Lucien opened the portal right there in the middle of the shack, the air ripping open like cheap fabric.
Silver grass spilled into view under that weird even light with no sun, the clean mana smell hitting them all at once—cold, sharp, like sticking your head in a freezer full of batteries.
Elara stepped through first after a long stare, her boots sinking into the grass.
She stopped dead, mouth half open, green eyes wide as the endless plain stretched out forever.
"This… this can't exist," she whispered, turning in a slow circle.
Her torn cloak brushed the silver blades and they shimmered faintly.
"A whole world in your pocket? Mana so thick I can taste it on my tongue. My father's mages would kill for a single breath of this."
Nyx bounded ahead, laughing as she rolled once in the grass, tail flicking sparks that didn't burn.
"Told you he collects weird stuff. Welcome to the cheat room. Time runs stupid here. One day outside is almost three years inside. Perfect for getting strong before the idiots outside finish their breakfast."
Lucien felt the pure mana sink into his lungs and stay there, filling every corner like good coffee after an all-nighter.
No village stink. No damp straw.
Just endless clean power waiting to be taken.
"Three months should do for starters," he said, already rolling his shoulders.
"Let's see what we can break."
The first weeks blurred.
Nyx taught illusions, making copies of herself that laughed and poked Elara until the noble girl got mad enough to swing her short sword.
Lucien watched, copied the technique with the Devourer's Gaze, then let the Greed Bloodline twist it—making the illusions heavier, meaner, able to actually clip someone if he wanted.
Elara showed him the noble sword style her tutors had drilled into her since she was small: precise cuts, footwork that looked like dancing until the blade found a gap.
He picked it up in hours, improved the balance, multiplied the speed until the air whistled when he moved.
They trained until their muscles burned and their clothes stuck to their skin with sweat that smelled like effort and mana.
Lucien's body changed faster than the girls'—shoulders broader, arms cut with new definition, the golden scar on his eyebrow glowing faintly when he pushed hard.
Elara's movements got sharper, her green eyes losing that hunted look and gaining something hungry instead.
Nyx just got more playful, her illusions turning into little pranks that left Lucien and Elara cursing and laughing in the same breath.
One artificial night—they'd figured out how to make the pocket universe cycle day and night after the first month—Nyx conjured a small campfire that burned purple and pink without smoke.
The flames smelled faintly sweet, like burnt sugar left too long on the stove.
They sat around it on the silver grass, legs stretched out, sharing water from a skin Lucien had filled earlier and some dried meat from the treasury that tasted better than it had any right to.
Elara poked the fire with a stick, sparks dancing up.
"Back at the castle everything was schedules and expectations. Breakfast at dawn, lessons until lunch, smile at the right lords, pretend the debts didn't exist. My father looked at me like I was a ledger entry. Garrick would've been the same—another pretty thing to show off."
She took a sip of water, throat working.
"Running felt like the first real choice I ever made. Even if it almost got me killed."
Nyx leaned back on her elbows, tail curled around her own waist, ears twitching at some sound only she heard.
"Ancient foxes like me used to seal away the big sins. Greed, Lust, all the fun ones. They locked us up because humans got scared of wanting too much. Now here we are—me awake, him carrying the biggest one, and you running from a cage made of gold and promises."
She grinned, fangs catching the firelight.
"Feels like the seals are cracking. Good. Boring when everything stays locked."
Lucien listened, chewing a piece of the dried meat that had the texture of old leather but hit different after months of training.
His mind drifted for a second to São Paulo traffic, the way the truck horn had sounded right before impact, the stupid book he never got to read.
Funny how dying under a truck leads to sitting in an impossible field listening to a fox talk about sealed sins.
He shook it off.
"Wanting everything doesn't have to be a sin," he said, voice low.
"Just depends who's keeping score. I'm done letting other people write the rules."
The fire crackled.
Elara watched him across the flames, something shifting behind her eyes.
Nyx's tail flicked once, brushing Lucien's leg like a reminder.
Training picked up again after that.
Lucien pushed harder, copying their moves, feeding them back improved, watching the Greed Bloodline multiply every small gain into something bigger.
His level climbed steady—thirty, forty-five, fifty-two—until one evening, after a long spar where he disarmed Elara twice and made Nyx's best illusion stutter, it hit sixty-seven.
The rush rolled through him like a wave that didn't break, muscles singing, mana pathways widening, the scar on his eyebrow burning warm and pleasant.
The Greed Bloodline purred deep in his chest, satisfied for now but already eyeing the next meal.
Three months inside the pocket universe.
Calluses on their hands, new muscle memory, eyes that saw farther.
Elara moved like someone who'd stopped waiting for permission.
Nyx looked bigger somehow, her primordial side peeking through more clearly.
Lucien felt like the version of himself that had always been waiting under the office worker skin.
When they stepped back through the portal, the shack looked exactly the same.
Same sagging roof, same damp straw smell mixed with old wood.
Outside the window the sky hadn't even changed color properly—three hours, maybe a little less, had passed in the real world.
The village noises were the same lazy afternoon hum: distant hammering, someone calling a kid, chickens scratching.
Elara touched the doorframe like she needed to make sure it was real.
"Three months of my life in three hours. I feel… taller inside my own skin."
Nyx stretched, tail flicking.
"Told you. Best cheat room ever."
Lucien was about to answer when rapid footsteps pounded up the dirt path outside.
A young messenger, barely fifteen, skidded to a stop in front of the shack, out of breath, face red from running.
His tunic had the baron's crest stitched crooked on the chest.
"The baron has declared Lucien Voss wanted for kidnapping!" the kid gasped, eyes wide as he looked at the three of them standing there.
"Reward for bringing him in—alive or dead. Says the girl is stolen property and anyone hiding her shares the punishment."
The messenger's hands shook holding the rolled paper with the seal.
Behind him a couple of villagers had stopped to stare, whispering already spreading like smoke.
Lucien leaned against the doorframe, that familiar crooked smile pulling at his mouth.
The Greed Bloodline woke up again, interested.
Nyx's ears perked.
Elara's hand drifted toward her short sword, but she didn't draw it yet.
The afternoon sun felt a little warmer on his skin.
Looked like the outside world had finally decided to play catch-up.