After Mephisto had been gone for quite some time, Duke-who had been frozen in place-finally snapped out of it.
He took off the thick clothes wrapped around his body and removed his gloves.
When the blood-stained gloves came off, Duke's hands were revealed.
They were covered in blood.
But not a single wound.
It wasn't his blood.
It was pig's blood.
From the very beginning, Duke had decided he would not make a deal with Mephisto.
Throughout history, countless powerful figures believed they could see through a devil's contract.
In the end, every single one of them was deceived.
They lost everything.
Their souls fell into Hell, no longer belonging to themselves.
But his father's restored health was an irresistible temptation.
Caught in that torment, Duke made a decision so bold that even Morin was surprised.
Ordinary people were lucky just to avoid being tricked by a devil.
Duke, on the other hand-
He chose to trick the devil himself.
He didn't know whether Mephisto would see through it.
But he knew one thing.
If he didn't try, all he could do was watch his father die.
Since the outcome couldn't get any worse-
Why not gamble?
So Duke gambled.
And he won.
Mephisto's projection on Earth was extremely weak.
His magical power was limited.
He couldn't act freely.
That was why he needed a Rider.
A suitable target.
A signed contract.
Only then could he implant the Spirit of Vengeance and create a Ghost Rider to harvest souls.
In this state, Mephisto's perception wasn't perfect.
Turning on full detection would cause his projection to dissipate in seconds.
And more importantly-
Mephisto's purpose was to deceive mortals.
He was the one setting traps.
He wasn't guarding against being tricked himself.
So he lowered his guard.
After all, who would expect a mortal to dare deceive the Lord of Hell?
Duke's plan, in hindsight, was simple.
First, he had to avoid being tricked.
Word traps in the contract.
Hidden clauses.
Methods to force an "accidental" signature.
He considered all of it.
After long deliberation, he found a loophole in the wording and proposed an additional clause to nullify hidden traps.
Then, he wrapped himself head to toe in thick clothing.
Wore gloves.
And hid a bag of pig's blood inside.
Crude.
Reckless.
A massive gamble.
Duke later said:
"I admit it. I was gambling. But at that moment, it was the only option I had."
It was a terrifying gamble.
He had to bet that Mephisto needed him.
That Mephisto would accept the clause.
That Mephisto wouldn't force him to sign.
That Mephisto wouldn't notice the blood was fake.
Lose even one of those bets-
And Duke would be finished.
The courage.
The wild imagination.
The meticulous preparation.
Even Morin admired it.
He was certain that even if he were in Duke's position, the chances of success would be extremely low.
In fact-
Even if Duke tried again, success would be nearly impossible.
It was a chain of coincidences.
An absolute accident.
A mortal who deceived and used the Lord of Hell.
The last person known to do something like this was John Constantine.
And Constantine wasn't an ordinary human.
So Duke stood alone.
Amazing.
Morin marveled and kept watching.
Reading memories felt like watching a movie.
A full panoramic simulation.
And since the story was this good, he was completely absorbed.
Morin was certain Mephisto would discover the fake blood.
Not on Earth.
But in Hell.
With his full power, it would be trivial.
If he couldn't, he wouldn't deserve the title Lord of Hell.
So the question was-
Why did Mephisto only seal Duke's memories?
Why such a mild curse?
From Mephisto's perspective, being tricked by a mortal was humiliation.
Rage should have followed.
Dragging Duke's soul into Hell.
Torturing it for thousands of years.
Yet that didn't happen.
Something had intervened.
Morin continued watching.
Duke returned home.
Before he even stepped inside, he saw his father on the balcony.
Alive.
Recovered.
Hanging clothes.
Duke smiled.
He knew Mephisto would find out eventually.
But this was all he could do.
When Mephisto mentioned thirty years, Duke had wavered.
For a moment, he considered signing properly.
Then he remembered-
Devil.
And gave up that thought.
Devils were never to be trusted.
Winning this much was enough.
If he lost, he wouldn't resent it.
He never deserved to win in the first place.
Then-
His expression froze.
White breath escaped his mouth.
Streetlights flickered.
Crackled.
Went dark.
It was autumn.
Not cold enough for visible breath.
There was only one explanation.
A devil had arrived.
When Mephisto appeared, temperature dropped sharply.
Lights overloaded and failed.
"You are very good."
Mephisto stood before Duke.
Rage twisted his face.
A hint of his true form leaked through.
Terrifying.
He threw the contract at Duke's feet.
Torn cleanly in half.
"You dare deceive me."
"I had to gamble," Duke said, legs trembling.
"Very good," Mephisto snarled.
"Then I'll show you pain."
Black mist surged forward.
Death loomed-
Then-
Golden light.
A magic circle formed in midair.
The black mist was blocked.
"Ah!" Mephisto roared.
"Ancient One! You dare interfere?!"
Morin: "???"
The Ancient One?
The Sorcerer Supreme?
This was Ghost Rider's world.
Why was the Ancient One here?
Then Morin realized-
Ghost Rider was Marvel.
Which meant-
This was a Marvel universe.
With that in mind, he kept watching.
Duke didn't close his eyes.
He saw everything.
A spark appeared in the air.
A circle was drawn.
A hooded, white-bearded old man stepped through.
A Daoist robe.
Just as the comics depicted.
"Such an interesting show," the Ancient One said with a smile.
"How could I not step in?"
"You saw everything," Mephisto's face darkened further.
He had returned quickly to suppress the matter.
To preserve his reputation.
But now-
There was no point killing Duke.
Mephisto valued reputation.
But benefits came first.
"Yes," the Ancient One replied calmly.
"You were moving back and forth so eagerly. It caught my attention."
To Mephisto, that smile was pure mockery.
"Were you sent by God to save me?" Duke asked softly.
He had prayed everywhere.
If devils existed, angels should too.
"No," the Ancient One replied.
"I am not God. I am a sorcerer."
"You're impressive," he continued.
"And he broke the rules. So I'm here to protect you."
"Can I learn magic?" Duke asked quickly.
"No," the Ancient One refused without hesitation.
"You lack talent."
"Can it be changed?"
"Perhaps God would be interested in helping you."
"I say," Mephisto interrupted, furious.
"Are you two forgetting something?"
"I want him to pay."
"Then try," the Ancient One smiled.
"You intend to stop me?"
"What if I do?"
The atmosphere tightened.
"...Let's both step back," Mephisto finally said.
"Or I'll unite the Lords of Hell and attack Earth."
"And your terms?" the Ancient One asked.
"I reclaim his father's life. He lives. But I seal his memory."
"No," the Ancient One refused.
"His efforts deserve reward."
"...Fine," Mephisto growled.
"His father lives the same lifespan as before."
"But he will never ride a motorcycle again."
"No."
"You've gone too far," Mephisto snapped.
"I've tolerated you long enough!"
"Then compromise," the Ancient One said, glancing at Duke.
"He can ride. Just not fast."
"A hundred miles per hour."
Green light flashed in his eyes.
"...Fine," Mephisto said.
"But you won't help him remove the curse."
"And my son may come to Earth."
"Which son?" the Ancient One asked, intrigued.
"That's none of your concern."
"...Agreed."
"Contract?" the Ancient One added deliberately.
Mephisto's face twisted.
"Sign."
Contracts bound beings like them.
Without one, words meant nothing.
This time, the contract favored neither side.
And the Ancient One deliberately added Duke's anti-trap clause.
Just to irritate Mephisto.
Mephisto pretended not to notice.
His anger only grew.
Duke said nothing.
He knew better.
"You tricked me," Mephisto said, smiling coldly.
"I look forward to your arrival in Hell."
"I'll prepare a playground. Just for you."
Gray mist spread toward Duke.
"This curse will bind you."
A voice echoed in Duke's mind.
"One day, you'll remember everything."
"Someone will help you break it."
Duke looked at the Ancient One.
Green light still glowed in his eyes.
"Don't resent me," the voice said.
"I have my reasons."
"When the time comes, ask him."
"No need to greet me."
"He can see me."
"And tell him-"
"In this world, we won't meet."
"We'll meet in other worlds."
The memory ended.
"How interesting," Morin said quietly.
There was too much information.
A mortal deceiving the Lord of Hell.
The Ancient One intervening.
A message left for the future.
Reality really was more dramatic than fiction.
If this were written as a story-
People would call it unreasonable.
Morin smiled faintly.
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