The city was eerily quiet as the Ghost Rider walked through the empty streets. His burning skeletal frame illuminated the darkness, the Sacred Hellfire flickering around him in hues of golden light and crimson fury. Somewhere in the shadows, devils lurked.
He stopped abruptly in the center of the street. His Infernal Phantom Shotgun rested across his shoulder, glowing faintly with Scared Hellfire. The weapon was a masterpiece forged from an unholy blend of celestial metals and infernal craftsmanship. Its barrel was inscribed with runes of judgment.
"Come out," the Rider growled, his unearthly voice echoing. "You can't hide from judgment."
From the darkness, the devils emerged. Six of them in total, their grotesque forms contorted by their fallen nature. Their leader, a hulking devil with blackened wings and glowing red eyes, sneered.
"Judgment? From a half-breed abomination like you?" it spat. "We are devils. You are nothing but a tool, a failed experiment."
The Rider tilted his flaming skull. "Perhaps," he said, raising his shotgun, "but I am the tool of God, you're a bunch of devils that look like Deadpool cancer on legs."
Before the devils could react, the Rider unleashed the Infernal Phantom Shotgun. The shotgun's barrel erupted with Sacred Hellfire, a blast of radiant energy that streaked through the air. The holy flames engulfed one devil instantly, reducing it to ash as it screamed in agony. The blast left a glowing rune on the ground where it struck, pulsing with sacred hellfire
Enraged, the remaining devils charged. Their claws and magic lashed out, shadowy tendrils and fireballs hurtling toward the Rider. But he was unyielding.
The flames of the Sacred Hellfire flared around him, forming a protective barrier of anti-magic the dark magic was nullified
One devil lunged, but the Rider spun, slamming the butt of his shotgun into its face with bone-shattering force..
With a flick of his skeletal wrist, the shotgun's chamber rotated, switching to a new rune-etched shell. The next blast was a cone of searing flames, both holy and infernal. The flames swept through two devils, burning away their physical forms and the corrupt energy that bound their souls.
The devil leader snarled, unfurling its wings and summoning using his devil magic a massive sphere of Dark Energy Manipulation Devils primarily harness dark energy, which manifests as destructive blasts. It hurled the orb at the Rider, the sheer force of it cracking the pavement.
The Ghost Rider stood his ground, wings of Sacred Hellfire flaring wide. With an almost casual motion, he fired the shotgun again.
The shell detonated mid-air, colliding with the orb. The explosion was a blinding mix of light and darkness, shaking the ground. As the smoke cleared, the Rider was still standing, his burning eyes fixed on the leader
"You'll need more than that," he said, his voice dripping with quiet menace.
The leader roared and charged, claws going through the air. The Rider met it head-on, parrying with the shotgun like a melee weapon. The shotgun's metallic frame glowed brighter with each strike, charging with energy.
The Rider delivered a crushing blow to the devil's chest with the butt of the shotgun, sending it sprawling.
In one swift motion, he slammed the shotgun's barrel into the devil's face and fired at point-blank range. The blast carved a holy sigil into the devil's head, stunning it as it writhed in agony
With the devil leader on its knees, the Rider stepped back, reloading his shotgun with a glowing golden shell. This was no ordinary ammunition—it was a concentrated fragment of his holy energy.
"For your sins," the Rider said, his voice cold and final, "you are condemned."
He fired. The blast was a beam of pure, radiant energy, engulfing the devil completely. The creature screamed as its body disintegrated, leaving nothing but light in its place. The energy surged upward, forming a blazing cross in the sky before fading.
Timeskip
The bell over the door jingled softly, signaling a new customer. The shopkeeper barely glanced up from his register, engrossed in organizing the latest shipment of comics. It wasn't unusual to get some eccentric characters walking into his store, but this time was... different.
The air grew heavier, warmer, as if the room itself was holding its breath. A skeletal figure stepped through the doorway, its fiery skull illuminating the shelves with a flickering golden glow. It was the Ghost Rider
"Hey, uh..." The shopkeeper stammered, dropping the stack of comics in his hands. "You... you okay there, buddy? We don't allow open flames in here!"
The Rider tilted his flaming skull toward the man, silent and imposing. Then, without a word, he turned his attention to the shelves, scanning rows of colorful covers.
As the Rider moved deeper into the store, the flames around him dimmed slightly, a conscious effort not to set anything ablaze. He paused in front of a section labeled Marvel Classic
His hollow sockets filled with a fire cross fell on a particular comic—"Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance"—displayed prominently on the shelf.
His skeletal hand reached out, gently lifting the issue. The cover depicted a flaming skull astride a fiery motorcycle, chains whipping through the air as buildings burned in the background. It was unmistakably him if not handsome and plain-looking.
For a moment, the Rider stood there, motionless, staring at the cover. A quiet chuckle escaped his bony mouth, a sound like dry leaves crackling in the wind.
"So," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, "I'm based on a comic book hero."
Taking the comic to a nearby table, the Rider sat down an odd sight, to say the least. He flipped through the pages carefully, his burning fingers somehow not scorching the paper.
The story was... exaggerated, to put it mildly. Battles with demons, epic chases, and wild exaggerations of his vengeance-fueled adventures filled the pages. They even gave him ridiculous one-liners.
"'Feel the burn'? Really?" he muttered to himself. "Who writes this stuff?"
"I dont say things like that…mostly" he muttered
Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel amusement. The artwork was striking, the flames and chains rendered in dramatic detail. And the idea of people cheering for him, rooting for his brand of justice was oddly comforting.
Then the rider started reading the history of himself which made him a little piss off his flames burned a little hotter
Him the new generation of a new breed of archangels made into a slave by this Mephisto, this will corrected.
The Rider approached the counter, comic in hand. The shopkeeper, still wide-eyed, nervously rang up the purchase.
"That'll be, uh, $4.99," he said, trying to act normal despite the literal embodiment of vengeance standing in front of him
The Rider reached into his coat and produced a charred coin. As he placed it on the counter, it glowed faintly with Sacred Hellfire, leaving behind a perfect imprint of its holy markings.
"Keep the change," the Rider said, his voice tinged with dry humor.
Before he could leave, the shopkeeper finally found his voice. "Hey, uh... are you really Ghost Rider? Like, the real deal?"
The Rider glanced back, his flaming skull tilting slightly. He held up the comic, the flames around him flickering brighter.
"Let's just say," he said, his voice carrying a mix of menace and amusement, "this issue's going to sell out soon.
With that, he walked out, his motorcycle roaring to life outside. The shopkeeper rushed to the window, watching as the Rider sped off, leaving a trail of fire etched into the street while his speakers played (the wrong side of heaven) song and bumping his head to it
(sorry if the chapter is short I got to study for a math exam and after this chapter, we will go back to Celestia in heaven)
[In the underworld]
Mephisto's domain, often referred to as the Midnight Asylum, is an enigmatic plane nestled in the deeper layers of the Underworld. A labyrinth of twisting corridors, ancient libraries, and arcane laboratories, it serves as both a sanctuary for forbidden knowledge
The Midnight Asylum appears as a massive gothic citadel suspended in an endless void of starless night. Jagged spires of obsidian rise high into the darkness, their edges shimmering faintly as if etched with arcane wards. The citadel seems alive, its architecture shifting subtly, creating the illusion that it watches all who approach.
Sit down on a table doing the most evil thing to be made…paperwork!
Mephisto twirled a sleek silver cane in his gloved hand. His appearance was impeccably dapper: a tailored black suit with faint purple pinstripes, a crimson silk vest, and a silver pocket watch dangling from a chain and had a black top hat
(kinda looks like the exorcist Mephisto)
While doing paperwork he keeps looking back cause he started to feel like someone is watching him but he can't sense anything.
Hours pass by and he decides to go to take a nap cause of all of the paperwork.
time skip - next day
Mephisto woke up groggy from the fitful nap his dream was filled with really wacky dreams he couldn't quite place his finger on it but something didn't feel right
Unbeknownst to him Zarathos had already acted. calling on a unique magic The Ghost Rider. His being is not only empowered by the Sacred Hellfire but also by a divine connection to his Mother allowing him to use divine power to manipulate the dreamscape.
In Mephisto's dream, he was eating cake and watching an anime called exorcist that he invested in to get humans to like him and be willing to make deals.
But out of nowhere, a burst of golden light happened, and the devil suddenly found itself standing in a surreal plane of infinite mirrors, each reflecting its sins. The mirrors shattered one by one, their shards forming chains of Sacred Hellfire that wrapped around the devil, dragging it to its knees.
"What the satan balls is going on?" the devil roared
"You think this will stop me?" the devil questioned
The Rider stepped closer, his skeletal form flickering like a mirage. "You don't have any power here." He raised his hand, the shotgun manifesting and glowing with runes energy.
The devil screamed as the Rider fired, the blast of Sacred Hellfire consuming its form. while waiting for the devil to woke up.
While Mephisto was still having the nightmare zarathos broke into the home and dropped some drops of tasteless laxative into his food that the servants were making when the chef wasn't looking by the time he finished his breakfast he was none the wiser.
The effects we almost immediate just as he began his morning call of his servants, he felt a very very sharp cramp causing him to double over, clutching his abdomen in pain.
"Sir is everything ok," one of the servants asks as they try to help him up
"I'm ok," Mephisto said, he was going to say something else to say before letting out a fart, the sharp pain getting worse" No I'm not ok! not ok! I need to use the bathroom move!"
For the next hour, the powerful devil sat on the toilet thinking what he ate that causing this.
[day 2]
Zarathos decided to join the fun on the second night. he used his dream manipulation ability to slip into a Mephisto dream. What began as a peaceful dream quickly turned into a nightmare he was talking in a meeting about the angels showing themself to the public he was standing while speaking and soon felt his pants get heavy with droplets of some liquid he looked down and realized with horror.
"What the fuck?!" he was surprised, the dream was too real and hard to tell if it was fake.
Then came the laughter of some of the other devils in the meeting then to his complete and utter shock the original Lucifer in a butler suit walked to him "Look at the big bad Mephisto who needs a diaper change" he teased.
In the dream, Mephisto tries to run, but his legs feel like they struck in quicksand. this time the Rider showed up the Ghost rider aimed his shotgun straight at his groin "Wait don't!" he screamed clutching his crotch and awoke drenched in a cold sweat and his heart pumping.
He checked his pants it was dry and his little brother was still there, thank goodness he thought in relief.
He starts to be paranoid that he has ordered his food from an outside restaurant that he owns.
Later the day he was attending a video meeting about the low devils when his gut told him something bad was going to happen. He held his breath for some time hoping the feeling would just go away. the noble devil in the call was in the middle of saying something when a very sudden loud fart resonated in the air.
There was an awkward silence while the noble devil just stared at Mephisto trying to hide his laughing.
Mephisto tried to play it off "Did you hear that" His eyes started to twitch.
The noble coughed "I uh didn't hear anything probably an animal"
"Yes an animal", Mephisto agrees hastily though there is no animal in sight. he ended to call abruptly burying his face in his hands.
"This is probably God's doing, go after that chicken riser he deserves it more than me" Mephisto shouted aloud.