"They say your flame reflects your soul...
…But what if my soul doesn't want to burn at all?"
—Renzo Guevara
---
BOOM.
The alley shuddered. Concrete cracked and splintered, spraying dust and debris across the brick walls. A hot wind whipped through the narrow space, carrying the stench of scorched metal and garbage.
Renzo Guevara's heart slammed against his ribs. He pressed himself against the wall, back stiff, every muscle tight and coiled.
A man stepped from the smoke—tall, broad-shouldered, his skin glowing faintly orange, as if molten beneath the surface. Sparks crackled from his fists. Each footstep hissed flame across the littered pavement.
"Renzo Guevara," the stranger growled, voice low and dangerous. "They said you had it. I want to see it for myself."
Renzo's breath came in ragged bursts. His jacket—thin, dirt-smudged—offered no protection. All he'd wanted was to fetch his sister's medicine. Instead, he faced a walking inferno whose aura screamed violence.
"I don't want to fight," Renzo said, his voice calm—too calm, even to his own ears. He raised his hands, palms open. "Just let me go."
The man's lips curled. "You don't have a choice."
The punch came like a falling star—bright, roaring, searing the air.
Renzo ducked, rolling sideways across broken glass. Shards bit into his palms. Pain shot up his arms, but he never took his eyes off the stranger.
Something shifted inside him—tight, buried, now rising.
Memories flashed:
His father's scornful voice.
A bully's laughter.
The first time fire danced on his fingers at twelve—terrified, alone.
Not again.
His vision tunneled. His pulse roared in his ears—but it wasn't fear this time.
It was anger. Fierce. Scorching. Alive.
A glow sparked in his right palm.
He flexed.
The ember bloomed—red at first, then fire. Tongues of flame licked his skin. The alley pulsed with heat; the wall behind him blackened and smoked.
The stranger froze. "You—! You just awakened—"
Renzo didn't wait.
He lunged, flame coiling around his fist like a living serpent.
Time slowed:
The stranger's blink.
The hiss of burning asphalt.
Distant sirens echoing.
He struck.
FWOOM!
A burst of fire exploded from his fist, lighting the alley in a brilliant orange blaze. The stranger was hurled backward, slamming into brick, a smoking silhouette left behind.
Renzo staggered. Chest heaving. Fire flickering on his skin.
He looked at his hand—
Alive. Unstoppable.
Something he'd feared all his life...
Now felt like destiny.
A low rumble echoed through the alley. And Renzo knew—
> He wasn't just feeling anger.
He was becoming it.
As embers drifted around him, Renzo understood:
This was only the beginning.