With that question in mind, they stayed cautious as they attacked, constantly watching their surroundings.
But until Abigor wrapped the Ghost Rider in a chain and hoisted him into the air, Morin never appeared.
In truth, Morin could have appeared at any time.
He had been watching from the beginning.
If he really wanted to, he could have arrested everyone on the spot for illegal assembly and brawling. Given his agreement with Mephisto regarding Blackheart, he could have even taken Johnny away directly.
But that wasn't Morin's goal.
Letting Johnny get used to his first transformation and experience real combat was also part of the plan. Otherwise, Morin would feel awkward stepping in later.
He didn't want to be called a max-level account bullying a level-one newbie.
So he didn't interfere.
The battle below grew increasingly intense.
Abigor made a move that was, in a sense, very "constructive."
He blasted Johnny into the air and hung him there with a chain.
Honestly, trying to strangle a skeleton was about as effective as Captain America trying to strangle a robot.
The only real difference was that Cap was handsome.
Abigor was not.
Even more impressive was that the hellfire on the Ghost Rider actually went out for a few seconds.
Whether it was an act or real was hard to tell.
If it was real, Morin genuinely wouldn't have been able to stop himself from mocking it.
You're a skeleton.
If you really got strangled to death, you'd be a disgrace to skeletons everywhere.
Perhaps unwilling to become a historical embarrassment, the hellfire flared back up.
The Ghost Rider tore the chain down, swung it a few times out of instinct, then directly infused it with hellfire, draped it over himself, and strode forward.
(Correction: the clothing should be considered an ability formed after the flame enchantment.)
Aside from dealing massive inherent damage to demons and being impossible to extinguish with ordinary water, hellfire could also alter an object's appearance, attributes, and even its internal structure.
Simply put, anything ordinary in the Ghost Rider's hands could become a divine artifact.
The chain.
The motorcycle.
Even living creatures-like Carter Slade's skeletal horse.
Then came the counterattack.
A torrent of water surged forward, mixed with several earth golems.
This wasn't a movie.
There was no need to worry about special effects budgets.
The three demons' methods wouldn't be as pitiful as in the original story, where they were severely nerfed.
Wallow was no longer limited to existing water.
Gressil wasn't reduced to ramming people with cars.
In the original, their intimidation level had been bottom-tier.
To be precise, all of the demons' fighting styles had been bottom-tier.
They mostly stood around waiting for the Ghost Rider to attack them with weapons or use the Penance Stare.
Their combat instincts were atrocious.
Morin stood on a high platform, watching the scene below.
He shook his head.
It was painful to watch.
"Why aren't you acting this time?" Mephisto suddenly appeared beside him, looking calm.
Worthy of being a Lord of Hell.
He could endure setbacks, recover quickly, and maintain his composure.
His mental fortitude was solid.
"I plan to act after it's over," Morin said casually.
He didn't mind sharing his "plan."
"Look-brawling, damaging private property. All of this requires evidence collection. As a police officer, directly participating in supernatural combat is far too dangerous."
"So it's better to wait until it ends and arrest them all for ten or twenty days."
"Isn't that perfect?"
Mephisto: "..."
Too dangerous?
Do you have no shame at all?
Even as a devil, I admire how smoothly you lie.
"I'm curious," Mephisto said after a pause.
"Why are you so determined to be my enemy?"
"My memory is quite good. I've never been your enemy before. Did I unknowingly offend your interests?"
Despite his anger, Mephisto had thought this through carefully.
Especially why Morin was targeting him so relentlessly.
A Lord of Hell naturally had countless enemies.
But those who could actually threaten him were usually well-known figures.
Mephisto avoided provoking such people unless absolutely necessary.
After all, existence didn't depend on collecting every soul.
Fighting was unpleasant.
Schemes were better.
Especially for him-since his strength wasn't the greatest among Hell Lords.
For those he had to provoke and couldn't immediately deal with, he always investigated thoroughly and kept careful notes.
Over the years, that method had almost never failed.
But now-
It had failed.
More than once.
And every failure involved Morin.
After returning, Mephisto had investigated Morin thoroughly.
Not only in Hell.
But on Earth as well.
Hell yielded nothing.
So clean it was as if Morin had never existed.
Earth, however, provided a wealth of information.
Morin's records were completely unprotected.
With the influence Mephisto held among humans, obtaining everything was easy.
Yet after reviewing it all, Mephisto was certain-
It was fake.
Every document was real.
Every record valid.
But every single person who could verify it was dead.
Dead was fine.
Souls could be questioned.
But there were no souls.
Not one.
That made it impossible.
Coincidences existed.
But when coincidences stacked this neatly, they stopped being coincidences.
So why was this man, who had no "past," opposing him?
After exhausting all other options, Mephisto decided to ask directly.
Since he couldn't find the answer, he'd force it out.
"Me..." Morin began.
He was about to say he was just doing this for fun.
Then he changed his mind.
Self-taught skill-Master Acting activated.
"Why I am your enemy..." Morin slowed his voice, a trace of weariness seeping in.
"That's a story from a long time ago."
"Perhaps you've forgotten."
"Or more likely, you never remembered me."
"But I remember."
"Back then, I was just an ordinary person."
Mephisto remained silent, quietly adding commoner to his mental search terms.
"Do you know my impression of that village?" Morin continued.
"Optimistic. Positive. Hardworking."
"They believed life was full of hope and beauty."
"Until a white-haired, balding old man arrived."
Mephisto couldn't stay silent anymore.
"White-haired and balding? Me?"
"Are you not?" Morin glanced calmly at the top of Mephisto's head.
"Listen," Mephisto snapped.
"My hair is thinning, not balding!"
"I see," Morin waved his hand.
"White-haired, balding Mephisto."
"Anyway, you tempted them, corrupted them, and dragged souls that could've gone to heaven into hell."
"So I came for revenge."
Mephisto chose to ignore the title.
"Their fall wasn't entirely my responsibility," he argued.
"They lacked firm faith and chose to deal with me. I was merely a catalyst."
"And?" Morin looked at him strangely.
"What does that have to do with me taking revenge on you?"
"They also bear responsibility!"
"They're dead," Morin replied calmly.
"Am I supposed to hold their souls accountable?"
"And even if I could, I wouldn't."
"It's your fault."
"I'll only seek revenge on you."
"You're being unreasonable!"
"Reasonable?" Morin stared at him like he was stupid.
"You're a devil. Why should I be reasonable with you?"
Mephisto: "???"
Weren't people backed by Heaven supposed to love reason?
The angels he'd dealt with before were all like that-clear boundaries, easy to guide.
Easy to convince.
What was wrong with this one?
"Let me put it simply," Morin smiled.
"I don't have many traits."
"First, I can fight."
"Second, when I can use reason, I don't."
"Because I can beat you. At least on Earth."
"So everything goes according to what I say."
"What I say is the reason."
"Do you understand?"
"You should come to Hell," Mephisto muttered, taking a sharp breath.
With that attitude and that strength, he'd thrive there.
"Why are you insulting me?" Morin widened his eyes.
"I'm warning you-don't try to recruit me."
"I'm a proper messenger of light."
"My heart belongs to the light."
"Understand?"
Mephisto: "..."
I understand.
But when you talk-
Could you maybe put away your right hand?
The one you've openly pulled out and are rubbing your thumb and forefinger together.
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