"You're full of hot air," Duke said, pouting.
"If you don't start riding, I'm leaving," Morin replied, already tired.
Morin was used to people not believing him when he told the truth.
"Okay, okay!" Duke quickly pulled down his helmet visor.
"By the way, aren't you going to wear a helmet?"
"I don't need one," Morin sighed.
For someone who had already reached a very high level in magic, blocking the wind was trivial.
There were at least a hundred relevant spells in his books.
He could use any of them.
"So... countdown?" Duke asked.
"Five, four, three, two, one," Morin said, deciding not to waste words.
"You're supposed to say 'go' on the last one!" Duke said, twisting the throttle at the same time.
Then-
He shot forward.
Morin twisted his throttle and followed immediately.
A professional motorcycle could break one hundred kilometers per hour in a few seconds.
Duke's bike wasn't quite that level, but it was close.
Seconds later, it passed one hundred.
A few seconds after that, one hundred sixty kilometers per hour.
A hundred miles per hour.
Morin followed easily, staying close.
He didn't even look at the road.
His eyes were fixed on Duke and the motorcycle.
Sure enough, the moment Duke's speed passed one hundred-
An "accident" happened.
The quotation marks were necessary.
It wasn't an accident.
An ordinary person wouldn't notice anything.
But in Morin's perception, a black magic circle flashed over Duke's body for an instant.
A wisp of black smoke appeared out of nowhere and slipped into the motorcycle.
A small component was damaged.
Just enough to cut power.
Not enough to cause a crash.
Not enough to make Duke lose control.
Duke was a fanatic rider.
He could handle this easily.
He didn't know why the bike lost power, but he'd experienced it many times.
He slowed down smoothly and stopped.
Morin followed and stopped at the same time.
"Phew... this one wasn't too bad," Duke said with a bitter smile.
"Last time, the drive shaft broke, and the brake disc failed too. I crashed then. Fracture, but I recovered, so I can still ride."
He didn't ask Morin if he'd figured anything out.
He'd already given up hope.
"I have a rough idea," Morin said.
Duke froze.
For a long time.
"You... what did you say?" he asked urgently.
"I said I have a rough idea. I'm just not sure who cursed you, or why they didn't just kill you outright," Morin said, genuinely puzzled.
"Have you touched anything strange? Something old. With symbols?"
"A curse... strange things..." Duke didn't question the idea.
He grabbed onto the lifeline immediately.
"I don't think so..."
"Never mind," Morin said.
He activated the Eye of Justice and looked at Duke, while also sending a mental probe into his memories.
Under the Eye of Justice, the curse became clear.
This was a new function he gained after upgrading it.
He could now see curses, dark magic, and other "evil" effects.
The spell itself was unfamiliar.
Completely different from anything Morin knew.
A new system.
He could tell because he didn't understand it at all.
Morin wasn't discouraged.
Not understanding meant there was something new to learn.
That was good.
To find the origin and effect of the curse, the answer had to be in Duke's memories.
The moment Morin entered them, he found it.
Not because he was fast.
But because a section was sealed.
A very obvious black seal.
Same source as the curse on Duke's body.
If this wasn't the source-
Morin would've chopped off Duke's head.
He broke the seal directly.
Different systems didn't matter.
Destruction was universal.
Wrap it. Isolate it. Burst it.
Simple.
Effective.
After breaking it, Morin began reviewing the memory.
It started when Duke learned his father had a terminal illness.
Duke loved motorcycles.
When he learned there was no cure, he went to the garage.
He talked to his bike.
About his sorrow.
About his helplessness.
It was a rainy night.
Lightning struck.
Thunder roared.
A white-haired old man appeared.
A suit.
A receding hairline.
A cane.
The cane was crystal.
A skull sat on top.
And when lightning flashed, the shadow on the wall-
Was shaped like a goat's head.
A symbol of the devil.
The legend behind it was crude, but familiar.
Hard to verify.
Still logical.
Duke immediately knew what this was.
And knew the deal would be malicious.
But the temptation-
His father cured.
It was overwhelming.
The scroll the old man took out felt irresistible.
Should he agree?
Sell his soul?
Or watch his father die?
Duke hesitated.
Morin frowned.
This felt familiar.
Too familiar.
Johnny Blaze.
Ghost Rider.
The old man was dressed exactly the same.
Mephisto.
Did this devil only have one routine?
But Duke hadn't become Ghost Rider.
What happened next?
Morin kept watching.
Mephisto decided to push.
Three days.
Midnight.
His father would die.
Duke relaxed-
No.
He was still terrified.
But he chose to spend those three days with his father.
Then decide.
Mephisto: "???"
He couldn't force a contract.
That would be invalid.
More importantly, it violated his agreement with the Spirit of Vengeance.
That angel was insane.
But strict.
Any sin, no matter how small, would be found.
So Mephisto agreed.
Two nights later.
He chose candidates carefully.
Excellent riders.
Deep family bonds.
Duke fit perfectly.
Knowing his father would die in three days-
Spending two days in silence-
It would only deepen the pain.
And raise the chance he'd sign.
Mephisto added restrictions.
Duke couldn't tell his father anything.
Then he returned to Hell.
Even as the Lord of Hell, coming to Earth wasn't easy.
Surveillance was weak.
Power came with restrictions.
Big fish were noticed.
Small fry slipped through.
Blackheart was one of those.
After Mephisto left, Duke went home.
He didn't tell his father.
Instead, he thought of an idea.
A bold one.
"Holy crap," Morin muttered.
"That's insane."
"And you actually pulled it off."
Morin didn't admire many people.
Duke was now one of them.
Even Morin wasn't sure he'd do better.
Two days later.
"So," Mephisto said, appearing again. "Have you decided?"
Then he paused.
"What's with that outfit?"
"I've... been cold," Duke said stiffly. "It's reasonable, right?"
Mephisto: "..."
Rainy autumn night.
And Duke was wrapped like he was heading to Antarctica.
Only his face was exposed.
And it was drenched in sweat.
Cold?
Bullshit.
"Heh. Fine," Mephisto said, pulling out the contract.
"Sign it. Your soul for your father's health."
"Put it there," Duke said, pointing at a table.
"And open it."
Mephisto complied.
The parchment lay flat.
He'd prepared tricks.
Hidden thorns.
Blood meant consent.
But now-
Those thorns were useless.
They couldn't pierce gloves.
Mephisto couldn't force it.
Only accidents counted.
And forced contracts were invalid.
He let it go.
Duke would sign anyway.
"I need to read it carefully," Duke said.
"Take your time," Mephisto smiled.
Then Duke pulled out tweezers.
And a magnifying glass.
Mephisto: "..."
After a long inspection-
"It looks fine," Duke said.
"My deals are always fair," Mephisto replied.
"Shall we sign?"
"I want to add a clause," Duke said.
Mephisto went silent.
"...Is that not allowed?" Duke frowned.
"We can discuss it," Mephisto said calmly.
Inside, he was furious.
"Here," Duke pointed.
"My father must be healthy, mobile, unrestricted, and live well until ninety-nine."
Mephisto froze.
Wordplay again.
"...That's acceptable," he said, forcing it.
The clause changed.
"Great. Just one more," Duke said shyly.
Mephisto relaxed.
Then-
"All clauses I cannot see clearly, or don't understand beforehand, are invalid."
"And all text must be in a language I understand."
Otherwise, invalid.
The smile vanished.
"Well done," Mephisto said flatly.
"You're cautious."
"The most cautious I've met."
He waved his hand.
The contract changed completely.
Brutal terms for Duke.
None for Mephisto.
"...I'm just being careful," Duke said.
"What makes you think you must deal with me?" Mephisto snarled.
Then he offered another contract.
One year.
No negotiation.
"I'm a devil."
"...No," Duke said after a pause. "I refuse."
Mephisto screamed.
Snatched the contract.
Left.
"Then watch your father die!"
Duke collapsed.
Sweating.
He tore off layers of clothing.
Then sobbed.
"I'm sorry, Dad... one year isn't enough..."
Late night.
Less than two minutes left.
He couldn't cry anymore.
Then footsteps.
Mephisto returned.
"Thirty years," he said darkly, slamming the contract down.
Duke read it.
Agreed instantly.
"Blood," Mephisto said. "Five seconds."
Duke cut his finger through the glove and pressed it down.
Just in time.
Mephisto vanished.
Furious.
"You're the first deal I've lost."
"Both of us won," Duke said, crying and smiling.
"Your father is alive."
"Go see him."
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