Sanctuary: Safe Haven

As soon as Canna and his guardians began their charge, the battle's intensity escalated rapidly. The circle formation was swiftly created, a well-practiced maneuver by the sanctuary's forces. Each guardian took their position, their combined might serving as the central pillars of the line. The shock troops seamlessly joined in, their discipline and power reinforcing the formation, and behind them stood the bulk of the sanctuary's warriors. With white robes fluttering and eyes burning with determination, they fought relentlessly, cutting down the initial waves of weaker monsters like grass before a scythe.

For several minutes, it seemed like they would tear through the horde with relative ease. Monster after monster fell to the onslaught, their bodies piling high, and morale surged among the warriors. However, it didn't take long for the real threats to emerge from the masses. Disaster-ranked monsters began to appear, their enormous, terrifying forms rising like living mountains from the chaos. With them came a host of new, more dangerous enemies—Ravagers charging with brute force, Flameclaw Raiders leaving trails of fire and explosions, and Void Reavers phasing in and out of existence.

The guardians met the incoming Disaster-ranked creatures head-on. Dravos, dual-wielding his massive swords, cut through the ranks of enemies with brutal efficiency. His blades were stained with the blood of dozens of monsters as he unleashed devastating arcs of energy with each swing. Solara, ever the swift wolf, darted between enemies, summoning storms of wind and lightning, her massive fangs tearing into the Void Reavers that dared get too close. Vorgrim, leading the sanctuary's warriors, stood at the front lines like an impenetrable wall, his dual greatswords cleaving through Ravagers and Bone Crushers alike, his raw strength a beacon of hope for the warriors around him.

Canna observed it all with pride but knew that the rising tide of stronger monsters meant the battle was far from over. Seeing that the horde was continuously reinforced, Canna signaled to his ace: Mortem. His firstborn son, a towering figure of death and power, acknowledged the command. With a dark grin, Mortem released his aura, a wave of cold energy sweeping across the battlefield. Soon after, Mortem's 'collection' of undead began to rise from the ground—resurrected enemies who had fallen to the sanctuary's might. Skeletons, zombified beasts, and even some larger, more grotesque creatures joined the fray, turning the horde's own numbers against them.

But Mortem's goal wasn't to go on the offensive; instead, his undead forces worked to balance the field, keeping the monsters from overwhelming the sanctuary's warriors. Every time an enemy fell, it was brought back to life to fight again—this time on Canna's side. The battlefield became a chaotic mixture of life and death, and for every fallen comrade, Mortem made sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

Above the battlefield, Flora's influence could be seen as well. High in the sky, her spores began to drift down like mist, subtly weakening the enemies who inhaled them. Vines and roots shot up from the ground, ensnaring monsters that strayed too close, while high-tier spells fired by the light elves caused massive destruction from a distance. The sanctuary's forces were holding strong, their training and teamwork showing in every strike and spell.

But no one shone brighter than Canna himself. Unlike the others, who were tied to holding specific lines in the formation, Canna was free to roam the battlefield. His mobility was unmatched, and he darted between groups of monsters, his weapon flashing with lethal precision. As both a Harbinger and a Dragonkin, he was able to keep close track of his stamina and mana, balancing his power usage with calculated efficiency. He tore through Ravagers with ease, decapitating Bone Crushers and using his lightning-infused powers to disintegrate swarms of Carrion creatures. He danced through the chaos like a force of nature, leaving only destruction in his wake.

But after thirty minutes of relentless combat, the tide shifted. A subtle change rippled across the battlefield—Noctis' tiny clones began force-teleporting several of the sanctuary warriors back to safety. It was a clear sign that fatigue was beginning to take its toll. Those who were teleported had reached the brink of collapse, narrowly avoiding death. The constant waves of enemies were not slowing down, and despite the sanctuary's strength, they couldn't hold forever.

Realizing the need for a change in tactics, Canna called upon his Bloodfang Scythe. The moment the weapon materialized in his hands, power surged through him. The scythe seemed to pulse, sensing the blood of the fallen all around, thirsting for more. Canna gripped it tightly, feeling its hunger as it connected with him on a deeper level. With a wild grin, he prepared for another charge.

The battlefield ignited once again as Canna led the next wave of attacks, cutting through the horde with his scythe. Each swing of the Bloodfang Scythe unleashed waves of crimson energy, decimating everything in its path. The scythe drank deeply from the blood of fallen enemies, further empowering Canna as he cleaved through their ranks. He was an unstoppable force, his form moving with terrifying speed and precision, while the scythe's bloodlust seemed to feed his own.

For eight long hours, the battle raged on. The sanctuary's warriors fought valiantly, holding the line as best they could, but fatigue began to weigh heavily on them. Despite the millions of monsters they had already slain, more continued to pour in, as if the horde was endless. The monsters' numbers were not dwindling—they were being replaced faster than they could be killed. Realizing the situation, Vorgrim gave the call for retreat. It was time to conserve their strength.

One by one, the sanctuary warriors were teleported out of the battlefield. The guardians, who had fought valiantly for hours, gave verbal confirmation that they could still fight, but eventually, even they had to withdraw. Only Mortem and Canna remained, their bond allowing them to communicate without words.
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As night fell, and after thirteen grueling hours of combat, Canna stood alone on the battlefield. The sanctuary's forces had done their part, but now it was Canna's time to show why he was their leader. He signaled to Mortem to retreat into the shadows, watching as his son vanished from sight. With no more allies to worry about, it was time for Canna to unleash his full Harbinger powers.

The wind began to pick up as a storm brewed overhead. Rain started to fall, lightly at first, but it soon turned into a torrential downpour. Canna, standing alone in the midst of millions of monsters, grinned as he felt the familiar hum of the storm coursing through him. The Bloodfang Scythe in his hands pulsed with power, feeding on the bloodshed around it.

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the battlefield. Canna swung his scythe, sending arcs of lightning crashing into the waves of monsters, their bodies exploding into ash as the electricity ripped through them. The storm around him grew stronger, and soon, the winds howled as if echoing his battle cry. He was a lone figure standing against an army, his form illuminated by the storm, a force of nature unto himself.

Back in the sanctuary, the scene was being projected for all to see. Warriors who had been teleported back watched in awe as their leader, even after hours of fighting, continued to stand strong. The sight of Canna, his scythe cutting through the storm, was one that would burn itself into the memories of every warrior present. Their leader, relentless and unyielding, fought on alone.

Unbeknownst to them, as long as the Bloodfang Scythe tasted blood, it could regenerate Canna's stamina and mana, making him an unstoppable killing machine in a field drenched with enemies. And with millions of monsters surrounding him, Canna knew that the battle had only just begun.