Smoke lingered in the air as Father stepped back, his chest rising and falling, avoiding my gaze like it might burn him.
And maybe it could.
My eyes felt like embers, glowing brighter than ever before. Heat surged through my veins as my feet carried me closer to him. I didn't even realize my hands had ignited until a flash of green fire flared to life in my palm—hot, alive, and dangerous.
I raised my hand, ready to strike. But then I saw him—my father—and it hit me.
I was about to destroy him.
I tried to stop it. I really did. But I was too late.
My hand came down.
He moved faster than I thought possible. A red-hot flame burst from his sword as he blocked my strike, the sheer force of it sending sparks flying. His blade cut deep into my hand. Pain shot through me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
He called my name, firm and calm."Are you gonna give up?"
I grinned through the blood and fire."No."
I began forming my power into a green flaming sword, and we clashed again—sword against sword, flame against flame. The world around us blurred as our speed increased, faster and faster, like two storms colliding. But I couldn't keep up. His blade was like lightning—unforgiving and precise.
I shifted my strategy, letting the sword dissolve into flame that wrapped around my fists and feet. My body screamed in exhaustion, but Father? Not even sweating. He stared at me, his gaze unshaken, saying without words: I'm not done yet.
Then it happened.
My body began to glow.
The ground cracked beneath me, energy radiating outward in a wave that shook the earth. Father's eyes widened for just a moment—not with fear, but surprise. I was in front of him in an instant and launched a blazing punch that sent him crashing through a wall. Flames licked at his body, burning his uniform.
He smirked.
Then disappeared.
I turned, searching. Nothing. Not a sound.
Until a burning blade slashed through the air—straight across my chest.
I couldn't dodge. The impact sent me flying. Pain exploded through me—my head throbbed, arms dripping with blood, my legs barely holding me up.
And still, he stood tall.
Now I understood. This was why they called him the strongest man of his era.
He walked toward me and offered a hand.
"You're strong now," he said with a soft smile. "I think you can surpass me—and my friends."
It was the first time he had ever complimented me. He glanced at my still-glowing body and chuckled.
"Didn't know you had that in you," he added.
His "friends"—the ones he spoke of—were legends. Heroes of the past. Together, they were once known as The World's Greatest Heroes. And now… I wanted that title too. Not just for me. For something bigger.
When he walked back into the building, I stayed behind.
I lay on the ground, staring up at the sky, my body aching. But my heart felt lighter than it had in years. I laughed, alone in that open field, and in that quiet moment, a new idea sparked in my mind.
I jumped to my feet and ran after him.
But of course, his assistant stopped me at the door.
"You need to heal first," she said with a look that could kill.
Confused, I looked down—and finally noticed the blood still dripping from my right arm. My fingers tingled. I grumbled but obeyed, letting the medics patch me up. An hour later, I burst into his room, words already flying out of my mouth.
"I want to create a team!"
He turned, eyes wide in surprise. Then slowly, he smiled.
"Okay," he said simply.
That was all I needed.
From that moment on, my goal was clear: to build a team that would become the next legend.
The greatest heroes the world had ever seen.