Such a long jump was a brutal test for both the motorcycle and the rider.
To clear it, Johnny needed extreme speed-accelerating from zero to a velocity high enough to cross most of the stadium in just a few meters.
At that speed, even a tiny mistake on landing would be fatal.
That was why Johnny's stunts were simple and wildly popular.
Humans feared death.
They hated it.
And so they loved watching someone challenge it and survive.
They loved that razor-thin line between life and death.
But Johnny felt nothing.
As the performer, he should have felt the thrill.
The risk.
The excitement.
But he didn't.
Because he was immortal.
Over the years, Johnny had made mistakes during performances.
Some intentional.
He wanted to die.
But as a rider, he refused to die any way other than the way his father had-on a stunt.
Yet no matter how many fatal errors he made, he never even got scratched.
This time was the same.
After raising his fists to the roaring crowd, Johnny twisted the throttle.
The motorcycle surged forward with terrifying power.
In a short distance, it reached an unbelievable speed.
Then it launched into the air, soaring over the trucks.
Midair, Johnny closed his eyes.
That memory returned.
Hidden thorns.
The scroll.
Blood dripping onto the contract.
Being torn away from his loved one.
Freedom lost.
Immortality gained.
Waiting endlessly for a demon's call.
He had searched everywhere for a solution.
Churches.
Anywhere.
Nothing worked.
The irony was suffocating.
Such a huge sacrifice had only bought his father a few extra hours of life.
He didn't die of lung cancer.
He died in a stunt show.
The deal had been rotten from the start.
Johnny thought so.
But regret was useless.
Demons didn't care about fairness.
If they did, they wouldn't be the embodiment of evil.
Johnny opened his eyes.
The bike had cleared the trucks and was descending.
There was no time to adjust the front wheel.
Or maybe-
He just didn't care.
Who knew?
After becoming immortal, speed had lost its meaning.
The thrill of speed came from flirting with death.
And death no longer wanted him.
Johnny was bored with life.
But he couldn't end it.
He felt like the most tragic person in the world.
No.
A monster.
What kind of person couldn't die?
The front wheel struck the landing ramp.
Because Johnny hadn't adjusted it, the wheel twisted slightly at that insane speed.
The bike pitched forward.
The angle was too steep.
Johnny was thrown off.
His head slammed into the spinning wheel.
His helmet shattered.
It happened in an instant.
Gasps.
Screams.
Johnny hit the ground near the edge of the field and lay motionless.
From the stands, Morin watched everything.
From his perspective, the moment Johnny's head was about to hit the wheel, an invisible energy wrapped around his entire body.
Perfect protection.
Not a single injury.
Morin watched a little longer.
Johnny was helped up.
He waved to the crowd.
Announced his next show.
As if nothing had happened.
Morin stood and left.
Next came Blackheart.
The first real step in fleecing Mephisto.
Duke had been an unexpected bonus.
Easy money.
This was all part of a plan Morin had been preparing for some time.
Through investigation, he had marked several wilderness motorcycle motels around the city.
That wasn't hard.
He looked for two things.
Lots of bikes.
Lots of "angels."
Not real angels.
Slang for sex workers.
Why they were called that, Morin had no idea.
Maybe it was like how people in China said "I go" instead of "oh my god."
There weren't many places that fit both conditions.
Morin spent two days scouting.
He didn't go inside.
The quality was too low.
But he left a warning array at each location.
The array would detect magical fluctuations and notify him instantly.
He could teleport there and start the plan.
Classic baiting.
Waiting for the prey to come.
He set many traps.
That was fine.
As long as he caught the rabbit, it was worth it.
...
That night, heavy rain poured down.
In the wilderness, the rain suddenly changed.
It glowed.
It had color.
When it hit the ground, it sizzled.
A foul, acrid stench spread.
Sulfur.
The smell of Hell.
In that distorted space, a pale man in a black trench coat stepped out of the darkness.
He inhaled deeply.
Then, as if guided, he walked in a specific direction.
Soon, he arrived at a tavern with motorcycles parked outside.
As a newcomer, he planned to kill a few people.
Steal some souls.
Have some fun.
But when he came within twenty meters of the tavern-
The array triggered.
A violent surge of energy erupted.
The man staggered back.
What?
A magic array?
Here?
And this much power?
His expression tightened.
This was too coincidental.
First human encounter on Earth.
And immediately a trap.
Had his arrival been exposed?
Had Earth's sorcerers anticipated him?
How?
Questions flooded his mind.
Then-
A pillar of light appeared several meters in front of him.
A person materialized.
A very handsome person.
The thought flashed-
And immediately turned into rage.
Someone more handsome than him?
Unacceptable.
"I can feel the killing intent," Morin said calmly, frowning as if confused.
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?" the man snapped back.
"And how did you know I'd be here?"
"I'm a police officer," Morin replied evenly.
"Traffic division."
"You can call me a traffic cop."
"I smell rotten eggs. You're a demon, right?"
"You belong in Hell. Smuggling yourself to Earth isn't allowed."
"I'm in charge of traffic. That means fines and detention."
"We'll wait for your parents to pay before sending you back."
"That's sulfur!" the man roared.
"Not rotten eggs!"
"And do you even know who I am?!"
"I am Blackheart!"
Future Lord of Hell!
"And stop pretending I'm stupid! What kind of traffic cop handles this?!"
"Isn't sulfur the smell of rotten eggs?" Morin waved dismissively.
"Close enough."
"And who's Blackheart? Never heard of you."
"Human!" Blackheart roared.
"You will pay for this arrogance!"
"I am Blackheart! The future Lord of Hell!"
"How dare you disrespect me!"
"First," Morin said calmly, "you violated the safe passage laws between Hell and Earth."
"So as a traffic cop, it's my duty to arrest you."
"That's reasonable. Legal."
"Second, I haven't heard your name. That's your problem."
"How is that disrespect?"
Morin wasn't rushing.
He was stalling.
He knew Mephisto was watching.
Blackheart didn't come without permission.
This was Mephisto's game.
Either retrieve the thousand perfect souls.
Or open a small Hell portal.
Win either way.
A son was expendable.
Demons didn't have family affection.
Morin needed to perform.
He needed an excuse.
Laws?
Made up.
Didn't matter.
He just had to convince himself.
Being fair to demons was pointless.
"Enough!" Blackheart roared.
He raised his hand and summoned Greasil, Wallow, and Abigor.
Earth.
Water.
Wind.
An almost complete elemental set.
Blackheart himself was ice.
Johnny was fire.
Originally, Blackheart planned to kill people to summon them.
Now, Morin forced him to use his own savings.
His heart bled.
Blackheart had no soul.
That was why the Penance Stare didn't work on him.
Perfect counter.
Until he absorbed the thousand souls.
Gained a soul.
And got killed instantly.
A masterclass in stupidity.
"Why summon us?" Wallow asked.
Morin watched silently.
"Later," Blackheart said coldly.
"Follow me, and I'll give you power, wealth, souls."
"Now, prove your loyalty."
"Kill him."
Blackheart wasn't foolish.
He let the demons test Morin.
Abigor attacked first.
Morin was pleased.
Another charge added.
Assaulting an officer.
Obstructing law enforcement.
Two charges.
Then the beating began.
Abigor turned into wind.
Physical immunity.
Devastation potential.
Useless.
Morin ignored it.
Wind was particles.
Particles could be controlled.
Morin formed a powerful magnetic field.
Abigor slammed into an invisible wall.
Trapped.
The demons couldn't see it.
Abigor bounced helplessly.
"What are you doing?!" Blackheart shouted.
It looked like Abigor was pretending.
"I can't move!" Abigor screamed.
"There are walls everywhere!"
No sound carried.
The magnetic field locked particles in place.
No medium.
No sound.
A theoretical trick.
Impossible in practice.
Unless you controlled electromagnetism completely.
Morin did.
"What are you doing?!" Blackheart roared again.
Fear crept in.
He didn't understand.
Unknown power terrified even demons.
"Both of you, go!" he ordered.
Greasil and Wallow hesitated.
Then attacked.
Earth golems.
Water torrents.
Morin didn't move.
The attacks turned.
One hundred eighty degrees.
They charged back at Blackheart.
Dragging Greasil and Wallow with them.
"What are you doing?!" Blackheart screamed.
They didn't answer.
They attacked harder.
Mind control made it trivial.
Morin watched calmly.
"So," he said, "want to talk again?"
No answer.
"I wonder why Mephisto let his son come to Earth," Morin mused.
Still nothing.
"Three strikes," Morin nodded.
"I'll arrest them."
"I can't let demons roam freely."
He stepped forward.
"Wait!"
A figure appeared behind him.
Anger barely contained.
Morin turned.
Mephisto.
"Well, well," Morin said pleasantly.
"Lord Mephisto."
"What brings you to Earth?"
"What do you want?!" Mephisto snapped.
His plan had been airtight.
The contract with the Ancient One forbade interference.
Yet here this was.
Impossible.
Unless-
A loophole.
Or foresight.
Either way, he had to deal with it.
"How rude," Morin sighed.
"I'm a traffic cop."
"I handle smugglers."
"Any punishment I give is legal."
"One billion dollars," Mephisto cut in.
"Plus the same amount of magic as last time," Morin replied.
"And different."
"Fine!"
"But you can't interfere again."
"They can't hurt humans," Morin said.
"I'll intervene if they do."
"Fine!"
"Deal."
Morin agreed instantly.
He'd won.
Mephisto missed something.
Johnny.
The contract was signed quickly.
Morin added his usual clause.
Mephisto barely reacted.
Annoyed.
Then numb.
Habit was terrifying.
"Good," Morin said.
He released the controls.
Teleported away.
Mephisto approached Blackheart.
The demons froze.
They'd been conscious the entire time.
Terrified.
Blackheart staggered back.
Earth was terrifying.
Then he felt Mephisto.
"Was this your plan?" Blackheart demanded.
Mephisto panicked internally.
Telepathy.
Of course.
"Listen-"
"I'm not listening!"
"You turned them against me!"
"I thought you knew I was using you," Mephisto snapped.
"That human controlled them!"
"...We couldn't move," Greasil and Wallow said weakly.
Abigor lay dizzy.
Magnetized.
Alive by miracle.
"Shut up!" Blackheart roared.
"What do you want?!"
"Come back," Mephisto said gently.
"Earth isn't for you."
"That human won't interfere if you don't hurt humans."
"Only that?" Blackheart scoffed.
"I won't go back."
"Why come to Earth?"
"You won't give me the throne!"
"It will be yours."
"Bullshit!"
"You've said that for thirteen thousand years!"
"This time I mean it," Mephisto said reflexively.
"Alright," Blackheart said immediately.
"I'll go back."
Mephisto: "???"
This was not how this was supposed to go.
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