Sanctuary: Safe Haven

An hour had passed, and as Canna had declared, the troops of the sanctuary were ready to finish what they had started. As the clock struck midnight, the stillness of the night was shattered by the sudden appearance of multiple red portals across the kingdom.

They opened silently but ominously, scattering across various locations identified by Noctis where the remaining Black Thorn members had holed up. It was time to end the reign of terror once and for all.

There were two key factors in Canna's strategy: the element of surprise and the sheer exhaustion of the Black Thorn and its remaining allies. Having suffered heavy losses in the earlier confrontation, the fighters of the Black Thorn were already battered, tired, and stretched thin. The sanctuary forces, on the other hand, were relentless and ready to strike hard.

The operation was swift and calculated. Sanctuary fighters poured out of the portals like a tide, moving in perfect synchronization. Their battle-hardened experience allowed them to navigate the chaos, striking down anyone who stood in their way. The Black Thorn had only 90,000 members left scattered across their hidden bases, but the sanctuaries forces hunted them down like prey.

There was no refuge in the night, and certainly no time to regroup.

The Black Thorn, caught off guard, scrambled to defend themselves. But they were already too weakened, and this time, the sanctuary's warriors showed no mercy. It wasn't the restrained and measured combat from earlier—now, they were out for blood. The troops fought with precision, overwhelming the remaining forces and tearing through the strongholds that had once seemed impenetrable.

Many of the Black Thorn members tried to flee, but the sanctuary's forces were relentless. They chased down the remnants of the faction, attacking in the dead of night when their foes were most vulnerable. Some members tried to put up a fight, using whatever strength they had left, but they were no match for the sanctuary's well-coordinated strike.

Vorgrim led one of the squads, his massive greatsword tearing through enemies, while Zephyros and Solara worked in tandem, taking down entire battalions of Black Thorn fighters.

The massacre continued through the late hours of the night, as the sanctuary forces hunted down the last remnants of the Black Thorn. A few small clans and adventurer groups who had come to investigate the disturbances found themselves caught up in the chaos.

At first, they tried to apprehend the sanctuary fighters, mistaking them for rebels or attackers, but just like the Black Thorn, they too were whittled down. Those who raised a weapon against the sanctuary were quickly cut down, while others who surrendered were left to watch in horror as the sanctuary forces completed their mission with ruthless efficiency. Your journey continues on empire

Canna's troops had shown mercy earlier in the day, when adventurers and other clans had mistakenly attacked them, but now there was no mercy left to give. They moved with precision, cutting down every Black Thorn member they encountered. Some tried to beg for their lives, but it was too late. The sanctuary was determined to rid the kingdom of this plague, and there would be no second chances.

Amidst the carnage, there was some restraint. The sanctuary warriors didn't slaughter indiscriminately. Children, the elderly, and those who showed no intention to fight were spared and made to surrender. The sanctuary forces weren't mindless killers; they sought to rid the kingdom of the Black Thorn's influence, not to shed innocent blood.

The massacre continued into the early morning hours, reports of disturbances flooding into the castle from various villages. Yet, surprisingly, no response came from the kingdom. The castle remained silent, and none of the top clans, including Clan Skarn and Clan Drakengarde, sent anyone to investigate.

It was as if the entire kingdom had decided to turn a blind eye to the chaos unfolding in its depths. Whether out of fear, exhaustion, or simply a recognition that the Black Thorn's reign was ending, the kingdom's authorities stayed their hand.

The sanctuary forces, meanwhile, pressed on with their mission. The civilians of the kingdom, still evacuated from their homes, were spared the sight of the destruction. With the streets empty and the villages deserted, the sanctuary's warriors had free rein to chase down the Black Thorn wherever they were hiding.

Piece by piece, the Black Thorn's influence crumbled, and those who had terrorized the kingdom for so long were eradicated.

But what the sanctuary didn't know was that their actions would have far-reaching consequences. They were not just fighting to rid the kingdom of the Black Thorn, but their actions would soon be etched into the history of Kharath. Tales would be told of the sanctuary's warriors—the mysterious, fearsome force in white robes who descended upon the kingdom and purged it of evil.

Their names would be spoken in both reverence and fear.

The final hours of the night saw the Black Thorn's grip on the kingdom completely shattered. By dawn, the last of the strongholds had fallen, and those few remaining Black Thorn members who had surrendered ended up in the kingdom's jails. Left to rot for eternity.

______

Meanwhile, back at Clan Varran, Dravos finally returned home. His eyes were clear, as if he had come to peace with whatever had weighed heavily on his mind. The battles of the day had been long, but they had given him clarity. He walked through the clan halls, each step purposeful, until he found himself back at the ruined arena, the very place where everything had begun with Canna.

To his surprise, Kargan was already there, standing in the center of the arena. He was clad in light armor, his fists taped, his eyes burning with resolve. There was no mistaking the look in his son's eyes.

Dravos met his gaze, instantly understanding. Without hesitation, he mimicked his son's stance, fists raised, ready. This was their unspoken language, the way Dravos had taught Kargan the path of the warrior since he was a boy. It was how they communicated when words failed.

Tonight, under the quiet watch of the stars, there was no clan leader or elder—only a father and a son. They would "talk" as they always had, through the exchange of fists, sharing their burdens and finding their peace in the only way they knew how.