Deep within a dense forest, where light barely manages to filter through the treetops, a narrow river meanders between twisted roots and moss-covered stones. The sound of the water is constant, like a perpetual whisper that accompanies wildlife. Amidst the thicket, one tree stands out from the rest not only for its colossal size, but for the unique density of its foliage and the width of its trunk, so thick that it would take a dozen men to embrace it completely.

  However, the most astonishing thing is not its size or its obvious longevity, but what it hides within its branches. If someone managed to climb to one of its secondary branches, about thirty meters high, they would discover something absolutely out of place: an aged wooden door, perfectly blended with the bark, to the point where it seems a natural extension of the tree itself. There are no visible hinges, no locks, no human marks. Just a door waiting to be found by those who already know it's there.

  After their escape, when options were running out and time was running out, Nana achieved the unthinkable: she squeezed the entire house into the tree trunk, stabilizing the interior space as if she had bent the laws of physics. There are no plans, no theory that Joel understands. It simply happened, and Nana explained it with her unsettling serenity: "I did it because I could." There, hidden from the world, live Joel and the children.

  Two years have passed since they entered the forest. It wasn't their initial plan. Joel had tried to find a hiding place closer to civilization, but the danger was too much.

  Unlike the first time they fled, this time they did search for Joel... and there were quite a few of them. As soon as he approached one of the villages on the edge of the forest, he found portraits of him pinned to the walls of taverns or on bulletin boards, accompanied by words like "fugitive," "dangerous," "criminal wanted for treason and murder." His image had been distributed throughout the territory as that of a human monster to be feared and denounced.

  The surveillance was relentless. Every village, every crossroads, was on alert for possible outsiders. There was nowhere to hide, not with the children. Even inside the forest, believing he had found some respite, he came across several groups of soldiers patrolling in wide formations, advancing stealthily, as if tracking invisible prey. Their movements left no room for doubt: they were looking for something, or someone.

  He had no choice, and the only option left was to continue deeper into the forest, leaving the familiar edges behind and plunging into the wild undergrowth, into territories that maps barely dare to mention. Extremely dangerous areas, where the creatures lurking among the trees are not easy to confront… not even for experienced magicians.

  These were long days of constant travel. Endless weeks and moments where despair was as tangible as the mud that clung to their ankles.

  For Joel and the children, venturing into those wildernesses was like crossing an invisible threshold, one that separated man from myth. He never thought he would have to tread those places, and fortunately, the first time he ventured into the forest, he never did. Back then, he had stayed in the outlying areas, near the edges where daylight still reached and where dangers might be present but easy to ward off.

  But on this occasion there was no such consolation. This was a different world, a realm without law or rest, ruled by the hunger of beasts and the brutality of survival. Joel was forced to draw his sword more times than he could count. Day after day, body after body, he dispatched every creature that dared to see them as prey: hulking bears, boars with razor-like tusks, birds of prey that moved in flocks through the tree branches.

  And when night fell, everything got worse. The sounds became different, the wind spoke differently, and the trees creaked as if breathing. During those hours, Joel dug shelters with his sword, in the damp earth, among thick roots, in rock crevices, or in the hollows of enormous trees. Then, he closed the entrances with stones, branches, and sometimes his own body, becoming the last barrier between the children and the horrors of the darkness.

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  But it wasn't always enough. There were nights when the silence was broken by wild roars and the cracking of branches. Joel, covered in mud and dried blood, fought in the darkness against felines with eyes as bright as torches, against snakes as thick as trunks and as long as the trees themselves, and against wolves whose howls shook his core. And all of this... with almost no sleep, without stopping, without allowing himself to falter, because he knew that if he fell, no one else would protect the children.

  Fortunately, no beast could surpass Joel's physical power, and he very rarely had to use the overload technique to eliminate beasts that were too large or too fast. And his sword proved capable of cutting through the hides and bones of the toughest creatures in the area.

  It was a difficult and sometimes hopeless time, until Nana managed to do what she had promised from the beginning. For after countless trials, errors, and pressured calculations, the small statue finally fully understood the workings of her spatial magic. And that day, as the black clouds made the night seem perpetual, she set her sights on a large tree and asked Joel where to locate the door.

  And she did. The tree trunk was able, in ways only Nana can understand, to support the enormous house Joel built years ago. With the same walls and furniture, but within what seemed to be an alternate dimension, the aforementioned house was completely usable and seemed anchored to reality by only the front door.

  For the first time in weeks, Joel didn't sleep with one hand on the hilt of his sword. And finally, the children laughed before falling asleep.

  From then on, Joel completely abandoned the idea of finding a home within society. There was no need to continue searching for a peace the world wasn't willing to offer. Instead, he clung to what he already had: a hidden refuge, a family who trusted him, and a silence he could grow accustomed to.

  He simply decided to live his life his way. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. He dedicated hours to physical training and swordplay, perfecting each movement with an almost ritualistic obsession. He sculpted figures with a patience only possessed by those who have learned to live without haste. He taught children about the world with a blend of science and logic, mixing all the useful knowledge from his dreams with what he'd learned so far about how worlds under the control of empires function.

  At his side, Nana wasn't far behind. Her experiments with elixirs reached a turning point when she discovered something astonishing: the blood of mages was no longer necessary to produce them. Her latest evolution had given her a unique ability: the ability to use her own energy to produce these elixirs. According to her own estimates, she could feed the needs of a magus up to level 6 in her current condition.

  Faced with this revelation, Joel made a very important decision. After ensuring that the elixirs didn't present the same risks or restrictions as blood potions, he authorized the children to begin consuming them.

  This marked a turning point for Ariel and Liam. Little by little, the children began to feel the development of magic in their bodies. Their senses sharpened, their stamina improved, and their affinities immediately became apparent: water for Ariel and fire for Liam.

  Ironically, the elixirs brought about a change that neither Joel nor Nana had anticipated: the children's accelerated growth. It was as if their bodies, upon continuous magical influx, had suddenly recalled all the hidden potential they hadn't been able to explore for years, as if something dormant inside them had finally been unleashed.

  In just one year, they both grew as much as any other child would have taken four to achieve. Now, at first glance, Ariel and Liam looked like young people between sixteen and seventeen, with bodies that radiated restrained strength and an extraordinary amount of energy.

  Ariel, in particular, blossomed like an ethereal vision. Her hair, long and fiery like the fire of dawn, fell in soft waves to the middle of her back, contrasting with the snowy softness of her skin. Her eyes, large and blue like the clear sky, seemed to capture the light with an almost magical intensity, as if an untouched corner of the world were hidden within them. There was a grace in her movements—firm yet delicate—that made her stand out even among the silence of the forest, as if nature itself were opening up to her. Her beauty was not ostentatious, but serene, almost spiritual, as if she carried within her the reflection of something greater, which she did not yet dare to fully reveal.

  Liam, on the other hand, was pure presence. His short, unruly brown hair framed a face that had left childhood behind too quickly. He shared those same deep-set, expressive blue eyes with his sister, though they shone with a steely determination. His body had exceeded all expectations: taller than Joel, with broad shoulders, strong arms, and defined muscles that spoke of resilience rather than brute strength. He walked like someone who knew the weight of his body and handled it naturally, without effort or pride. His features, hardened by experience, projected the resolve of someone who had already crossed many emotional boundaries. Even at rest, his posture commanded respect.

  Both had become more than just children under Joel's tutelage. They were the unexpected fruits of a refuge forged in adversity, two lives that were beginning to shine with their own light, each in their own way.