“Huff… huff…” An old lady panted heavily. “We have to run faster, or they’ll catch us. I’ll stay back and hold them off while you two save the baby.”

“No, Mother! You can’t do that!” Emily cried. “Stay with us. I don’t want to lose you too.” Tears streamed down her face as she spoke.

“Emily, get a hold of yourself!” her mother replied sternly. “This is not the time for emotions. Think about your father—he died saving us. We can’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

“Mother, please, there has to be another way,” Emily pleaded, wiping her tears.

“If I stay, they might leave you alone,” she continued, desperation in her voice.

“No, my child. I’ve lived my life. It’s your time now. Go and save your child,” her mother insisted, her voice both firm and sad.

“Rustle… rustle…” The sound of rustling grass grew louder.

“They’re coming,” the old lady said urgently. “Ragnarok, take care of your wife and child. I can’t hold them off for long.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Ragnarok said before disappearing into the forest with Emily and their baby.

As they vanished from sight, a group of men emerged from the bushes. “Milord, we’ve found Lady Quinna,” one of them announced.

A man with black hair, wearing a woolen traveler’s cloak and silvery chainmail, stepped forward. “So, here you are,” he sneered.

Lady Quinna straightened her hand, channeling her mana to attack. But before she could release her spell, vines erupted from the ground, binding her tightly.

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“Oh, great mother of Ragnarok, where did you send them off to?” the man taunted. “Do you think they can escape? No, today marks the end of the Black family.”

“Cough… cough… Tarik! I will kill yo—” Lady Quinna’s words were cut off as more vines wrapped around her, silencing her.

“Quintus,” Tarik chanted, summoning additional vines to completely immobilize her. “No more talking, Quinna Blacker. Your son, Ragnarok, has already been poisoned with mana. The great 7-star magician is now powerless—a mere mortal.”

She struggled frantically, but the vines tightened further.

“Boss, she’s not breathing anymore,” one of the men said.

“So sad,” Tarik said with mock sympathy. “Let’s leave her and find the others. They can’t have gone far.” His eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “Finally, Ragnarok, you can’t run from me. I’ll take that ancient spellbook and make you my slave.”

The wind began to howl, and dark clouds gathered, casting ominous shadows over the land. Thunder rumbled as rain began to pour, hinting at impending doom.

Two hooded figures ran through the forest, cradling a newborn baby with eyes of seven colors.

“Giggle, giggle,” the baby laughed, oblivious to the danger, enjoying the feeling of the air on his skin.

Ragnarok held Emily close, a firm grip on her shoulder. Hearing their child’s giggle, a warm smile spread across his face, which he shared with Emily.

As they approached a dark cave, they exchanged a glance. “Let’s rest for a bit,” Emily suggested.

They moved into the cave’s entrance, the sound of dripping water echoing around them. Ragnarok ventured deeper inside and returned shortly.

“This cave is abandoned,” he said. “It’s covered in dust, so no wild beasts have been here. Let’s light a fire and dry off.”

He started gathering stones, and Emily asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Stones. I can’t use magic,” he replied solemnly. “My father taught me how to make a fire with dry grass and stones.”

“Clunk.” The stones struck together, and soon, a fire warmed the cave.

“He’s sleeping so peacefully,” Emily whispered.

Ragnarok sat beside Emily, their heads resting on each other’s shoulders, smiling as they drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly, the baby opened his eyes. As the fire dimmed and the cave grew colder, his small body began to glow. In moments, the light faded, and the fire blazed brightly again, as if nothing had happened.