Sanctuary: Safe Haven

The battle raged on in the slavehouse, with the air crackling from the sheer intensity of the magic and steel clashing in the confined space. Canna's eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for the right moment to execute his plan. The situation was getting more chaotic by the second, and he knew that they needed to retreat before things escalated beyond their control.

Amidst the noise and fury, Canna noticed a brief lull in the enemy's advance. The kingdom's forces had been momentarily blinded by one of Mortem's spells, their vision obscured by a thick, dark mist. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

Without hesitation, Canna began to gather his mana, feeling the familiar surge of power flow through him. His eyes glowed with an electric blue light as he channeled his energy into a single, devastating attack. The air around him hummed with raw energy, and in one swift motion, he unleashed a powerful thunderbolt into the center of the battlefield.

The thunderbolt struck with the force of a lightning storm, blinding everyone present with a brilliant flash of light. The intense brightness and deafening crack of thunder left the enemy forces disoriented, their formations breaking as they stumbled back in confusion.

Canna knew he only had seconds to act. "Now!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. With a swift gesture, he opened a portal to the domain, the crimson gateway swirling ominously in the air. The portal's energy pulsed, beckoning his subordinates to escape the battlefield.

"Everyone, retreat!" Canna's voice echoed in the minds of his subordinates through their telepathic link. Grimruk, Vorgrim, Mortem, Flora, Elandra, and Razgath all moved with precision, making their way to the portal with practiced ease.

Canna could see that some of the prisoners they had freed from the lower floors had managed to survive and were making their way through the portal as well, though he noticed with a heavy heart that others had either perished in the chaos or found other means of escape.

As the last of his team entered the portal, Canna took one final look at the battlefield. The enemy forces were beginning to recover from the blinding light, but it was too late for them to react. With a swift step, Canna entered the portal, closing it behind him just as the enemy's counterattack surged forward, striking nothing but empty space.

Back in the sanctuary, Canna emerged from the portal to a scene that immediately captured his attention. Several bodies lay strewn across the grass, their blood staining the once-pristine greenery.

The weapons of Mortem's undead were similarly bloodied, a clear sign that these unfortunate souls had tried something foolish—perhaps an attempt to seize power in the sanctuary or escape their new reality. Whatever their intentions, they had met swift justice at the hands of the vigilant undead.

The contrast between the battle-hardened scene and the sight of the rescued children and other races now safely within the sanctuary was stark. The children were already being cared for by the sanctuary's inhabitants, the Sylphirs and Verdant Wardens moving with gentle efficiency as they offered food, water, and comfort.

The adults who had been rescued, however, remained under close watch, their movements scrutinized by the sanctuary's guardians.

As Canna surveyed the scene, Grimruk approached Razgath, the massive black orc who had been freed from the deepest cell in the slavehouse. There was a mutual recognition between them, a bond shared only by those of the same bloodline.

Grimruk, holding his battle axe with a casual familiarity, spoke first. "You're a Black Orc of the Bloodborn Clan. I never thought I'd see one of our kind again, especially here."
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Razgath, still adjusting to his newfound freedom, narrowed his eyes at Grimruk. "And you, brother, are of the same kin. How did you end up here?"

Grimruk gave a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Captured and enslaved, just like you. But Canna freed me, and now I fight by his side. He's not like the others who claim power. He's earned my respect."

Razgath studied Grimruk for a moment, then nodded. "If he's earned your respect, that's saying something. But I am not one to submit easily."

Canna approached the two black orcs, sensing the tension between them. He met Razgath's gaze, his expression calm but resolute. "Razgath, I understand your hesitation. I didn't free you to demand your loyalty. I freed you because no one deserves to be caged like that. You're free to make your own choices here."

Razgath's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—relief, suspicion, and something deeper. "I have unfinished business in this world, Canna. I cannot pledge myself to anyone until it is resolved."

Canna smiled slightly, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I didn't expect you to. You've been through too much to be bound to another master. Once I'm done with my business in Arenthia and leave the kingdom, you're free to go wherever you wish. No strings attached."

Razgath studied Canna for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Very well. I will stay until you are done with Arenthia. But after that, I will follow my own path."

"That's more than enough," Canna replied, extending his hand. Razgath hesitated briefly before clasping Canna's forearm in a warrior's handshake, a silent agreement passing between them.

As Razgath moved away to explore the sanctuary, Canna turned his thoughts to the tasks that remained. Two critical objectives were left on his list. The first was to deal with the noble responsible for the slave collars—a necessary step to free the remaining slaves from their cursed bindings.

Mortem had already gathered all the necessary information, and Canna knew this mission would require precision and ruthless efficiency.

The second was a more delicate matter—visiting the squatters' district. It was a place teeming with poverty, crime, and despair, but Canna believed there were still those worth saving, those who had the potential to be more than their circumstances allowed. This mission would require a different approach, one that involved compassion as much as strength.

Canna decided that these tasks would wait for a week. The fire of the recent battle needed time to die down, and he needed time to regroup and prepare. The sanctuary had grown, but it was still fragile in many ways. A single misstep could put everything he had built at risk.

As Canna stood there, looking out over the sanctuary, he felt a deep resolve settle in his chest. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but it was a path he would walk with purpose. For the sanctuary, for the people he had saved, and for the future he hoped to create—a future where no one would be caged, where the strong protected the weak, and where freedom was more than just a distant dream.