Sanctuary: Safe Haven

The sound of cheers filled the sanctuary, echoing through its walls as warriors and shock troops celebrated their victory. But outside, on the battlefield, the air was thick with tension. The guardians of the sanctuary, battered and bruised, stood together in silence, none of them smiling. They had fought valiantly, but the exhaustion in their eyes said it all—this battle was far from over.

Vorgrim, his twin greatswords still dripping with blood, walked over to Mortem, whose dark energy pulsed ominously. He glanced at his fellow guardian, his voice low and heavy. "You feel that too?"

Mortem nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Yes," he replied quietly. "There's more coming."

As if their unspoken fears were answered by the universe itself, the ground trembled. From the horizon, two more colossal figures appeared—two more Catastrophe-class monsters, but these ones seemed even larger and more menacing than the last. Behind them came an endless sea of monsters, far more than before. It was a nightmare made real.

The warriors and shock troops inside the sanctuary, watching from afar, fell into an eerie silence. The sight of the new threat froze them in place. Their cheers died in their throats. The once victorious roars turned into anxious whispers, eyes widened in disbelief as they saw the monstrous horde descending upon the battlefield.

Among the guardians, a sound broke the oppressive silence. It was laughter—wild, unrestrained laughter. All heads turned to find its source: Canna.

His chest bare, still in his Dragonkin form, Canna stood amidst the chaos, his eyes alight with the thrill of battle. "What a good day to be alive indeed!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

Without warning, Canna condensed his mana, his energy surging as he prepared to charge headlong into the approaching tide. In less than a heartbeat, he launched himself toward the enemy, becoming a blur of lightning. From the sanctuary, it looked as though a lone figure was flying straight into the maw of death itself.

The moment Canna landed among the monsters, he was already cutting them down. His movements were fluid and precise, each swing of his scythe cutting through hordes of enemies with ease. To him, it was as if he were simply going about his daily routine. His laughter echoed over the battlefield as he continued his massacre, unbothered by the sheer number of enemies surrounding him.

The guardians and warriors watched, wide-eyed, as Canna dove deeper into the ocean of monsters, tearing through them like a hurricane. The shock of the scene left them speechless. Was he mad? Or perhaps just too powerful to care?

Vorgrim, however, snapped out of his stupor first. He stood tall and bellowed a question, his voice carrying through the people watching in the sanctuary, "What's the name of our clan?"

At first, there was silence. Then, one by one, the warriors began to murmur, "Hope." The whispers turned into louder chants.
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"That's right! We're Hope!"

"We don't lose what we are!"

The chants of "Hope!" grew louder and louder until they shook the very walls of the sanctuary. The fire of determination was reignited in the hearts of every warrior present. The red portal flared open once again, summoning the warriors back to the battlefield. They weren't going to let Canna have all the fun.

Inside the sanctuary, healing potions were passed around and the light elves cast mass healing spells, restoring strength to the weary fighters as well as the guardians. The wounded stood tall once more, weapons gripped tightly in their hands.

Vorgrim, his greatswords held high, made his way to the front of the line. With a fire burning in his eyes, he raised his voice once again, delivering a speech that would echo in the hearts of his comrades. "Fuck the line! If they're unending, then we are unwavering! Let's see if they truly are endless! Chargeeeeee!"

With a unified roar, the warriors of the sanctuary surged forward, rushing through the portal and onto the battlefield. The guardians followed suit, their injuries forgotten in the heat of the moment. No more formations. No more lines. Just pure, unrelenting carnage.

Canna, still in the thick of the fight, didn't stop for a moment. His body moved like a force of nature, his scythe swinging in wide arcs, cutting through waves of monsters. Blood splattered across the battlefield, but it only seemed to fuel him more. His scythe, the Bloodfang, drank deeply from the slain, regenerating Canna's strength and keeping him in the fight. His once regal robes were now shredded, leaving his bare chest exposed, but Canna didn't care. He was fighting on instinct, cutting down anything that stood in his way.

Hours passed, and still, the battle raged on. The sanctuary warriors fought with everything they had. The light elves unleashed their most powerful spells, Flora's vines constricted and crushed enemies, and Mortem's undead forces grew larger by the minute, resurrecting slain monsters to turn the tide.

But the horde kept coming.

Canna, his breath ragged, fought tirelessly. His mind had long since abandoned all sense of time. He didn't know how many hours had passed, how many days had gone by. All he knew was the battle—the endless sea of enemies and the need to kill them all.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, there was a lull in the fighting. The warriors and guardians looked around, breathing heavily. The battlefield was littered with mountains of monster corpses, but no more were coming. The monsters had stopped. The sanctuary warriors began to cheer once again, but this time, the victory was short-lived.

Five more Catastrophe-class monsters appeared on the horizon, their eyes gleaming with hunger. But this time, they weren't alone. The ground beneath them shook as they approached, bringing with them even more hordes of monsters. These creatures were unlike any they had fought before—larger, stronger, more dangerous.

The battlefield fell into an uneasy silence. The warriors of the sanctuary, though exhausted, gripped their weapons tightly once more. But before the battle could begin, the earth itself trembled.

From the sanctuary, a monstrous roar responded. Valra, the mighty Catastrophe-class Earth Drake, emerged from her slumber. Her massive form towered over the battlefield as she marched forward, her eyes locked on the approaching monsters. With a mighty roar, she summoned her affinity with the earth, causing the ground to rumble and rise. In a matter of moments, a dome of solid rock and earth formed, encasing 800 meters of the battlefield.

But Valra wasn't alone. Sylvanar, the ancient tree guardian, followed close behind. Massive trees and branches erupted from the ground, intertwining with the dome, reinforcing it. For the first time in hours, the warriors of the sanctuary were given a moment of peace. They collapsed to the ground, exhausted beyond belief.

Canna, his body covered in blood and grime, lay under a mountain of monster corpses, his breath finally catching up to him. He mouthed a silent thank you to Valra and Sylvanar as they stood guard over the exhausted sanctuary forces.

Valra rumbled softly, lowering her head to Canna. "The dome will last for four days," she said. "But with Sylvanar's strength, it may hold for seven."

With that, the mighty drake retreated back to the sanctuary, leaving the warriors to rest.

The dwarves and researchers wasted no time. They rushed onto the battlefield, already setting to work on building the base. But it would take time—at least ten days to activate all the barriers. For now, the sanctuary warriors could rest, knowing they had earned it. Seven days to recover their strength and prepare for whatever was to come next.