"MOOORNIIING! BREAAAKFAAAST!!!"
The shout exploded, echoing from within a mushroom house that stood slightly on the edge of the village.
The sound was more like the roar of a starving dragon, powerful enough to send a few sparrows, who had been chirping merrily, scattering in a panic.
Yet inside the house, the source of the roar—a red-haired young man—was still fast asleep in his bed.
That mighty shout was merely an echo from his incredibly noisy dream.
He remained completely unfazed by the sound of his own voice.
Instead, it was the insolent morning sun that succeeded in its task. It slammed into the window, burst through without permission, and landed squarely on the young man's face. The sudden sting of heat forced his eyelids to flutter a few times before finally surrendering, one opening heavier than the other.
"Ugh..." he groaned, pausing for a moment.
Even the sun here had a magical—and, admittedly, a slightly annoying—way of starting the day.
Just then, a morning breeze drifted in through his wide-open window.
The wind carried a scent he knew all too well. The aroma of sweet and spicy bread from "Hellfire Bakery."
His still-sleepy eyes shot wide open.
BREAKFAST!
Instantly, as if a switch had been flipped, all drowsiness vanished.
With a single, sharp movement, he leaped out of bed.
Not towards the door, of course. Doors were far too ordinary for him.
He shot straight for the open window.
THUD!
Hariel Achilla, a seventeen-year-old youth, landed with a solid thud on the ground below.
A small cloud of dust swirled lazily around his feet.
His dark red hair—which seemed to have a life of its own—stuck out in every direction, a silent testament to its fierce battle with the pillow moments ago.
And uniquely, under the caress of the morning sun...
...actual tiny sparks of fire danced playfully at the tips of his most rebellious strands of hair.
The widest smile in all of Inspiriaville spread across Hariel's face.
His pair of golden-orange eyes darted around, pupils wildly dilating and constricting.
There was no mistaking it.
He was hunting the source of that delicious aroma wafting on the morning breeze.
"ALRIGHT! TODAY'S GOING TO BE AN AWESOME ADVENTURE!" he yelled again, thrusting a clenched fist high into the air.
Instantly, the air around him shimmered.
Real flames—not just playful sparks—ignited to life in both of his palms.
The same questions surfaced in his mind again. A legacy from whom? Why me?
He stared at the flames for a moment, then took a deep breath and blew it out hard, as if to blow all those complicated questions right out of his head.
To hell with it. Breakfast was far more important.
That thought alone was all the fuel he needed.
Without another second's delay, Hariel bolted.
The morning wind whipped his tattered, black-and-red hooded cloak behind him.
The frayed fur trim along its edges danced wildly with his speed.
His feet barely seemed to touch the ground as he ran past his own home—a giant, proud mushroom house. He took a sharp turn, the soles of his worn-out boots squeaking softly on the footpath that twisted strangely, following the course of a shimmering river.
He waved quickly at a neighbor's house shaped like a lazy cat's back, then continued his run past a birthday-cake-shaped tower that jutted recklessly into the sky.
His destination was singular, the most sacred place at this hour.
"Hellfire Bakery."
"GRANNY! MY MORNING BREAD!" he shouted again, skidding to a halt in his signature style right in front of the bakery, whose building itself was shaped like a giant brick oven.
"Quiet, you little rascal!" Granny Ivana's raspy yet firm voice shot back from inside. Her tone was as grumpy as ever, but there was an unmistakable trace of amusement she couldn't hide. "Don't you burn this village down before your breakfast is ready, you hear?!"
"Yes, General Granny!" Hariel replied, giving a sloppy salute.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Old Man Ed, the wise village elder, already sitting calmly in his favorite rocking chair. Old Man Ed simply offered a knowing smile, shaking his head slowly at Hariel's unchanging antics.
"Where are the Hellfire Crackers, Granny? The ones with the super-spicy dragon powder!" Hariel called out impatiently, peeking through the open kitchen window.
Granny Ivana appeared, grinning widely. "Ready for you, of course! Extra dragon powder, special for that rubber stomach of yours!"
"ALRIGHT!" Hariel cheered, his golden-orange eyes shining brighter than the fire in his hands just moments before.
Without waiting any longer, he snatched a loaf of "Hellfire Cracker" bread, still steaming hot, and immediately devoured it on a simple wooden bench in front of the shop.
"WHOA! THIS IS IT!"
The first bite was an explosion of fiery spice in his mouth. It wasn't just a torturous heat. It was the kind of strange spice that seemed to ignite the engine of adventure inside him, awakening a boundless surge of spirit and energy.
Bite after bite... the seeping heat of the bread...
...for some reason, it dragged his memory back.
Far away. To a bright afternoon many years ago.
That burning spice didn't just ignite his spirit. It also opened a gateway in his memory. A gateway to the day his sky-high dream... was first born.