Johnny: "..."
To be honest, even though he knew Morin was doing this to deal with Mephisto, Johnny still felt unhappy.
I only moved a few dozen meters.
But what could he do?
He couldn't win a fight.
"How can you break your promise!" Mephisto appeared again, roaring.
"How did I break it?" Morin asked calmly.
"You clearly already took the money!"
"What do you mean 'took the money'?" Morin shook his head. "That was a fine you paid. Please be careful with your wording. Otherwise, people might think I took a bribe. That would be very bad."
"You said it yourself-the fine was paid!" Mephisto seized on the words.
"Yes, it was paid," Morin nodded naturally. "But that was for that one instance."
"I never said I couldn't fine you again if he speeds. That's perfectly normal, isn't it?"
"Damn it!" Mephisto cursed.
"How much do you want?" he demanded.
"One million dollars," Morin said with a smile. "Standard penalty."
In reality, after swindling Mephisto during the Blackheart incident and receiving the transfer, Morin's [Traffic Police] profession had already reached Master level.
Asking for money now was purely to annoy him.
Like an eighty-year-old man watching beautiful young girls every day-no ulterior motive, just keeping himself in a good mood.
"I mean the amount to settle everything at once!" Mephisto growled, forcing his anger down.
"At once?" Morin tilted his head.
"The amount that guarantees you won't stop him again, no matter how fast he goes!"
"That's not allowed," Morin shook his head. "There's no such clause in the law."
His experience points were already full.
Money meant nothing to him.
He could have as much as he wanted.
Annoying Mephisto was the real purpose.
How could a seasoned tormentor accept a one-time settlement?
"...Then don't speed," Mephisto said darkly.
Seeing that money wouldn't solve anything, and realizing Morin would keep at it, Mephisto suppressed the urge to use his trump card.
A trump card was for desperation.
Not for irritation.
So he turned to Johnny.
If speeding caused fines, then Johnny simply wouldn't speed.
"The fine has been paid," Mephisto said stiffly to Morin.
Then, looking thoroughly disgusted, he dissolved into smoke and vanished.
"Then... I'll be going," Johnny said awkwardly.
Before he could say more, his body uncontrollably twisted the throttle and surged forward.
Less than ten seconds later-
"You're speeding," Morin yawned, casually holding Johnny's motorcycle. "Please pay the fine."
Johnny: "..."
Two big shots were fighting.
He was just a tool.
"Morin!!!" Mephisto reappeared, looking like he'd swallowed something foul. "You're doing this on purpose!"
"I'd love to say it's obvious," Morin replied seriously, "but it really isn't. He was genuinely speeding."
"He didn't even reach sixty kilometers per hour!"
"Yes," Morin said, pointing at a roadside sign. "And the limit here is fifty."
"...The money is yours!" Mephisto snapped. "Let him go."
Ten seconds later-
"You're speeding. Please pay the fine."
"Bullshit! He was crawling!"
"Incorrect," Morin said calmly. "For a split second, he exceeded the limit by 0.01 kilometers per hour."
He raised a radar gun.
"Latest model. Very accurate."
It had to be said-Johnny's riding skills were exceptional.
Unfortunately, terrain mattered.
A slight downhill was enough to push borderline speed over the limit.
And Morin would never miss such an opportunity.
"...Slow down even more," Mephisto ordered Johnny grimly. "Stay well below the limit."
He paid with practiced ease and vanished again.
Johnny: "..."
A fifty-kilometer limit.
And he had to go even slower.
I've never driven this slowly in my life.
Still, he had no choice.
He rode on, keeping his speed firmly at forty-five.
Compared to his usual hundred-plus, it was practically crawling.
At least this time, Morin didn't appear again.
That let Mephisto, hiding nearby, breathe a small sigh of relief.
But only a small one.
He knew Morin wasn't done.
That man was greedier than a real devil.
How did someone like that receive the recognition of Justice?
Was Heaven into this sort of thing now?
Mephisto wondered.
Then-
It happened again.
Less than ten minutes had passed.
Johnny hadn't even gone ten kilometers.
"You're speeding. Pay the fine."
Johnny's eyes widened.
"He didn't even reach forty-six!" Mephisto reappeared, furious.
"Yes," Morin replied evenly. "The limit here is forty."
"You-drive even slower!" Mephisto paid and vanished again. "Watch the signs!"
Johnny: "..."
I've never driven this slowly in my life.
I know I've said it before.
I'm saying it again.
Over the next two hours-
"You're speeding. Pay the fine."
"This is a sixty zone!"
"But he started accelerating before entering it."
"...Accelerate after the sign!"
-
"You're speeding. Pay the fine."
"He already passed the sign!"
"Yes. This one is fifty. He slowed down after passing it."
"...Slow down before the sign!"
-
"You're suspected of dangerous driving. Pay the fine."
-
"You're speeding. The acceleration point was one centimeter early."
"Don't ask how I know."
"I just do."
-
For a journey of barely a dozen kilometers, Morin stopped Johnny more than twenty times.
As for the reasons-
No, the justifications-
They were diverse.
Using one method repeatedly was low-level.
Using different methods to shear the same sheep-
While leaving the sheep helpless-
That was true mastery.
Of course, this wasn't about money.
It was about annoying Mephisto.
And Morin was very happy.
The direct result was simple.
Johnny reached Blackheart several hours later than expected.
Still, Mephisto's endurance was impressive.
Worthy of the Lord of Hell.
Even after being tormented this much, he didn't use his trump card.
Though that card was useless-
Mephisto didn't know that.
...
"Has he not come today?"
At the former grave site of Carter Slade, Blackheart frowned.
Gressil, Abigor, and Wallow were equally impatient.
Mephisto had already told him.
The Ghost Rider would come.
The only uncertainty was timing.
For days, they'd stayed on high alert.
That wasn't the worst part.
They didn't know where the grave was.
They had to ask around.
As devils, they despised humans.
But now they couldn't act freely.
If they did, Morin would appear.
They'd seen him lurking nearby repeatedly.
A terrifying presence.
Watching.
Waiting.
Ready to strike at the slightest mistake.
Who wouldn't be afraid?
The problem was-
"Polite" wasn't a word demons used often.
Their usual tone earned them plenty of hostility.
And no information.
They wanted to act.
But every time they sensed Morin-
They stopped.
They couldn't afford to offend him.
In truth, Morin wasn't physically nearby.
He monitored them through his consciousness.
Occasionally appearing in their minds.
Pure intimidation.
Perfectly legal under the contract.
This made their search miserable.
Eventually, they learned the truth from a blind old man.
Finally-
They arrived.
Only to find a factory.
Not a grave.
After "politely" questioning the manager-
Politely meaning not touching him-
They learned the grave had been relocated.
The church of St. Michael handled it.
It was like finding buried treasure-
Only to discover the island had moved.
Blackheart hesitated.
In the past, he would've stormed a church.
But now-
With Morin looming-
Entering without conflict was unlikely.
And if conflict happened...
That would be the end.
Careful planning was needed.
They laid traps.
They waited.
When they finally believed the Ghost Rider wouldn't come-
A motorcycle rolled in.
Slowly.
So slowly Johnny nearly fell asleep.
His body temperature hadn't even risen yet.
In fact, he was drowsy.
But the bike suddenly threw him off.
As if venting frustration.
"Ah!"
Johnny jolted awake.
An overwhelming sense of guilt surged.
He knew instantly-
It came from hell.
Then the heat began.
Warmth.
Heat.
Agony.
From flesh to soul.
Burning.
Literal burning.
Johnny screamed.
His body couldn't endure it.
His soul wouldn't let him pass out.
His skin dried.
Cracked.
Ignited.
Until only a skeleton remained.
Strangely-
His clothes were untouched.
Apparently made of the same miraculous material as the Hulk's underwear.
Elastic.
Durable.
Fireproof.
Even hellfire-proof.
Truly god-tier.
"..."
The Ghost Rider walked forward.
He could feel sin.
And the urge to burn it all away.
"Hahaha!"
Blackheart emerged laughing.
"You..." the Ghost Rider pointed. "Return to hell."
"Seems there's nothing to discuss," Blackheart said lightly.
Gressil.
Abigor.
Wallow.
They struck together.
To be honest-
After these days-
They were nearly insane.
This thing wasn't human anymore.
So surely-
They could act now.
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