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.
