Tony Stark, Thor, and the others were racing toward their target.
Tony soared above the town in his Iron Man armor when a blur of motion cut across his path. It happened so suddenly that he almost collided head-on with it. Fortunately, the armor's automatic combat systems reacted instantly, tilting his body mid-flight and avoiding a crash.
The figure didn't stop. It plummeted from the sky and slammed into the middle of a small-town building with an ear-splitting BOOM! The upper floors of the structure collapsed, tumbling into nearby houses. The air filled with a rain of rubble, shattered wood, and choking clouds of dust.
The figure didn't stop there—it skidded hundreds of meters down the street, smashing through one Blood Clan after another. Fragments of buildings and splashes of blood flew into the air, the impact echoing through the desolate streets.
At last, the figure came to rest, leaving a crater in the ground. Tony's HUD zoomed in automatically. Lying at the center of the wreckage was Sanjid.
His condition was dire. His body was covered in deep gashes, blood streaming freely, his clothes torn to shreds. Rain mixed with his blood, pooling in the mud. The Blood Clan, their eyes glowing red with hunger, began to close in from all directions.
Even so, Sanjid did not cower. He glared at them from the pit, unmoving but unafraid.
"Get out!" he snarled.
The sheer killing intent radiating from his earlier battle with the demon king Mephisto froze the low-level Blood Clan in their tracks. For a moment, fear flickered in their eyes. Yet the smell of his blood was intoxicating—magical, almost—dragging them toward him like moths to a flame.
Tony was about to dive down when a deep, guttural engine roar tore through the rain. A burning human skeleton in a leather jacket appeared, riding a flaming Ghost Rider Harley. Heavy iron chains coiled around him rattled with every movement.
The motorcycle streaked down the street like a comet, leaving a blazing trail of fire. Every Blood Clan in its path was incinerated instantly, reduced to nothing by the Ghost Rider's hellfire tires.
With a final screech of burning rubber, the bike came to a stop in front of the pit. The sudden stillness after such chaos was unnerving. Even Tony, watching from above, felt an odd discomfort.
Thor descended beside him, landing hard enough to splash through the muddy water at the pit's edge. Rain mixed with blood swirled around his boots, but he paid no attention.
He looked down at Sanjid, his eyes still bright despite the wounds. Thor's lips curled into a rare, approving smile.
"How is it?" he asked, extending his hand.
Thor respected warriors—especially those who could stand against the demon king Mephisto. This young man had earned that respect.
Sanjid gritted his teeth, refusing to let his injuries diminish him. He clasped Thor's forearm and let the Asgardian haul him out of the crater.
"That damned cousin shouldn't be feeling much better than I do," Sanjid said with a faint grin, ignoring the pain tearing through his body.
Thor chuckled. "That's definite."
"What about the others?" Sanjid asked.
"They should have run," Thor replied.
"I smell the devil's breath," Ghost Rider rasped from behind them. Without another word, the fiery skeleton revved his engine and roared out of town, leaving only smoke and a line of fire in his wake.
Tony, Thor, and Captain America exchanged glances.
---
Dozens of kilometers away, along a lonely farmland road, Mephisto was barely holding himself together. His body was half-destroyed, thick black smoke pouring from his wounds.
"This body won't last long," he muttered darkly. "I need to find a new one."
His tone dripped with frustration. "Damn brat… and that damn girl. Ruining my plan again."
The sting of humiliation burned more than his wounds. The barrier had been broken, his body shattered, and worst of all—he had been forced to retreat to avoid the notice of that troublesome Asgardian.
But before he could slink away to recover, a sudden wave of danger washed over him. His instincts screamed.
He lifted his head—and froze.
A figure stood balanced atop an electric pole more than ten meters ahead. She was beautiful, cold, and carried herself with an effortless aristocratic air. A white casual top, gray pants, and limited-edition white sneakers somehow made her look both elegant and dangerous. Her eyes were calm, but there was no warmth in them.
It was Bella.
The rose and war spears she had given Sanjid contained a tracking function alongside their defensive enchantments. She had followed that signal here. And there was no way she'd pass up the experience points a wounded demon king could offer.
She looked down at him, her gaze full of sharp amusement.
"Tsk, tsk… looks like your plan fell apart, Mephisto."
His blood-red eye narrowed, rage boiling beneath the surface. But Mephisto was too cunning to show it. His voice was calm, almost mocking.
"Those marked by the devil never escape. Whether it's you or that child, you've only made your fate worse. Angering me means suffering ten thousand times more in the future."
Bella tilted her head, one eyebrow arched. "Maybe. But for now…"
Her voice dropped to an icy whisper.
"…please die."
BOOM!
The pole beneath her exploded into splinters as she launched forward at supersonic speed. In the blink of an eye, she was standing before him, her hand wrapped around a pure white gun—the Goddess of War. Threads of radiant light ran along the weapon's surface, pulsing with lethal power.
Mephisto didn't move. He knew this woman's strength far outstripped the boy's. And that weapon—though only a pseudo-divine artifact—was more than enough to end him in his current state.
He tried one last time to speak. "Next time—"
BANG!
Bella didn't let him finish. The beam of pure white energy tore through the remnants of his head, erasing the last fragment of his soul.
POOF!
What was left of Mephisto's body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Bella stood over the corpse, lowering her weapon with a faint smirk.
"Next time what?" she murmured.
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