Sanctuary: Safe Haven

By the time they returned to Clan Varran, the mouthwatering scent of multiple dishes instantly filled the air, overwhelming their senses. The streets were alive with activity, and it almost felt like the people had expected their return from a dangerous expedition.

Clan Varran warriors, clad in their robes, lined the pathway, cheering and welcoming Canna and his group as if they were heroes coming home from battle.

Kargan, the guild master, grinned and raised his voice above the crowd. "Let's all meet back at the dining hall! We shall have a feast!"

With that, the warriors and sanctuary members followed Kargan's lead, eagerly making their way to the grand dining hall of Clan Varran.

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Five minutes later, Canna found himself sitting at his usual spot—the table where he had once fallen asleep on countless occasions during his stay at Clan Varran. Vorgrim was seated on his left, Dravos on his right, and the sanctuary warriors took their places around the table as well. It was a grand setting, with long tables filled with people and food.

Plates were being passed around, each dish more impressive than the last. One of the servants set down a plate in front of Canna, explaining with great pride, "This is a stew made from the meat of a Firehorn Stag. Its essence is said to boost one's strength and vitality."

Another dish followed—a rare seared filet from a Crystal Serpent, a delicacy usually reserved for royalty due to its intricate preparation and the difficulty in hunting such a beast. Each bite supposedly granted enhanced focus and clarity for hours.

Canna took it all in, nodding in appreciation as rare and exotic dishes kept appearing on the table. Each one was explained in full detail, boasting origins from dangerous creatures hunted across the land. The chefs of Clan Varran had truly outdone themselves, with every dish being prepared to perfection, reflecting their culinary mastery.

As laughter and conversation flowed freely around the hall, the mood was light, the warriors relaxed after a day of shopping and festivities. However, midway through their feast, something shifted in the air. A sudden stillness fell over the table.

Vorgrim, Dravos, Kargan, and the other powerful warriors of Clan Varran paused, their hands momentarily frozen over their food. They could sense it—a powerful presence approaching fast. In fact, several powerful presences. The air grew heavy with anticipation, and a quiet tension filled the dining hall.

Moments later, the saints of Clan Skarn and Clan Drakengarde arrived, their forms hovering in the air just above the dining hall. Two more saints, representing the royal family, flanked them, their robes billowing in the wind. Their presence immediately commanded attention, and the once lively dining hall grew silent.

All eyes turned upward to watch the saints descending slowly, their expressions serious and their gazes locked onto the gathering below.

Even Dravos, known for his composure, had stopped eating to focus on the saints. The only one seemingly unaffected by their arrival was Canna, who continued to eat, his eyes fixed on his plate.

"Whatever this dish is," Canna said, pointing at the food in front of him, "I want this in the sanctuary as well. Note this down, Noctis."

Noctis, perched on Canna's shoulder in his clone form, dutifully nodded, scribbling in the air as if taking notes.

The four saints descended from the sky, their auras radiating power. It was clear they weren't here for a friendly visit. They eyed Canna with suspicion, their gazes narrowing as they appraised him.

The saint from Clan Drakengarde was the first to speak, his voice booming across the hall. "I remember you. You were present during the battle with the Black Thorn. You are an outsider, are you not? Why are you here, in the heart of our kingdom?"

It was a direct question, meant for Canna, but it was completely ignored. Instead, Kargan rose to his feet, clearly insulted by the saint's approach. "Such disrespect!" Kargan growled, his voice sharp. "We are currently having a festive dinner, and we have protocols, even among saints! You can't just drop by and interrogate a guest of Clan Varran."

The saint from Clan Skarn landed gracefully, his eyes scanning the table. "A guest, you say? And yet, we know nothing of his intentions." His voice was cold and calculated. "Do you mind if we borrow him for a moment? I believe there are questions that need answering."

As soon as those words left his mouth, the sanctuary shock troops stood from their seats in unison, their hands ready at their weapons, their eyes narrowed at the saints. Maggi, in particular, exuded a dangerous calm, his body tense like a coiled spring. The air thickened as both sides prepared for what could become a confrontation.

And yet, through all this tension, Canna remained unbothered. He continued eating without a care in the world. "I'm still busy eating," he finally said, between bites. "Set up an appointment or something."

The entire hall gasped in unison. These were saints—figures of immense power and respect—and yet, Canna had dismissed them as if they were mere children interrupting his meal. The saints' expressions darkened, their hands inching toward their weapons.

The two remaining saints, still hovering in the air, descended to the ground. It was clear by the look in their eyes that they were ready for a fight.

Before anything could escalate further, Canna casually raised his hand, summoning a red swirling portal behind him. From within the portal, Sygon stepped out, his towering four-meter frame instantly drawing attention. His white fur glistened, and his presence alone was enough to make anyone stop in their tracks.

But that wasn't all. The ground trembled as another figure emerged from the portal—Astraeus, the seven-meter minotaur champion, his muscular form radiating raw power. His deep-set eyes scanned the room, and he took his place beside Sygon.

If that wasn't enough, the two disaster-ranked wolves, Zephyros and Solara, also stepped through the portal, their auras thick and oppressive. The presence of four disaster-ranked beings, all standing behind Canna, sent waves of tension through the hall.

Canna looked at his subordinates and grinned. "You guys wanna stretch your limbs?" He glanced at the four saints, his eyes gleaming with amusement, clearly enjoying the shift in power dynamics.

The four saints hesitated. For the first time, uncertainty crossed their faces. They had come expecting to question an outsider, perhaps even intimidate him, but now they were faced with four disaster-ranked beings, all of whom were more than capable of holding their own against saints.

An intense silence fell over the hall, everyone holding their breath, waiting for what would happen next. It seemed as though a clash was inevitable. The saints' auras flared, but so did those of Canna's subordinates, their menacing presence filling the hall with palpable tension.

But, just as quickly as it had built up, the tension was broken. Without a word, the saints slowly backed off, their eyes never leaving Canna and his formidable group. One by one, they rose into the air again, their departure as quiet as their arrival had been dramatic.

As they flew off into the distance, the atmosphere in the hall gradually relaxed. Canna took another bite of his meal, seemingly unconcerned by what had just transpired.

"Good to know we're all still friends," he said with a grin, as the rest of the room finally let out a collective sigh of relief.