Inside the caretaker's residence at Saint Michael Cetery in Texas, the atmosphere was unusually heavy.
An old man with white hair, dressed in worn cowboy clothes, looked seriously at the man and woman before him.
The man was handso but carried a trace of weariness. He wore a black leather jacket and leather pants, giving off a distinctly tal-style look. Beside him stood a woman in a red-and-white plaid shirt and jeans, her hair tied back in a ponytail.
"Boy, you've gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble this ti." The old man's voice sounded aged, yet still full of strength.
"I'm sorry, Carter. Those things ca after and Roxanne. I couldn't think of anywhere else to run."
The man's voice carried both apology and exhaustion.
The old man called Carter fell silent.
His gaze shifted from the man to the woman, Roxanne. After looking at her for a mont, he sighed softly.
"Those bastards did it on purpose, Johnny."
"On purpose?" Johnny was no fool. He imdiately reacted. "They let us escape on purpose."
"You still aren't familiar with that form yet, and you were even protecting an ordinary person. How could you possibly have escaped otherwise?"
Carter nodded and said firmly, "They used you to find ."
"But why? I don't understand." Johnny looked confused.
He had originally been nothing more than a stunt motorcyclist. His reckless style and explosive performances had earned him a fair amount of fa, but he was still just an ordinary man.
Yet a month ago, his world had completely changed.
His mories began disappearing. Every night, he would lose consciousness, and when he woke the next morning, he would find himself riding his motorcycle in a completely different city.
Sotis it would be a park. Sotis a dark alley. Other tis an abandoned repair yard.
Only later, after investigating further, did he discover that he transford into a flaming skeleton.
And that he would actively seek out sinners and punish them.
A few days ago, as though guided by fate, they had arrived here. After Carter took them in, Johnny gradually learned the truth.
There was a Spirit of Vengeance inside his body.
After transforming, he beca the Ghost Rider, judging the guilty.
Johnny had never wanted to beco so Ghost Rider, but whether he accepted it or not, trouble had already found him.
He did not want his girlfriend Roxanne to be placed in danger because of him.
With no other choice, he ca to seek help from Carter, who seed to know many things.
But he had never expected it to be a trap.
Just as Johnny was about to say sothing else, old Carter suddenly turned toward the doorway, his eyes becoming sharper than ever before.
"They're already here."
"What?"
Ignoring the shocked expressions of Johnny and Roxanne, Carter walked outside. The two exchanged glances before quickly following him.
Outside was an open area. Not far away stood a low fence surrounding the house.
Farther in the distance were rows of gravestones and trees.
The cetery should have been empty at night, yet several uninvited guests had appeared.
Standing only a few ters from the entrance was the handso man in a suit, along with several strange-looking companions.
One wore a dark green coat, his long black hair dripping foul-slling water.
Another wore a crocodile-patterned coat and was nearly bald.
The last had thick dreadlocks and neatly trimd stubble.
Four people in total.
Or rather, none of them were truly human.
Blackheart, son of the Demon King. And your lackeys—the Hidden: Abigor, Gressil, and Wallow." Carter recognized them imdiately, his gaze sweeping across each one as he exposed their identities.
"Carter Slade. Once my father's finest... servant."
Blackheart, dressed in a purple suit, spoke in a calm and magnetic voice. He was not surprised at all that Carter had identified him, and instead exposed Carter's identity in return.
But when he spoke the final word, it carried unmistakable mockery.
After a brief pause, Blackheart shook his head as though sighing in regret. "You look like you've aged quite a bit."
"Earth is not a place for demons like you. Aren't you afraid of those sorcerers? Get out of here." Old Carter barked, ignoring the demon's mockery.
"Sorcerers?"
As though hearing a ridiculous joke, Blackheart burst into arrogant laughter.
"They can barely take care of themselves right now. How would they have ti to bother with ?"
"I am the future Satan. Why should I fear those crawling insects?"
His words caused the other three demons to reveal savage smiles. Clearly, they fully agreed with Blackheart.
However, an unfamiliar voice suddenly interrupted his arrogance.
"The future Satan?"
As soon as those words—filled with genuine curiosity—were spoken, the expressions of everyone present changed instantly.
Carter and the others were shocked by the sudden appearance of a stranger, while the four demons reacted because the voice had co from directly behind them, and it was very close.
Blackheart, in particular, felt an unprecedented sense of danger flood his entire being.
His pupils contracted slightly, and the smile on his face froze.
He did not even dare move, because the owner of that voice was standing right behind him.
His instincts scread warnings at him.
Run.
Escape imdiately.
Get away from danger.
His scalp tingled violently.
Fear—silent and overwhelming—began to spread within him. The other three demons felt it as well.
But unlike them, Blackheart's first reaction to fear was fury and disbelief.
Since the day he was born, there had only ever been one person he feared.
His father.
To Blackheart, that fear was humiliation, and for a long ti, that humiliation had eaten away at his heart.
After growing stronger, his ambitions had swelled, and he believed he would never feel such emotions again.
Yet now, it had returned.
His rage ignited instantly, even overwhelming the fear itself.
"You damn—"
Blackheart's relaxed right hand suddenly clenched into a fist as a terrifying invisible aura spread from his body.
He spun around violently—
Only for his body to freeze the mont he turned.
Because a finger was pressed against his forehead.
At the fingertip blood a dazzling golden cross-shaped light, containing terrifying energy. The mont it erupted, Blackheart had no doubt it could blast straight through his skull.
He did not dare move.
The other three demons also turned around, but after seeing the scene, none of them dared move either.
Because the human before them radiated an indescribably terrifying presence that pressed down heavily upon them.
They could clearly sense that if they moved even slightly, what awaited them would be a devastating attack.
The entire scene instantly fell into eerie silence.
Under the illumination of the golden cross-shaped light, everyone finally saw the owner of that finger clearly.
Very young.
Exceptionally young.
Short black hair, light brown eyes, a dark blue overcoat draped over his shoulders, paired with a fitted black shirt, khaki straight-leg casual pants, and Martin boots.
His features were sharp and handso, with a faint smile curving at the corner of his lips.
Beneath the bright moonlight, he appeared especially eye-catching.
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