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*****
Kamar-Taj.
On the training ground.
Blackheart stood motionless, his face blank with shock and fear.
Not because he didn't want to move—but because he couldn't. He dared not move.
The moment he had tried to get up from the ground, he was already restrained by the Ancient One.
Golden chains had appeared from thin air, materializing out of the surrounding space to bind him firmly in place.
The power he had always been so proud of was utterly insignificant before the Ancient One.
As the other sorcerers departed and the portal closed behind them, he stared in terror at the only remaining person in the square.
A bald head. A black robe. A small fan in hand…
He suddenly remembered someone his father had once mentioned. He recalled the irritable yet helpless look on Mephisto's face. His eyes slowly filled with dread.
It was true that his father Mephisto weakened the longer he stayed outside of Hell, which was why he rarely left it.
But there was another reason—this person standing before him.
The Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One.
As Blackheart stared at her, the Ancient One looked back, even offering him a calm smile.
Upon noticing the crimson hue in Blackheart's eyes, she immediately saw through his current condition.
"You've absorbed a large number of vengeful spirits?"
She gently waved the fan in her hand, walking slowly toward him as she continued, "You and your father are so alike—always obsessed with souls."
"But he was much stronger than you… and far more cunning."
She stopped right in front of Blackheart, closed her fan, and lightly tapped her palm with it. With a serene smile, she asked,
"Are you ready?"
"No, no!"
Blackheart shook his head wildly, like a child caught doing something bad. He cried out in panic,
"Please! Let me go! I'll return to Hell right now—I swear I won't come back!"
The Ancient One smiled gently. "Farewell."
"No!"
Blackheart thrashed violently, and a wave of dark shock energy erupted from his body, surging toward the Ancient One.
The ground quaked and began to shatter.
But the Ancient One stood still, unmoved, as if she hadn't been affected at all. She simply extended her fan and gently tapped it on Blackheart's forehead.
A golden point of light appeared on his brow.
The next second, the light vanished.
Blackheart froze. Just as he began to think nothing had happened, golden cracks began to spread across his body.
He seemed unaware of it—still staring at the Ancient One in horror.
The Ancient One stepped back, reopened her fan with a graceful motion.
Boom!
Golden energy burst from Blackheart's entire body. His figure flashed briefly—then disintegrated into ash and scattered into the wind.
The Ancient One gave her fan a light shake, brushing away a bit of ash that drifted toward her. Then, gazing at the damaged plaza beneath her feet, she raised a foot and tapped it gently.
A ripple flowed across the ground from her point of contact, spreading outward like a wave.
Where it passed, the ground was restored.
Satisfied, the Ancient One gave a small nod. She continued to wave her fan as she turned and walked away.
Houston.
Nightfall deepened.
What had once been a peaceful, lively evening was now filled with screams and terror.
Monsters from Hell had begun pouring out from a portal atop a tall building, spreading in all directions like a tidal wave—drawing immediate attention from the public.
Some sharp-eyed civilians had sensed something was wrong and fled. Others, however, were still pointing at the monsters and filming them with their phones.
But when the monsters landed—and hell-bats swooped down with razor-sharp claws—panic finally set in.
People screamed and scattered in every direction.
Within moments, the streets were overrun with chaos. The monsters ravaged everything in their path, hunting down anything that moved.
Then—
Figures in long sorcerer robes began to appear, wielding weapons formed from magical energy, swiftly cutting down the invading monsters.
Though terrifying to civilians, these hellspawn were no match for the trained sorcerers.
The mages spread out across the city. Each took responsibility for one area, rapidly clearing out the threats.
Mike and Carrie descended from the rooftop and joined the fray.
Carrie flew above the streets, striking down monsters one after another. Some were crushed by invisible force; others were blown to pieces by sheer magical pressure.
As for Mike—he swept through entire streets like a storm. Wherever he flew, not a single monster remained. After clearing one street, he immediately darted toward the next.
Just then—
A flaming skull on a motorcycle roared down the street, speeding through the chaos with demonic intensity.
The Ghost Rider had arrived.
After darkness fell, he summoned his Hellcycle and finally made it back.
He stopped at an intersection, his hollow eye sockets scanning the streets as his skull turned—like he was searching for something.
A few seconds later, after locking onto a direction, the engine roared again. He shot forward, vanishing in a blaze of flame that left a scorched trail behind.
"Run!"
Roxanne Simpson kicked off her high heels and sprinted forward with her cameraman, both of them running for their lives as several hell creatures chased after them.
They had been filming a street interview nearby when the monsters appeared—unfortunately catching the creatures' attention as they fled.
"I—I can't run anymore!"
The cameraman panted, gasping for air.
Roxanne looked back and snapped, "You idiot, drop the damn camera!"
"No way! That's out of the question!"
The cameraman refused flat-out.
"Then be my guest—let them rip you apart and chew you up, and you can become a steaming pile of demon crap tomorrow!"
Roxanne barked furiously. When she saw one faceless creature about to grab the cameraman's leg, she halted in her tracks, yanked the camera from his grip, and smashed it over the creature's head.
"AARRGH!"
The monster let out a piercing shriek and crashed to the ground in agony.
"My baby!"
The cameraman screamed, his expression almost identical to the creature's.
God knows how much that thing meant to him.
Another hellhound leapt toward them. Roxanne quickly tossed the heavy camera back to him, grabbed his arm, and dragged him as they ran again.
Just as they were about to be caught, a shadow flashed past and appeared beside them.
Several monsters were instantly reduced to dust.
Roxanne turned in shock, staring at the suddenly-appearing Mike. Just as she was about to thank him, a flaming figure shot down the wall of the building opposite them—charging toward them like a maniac.
Mike's eye twitched.
He's back again.
If this guy kept hounding him like this, he might actually have to put in some effort to deal with him.
But just as that thought crossed his mind, the charging Ghost Rider came to an abrupt halt.
He tilted his flaming skull slightly, not to look at Mike—but to stare at Roxanne Simpson standing behind him.
Seeing the terror in her eyes, and her wide pupils reflecting his burning skull, the Ghost Rider suddenly let out a guttural scream and clutched his head in pain.
(End of Chapter)