be wise not to incur my master's wrath. Prepare the mana cores or face annihilation."

With that, Mortem followed Canna into the portal, leaving the defenders of Avaloria to grapple with their conflicting emotions—gratitude for their salvation, fear of their mysterious saviors, and the foreboding sense of a debt yet to be paid.

Back in the dungeon, Canna was greeted by Kael, who prostrated himself before him, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you, Canna. You saved my kingdom. I'm truly grateful," Kael sobbed, his voice choked with emotion. The sight of his home, once thriving, now battered and broken, tore at his heart.

Canna, however, remained detached. "Don't bow, Kael. I didn't do it for your kingdom. I wanted to test my new abilities after my ascension and try out my new weapon. Saving the kingdom was just a plus. Now, get up and clean yourself up—you've got snot all over your face," Canna said with a chuckle, his tone light but firm.

Kael, taken aback by Canna's words, stood up, hastily wiping his face. He couldn't fathom the casual demeanor of someone who had just saved thousands of lives, yet seemed indifferent to the gravity of his actions.

Canna then turned his attention to Vorgrim and Grimruk. "What happened with those two entities I asked you to deal with?"

Grimruk lowered his head in shame, unable to meet his master's eyes. It was Vorgrim who answered, his voice steady despite the weight of their failure. "I apologize, my liege. They used artifacts to teleport away quickly. As soon as the artifacts activated, their bodies were enveloped in light, and we lost their presence. Those were true-transcendents, two humans at that."

Canna's expression darkened at the revelation. The idea of fellow humans orchestrating such destruction, willing to sacrifice countless lives, angered him. He had hoped to avoid crossing paths with such enemies, but it seemed inevitable now.

"Thank you for your efforts," Canna said, dismissing Vorgrim and Grimruk with a nod of gratitude. The reality of his situation settled in—he had not only intervened in a battle but had also potentially made powerful enemies.

Seeking clarity, Canna approached Tonitrum, who had been watching the events unfold from the shadows. "I need to know more about this scythe, Tonitrum. Where did it come from, and why is it so powerful? Understanding its history might help me wield it more effectively."

Tonitrum's eyes gleamed with a knowing light as he regarded Canna. "The scythe you hold, Bloodfang, is not just any weapon. It was forged in the fires of ancient conflicts, a creation of two vampire lords who sought to bind their power into a single, unstoppable force. Skal, the spirit within, was once a formidable entity in his own right, bound to the scythe to amplify its power."

Canna listened intently, absorbing the gravity of Tonitrum's words. The scythe's power, it seemed, was tied not only to Skal's essence but also to the dark history of its creation. The implications of wielding such a weapon were profound—its thirst for blood, its influence over the wielder, and its potential to incite fear and chaos.

Tonitrum's voice resonated with a deep, cautionary tone. "Bloodfang's true potential can only be unlocked by a master who can wield both its power and its curse. You've shown promise, Canna, but the path ahead is fraught with temptation. Use it wisely; it can destroy you just as easily as it can your enemies."

Canna nodded, feeling the weight of the scythe in his hand grow heavier with the knowledge of its origins and dangers. He realized that while the scythe was a potent weapon, it could also become a double-edged sword. The sensation of being fully replenished in mana, stamina, and health, even after such an exhausting battle, was a stark reminder of the scythe's seductive power.

The danger lay not just in the scythe's capabilities, but in the potential for him to become lost in its power.

Reflecting on the recent battle, Canna noted with some satisfaction that he had gained significant experience and also leveled up. The fight had given him a clearer understanding of his abilities, and he looked forward to acquiring the mana cores once the kingdom had finished collecting them.

However, he resolved to use other weapons for more routine battles; the scythe was too dangerous to wield casually, especially given its ability to draw him into its bloodlust.

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The prospect of using the mana cores and the boost in experience points was promising, but the most exciting news came from Mortem. "Master, my collection has grown significantly. Thank you for this opportunity," Mortem reported, his voice tinged with a rare note of satisfaction. Mortem's undead army now included at least 300 great-calamities and thousands of lower-ranked creatures.

For a necromancer, especially one as powerful as Mortem, this meant an incredible surge in strength and potential. The inclusion of such high-ranking beings in his undead ranks was a formidable asset, greatly enhancing their overall power.

Just as Canna was contemplating the implications of this newfound power, Tonitrum interrupted, his voice cutting through the conversation between master and subordinate. "It's time for your third gift. Are you ready?"

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