Under the neon lights of the night circuit, Raven Alvaréz stood beside his red Ferrari F8 Tributo, the engine still purring with leftover heat. His black hair clung damp against his skin, and his sharp eyes lingered on the silent starting line. For Raven, the track was never just asphalt, it was a battlefield where he chased the legacy of his father, a racing legend who had vanished after a mysterious accident. Every roar of the V8 felt like a heartbeat drawing him closer to the truth.

The crowd suddenly erupted in cheers. Raven pulled off his helmet, droplets of sweat tracing the lines of his jaw as camera flashes flickered like distant lightning. Fans pressed against the barrier waving posters and caps.

“Raven! Sign this, please!” voices shouted

He smiled faintly and began signing hats and posters one after another. The flashes of phones and cameras lit the night like falling stars. Among the sea of voices, a group of girls leaned closer, their giggles rising above the noise as they tried to catch his attention. One of them dared to brush her hand against his arm as he handed back a signed cap. Raven only offered a quick, knowing smile before moving on.

To him, every signature was more than a mark of fame, it was fuel, a reminder that their cheers and even the playful flirtation were the sparks that would keep him racing faster than fate itself.