Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Three days had passed since the preparations for the strike began. The weight of the upcoming battle was palpable, and tension ran high among those chosen for the task. Dravos had successfully gathered the finest warriors Clan Varran could offer. Among them were Varya, her granddaughter Sera, and the vice leader, Lira. Unfortunately, Kargan, the clan leader, could not join them.

His high-profile status made it too risky for him to disappear without raising suspicion, and questions would inevitably arise.

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The group of 500 warriors stood ready at the crushed arena, the remnants of its former glory barely recognizable. Each soldier bore the emblem of Clan Varran—a clenched fist holding a blazing sword—etched onto their silver-plated armor. This symbol embodied the strength, pride, and honor of the clan, a beacon of power across the kingdom.

Their weapons, from longswords to battle axes and bows, gleamed under the dimming light of the setting sun. The warriors' expressions were hardened, prepared for what lay ahead.

Dravos, at the head of the formation, stood in his battle attire—a black steel armor with gold trimmings that shimmered ominously. His crimson cloak billowed behind him, and his massive broadsword rested at his side, engraved with ancient runes of protection and power. The gauntlets on his hands, heavily reinforced, were designed for both offense and defense.

He was a figure of authority, experience, and unwavering resolve.

As the sun began to sink lower, a red portal suddenly materialized before the gathered warriors. From within, two small figures emerged—Mira and Dot, dressed in the sanctuary's signature white uniforms. Though they were only children, their presence commanded attention, and the air around them hummed with an undeniable energy.

"Welcome, warriors of Clan Varran," Mira greeted them with a respectful bow. "The leader of the sanctuary awaits. Please follow us."

Dravos turned to his warriors, his voice booming with authority. "Remember why we exist, remember why we stand. We live with gratitude, and we die with honor. Clan Varran!"

The warriors responded in unison, their voices shaking the arena's ruins. "Clan Varran!"

With that, Dravos stepped through the portal, followed by his warriors. They entered with purpose and precision, their armor clanking softly in the eerie silence. The last to enter were Mira and Dot, who closed the portal behind them.

Unbeknownst to them, hidden in the shadows, were the moles who had infiltrated Clan Varran. They observed everything, their eyes narrowing as they quickly relayed the events to their contacts within The Black Thorn.

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Upon emerging from the portal, the warriors of Clan Varran were stunned by the sight before them. Rows upon rows of soldiers, all dressed in the sanctuary's pristine white uniforms, stood at attention. Among them were humans, beastkin, elves, and other races, united under one banner. But it wasn't just the diversity that shocked Clan Varran's warriors—it was the aura these individuals exuded.

Even the youngest recruits, some as young as 15 or 16, carried an air of deadly efficiency. Their postures were disciplined, their eyes sharp, and their presence akin to seasoned veterans. They were ready for battle, as if they had faced countless trials and emerged stronger.

"These warriors… they're like a veteran army," one of the Clan Varran warriors muttered, awe tinged in his voice. "Comparable to the royal guard…"

But what truly took their breath away were the beasts.

Massive creatures stood among the ranks of the sanctuary's forces. A towering crimson gorilla with fists large enough to crush boulders. A floating white serpent with eyes glowing like embers. Two disaster-ranked wolves, their eyes glowing ominously in the dark, and a hydra that twisted and writhed with deadly grace.

The beast Dravos saw from the night before was also there, his golden mane shimmering with the power of the sun, Aurelis, the 120-foot-tall lion. His radiant presence was enough to fill even the most seasoned warrior with awe.

Dravos took in the sight, his heart pounding with a mix of respect and trepidation. The power assembled here could topple kingdoms if unleashed.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the sanctuary. It struck the ground with a thunderous crack, and from within the bolt, Canna emerged, his sanctuary robes flowing around him. Lightning crackled along his arms, and the sheer force of his presence silenced the gathered warriors. He was the leader of this force—both human and beast—and his authority was unquestionable.

As Canna landed, Vorgrim stepped forward and approached Dravos, his expression calm yet intense. "It's time to proceed with the plan," Vorgrim said. "My liege would like to speak with you personally."

Dravos, his expression resolute, nodded. He gestured for Varya and Lira to follow, and together they moved through the ranks of sanctuary soldiers, leaving the rest of their warriors behind to marvel at the might assembled in this hidden world.

In the sanctuary's war room, a group had already gathered. Noctis, Mortem, and several key figures stood around a large table, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. When Dravos entered, all eyes turned to him, but it was Noctis who spoke first.

"We've gathered critical information on The Black Thorn," Noctis began, his tone serious. "Their operations are far more extensive than we originally thought. They've established an entire underground village, hidden from the kingdom's eyes. And it doesn't end there. They have smaller bases spread throughout eight villages, and they've enslaved over fifty thousand people across their territories."

Dravos' expression darkened. Fifty thousand people… That was more than he had expected.

"They've fortified their bases with powerful wards," Noctis continued. "Mortem attempted to extract some hostages, but it's nearly impossible now. They've mixed the hostages with their operatives, and they're using slave beasts to guard their compounds—vicious creatures bred for violence."

Mortem stepped forward, his voice low and filled with grim resolve. "We can't afford to go in recklessly. If we do, we'll end up killing the very people we're trying to save."

Noctis nodded in agreement. "The leader of The Black Thorn, Seraphis, is no ordinary foe. She's a saint-ranked warrior, and her four subordinates—Malek, Solenne, Xyler, and Lira—are all true transcendent ranks. They're experienced killers. We can't afford to underestimate them."

The room fell silent as the gravity of their mission sank in. This wasn't just about freeing hostages. It was about dismantling a vast network of evil that had taken root deep within the kingdom.

Canna's voice broke the silence, his tone cold and unwavering. "Seraphis and her faction have enslaved and killed enough. This ends now. We'll strike swiftly, but we'll do it smart. No unnecessary casualties."

Dravos nodded, his mind already working through the strategy. "We'll need to move in phases. Disabling their defenses will be our priority. Once the wards are down, we extract the hostages, then focus on taking down Seraphis and her elites."

The plan was in motion. The sanctuary's forces were ready. And the warriors of Clan Varran stood by, prepared to fight alongside them.

The time for action had come.