Mephisto's clone, left behind in the Void, had been utterly consumed.
While Ian continued his search within that nothingness for his own confidants, back on Earth—at a distance nearly unreachable from that hollow space—the ripples caused by the release of countless unspeakable and great entities continued to ferment.
It was 11:00 PM.
The neon sign for the Starlight Diner flickered intermittently in the torrential rain. Inside, the diner was brightly lit, the glass windows fogged with condensation, separating the dark exterior from the warm interior into two distinct worlds.
However, this did not dampen Mephisto's mood.
After many years, returning to his old profession and preparing for a major move, Mephisto had already fashioned a human incarnation for himself. This vessel, carrying a significant portion of his will, was currently enjoying a cheeseburger.
Judging by the age and muscle atrophy of this clone, despite the short time since his return to this universe, he had already found many desperate souls willing to strike a bargain for their spirits.
"The mortal realm is still the best. The air is filled with such wonderful scents; it truly belongs to me," Mephisto mused internally as he glanced at a waitress nearby.
His unique authority allowed him to read the information of any mortal. With a single look, every detail of this ordinary working girl was laid bare before his eyes.
She was a typical country girl with fiery red hair, currently under the crushing weight of debt left by her deceased parents. Forced into the city to work, she harbored her own dreams.
She desperately wanted to strike it rich.
Not just to pay off the debts, but to support her brother.
Her personality wasn't exactly simple.
However, her soul was still relatively pure—at least, she frequently donated food and clothes to the homeless. This alone made her worth a bit of Mephisto's overtime business expansion.
More importantly, there was a layer of destiny upon her, and Mephisto wanted to seize the opportunity to snatch her up.
"Miss, could I get another order of fries?" Mephisto spoke up.
The waitress was wiping down the last table.
"Sure, no problem."
She looked up and saw the silver-haired old man, who had been sitting alone all night, smiling at her. On the tray in front of him, three large orders of fries sat almost untouched.
"The extravagance of the rich," she muttered to herself, though her face managed to squeeze out a professional smile. She stole a glance at the wall clock—thirty minutes until her shift ended.
Her brother, Pietro, was still waiting for her to bring home a late-night snack.
"Coming right up."
She rubbed her aching wrists. The hem of her red uniform skirt was damp from the rain, and her cheap leather shoes were soaked through, squeaking with every step.
The fries hissed in the fryer basket, oil droplets splattering onto the back of her hand. She bit her lip but made no sound, simply wiping the red burn with her apron. This was the fifth time this week she'd been burned, but compared to the harassment of drunkards trying to touch her thighs, this was a reality she could accept since moving to the city.
"Your hand is bleeding."
A raspy, aged voice came from behind her.
The waitress startled and turned around to find the old man standing at the kitchen entrance. He offered a silk handkerchief embroidered with strange patterns.
"No thank you, sir, that's against health regulations." She took a half-step back, intending to usher the old man out of the workspace. She didn't notice that his shadow under the fluorescent lights had twisted into the shape of a goat.
"What a pity," the old man sighed, withdrawing the handkerchief. "A beautiful girl like you should be sitting in a university classroom wearing designer clothes, not being burned by hot oil here."
He spoke softly.
"Sir, your fries are ready!" the waitress interrupted loudly, hastily dumping the fries into a paper box. Her hands were shaking, and the sauce splattered everywhere.
The old man sat back down with a low chuckle.
When the waitress placed the fries on the table, his withered fingers suddenly clamped onto her wrist.
"My dear, I can see you're a little short on cash. It just so happens I have some capital to invest in someone with your infinite potential—someone who can bring me a very large return."
Mephisto had always had a penchant for kind souls. Perhaps it was that law of nature: you love what you lack. Mephisto clearly lacked kindness. He liked collecting virtuous souls, perhaps to make up for his own kindness-deprived childhood, youth, middle age, and old age.
"Huh?"
The young waitress was quite attractive, possessing the looks of a Hollywood star. She looked stunned by Mephisto's words.
"I'm really sorry, sir. I may be short on money, but I don't want to sleep with an old man." The young girl wrenched her hand away from Mephisto's oily grip.
She looked at him with a strange, guarded expression.
The girl had clearly misunderstood his meaning. This was normal; in the big city, one often encountered old men with a little money trying to keep college girls. There were even those who had been keen on such things since they were eighteen.
New York had no shortage of such creeps.
Mephisto's expression stiffened for a moment.
"No, no, no. I don't lack women. In fact, just yesterday I had a woman conceive my child... Miss Wanda Maximoff, the deal I want to discuss with you is of a different nature. A deal involving only money and your future." Mephisto spoke her name directly, his tone laced with a seductive weight.
If Ian could pull the [Whisper] skill from his clone, it was clear his eloquence was top-tier even among devils. His words caused the girl named Wanda to have a sudden realization.
"So, you're one of those loan shark bosses?" Wanda could see Mephisto was dressed meticulously, looking like a wealthy landlord type.
She had seen plenty of such people. For some reason, loan sharks always seemed to find out she was broke. More than once, she suspected her personal information had been stolen and sold. Now that he had called out her name, she was even more convinced the credit card companies were in league with these people.
Every emotion on her face was reflected in Mephisto's eyes.
"No, no, no. I don't deal in such low-return businesses. I am a businessman who values efficiency. Therefore, I wish to use a sum of money to invest in your future."
"And the price you need to pay is just a small, insignificant bit of... loyalty." Mephisto began to set his trap using his usual methods.
"What do you want?"
Mephisto's voice suddenly became incredibly pleasant.
"To bring your parents back to life? To send your brother to the best school? Or..." He produced a piece of yellowed parchment.
However.
Just as Wanda Maximoff was completely bewildered, Mephisto's smile suddenly froze. His face changed instantly as if he had just felt a delayed sensation.
"No! My clone! The one I left in that place to secure the future!" Mephisto turned pale with shock. He couldn't fathom why his clone had suddenly lost contact.
Those high-level entities had all rushed into reality before him! Mephisto hurriedly closed his eyes to sense the connection, but he could only receive blurred, vague fragments of memory.
"That Superman... that Superman..." Mephisto's expression became one of extreme fury. Other clones were replaceable, but that specific one was the cornerstone of his grand design!
A plan concerning his future status! And it had been wiped out by a superhero who was supposed to be a mere pawn! This was absolutely not a development Mephisto was willing to accept!
"No!! How dare he!!!"
Along with Mephisto's roar, the tables, utensils, and decorations in the diner began to vibrate uneasily. The lightbulbs on the ceiling flickered and shattered instantly.
The moment the lights went out.
Wanda Maximoff saw the old man's face turn blue and purple. She thought he was having a heart attack, but to her horror, his features began to contort into something monstrous.
It was a face terrifying enough to make a twenty-two-year-old weep.
"Damn it..."
Wanda backed away in terror.
She thought she was having another hallucination; she'd been having many lately. But as countless bolts of lightning streaked across the sky, she felt as if she'd been struck herself.
*CRACK-BOOM!*
Some say lightning is a local weather event caused by a devil's wrath; others say it's a warning from the heavens. At this moment, Wanda felt it was the latter.
Despite the shattered bulbs, the flashes of lightning allowed her to see clearly. It wasn't a hallucination. The customer before her truly had a non-human face!
Hideous, detestable, and terrifying—like a demon from hell!
The old man's kindly face peeled away like melting wax, revealing what seemed to be countless crimson scales. His silver hair became coiled goat horns, and his blue eyes burned with sulfurous fire.
It was a form no normal human could stomach.
"AAAAAAAAAA!"
Wanda Maximoff let out a high-pitched scream. In her panic, many appliances and kitchen equipment in the diner exploded simultaneously.
The impact of her scream was even greater than Mephisto's roar.
Scarlet energy erupted uncontrollably from her hands, blowing the tables into splinters. The shockwave sent Mephisto flying, crashing through the cash register.
"What... what is happening? Damn it! What did you do to me?" Wanda knelt on the ground, staring at her hands wrapped in red mist, her face filled with horror.
"Interesting!"
The old devil crawled out from the glass shards, his suit dissolving into black smoke.
"The awakening of Chaos Magic is three years ahead of schedule!" Indeed, from the moment Mephisto entered this diner, he had realized this girl was the Scarlet Witch, whose identity had shifted.
She was a being who could be considered high-level combat power among humans. Possessing Chaos Magic, she could alter reality, create or destroy matter, and interfere with minds. Though her spirit had once broken due to her desire for children—causing her to throw the world into chaos twice—those were events from before the universe reset.
Now.
Following the world's reboot, the Scarlet Witch seemed to be awakening her powers for the first time.
"I will come back for you."
Seeing Wanda awaken her abilities, Mephisto was salivating with greed. He gave her a deep, lingering look but did not stop her as she stumbled and scrambled to escape.
Wanda crawled even as she fell, clearly terrified out of her wits by Mephisto.
Normally, Mephisto would have exploited that fear and wouldn't have let her go so easily. But currently, having suffered such heavy losses, he was in no mood for it.
"Superman... a Superman who shouldn't exist... a character jumped out of a comic book... an uncorrected invasion?" Mephisto sat in the wreckage, his expression shifting constantly.
His face was not only twisted with rage, but his eyes were enough to terrify almost any child. Memories of the chaos before the universe reset flooded back into his mind.
"Whether you are a Superman from a comic or not, this is a provocation. This is a declaration of war against me. Even if you are a real Superman, I will crush you to dust!"
Mephisto looked out the window, roaring at the lightning-streaked sky. The power of Hell surged within his body.
"My power will soon truly descend upon the mortal realm. I have already re-created an embryo." Mephisto thought of the human woman he had impregnated the day before.
She was carrying his child—a vessel for his descent. However, since human pregnancy took time, Mephisto's eyes darted as he plotted.
"If it truly is an uncorrected invasion, this might be an opportunity for me." His anger did not cloud his intellect; he began to think about how to recover his losses.
"That body, that so-called Man of Steel... it could certainly hold my power. Perhaps it's even more suitable than the vessel I created myself."
In the era Mephisto came from, DC Comics existed. He knew very well that if it truly was a Kryptonian body, it would be an incredibly useful tool. Superman's body could sustain power far beyond that of the Skyfathers. When that time came, no powerhouse in the mortal world would be a threat to him.
Of course.
Capturing Superman couldn't be done with just a clone. There was something sinister about that man, to the point where even a clone utilizing the power of the Hell Dimension struggled against him.
"However, I still have that trump card... I need to find my old friend. He will be the bane of all life—even a Superman who shouldn't exist!"
"His soul will be tortured in my Hell for billions of years!" Mephisto was a vengeful sort. He stood up and vanished into black smoke amidst the ruins.
In the city, the rain continued to fall.
In Texas, inside a motorcycle club, loud music filled every corner of the building. A young motorcycle stunt rider was alone, tuning his machine.
He had a major performance tomorrow—a stunt show—and even his father was coming to watch. Because of this, Johnny Blaze placed immense importance on this show.
"Damn this storm."
Johnny Blaze looked out the window with irritation. Outside, thunder rolled and rain lashed down in sheets, pouring like a river against the glass.
Such terrible weather might affect his performance tomorrow. Johnny offered a worried prayer and then pulled the curtains shut, out of sight, out of mind.
"I still need to change the oil in my bike."
Johnny knew he couldn't control the weather. As a stunt rider, his job was to perfect every factor within his control.
Outside, the rain poured on.
Time slipped away as the man focused intently on his vehicle. The wind and rain showed no signs of stopping; the thunder was even growing more frequent.
The noise was so loud it nearly made Johnny's old radio give up the ghost. Just as he was looking for his ultimate weapon—a super-powered subwoofer—he reached onto the cabinet. Suddenly, as lightning lit up the night sky again, he saw an unsettling silhouette reflected in the window.
"No!"
The sudden shock startled Johnny, bringing back a memory he didn't want to revisit. Fortunately, when he rubbed his eyes, there was nothing on the glass.
"Hallucination. Definitely a hallucination."
Johnny comforted himself. He was about to turn on the subwoofer when a loud clatter nearby nearly made him jump out of his skin.
"What was that!"
Johnny was like a startled bird, spinning around to look. It wasn't an intruder; a crucifix had fallen off the wall and into a bucket of red automotive paint.
"Can't I get a good omen for once?" Johnny let out a long breath, still muttering. It was a bit unlucky for a rider about to challenge his limits tomorrow. Of course, even if it were a sign, Johnny didn't really need to worry.
"I signed a contract... with that devil. Even if it's a sign, I won't die, because he still needs me to do his work." Johnny remembered when his father was diagnosed with cancer. He had prayed to an unknown statue by the road. Later that day, during a performance, he received an answer.
Perhaps because he was distracted by his father's illness, Johnny lost focus during a jump. The motorcycle spun out of control, and his head slammed hard against the ground.
It should have been a certain death.
However.
At the brink of death, Johnny saw a figure walking toward him. The figure didn't just cure his father's cancer; he pulled Johnny back from the world of the dead.
Everyone called him "Lucky Johnny," but only Johnny knew that at that moment, he had sold his soul to a seemingly cunning demon.
As they say, destiny has already priced every gift. Johnny didn't feel his encounter was lucky; his heart constantly warned him that the entity was dangerous.
"Even so, if the old man can live and I can live, I don't think I'd refuse if I had to do it all over again." Johnny shook his head with a touch of self-mockery.
He intended to refocus on the bike.
Suddenly.
"Johnny~ Johnny~ Johnny~"
A low call came from the distance, yet it felt as if it were whispered right into his ear. It made Johnny's skin crawl as he looked around frantically.
Johnny would never forget that voice. It was the voice of the devil he'd made the pact with. He believed he'd remember that greasy tone even in his next life.
"I knew it! You'd find me soon! To take my soul! To take everything!" Johnny saw the silver-haired old man appear out of thin air at the doorway after a flash of lightning.
He quickly grabbed a shotgun from the back of his motorcycle. However, he didn't fire; he just held the gun, staring warily at the devil who had come calling.
"My boy, you can't hurt a devil with that. A normal person would use exorcism methods, though those are a joke to me anyway."
Mephisto looked at Johnny Blaze and spoke softly.
"What do you want with me! This wasn't the deal!" Johnny didn't lower the shotgun. The unease, resentment, and fear in his heart were surging.
Just as the man thought the devil was about to go back on his word.
"Relax. Your father will live to be eighty, and so will you... at least with you, I keep my word." Mephisto did not reveal his true face.
He walked into the house with an air of mock kindness, shaking out his wet hat. He looked at the stunned Johnny, who felt the situation was going differently than expected.
"You have always been my most satisfying investment. I think I've learned how to get along with you." Mephisto said something that left Johnny bewildered.
Before Johnny could figure it out, the devil sat on Johnny's sofa, fixing his deep eyes on the stunt rider.
"I won't let you down, and I hope you won't let me down either... certain changes have forced me to seek you out. Perhaps it's time for you to fulfill our agreement ahead of schedule."
"Of course, I won't ask you to do this for nothing. I will bring back your first love. She will be there to watch your show tomorrow. You will have a beautiful story together."
"Yes... I can already see how beautiful your children will be." Mephisto's voice was full of seductive charm, making the originally resentful Johnny feel a stir of longing.
He thought back to his first love—the beautiful girl he'd lost contact with when he had to move away for his father's business.
"Is that true?"
Johnny was hooked.
"Of course. Why would I lie to you?" Mephisto looked at Johnny with a smile, though a deep, hidden dread lurked in his eyes.
In the blink of an eye.
He suddenly moved from the sofa to right in front of Johnny.
"Someone has harmed me, and I don't want to let it slide. So, please, bring that madman to me. Don't kill him; I have other uses for his body."
Mephisto thought of Ian's body and was consumed with envy. He craved Ian's physical form, so he intended to awaken the spirit he had placed inside Johnny Blaze.
He would use a former Angel to deal with that Superman.
"Go, my Rider. Go, sew his mouth shut, knock him out, and bring him to me!" There was still a tremor of fear in Mephisto's words when mentioning Ian.
As he finished speaking.
He immediately released the sleeping spirit within the other man.
"HISSS!! What's happening! My hand! My body is on fire!! AAAAAAAAA!" Johnny first saw flames erupting from his own flesh.
Then.
Amidst agonized roars, his skin was incinerated, his blood evaporated, and all his outward flesh turned to ash. Hellfire erupted from between his bones.
It bloomed.
The flower known as the Ghost Rider had blossomed.
*Fwoosh—*
The ultimate Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. The most powerful, most formidable Ghost Rider stood once more in the universe, tilting his head as he awaited Mephisto's command.
"My Rider, complete the task I've given you. I love you so much; I hope you love me just as much." Mephisto used his deceptive words to brainwash the Spirit of Vengeance once again.
"ROAARRR!!!"
The Ghost Rider could understand human speech but could not speak it. He simply threw his arms wide and let out a long howl toward the sky as a response to Mephisto.
The skeleton walked toward the wardrobe. The door creaked open, revealing a worn black leather jacket with frayed cuffs and collar.
But one could still see how much its owner had once cherished it. It was Johnny Blaze's father's jacket, passed down to him when he took over his father's work.
The Ghost Rider ran a hand over the texture of the leather, silent for a second. Then, he tore it off the hanger and swung it over his shoulders. The jacket instantly began to change, burning with hellfire.
"Haaa..."
The Ghost Rider seemed pleased with his look. He admired his reflection in the mirror, exhaled a scalding breath, and walked toward the partially dismantled motorcycle.
Even though the engine had been removed for maintenance, it didn't stop the Ghost Rider from mounting the Harley. As his fingers brushed the bike, the machine forgot that it needed an engine to function.
Hellfire surged from his palms, wrapping around the frame like a living thing. Metal twisted and warped in the high heat; the exhaust pipes grew serrated spikes like fangs, and the tires melted and reformed into burning wheels of bone. When the fire reached the front, the entire motorcycle let out a roar that didn't sound mechanical at all.
The headlights became two dancing orbs of fire. The front forks twisted and extended into the shape of demonic horns.
"I am satisfied..."
The Ghost Rider suddenly seemed to have learned how to speak.
He looked at his burning skull reflection in the rearview mirror and his completely modified mount. This was no longer a motorcycle—it was a steel beast wrapped in flames.
There was no engine.
Yet there was an engine's roar. The Ghost Rider revved the throttle, and the front wheel of the hell-cycle kicked up two paths of magma, cracking the concrete floor of the garage instantly.
"Ian Kent... he is GUILTY!"
The Ghost Rider's voice sounded like churning hell-magma, low and raspy. The front wheel of the bike snapped up into a wheelie, and hellfire spread along the body, enveloping the entire Hades Warhorse in flames. The garage wall was smashed to pieces, bricks and splinters flying as the Ghost Rider charged onto the street on his burning motorcycle.
The tires left two scorched furrows in the ground. The trail of fire stretched out into the night, like a path leading to Hell. Pedestrians screamed and dove out of the way; some even knelt on the ground, crossing themselves, but the Ghost Rider did not stop for anyone.
his skeletal head turned toward the distance, hellfire locking onto the target's scent.
That was.
Deep within the Void.
Ian had no idea what he was about to receive.
He was currently delighted to have found a wild Spear of Heaven. A dim long-spear floated quietly before him, and he was currently engaged in an intense internal struggle.
"Finders keepers! That's the law of shipwrecks!" Ian wanted to claim it, but as his status rose, his increasingly dignified image made him hesitate.
"If Odin could just speak up, bail me out, and say he's giving it to me, that would be great!" Ian knew he still had to find Thor and Thor's missing father.
He ultimately needed some reward for his search, and perhaps this spear was a good one.
It really was handsome.
Ancient runes flowed along the spearhead, and Yggdrasil branch patterns wound around the shaft—Odin's Spear of Heaven, Gungnir, had somehow been abandoned in this chaos.
Perhaps Odin had been kind and decided to release Gungnir, like releasing a Pokémon. If that were the case, Ian would certainly give Odin a thumbs-up.
"Perfect time to test a new skill."
Ian knew he had to find someone. Seeing Gungnir, he immediately had a brilliant idea. This spear might not just be a weapon, but a fully automatic navigation system.
Ian stepped forward.
He picked up the long spear.
The Spear of Heaven was the weapon of Thor's father, named Gungnir. Some believed the name came from the sound of the action to pierce. It truly possessed the attribute of piercing. This spear was the property of the Norse All-Father, Odin, and a symbol of his authority.
It could be called the pinnacle of Asgardian Rune Technology, with a touch of the dwarves' top-tier craftsmanship. The spear's abilities were simple yet powerful.
Essentially, once thrown, it will always hit the target. It was a divine spear that never missed, capable of piercing anything it struck, and then automatically returning to its master's hand.
Such an attribute made it an invincible weapon of slaughter in the hands of a warrior, but in Ian's hands, he could naturally unlock other uses.
Killing?
That was just wasting a precious resource!
An automatic pathfinding and navigation system far superior to any modern vehicle was the direction worth developing! With this spear, no mother would ever have to worry about anyone getting lost again!
"Beautiful spear... with your beauty and might... pierce Thor's butt!" Ian had a meticulous personality. He chose a relatively safe pathfinding route.
In the human body, only the buttocks weren't worth protecting.
Even being pierced once or twice wouldn't be a serious injury; that's why most parents hit children there. So Ian's line of thinking was truly very kind.
No one could find fault with Ian. He whispered a seductive command to the spear, forcibly activating it, and then threw it forward with all his might.
[Whisper] took effect.
Gungnir suddenly vibrated violently, the runes on the shaft lighting up one by one with a crimson glow. The originally solemn divine artifact now emitted a nearly crazed battle intent.
*SWOOSH—!!*
The divine spear turned into a shooting star, traveling at a speed capable of tearing through dimensions, carrying the power of god-slaying toward a certain direction. As for Ian? Ian caught a ride.
He got close to the departing spear, then grabbed its tail, scrambled up, and mounted the weapon of Odin.
In ancient times, wizards rode broomsticks.
Today, Ian rode the Spear of Heaven.
It was nothing if not logical; a man of the new era should have a vehicle of the new era.
A smart system far more useful than any Pangu, Zeus, or Yahweh vehicle was at work. The spear trailed a tail of light, with Ian—who was currently manually adding a seat—tearing through the Void.
In this lifeless world where directions were meaningless, it still showed its reliable side, carrying Ian across an unknown distance to dive straight toward Thor.
After flying for a few hours.
Ian could already clearly see... Thor's legendary backside.