Joel didn't know whether to consider his strange relationship with Ciliren a problem… or the greatest catalyst for his evolution.

  On one hand, the fear was real. He was terrified by how little control he seemed to have when the elf woman was near. It wasn't simply an emotional reaction; it was something deeper and more visceral. His mana responded before his mind. His pulse quickened. His thoughts, usually cold and strategic, became clumsy and scattered. As if a part of him recognized something in her that ultimately overwhelmed him.

  But on the other hand, there were the facts. His mental stability had clearly improved. With or without the emotional barrier, he felt increasingly better and more focused. The chaos in his mind had significantly lessened. Although he still had to wait for Ahsoka to give the true diagnosis.

  There was also the power. During their second encounter, Joel didn't perceive the exact moment he crossed the line. In the heat of intimacy, he didn't even know how it happened. It simply did. The density of his mana compressed to a critical point… and then transformed. He had entered directly into the fifth level of the mage power scale without even realizing it.

  Only hours later, still holding Ciliren in his arms, did he understand what had happened. The way he felt the air brush against his skin, the clarity with which he perceived the mana currents within his body, the ease with which he could increase his own strength and physical endurance.

  Even without magic, his physical strength had changed by several orders of magnitude compared to what he possessed just hours before. This worried him when Ciliren's delicate body lay too close to him. Too vulnerable to what he had become in such a short time. A clumsy movement, a poorly controlled impulse, would be enough to hurt her.

  His emotional state at that moment was not the best, still thinking about how to deal with all of this. Last time he had run away, but this time he wasn't going to.

  Joel stayed in bed beside her, waiting for her to wake up. Determined to talk, to understand, and to face this instead of avoiding it.

  The wait stretched for more than an hour. But time ceased to matter. Without noticing, Joel fell into a kind of silent trance. His fingers moved carefully, caressing and playing with Ciliren's golden locks. Her hair slipped through his hands like silken threads, catching the room's soft light.

  There was something profoundly hypnotic about that repetitive gesture. The calm rhythm of her breathing. The shared warmth and the suspended stillness.

  By the time Ciliren opened her eyes, she found herself face to face with Joel, just inches from her own. The surprise was immediate. Her cheeks flushed red, and almost instinctively, she tried to look away. But it wasn't long before her eyes were locked on his in a kind of staring contest.

  Neither seemed to want—or be able—to look away from the other. There were no words or explanations, only glances. It was strange and unsettling. As if they were both trying to decipher the meaning of each other's existence through their eyes. As if behind this silent exchange lay something they couldn't yet name.

  For Joel, who had seen and experienced all sorts of magical and surprising things throughout his life, this was more than just bizarre.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Until Ciliren's stomach decided to break the spell. The soft growl echoed clearly in the silence of the room. The blush on her face intensified instantly, and she finally looked away, embarrassed. Joel couldn't help but smile. It was a slight, honest smile, almost childlike.

  Without saying a word, Ciliren got out of bed and began to dress. Her movements were fluid and elegant, even in the simplicity of the act. Joel watched her with an attention he made no attempt to conceal. His gaze traced every gesture, every line of her silhouette, not vulgarly, but with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment.

  He wanted to speak, to say something that would break the tension, to ask her if she too had felt the change. To confess so many things that were on his mind. To admit that he was scared. But the words never left his mouth. They remained trapped somewhere between his thoughts and his throat.

  In the last instant, before leaving the room, Ciliren turned her face slightly and looked at him. Joel responded with another smile. That was all. The door closed with a soft sound.

  He remained motionless for a few more seconds, then let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face.

  A fifth-level mage, someone who had survived brushes with death and dealt with problems that could break the mind of an ordinary person. And yet, he was unable to utter a single coherent sentence in her presence. It made him feel like an idiot.

  For a moment, Joel tried to do what he always did when something escaped his control: analyze it. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze lost on some indeterminate point on the floor, and began to dissect what had happened with the coldness of a strategist.

  Had it been a phenomenon of magical resonance? A chemical reaction altered by the affinity between the elf woman and his own natural energy? A bond induced by their proximity? Each hypothesis opened up new questions. Each provisional answer brought with it a more complex moral dilemma.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Was he using her? Was he being used? Was it right to allow his power to grow through something he didn't fully understand?

  The ethics he had inherited from Earth—its limits, its rules, its obsession with rational consent and emotional autonomy—began to clash violently with the pragmatic reality of the world he now lived in. Here, power was survival and freedom.

  His mind became entangled in a web of circular reasoning. Until something finally snapped. It wasn't elegant or gradual. It was an abrupt fracture in the middle of his thoughts. An invisible boundary that gave way under too much pressure. Joel gritted his teeth and screamed. A short, harsh scream, full of pure frustration.

  Why bother so much? Since when did every impulse have to be dissected to the point of exhaustion? What was wrong with losing his mind for a moment and ceasing to pretend he was someone born on Earth? To hell with inherited morality. To hell with logic that didn't fit in this world.

  When the echo of his own scream faded in the empty room, something inside him had settled. It wasn't exactly peace. It was a decision.

  From that day on, Joel resumed his life with apparent normalcy. He trained, oversaw the shelter's activities, worked in his laboratory, planned new experiments, spoke with everyone, and maintained his usual facade of the cold, calculating leader.

  But there was a difference. He began actively seeking Ciliren's company. He called her to his room practically every day he was at the shelter. Sometimes with explicit orders, other times with vague insinuations. A glance, a brief message, a hint of his presence was enough for her to visit him during the night.

  And she never showed the slightest opposition or discomfort. There were no reproaches or visible doubts. Ciliren came and surrendered to this shared dynamic with a naturalness that disarmed any argument Joel might have used to convince himself that it was wrong.

  Their relationship, at first, remained one of few words. Long silences, gazes that lingered longer than necessary, and minimal gestures that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But between them, all of it carried weight and meaning. It was a language that needed no grammar.

  Over time, however, something began to change. Conversations ceased to be nonexistent. First, there were isolated phrases, brief comments, then more elaborate questions and answers. Small confessions that arose without them even realizing it. That silent understanding gave way to a more human and genuine communication.

  At the same time, Joel began to feel a steady relief within him. A pressure he had carried for months seemed to slowly dissipate. He no longer woke with a tight chest and the anguish caused by uncertainty. He no longer felt that constant shadow behind every thought.

  But alongside the relief, more complex emotions arose: satisfaction, desire, an intense lust that made no attempt to disguise itself as anything else. And something darker: greed.

  He could feel his power continuing to increase with each encounter between them. At first, the increases were considerable and obvious. His mana vibrated with greater density, his control became more refined, and his body responded more readily. He increasingly desired Ciliren not only for pleasure but also for the power he gained.

  Later, the growth of his power began to slow. The gains ceased to be exponential and became gradual. Nana's analysis was clear: if the trend continued, Joel might only be able to approach the level six barrier. Not necessarily cross it. As for Ciliren, the data indicated that she should be able to reach level 4 of her power scale (Mystic Master) without much trouble.

  The instinctive attraction that had consumed them at first also began to diminish. It was no longer that almost savage impulse that overpowered both of their thoughts. It became more manageable.

  But that didn't reduce the frequency of their encounters. And even less so Joel's desire. If anything, his libido seemed to increase over time, as if his body had found in her not just a source of growth… but a need.

  At first, he didn't know how to broach the subject with her. It wasn't easy to explain that each encounter between them was significantly increasing the power of both of them, although she had probably noticed. That it wasn't just desire, nor simple emotional affinity, but a tangible and measurable phenomenon.

  During the first few encounters, he remained silent, limiting himself to observing the changes, comparing notes with Nana, verifying time and again that it wasn't something temporary.

  But as his communication with Ciliren became more fluid, more honest, the weight of the secrecy began to bother him. It was no longer just glances and silences laden with meaning. Now they spoke and listened to each other. They shared impressions about the refuge, about the outside world, about their pasts.

  And so, one night when the atmosphere was unusually calm, Joel decided to confess to her. He explained what he had discovered. He told her about his suspicions and the possible resonance between their affinities, despite coming from different worlds.

  Ciliren listened in silence, without interrupting. Her surprise was evident when he mentioned that his rank had increased. Not so much because of the fact itself, but because of how quickly. Even more so when Joel asserted that, most likely, it was due to the act of sex itself.

  However, she didn't react as if she were hearing something crazy.

  "It's not unheard of," she admitted. "At least not for those who have studied certain phenomena of Gaea's energy."

  Joel looked up with genuine interest. Ciliren explained that, although uncommon, there were precedents. Some recognized sects within the Eternal Empire and other organizations scattered around the world practiced specific training methods that involved sexual intimacy as a channel for energy flow. It wasn't something that was openly taught, but it wasn't a myth either.

  The name of that practice resonated clearly in him when she spoke it: Dual Cultivation.

  According to what she knew—though she acknowledged her knowledge was limited—if a man and a woman met certain requirements, they could employ complex techniques to circulate energy from one to the other in controlled cycles. This circulation allowed them to refine the energy of both bodies simultaneously, accelerating growth.

  However, Ciliren was clear about one thing: she didn't know the exact techniques or formal procedures. Those practices were reserved for closed circles, protected as strategic secrets.

  But there was one fundamental rule that almost everyone knew: The affinity of the couple had to be the same. Otherwise, the process simply wouldn't work.

  This wasn't just relevant to dual cultivation; it was part of the general culture. Couples with the same elemental affinity were more likely to reach higher levels of power. And if they had children, the offspring inherited not only the shared affinity but also, sometimes, a superior potential.

  For this reason, many royal families, nobles, and dynasties imposed strict rules regarding the affinities of those who could join their lineage. In such cases, there was no room for romance, only pure strategic preservation.

  The Fullgorth Empire itself, Ciliren mentioned, possessed a royal family completely specialized in the Fire element, generation after generation.

  Joel remained silent as he processed the information. Everything fit… partially. Considering the peculiarity of his body in relation to her affinity. But it didn't explain the magnitude of the change.

  Ciliren was the one who pointed it out. "What's happening to us is far beyond what should be possible."

  The rate of their growth was disproportionate. Even considering perfect affinity and assuming they were both unconsciously activating some rudimentary principle of dual cultivation, the results surpassed anything she'd ever heard of. It was too much. Too fast. And too efficient.

  "Perhaps it's a natural miracle," she murmured after a long, contemplative silence. "A gift from the gods."

  Joel didn't respond immediately. He wasn't one to attribute phenomena to divine will without proof. But he also couldn't ignore that, every time their energies intertwined, the world seemed to tilt slightly in their favor.

  And that feeling… was as fascinating as it was unsettling.