The rest of the night passed in a fever dream for Noah. Moto didn't disappear — his flames simply ebbed until they became a cozy glow in the corner of the room, like a personal fireplace. Sometimes, Noah would wake up and see that silhouette of dancing embers watching the moon through the window, or examining the books on the shelf with a silent curiosity. The guardian demanded no conversation, but his presence changed the very air of the room: warmer, more alive, as if the space itself breathed with him.

  When the alarm went off, Noah was exhausted, but it was a different kind of fatigue — the weight of someone carrying a secret too big for their own body.

  — Are you coming with me? — he whispered toward the corner, where Moto was now little more than an orange blur.

  The flames pulsed softly. — My spark is inside you now, Heir. I will be wherever you are, but no one can see me. — The crackling voice seemed to come from deep within Noah’s own chest. — But be careful. The awakening of the Flame is like a beacon. Others may feel it.

  Noah didn't have time to ask “which others.” His mother called from downstairs, and routine dragged him back: a quick breakfast, backpack on, and the walk to school with his heart beating like a war drum. The Crystal — or what remained of it — was now fused to his hand, camouflaged as a beautiful pair of warm red gloves that seemed to throb in sync with his pulse.

  The school was a brutal contrast to the magical night. Everything felt too normal: the smell of the hallway, the noise of the chairs, the math teacher writing on the chalkboard. Noah tried to focus, but his attention was split between equations and the strange sensation in his hand — as if he were using a new muscle for the first time.

  During recess, he found Alex and Simón near the water fountains. Simón looked different: his shoulders were less slumped, his eyes a bit steadier.

  — Did he come after you? — Noah asked quietly.

  Simón shook his head. — Jason showed up at my door last night. Said a lot of things. I slammed the door in his face. — There was a fragile pride in his voice, but also a tremor.

  — He’s not going to like that.

  Alex whistled low. — You’ve got guts.

  That’s when Noah saw Jason on the other side of the courtyard. He wasn't with Bernard and Charlotte. He was alone, leaning against the wall, and his face didn't show his usual performative rage — it showed something more dangerous: humiliation fermenting into pure hatred. Their eyes met, and for a second, Noah swore he saw them glow with a phosphorescent green. Then, Jason turned and vanished into the crowd.

  The day went on, but an electric tension hung in the air. When the final bell rang, Noah felt a wave of relief. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to normal.

  He was two blocks from home when he heard the first boom. It wasn't an ordinary sound — it was something between thunder and the groan of the earth splitting apart. The ground shook beneath his feet. From a street ahead, a cloud of dust rose into the sky, followed by screams.

  Noah ran. As he turned the corner, his stomach churned. What used to be a square with a gazebo and flower beds now looked like an earthquake zone. In the center, taking steps that cracked the asphalt, stood a creature of earth and stone, nearly ten feet tall. Its skin was a living crust of earth, moss and cracks glowing with a sickly green light. The face still held traces of Jason — the curve of the jaw, the furrow of the brow — but transformed into something monstrous. Around its neck, a metallic chain glowed with the same green light.

  — ROYAL CRUST! — the creature roared, its voice like stones grinding together. — SHOW ME WHERE THE CRYSTALS ARE!.

  With one punch, it shattered a storefront. Glass splintered. People ran in a panic. Noah froze. Fear pinned him to the spot — until a hot spark pulsed in his left hand. It was as if the crystal itself were screaming: NOW!

  — Overheat! — the word left his lips before he could think.

  Heat exploded from the inside out. It wasn't painful — it was like diving into a warm bath after a cold day. Energy surged through his veins, and he felt his body transform, not into something strange, but into an amplified version of himself. When he opened his eyes, his ordinary clothes had become a red and gold suit, fitted perfectly to his body. Glowing boxing gloves covered his hands, and his eyes — which now, in the reflection of shattered glass, glowed like embers.

  He was Brasier.

  But what now?

  — Jump! — Moto’s voice whispered in his mind, clear and calm.

  Noah jumped — and leaped higher than he ever imagined possible. He landed on the roof of a car, just yards away from the monster. Royal Crust turned slowly, its stone eyes narrowing.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  — What insect are you? — the roar made the remaining glass shake.

  Noah took a deep breath. Courage was a small flame inside him, but he fed it. — Someone who’s going to stop you.

  The battle was a disaster. Noah tried to dodge the monster’s slow but powerful punches. He tried to strike back, but his blows against Royal Crust’s rocky back hurt him more than they did the villain. In a moment of carelessness, a stone hand grabbed him, squeezing until he lost his breath. The smell of damp, rotting earth filled his nostrils.

  — What a mediocre hero — Royal Crust growled, and in that distorted voice, Noah heard Jason’s mockery. — Even I could do better!.

  The phrase hit Noah like a physical blow. He saw himself again on the sidewalk, his grandfather’s bracelet snapped in two, Jason’s laughter echoing. Then, the rage wasn't just his — it was the crystal responding, a wave of heat so intense that Royal Crust let go for an instant.

  It was enough. Noah broke free and ran — not in flight, but in a strategic retreat. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop until he reached his room, his heart racing.

  — Cool down! — he panted.

  The suit vanished like flames blown out by a wind. Moto materialized in front of him, his flames dancing rapidly.

  — I saw — the guardian said, his voice grave. —You fight with heart, but without direction. Listen now, for there is no time for pleasantries.

  In the following minutes, Moto explained the rules: the gloves were his weapons; the “Flaming Fists,” a unique attack that consumed all his energy and required five minutes to recover; and the words to transform and revert.

  — And the monster? — Noah interrupted, still breathless. — How do I defeat it? With the Flaming Fists to its back?

  — NEVER! — Moto’s voice crackled with an intensity that made Noah recoil. — Using the Flame directly on a Corrupted would destroy the person inside, not just the monster. You must break the object of corruption — something he carries, where the dark energy is anchored.

  Noah closed his eyes, replaying the scene. The chain. The green chain around the monster’s neck.

  — It’s the chain — he said, opening his eyes.

  Moto nodded, his flames turning a deeper orange, almost with pride. — Then go back. And this time, when you win, the city will need your healing. Say: “Crystal Hearts: Brasier”.

  — Is my name Brasier? — Noah asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

  — It is the name the Flame chose for you. Now go. Your city is screaming.

  Noah transformed again. This time, the heat was familiar, almost comfortable. When he returned to the square, the destruction was greater. Royal Crust was ripping up lampposts as if they were twigs.

  — Ah, the little hero is back! — the monster mocked. — Ready for another humiliation?.

  Brasier didn't answer. He ran, not in a straight line, but in a zigzag, using the debris as cover. His focus was on the chain — that pulsing green glow. Royal Crust tried to crush him, but Brasier was more agile now, more confident.

  In an arched leap, he activated the Flaming Fists. His gloves ignited, not with wild flames, but with a concentrated red glow, like the core of a star. The heat was so intense the air around it shimmered.

  The punch wasn't at the monster — it was at the chain.

  The impact sounded like a giant bell being shattered. An explosive green light radiated from the chain before it splintered into a thousand pieces. Royal Crust screamed — a sound of pure, human pain — and began to crumble. Stones fell from its body like a shell, the moss dried and turned to dust, and in the center of the mound of earth, kneeling and breathless, was Jason Hall.

  He looked at his normal hands, then at the destruction around him, his eyes wide with horror. — What... what have I done?

  Brasier hovered before him, the red aura still glowing softly. — Jason Hall — his voice sounded echoing, but not angry. — The rage you fed consumed you.

  — Who are you? — Jason asked, and for the first time, there was no mockery in his voice — only confusion and fear.

  Brasier raised his hands, his gloves still glowing with the remnants of fire. — Crystal Hearts: Brasier.

  The aura around him expanded like a gentle red and gold force field. As it passed, glass shards gathered themselves, cracks in the asphalt closed, and storefronts rebuilt themselves piece by piece. It wasn't instant — it was like watching time rewind with delicacy. In less than a minute, the square was intact, as if nothing had happened.

  Jason stood still in the middle of the restored square, clean tears of shock and relief streaming down his face.

  — Take care of yourself, Jason — Brasier said, his voice now just a whisper in the wind. — Some chains aren't made of metal.

  He vanished in a swirl of golden sparks before Jason could answer.

  Back in his room, Noah collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion hitting like a tide. He barely managed to kick off his shoes before sleep took him. There were no dreams — only a deep, restorative void.

  The next morning, the school was in a frenzy. Everyone was talking about the new hero — Brasier — who had appeared out of nowhere, faced a stone monster, and rebuilt the square with a gesture. Blurry videos circulated on social media. Jason, to everyone’s surprise, was in none of them. He arrived at school quiet, his eyes red from a sleepless night, and ignored everyone who tried to talk to him.

  Noah, Alex, and Simón watched from their corner in the courtyard. Simón looked relieved, Alex was marvelling at the videos, but Noah... Noah only felt the warm weight of the crystal in his hand and wondered how many more times he’d have to jump into the flames before he learned not to get burned.

  At the back of the classroom, Jason looked directly at Noah. There was no more hatred in his eyes. There was something worse: recognition. As if, deep within the chaos, a part of him felt something familiar in the posture, but was unable to name what.

  Class began, but for Noah, the real world would never be truly silent again. For now he carried a secret that burned, and in the whisper of the wind, he could almost hear the echo of other voices, other threats, awakening in response to his flame.