The sky was a bruised violet when Blaze stepped onto the training field.

Thin fog curled over the artificial grass, clinging to his boots as he walked to the center circle. The stadium lights hummed faintly above the only sound breaking the silence of dawn.

He took a slow breath. The air felt heavy, metallic. His pulse echoed in his ears.

Without a word, he lowered himself into stance.

Left leg forward.

Arms loose but ready.

Focus not on what he saw, but what he felt.

With a whisper of thought, the Aura Flame flickered to life.

Crimson and blue fire coiled around his arms, unstable and violent. It danced erratically, feeding on the turmoil inside him.

"Control," he murmured.

He tried to strike a fast sweeping motion meant to channel the energy into a sharp, precise arc. Instead, the aura exploded outward, rippling through the field like a fiery wave.

The training bots stationed along the edge disintegrated in an instant. Smoke rose from charred ground. Blaze stumbled back, coughing.

His heart thudded. His control shattered again.

"Damn it."

He pressed a hand against his chest, trying to steady his breathing. Every time he tried to contain the Aura Flame, it slipped out of control feeding on his emotions like it could taste his grief.

In the silence that followed, the world seemed to whisper back his own memory

his mother's soft voice,

her trembling laughter,

the scent of her medicine and lavender.

"Control your heart," he remembered Jason saying.

"Or your heart will control your fire."

He dropped to his knees, crossing his legs, closing his eyes.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

He reached inward — into that shifting storm inside him. His Cosmic Telepathy expanded, connecting his mind with every particle of heat within the Aura Flame. He could hear it, feel its pulse, the way it echoed his heartbeat.

It was alive.

But it wasn't angry. It was him.

"Still burning holes in my field, I see," came a voice from behind him.

He opened his eyes slowly, turning toward the source.

Anastasia Scarlet — the team's ice and fire in human form — walked across the fog-laced grass, her silver-blonde hair tied up high, a light jacket thrown over her shoulders. She looked amused, but there was a quiet concern in her eyes.

"Morning," Blaze muttered, standing.

"More like afternoon," she said, checking the chrono-band on her wrist. "You've been out here since five. Jason's losing what's left of his sanity."

He cracked a faint smile. "He'll survive."

She walked closer, crossing her arms. "So… this is the new power, huh? The infamous Aura Flame?"

He extended his hand. The faint glow shimmered back to life — a small wisp of flame that hovered, steady but dangerous.

"It's not cooperating," Blaze said. "It responds to my emotions. Anger makes it flare. Sadness makes it vanish."

"Sounds human," she said softly.

Blaze looked at her, surprised.

Anastasia crouched beside him, tracing a burned patch of grass with her finger. "You can't control something that mirrors you, Blaze. You have to understand it. Fire doesn't bend through force — it bends through intent."

He stared at her, unconvinced. "Intent doesn't stop it from exploding in my face."

She smiled. "That's where rhythm comes in."

"Rhythm?"

"Yeah." She stood and offered him her hand. "Come on. I'll show you."

He hesitated but took it.

Anastasia stepped back into a light martial stance — fluid, grounded. Her movements were precise but graceful, like a dance. "When I first got my Chrono Step, I tore half the ligaments in my legs. I was moving faster than my body could understand."

She tapped her temple. "Jason told me that mastery isn't speed, it's synchronization — the perfect balance between instinct and awareness."

Blaze rolled his shoulders. "So I have to… dance with the fire?"

Her grin widened. "Exactly."

She gestured. "Come at me. No holding back."

He inhaled, stepping into his Serpent Fang stance — the old martial form his father once mastered.

The Aura Flame pulsed along his forearms.

He moved.

The field cracked beneath his feet as Elemental Speed ignited — his body blurring forward. Anastasia twisted away with effortless grace, her Chrono Step displacing her body half a second ahead of him.

Their movements collided like dueling storms — flame and time weaving around each other. Every time Blaze struck, she redirected his energy with circular palm deflections.

"Stop fighting it!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the fog. "Flow with it!"

Blaze gritted his teeth, dropping low into a coiled spin — Jörmungandr form.

His aura spiraled like a serpent. The fire hissed, vibrating between control and chaos.

He felt it — the pulse of his telepathic sense aligning with the beat of his movement. His heart, his flame, his speed — syncing for the first time.

"Good!" Anastasia called. "Now—release!"

He exhaled sharply and swung his right arm.

A serpentine trail of fire burst forth, cutting across the air in a smooth, perfect arc before fading into blue light. No explosion. No backlash. Just power, contained and alive.

He froze, eyes wide.

It worked.

Anastasia smiled, lowering her stance. "See? Dancing isn't so bad."

Blaze let out a shaky breath, the faintest smile breaking through. "You make it sound easy."

"It never is," she said, stepping closer. "But sometimes you need someone to hold the rhythm when you forget the steps."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Only the hum of energy filled the space. Her eyes met his — warm, patient, unafraid.

The flame around him softened, its color turning from violent red to deep sapphire.

She broke the tension with a laugh. "Alright, Blaze. Again. Before Jason catches us and makes us run suicides."

They trained for hours, moving in perfect rhythm. Each clash of aura left glowing ripples across the field. His fire moved smoother now — his Cosmic Telepathy feeding it information, his Elemental Speed shaping its flow.

The Aura Flame no longer burned wildly; it responded — fierce, beautiful, alive.

And every time he stumbled, Anastasia's calm presence brought him back.

When they finally stopped, the horizon had turned gold. Both of them were drenched in sweat, their chests heaving.

"Progress," she said, handing him a bottle of water.

He nodded. "Thanks… for helping me not set the stadium on fire."

"Don't thank me yet," she teased. "Jason still has to approve of your new toy."

He chuckled. "He'll complain about the energy bill first."

They sat side by side on the edge of the field. For a long while, neither spoke. The world seemed quieter than usual — the wind gentle, the distant hum of hover-cars fading into the dusk.

Then Anastasia said softly, "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

He tensed. "Everyone has."

"But not everyone carries it like you do," she said. "Your fire — it's not just grief. It's love that hasn't found peace yet."

He didn't answer. His eyes fixed on his hands, where faint sparks still glowed.

"When I lost my brother," Anastasia continued, voice steady but fragile, "I thought power would numb the pain. I trained until my body failed. But it never went away. It just changed shape."

He turned slightly, watching her expression — the small, sad smile that hid beneath her calm.

"I didn't know you had a brother," he said quietly.

"He was a striker," she said. "The reason I joined New Era Academy. He taught me everything — including how to laugh when I failed. When he died in the Nova Wars, I stopped laughing for a long time."

Her eyes shimmered faintly under the fading light. "Until I realized that grief doesn't fade. It just becomes part of your rhythm."

Blaze exhaled slowly, his gaze softening. "I still hear her voice," he admitted. "When I train. When I fight. It's like she's still here."

"Then keep listening," Anastasia whispered. "She's probably what keeps your flame alive."

They sat there, the silence no longer heavy — just quiet, like the world was finally breathing with them.

As the evening settled, Jason's voice boomed from across the field.

"Blaze! Scarlet! Are you two trying to fuse the entire planet's atmosphere, or are you coming to the meeting?"

Anastasia laughed, standing up. "He sounds mad."

Blaze smirked, stretching. "He always does."

Jason approached, hands on hips, eyes scanning the scorched patches of grass. "You call this training? It looks like a meteor shower hit my field!"

"Technically, it was controlled," Blaze offered.

"Controlled?" Jason raised a brow. "The ground is still smoking, Anderson!"

Anastasia tried — and failed — to stifle her laughter. Jason sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Fine. I'll admit — your aura's stabilizing," he said finally. "Good work, both of you. You'll need it. The Giants just challenged us publicly."

"Perfect," Anastasia said, grinning.

Jason groaned. "You're both impossible. Anyway, Blaze, keep that fire contained. We don't need you turning the midfield into lava."

"Yes, Coach," Blaze said with a faint grin.

As Jason walked off muttering about energy repairs, Anastasia nudged Blaze's shoulder. "Looks like you'll get to test that new control soon."

"Yeah," he said, watching the horizon where the last trace of sunlight lingered. "This time, I'll make her proud."

The Aura Flame flickered softly around his hand, glowing calm and blue — no longer a reflection of chaos, but of harmony.

Anastasia smiled as the wind lifted her hair. "You already are."

For the first time in a long time, Blaze felt peace — not the absence of fire, but the steady burn of purpose.

And as the stars began to pierce the evening sky, he whispered under his breath —

not a vow of vengeance,

but a promise of becoming.

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