The New Mexico desert stretched endlessly beneath the blazing sun.
Dry grass swayed between scattered rocks. Sun-bleached animal bones lay half-buried in the sand.
From beneath one stone, a small leopard gecko crawled into the open.
It wasn’t looking for insects.
Instead, it stood upright as far as its tiny body allowed, staring proudly at the sky.
I knew it!
Getting hit by a car, electrocuted after falling off a building, all those disasters... it finally paid off! I actually reincarnated!
Sure, I’m a lizard... but that’s only temporary!
The little gecko narrowed its frog-like eyes and slapped one tiny forefoot dramatically onto a pebble.
Nothing can stop me now!
I’ll devour powerful genes! Evolve without limit! Discover immortal cultivation! Absorb the essence of heaven and earth! One day I’ll transcend mortality and become invincible!
As the saying goes, a dragon trapped in shallow waters only needs the right storm to...
...Huh? Why did everything suddenly get brighter?
The answer arrived at nearly four hundred kilometers per hour.
A black sports car tore across the desert highway.
Crunch.
The future supreme being disappeared beneath its tires.
Less than a second later...
A motorcycle engulfed in Hellfire roared across the same spot.
The infernal flames reduced what little remained of the ambitious gecko to drifting ash.
Its glorious destiny ended before it had survived its first afternoon.
"I think we just ran over something destined for greatness," Evenson muttered.
"Now is not the time."
Melinda kept glancing behind them.
Ever since the Soul Engine had shut down, the Ghost Rider had erased the distance with alarming speed.
Evenson checked the rearview mirror.
The burning motorcycle was now less than thirty meters away.
"I honestly don’t get it."
"I’ve been trying very hard not to fight you."
He meant every word.
Unlike the unfortunate gecko, Evenson had no interest in proving himself by battling every powerful creature he encountered.
Besides...
Ghost Rider was a terrible matchup for him.
Unlike the Abomination, the Rider wasn’t a mindless brute.
He was intelligent.
Experienced.
And wrapped head to toe in Hellfire.
Nearly a third of Evenson’s arsenal became significantly less effective against an opponent like that.
Which was exactly why he’d tried running instead.
Unfortunately...
The Rider pursued with the stubborn determination of a bloodhound.
"So be it."
Evenson yanked the steering wheel.
The sports car slewed sideways across the highway, sliding broadside while momentum carried it forward.
The Ghost Rider laughed.
A dry, rattling sound echoed from the flaming skull.
Rather than slowing, he accelerated.
The motorcycle launched into the air.
As rider and machine soared over the roof of the car, the Ghost Rider looked down.
His burning chain unwound itself like a living serpent and lashed toward Evenson.
"Now!"
Evenson thrust his hand upward.
Out of pure habit, he shouted the first over-the-top attack name that came to mind.
"Almighty Push!"
A violent explosion of shadow magic erupted.
The invisible shockwave blasted the airborne Ghost Rider away, spinning him through the air.
Even so...
He never lost his seat.
When he landed, both rider and motorcycle hit the ground together.
Evenson blinked.
I’ve been watching way too much anime lately.
Still... "Almighty Push" sounds a lot cooler than Shadow Burst.
He threw open the driver’s door.
"Stay in the car."
He didn’t look back.
"This fight isn’t one you can help with."
Melinda hesitated.
She had spent her entire life training.
From childhood.
Through SHIELD.
Into the ranks of its elite field operatives.
She had never accepted being dead weight.
Yet today...
Twice...
She had been forced to admit she simply wasn’t strong enough.
After nearly dying to the Ghost Rider’s gaze, she knew charging in would accomplish nothing except getting herself killed.
"...Understood."
She lowered her weapon.
"Good luck."
Evenson raised one hand in acknowledgment before walking toward the flaming rider.
"How about we make a deal?"
He made one final attempt.
"You leave."
"I leave."
"I’m sure you’ve got actual Hell business to attend to."
Ghost Riders usually carried specific missions.
Collecting souls.
Hunting escaped demons.
Judging sinners was often secondary.
The Rider slowly climbed off his motorcycle.
His burning chain wrapped itself around his arm.
The flames intensified.
"You..."
The burning skull tilted.
"...are guilty."
The chain burst into fire.
"Go."
"To."
"Hell."
Evenson sighed.
"So much for diplomacy."
His hand swept through the air.
Twenty scrolls scattered across the desert floor.
He pressed his palms together.
"Summoning Technique!"
He grinned.
Apparently yelling attack names had become a habit.
"Summon..."
"Hellhound Legion!"
The scrolls dissolved into clouds of black smoke.
One after another...
Twenty Hellhounds emerged.
Each carried a grinning Imp on its back.
Ever since the battle against the Abomination, Evenson had been analyzing his own shortcomings.
His demons hadn’t performed nearly as well as he’d expected.
The problem wasn’t quality.
It was quantity.
His normal spells only allowed him to summon two Hellhounds and four Imps at once.
His mental strength, however, could comfortably command more than twenty lesser demons simultaneously.
His casting ability had become the bottleneck.
It was a common weakness among developing demonology warlocks.
They mastered control before mastering large-scale summoning.
Experienced masters no longer suffered from that limitation.
By then, a warlock could summon armies of lesser demons almost instantly while maintaining perfect control.
One warlock.
One army.
Evenson wasn’t there yet.
So he’d cheated.
Over several days, he repeatedly summoned demons, sealed them into enchanted scrolls with Banishment, and stored the scrolls inside his dimensional inventory.
When battle began...
He simply released everything at once.
The idea had come from somewhere embarrassingly obvious.
If ninjas can carry scrolls full of summoned creatures...
Why can’t a warlock?
I’m going to become the Hokage of warlocks someday.
He pointed forward.
"Tear him apart."
The Hellhounds charged.
Against almost any other enemy, their speed bordered on terrifying.
The Ghost Rider’s flaming chain lashed through the air repeatedly.
The Hellhounds darted around every strike with impossible agility.
Whenever one couldn’t dodge completely, the Imp riding its back launched a Firebolt.
The attacks couldn’t stop the chain.
But they slowed it just enough for the Hellhound to slip clear.
The battlefield became chaos.
Hellhounds circled.
Imps rained fire.
The Ghost Rider stood in the middle of the storm.
The explosions looked impressive.
They accomplished almost nothing.
The Rider simply watched them.
Curious.
He had apparently never encountered creatures carrying the scent of the Twisting Nether before.
Evenson never expected the lesser demons to win.
They were buying time.
He extended one hand.
Purple streams of energy burst from the Ghost Rider and flowed toward him.
Drain Soul.
The magic failed.
The stolen essence vanished before reaching his fingertips.
"...Damn it."
Evenson clicked his tongue.
"I really didn’t want to fight you."
"There isn’t even a soul left to drain."
Of course.
The moment someone became a Ghost Rider, their soul belonged to Hell.
What remained was little more than a cursed vessel animated by infernal power.
Drain Soul had nothing to seize.
"No soul..."
"Drain Life probably won’t work either."
"And fire spells..."
He scratched his head in frustration.
"Were you specifically designed to counter my entire build?"
Whether because of the failed spell or simple impatience, the Ghost Rider finally stopped observing.
Hellfire erupted from his body.
The burning chain spun into a blazing circle.
This time...
The attacks became lethal.
Hellhounds exploded into embers one after another as the chain tore through them.
Half the legion vanished in seconds.
Evenson’s eyes narrowed.
"Change of plan."
The remaining Hellhounds stopped circling.
They lunged simultaneously.
Several were destroyed before reaching him.
Only six survived long enough to clamp their jaws onto the Ghost Rider.
One on each arm.
One on each shoulder.
Two on his legs.
The Rider didn’t struggle immediately.
He simply laughed.
Hellfire surged through his body.
The Nether beasts howled as the infernal flames scorched them alive.
Even creatures born of the Twisting Nether could barely endure that heat.
Under Evenson’s absolute control...
None released their grip.
"Now!"
Every remaining Hellhound...
Every surviving Imp...
Their bodies suddenly began to swell.
The Ghost Rider finally recognized the danger.
He tried to throw them off.
Too late.
The desert erupted in a thunderous explosion.
Shadow.
Fel fire.
Hellfire.
The combined detonation swallowed the Ghost Rider in a pillar of violent green and black flame.
...
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