Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Tonitrum, the ancient dragon, stirred from his deep slumber, sensing a subtle yet potent disturbance. Even in his sleep, his heightened awareness detected the change—a mere flicker, almost imperceptible to most, but unmistakable to a being of his immense power. His eyes, ancient and wise, opened slowly, casting a luminous glow over the dimly lit dungeon.

His gaze fixed on the egg, where Canna lay encased in a crystalline shell, undergoing a profound transformation.

The first crack echoed through the cavernous space, a sound that resonated like a distant thunderclap. Tonitrum watched intently as the egg began to fracture, tiny lines spiderwebbing across its surface. This was no ordinary event, Tonitrum had bestowed a concentrated amount of his own blood upon a human.

He had nurtured Canna like a master craftsman molding a masterpiece, pushing him to the brink of death time and again, forging him into a warrior of unparalleled strength.

Back on Earth, Tonitrum would be akin to a "spender" in a game, generously equipping his avatar with every advantage to ensure swift and decisive progress. Unlike others who trained through conventional means, Canna's path had been one of relentless trials and life-threatening challenges, all designed to break him, yet it did the opposite, they had only made him stronger.

As the egg continued to crack, the very mana in the dungeon seemed to react, swirling chaotically as if disturbed by an anomaly. Tonitrum leaned closer, his massive head casting a shadow over the egg. The light intensified, and with a final, resounding crack, the shell shattered, revealing Canna.

He emerged, transformed beyond recognition. Half of his body was covered in red scales, a clear mark of Tonitrum's bloodline. His once youthful appearance had matured, now resembling a man in his mid-twenties, exuding an aura of authority and power. The sight of him caused a ripple through the dungeon, a silent acknowledgment of the profound change he had undergone.

Tonitrum felt an odd sensation as he looked at Canna—a connection, almost like sensing his own essence within the young human. This transformation had not only altered Canna physically but had also tied him irrevocably to the ancient dragon.

With a voice that seemed to resonate from the very core of the dungeon, Tonitrum called Canna to approach. Suddenly, the air grew heavy, charged with an almost unbearable pressure. Kael's legs buckled under the weight, his face pale with strain. Grimruk grimaced, his muscles twitching as if fighting against an invisible force.

Vorgrim and Mortem instinctively reached for their weapons, their eyes locked on Canna, but they were held back by an unseen barrier, unable to intervene.

Canna stood before Tonitrum, blood trickling from his nose and ears under the intense pressure. Yet, he remained defiant, his gaze unwavering. The weight bore down on him like a physical force, but he refused to yield, standing tall even as his body trembled.

Tonitrum's voice, laced with killing intent, cut through the tension like a blade. "I have three conditions," he spoke, his voice echoing ominously. "In exchange, I will grant you three gifts. Disobey even once, and I will end your life, no matter where you hide in Sepra. The blood in your veins is mine; do not think you can escape me."

The air grew colder, and the weight on Canna intensified, as if the very dungeon conspired to crush him. "First," Tonitrum continued, "never bow to anyone or anything. Be it a god or an emperor, the moment you bow, you forfeit your life. You bear my blood; do not disgrace it."

Canna's knees buckled, and he dropped to one knee, struggling to stay conscious. He nodded, his resolve unbroken.

"Second," Tonitrum's voice boomed, "gather strong individuals to serve you. I need fifteen demigods and five complete demigods. They will aid you in freeing me from my chains, I don't care how long it takes but you must free me of my bindings."

Canna's vision blurred, darkness encroaching at the edges. He fought to stay conscious, knowing he had to hear the final command.

"Lastly," Tonitrum's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "never become a subordinate to any god, no matter who they are."

With those final words, the oppressive force lifted, and Canna collapsed, unconscious but alive. The barrier vanished, and Mortem and Vorgrim rushed to his side. Mortem, his expression a mask of controlled fury, glared at Tonitrum, while Vorgrim gently lifted Canna and carried him to their makeshift quarters.

The day ended in an uneasy quiet, the implications of Tonitrum's commands weighing heavily on everyone present. Canna's transformation had marked the beginning of a new chapter, not just for him but for all who followed him. They had been bound together not merely by circumstance but by destiny, each playing a role in a grand design that was yet to unfold.

As the dungeon settled back into its routine, the air was thick with a sense of purpose and foreboding. Canna's path was now clear, and his followers knew that the challenges ahead would test their loyalty and strength. United under Canna's leadership and guided by Tonitrum's demands, they prepared for whatever the future throws at them.

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Canna awoke with a stinging headache, his senses gradually coming back into focus. As he struggled to his knees, he noticed a bony hand extended before him. He looked up and saw Mortem, his skeletal figure standing silently, offering assistance.

Canna smiled weakly, the memory of their first meeting flooding back. "This reminds me of the first time we met, Mortem," he said, his voice hoarse. "I was sitting down, trying to stand up, and there you were, offering your hand."

"I appreciate that you still remember that, Master," Mortem replied, his tone as steady as ever, yet there was a subtle warmth in his words, a rare display of sentiment from the undead.

As Canna took Mortem's hand and stood, he felt a strange sensation. Turning slightly, he noticed a red dragon tail, at least a meter long, trailing behind him. He also observed patches of scales on his skin, marking the profound change he had undergone.

Footsteps approached, and Canna's subordinates, along with Kael, gathered around him, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. For now, Canna knew he needed to assess his new physical condition and the changes in his abilities. The sensation of increased mana flow within him was undeniable; he felt more powerful, more connected with mana than ever before.

As he focused inward, notifications began ringing in his mind, each one revealing a transformation in his abilities and stats. His jaw dropped, shock evident on his face as he checked his new status page. The scope of his transformation, the extent of his new powers, and the implications of the gifts and conditions set by Tonitrum, he all needs time to think it out.

Luckily, he had all the time in the world.

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