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Chapter 177: A Family Among the Stars

During those two promised days, the entire planet seemed to transform.

What was once a place of wary glances and whispered doubts had become a gathering of warmth and laughter. Everywhere they went, Safari and Angeleva were met with wide smiles and offerings—flowers, fruits, gifts carved from stone or grown with magic. But none of it compared to the ever-growing line of people hoping for a single glimpse of the twins.

Wrapped safely in their parents’ arms, the babies had become little stars. Some whispered that they were a symbol of peace—proof that light and darkness could coexist. Others just smiled and said they were the most beautiful children they’d ever seen.

But Safari and Angeleva were watching more closely.

During the gatherings, the twins had a habit of raising their tiny hands and giggling—and when they did, people’s eyes glazed for just a second, smiles widening as their hearts melted. The twins were already using their fairy charm subconsciously, and it was strong—innocent but unmistakable. People left the line feeling uplifted, warm, even dreamy.

But there were other moments, subtler ones, that concerned their parents more.

One man, too loud and too close, leaned toward them a bit too harshly. The boy’s little fingers suddenly clenched the man’s sleeve—and the man gasped in pain as if lightning had surged up his arm. Not enough to injure, but enough to warn. The boy stared into his eyes with quiet fury before relaxing again, snuggling into Safari’s arm like nothing happened.

Another time, the girl had cried softly when someone tried to touch her cheek without asking. When the woman recoiled in surprise, her hair stood on end—as if brushed by heat or static. The girl blinked sweetly afterward, but Angeleva saw it. She knew what it was.

“They’re already learning to protect themselves,” she whispered to Safari later that night, watching their twins sleep in the moonlight.

“Instincts of both worlds,” Safari murmured. “Charm of the fairies. Wrath of devils.”

“And they use both without even knowing,” Angeleva added, brushing a curl from her daughter’s forehead. “They’re going to be incredible.”

Safari nodded quietly, a rare softness in his gaze. “They’ll surpass us.”

Angeleva smiled at him. “Let’s just make sure they grow into their power with hearts that choose the right path.”

“And if they stumble,” Safari said, taking her hand, “we’ll be there.”

“Always.”

Outside the house, people still gathered in the dark, hoping for just one more glance before the family left. But none of them—not even the most powerful seers of the planet—could truly foresee what these two children would grow to become.

Because these weren’t just miracle children.

They were legends in their first breaths—born from dark, light, and unwavering love.

Two days passed like a dream.

The farewell was nothing short of heartfelt. The planet's people—grateful, awed, and changed—gathered in the same square that once held tension and uncertainty. Now, it was filled with gifts, flowers, and songs of blessing. Even the once ungrateful few came forward with bowed heads and soft apologies, promising that the planet’s doors would forever remain open to them.

Safari, with one of the twins swaddled safely against his chest and Angeleva by his side, gave a respectful nod to the crowd, his expression unreadable—but his eyes carried a deep, grateful shine.

Angeleva gently bowed too, holding one of the babies while the other nestled against Safari’s warmth. They didn’t need to say much. The people could see the peace in their faces, the love in their arms.

Then, quietly and without ceremony, they boarded their ship. The door sealed behind them, separating them once again from the world below.

As the engines hummed and the stars beckoned, Safari stepped into the pilot seat, his tall frame sinking into it with a heaviness that carried months of emotion. He cast a glance back, and there she was—Angeleva, radiant and tired, with their children in her arms.

She had one in each—cradling their daughter in her left and their son in her right. The babies slept quietly, each one bearing the impossible union of fairy and devil. Tiny horns nestled beneath wisps of hair. Delicate wings twitched faintly as they dreamed.

Safari exhaled deeply. “It’s strange,” he said quietly, locking the ship on course. “We’ve had Zack, Jen, Ian, Olive—you. I’ve called all of you family. And I meant it.”

Angeleva looked up at him with soft, understanding eyes.

“But this,” he continued, “this feels… different. Having your own children. Your own blood. They’re… mine. Ours.”

He leaned back, the ship beginning to rise into the atmosphere. “I never expected to have a family. I thought I’d live and die fighting. I used to believe that’s all I was good for.”

He clenched the armrest lightly, his voice lowering. “I remember on Sappy. By the time I was Seven years old. I lost my entire family after my sister's death. Everyone I loved—gone. I cried so hard I thought I’d lose my voice. No one was there to hear it.”

Angeleva lowered her head gently. “I know that pain, Safari. I lost my mother as a child too. No one tells you how cold the world feels when the one who gave you warmth is suddenly… gone. Our planets are gone too.”

Her eyes shimmered as she looked down at the twins. “That’s why I have to live too. For them. I don’t want them to feel that emptiness.”

Safari turned to her slowly, reaching out, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “We’ll protect them. No matter what.”

Angeleva nodded. “And we’ll raise them right. Together.”

The ship glided smoothly into the stars. The planet beneath them disappeared into the distance, becoming just another memory on their long journey.

But inside the ship, there was warmth—stronger than steel, brighter than thrusters, and deeper than any darkness they had faced.

Because they weren't just warriors anymore.

They were parents. A family.

And ahead of them, countless planets still waited for liberation.

With each new planet they encountered, the rhythm of their life shifted, yet the mission remained unchanged.

But now, they did it in turns.

When they found a planet tormented by a demon general, Safari gently lifted his twin children into his arms and stayed aboard the ship. He hummed to them softly, telling them stories of there journey, while keeping his eyes locked on the screen, watching Angeleva descend in radiant light.

She fought with grace, her wings trailing golden sparkles as she wielded her wand with power and precision. The enemies stood no chance—not against a mother protecting her children, not against a warrior fighting with love burning in her heart.

When she returned victorious, tired but glowing, Safari would meet her at the ship’s ramp, smiling like he hadn’t breathed in hours. He'd whisper how proud he was, and hand her the babies as if she were holding stars.

Then came his turn.

On the next world, it would be Safari who stepped down first, his Devil Hammer slung across his back, his eyes set like fire. Angeleva, nestled in the ship with their twins asleep against her, would quietly watch the screen, one hand resting protectively on each child.

Safari fought with rage—but a different kind of rage than before. Not blind, not reckless. It was focused. Controlled. Fueled not by pain, but by the need to create a future. A safe one—for them.

And when he returned—scars fresh, armor cracked, but grinning—Angeleva would greet him the same way. With warmth. With a kiss. With the reminder that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Each planet liberated became a step in the life they were building. People hailed them not only as warriors or saviors—but now as parents. They were symbols of impossible love, living proof that devils and fairies, once thought eternal enemies, could not only coexist… but create something beautiful.

And in their ship—where the hum of stars wrapped around them like a lullaby—the twins grew. Watching. Learning. Smiling.

One mission at a time, one planet at a time, the family of four journeyed through the cosmos.

Together.