Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Deep within the dark and oppressive confines of the lowest floor of the ancient dungeon, a cavernous chamber resonated with a low, ominous rumble. In the shadows, a colossal dragon head, towering at fifty meters in height, gazed down with a predatory grin, its eyes glowing like molten lava.

Before the dragon stood a young man with a shiny head, who, at that moment, looked like he had just walked through the fires of hell—literally. Smoke wafted up from his scorched scalp, where once there had been a proud head of hair.

Canna, now sporting an unintentional bald look, scowled up at the dragon with a mix of irritation and resignation.

The moment Canna had stepped through the portal, his instincts had screamed at him to move. Without hesitation, he transformed into a bolt of lightning, zipping through the dungeon's corridors in a blur of crackling energy. But the transformation was short-lived, and as his lightning form flickered out, Canna was forced to revert to his dragonkin form.

He retaliated with a breath of his own—a roaring stream of flame—but it was no match for the sheer intensity of Tonitrum's attack. The dragon's breath had been so powerful, so concentrated, that Canna's flames had been snuffed out like a candle in a storm.

Just as the wall of fire was about to engulf him, it suddenly ceased, stopping mere inches above his head. The heat was still intense enough to singe the tips of his hair, leaving him with a freshly bald head. And now, Canna stood there, glaring up at the ancient dragon, his pride wounded almost as much as his scalp.

The ancient dragon had welcomed him with a fiery breath—a searing, concentrated blast that would have reduced lesser beings to ash in an instant.

"You…" Canna growled, his voice seething with barely contained rage. "I had pretty good hair, you know! Why did you have to burn it off?"

Tonitrum, still wearing that nasty grin, snorted dismissively. The dragon's voice rumbled through the chamber, deep and resonant, echoing off the stone walls. "Blabber all you want, little one. What is it you seek? I was in the midst of a rather dull slumber, watching you play your tiresome hero games.

If you're here for entertainment, I'd suggest flattening a kingdom or two—that might actually pique my interest."

Canna sighed, exasperated by Tonitrum's perpetual thirst for destruction. The ancient dragon was always like this—bored, impatient, and with a taste for chaos that rivaled even the most malevolent of beings. If it were possible, Canna would have gladly handed over his Harbinger title to Tonitrum, who seemed far more suited to it.

But for now, he needed the dragon's help, and that meant playing along with his whims.

"Fine, fine," Canna muttered, rubbing his still-smoking scalp. "How about I tell you a story? Something to pass the time, at least."

Without waiting for a response, Canna launched into a recounting of his recent exploits—how he had encountered the Verdant Wardens, a tribe of fierce barbarians who had become valuable allies, and how he had attained a subordinate named Sylvanar, the ancient guardian.

He spoke of the many children he had saved, bringing them to the Sanctuary to give them a new life, free from the chains of slavery and despair.

Canna spoke with passion, hoping that his tale might stir even a flicker of interest in the ancient dragon. But as he finished his story and turned to gauge Tonitrum's reaction, he was met with a sight that made his shoulders sag in defeat. The massive dragon was asleep, his eyes closed, and a soft snore reverberating through the chamber.

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Canna had been pouring his heart out to a creature that had dozed off somewhere in the middle of his tale.

"Of course," Canna muttered to himself, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "Why am I not surprised?"

Resigned, Canna cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Fine, Tonitrum. I need a favor."

Tonitrum's eyes snapped open at the word 'favor,' and a sly grin spread across his massive maw. He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, his laughter shaking the very ground beneath Canna's feet. "I was only ablet to use up two of my four slots in the 'Create Elder Undead' spell under my Bahamuth ring.

I would need to create another subordinate that could gather information for me much faster and more efficiently. Do you have anything in mind?"

Tonitrum's sneer widened as he opened one eye, regarding Canna with a mix of amusement and condescension. "Do you truly doubt me? Who do you think I am?"

Canna couldn't help but smile, albeit warily. "So, how about it? Can you help me out again?"

This time, both of Tonitrum's eyes opened fully, and the dragon's expression shifted from amusement to something more dangerous—something that sent a shiver down Canna's spine. "I can help you, little Harbinger," Tonitrum rumbled, his voice low and ominous. "But nothing in this world comes for free."

Canna's instincts screamed at him to be cautious, but he knew that he had no other choice. If he was to navigate the vast world of Sepra efficiently, he needed the information that only Tonitrum could provide. But the dragon's next words made his blood run cold.

"Do me a favor," Tonitrum said, his voice dripping with malice, "and I'll give you the corpses you need to create your new subordinate."

Canna froze, his heart skipping a beat. This was the first time Tonitrum had ever asked for a favor in return, and the implications were terrifying. What could an ancient dragon, a creature of immense power and knowledge, possibly need from him?

Canna looked up at Tonitrum, who was grinning down at him with a menacing glint in his eyes. The dragon's gaze was intense, almost as if he were savoring the moment, relishing the discomfort he was causing.

"What… what kind of favor?" Canna asked, his voice steady, though he could feel the tension building within him.

Tonitrum's grin widened, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. "Oh, nothing too difficult," the dragon purred, his tone mockingly sweet. "Just a little task that requires your particular set of… skills. Consider it a test, Harbinger. A test to see just how far you're willing to go for the power you seek."

Canna swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Tonitrum's words settle over him like a heavy cloak. He had no choice but to accept, but deep down, he knew that whatever favor Tonitrum had in mind would be far from simple. And the consequences of failure… well, he didn't want to think about that.

"Very well," Canna said, his voice firm. "I'll do it."

Tonitrum chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the chamber like the rumble of distant thunder. "Excellent," the dragon said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Don't worry, you'll gain a lot from this if you do it properly little Harbinger."

Canna nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He had come seeking a solution, but what he had found was a bargain with an ancient dragon—a bargain that could either grant him the power he needed or lead him down a path of unimaginable peril.

As the red portal shimmered and faded, leaving him alone in the dark chamber with Tonitrum, Canna couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. The stakes had just been raised, and there was no turning back.