Multiverse's Ghost Rider

"There is nothing in this world I wouldn't dare to do," Jon said as a flick of his finger conjured a blazing fireball that incinerated Mecca into ashes.

[Ding! Your legendary mission has been updated: Judge a thousand sinful souls across all worlds. Current progress: 91/1000.]

With Mecca dealt with, Viola rushed to Jon. "Jon, how did you escape from the Void? I've heard no one has ever come out alive, especially not after facing a Void Lord!"

"Void Lord?" Jon blinked, then laughed. "Oh, you mean that tentacle-covered guy? He was tough, and ugly for sure. I made a deal with it."

"A deal?" Viola's brow furrowed with unease.

Humans and Void creatures were natural enemies. Making a deal with one usually meant trouble.

"Relax. The deal doesn't affect this world. But the terms… I'll keep it to myself," Jon replied casually.

Before she could probe further, Jon raised his hand, revealing a soft green wisp of light.

It was the missing piece of Pinocchio's soul.

Viola's eyes lit up as she gently cupped the floating light with her hands. "Thank you, Jon!"

Clutching the soul fragment, Viola approached the stiffened form of Pinocchio. With a short incantation, she pressed the glowing wisp to his forehead.

Instantly, color returned to his wooden face. He gasped as if waking from a nightmare.

***

"Viola? What happened?!" he asked, looking around in confusion.

Overcome with emotion, Viola hugged him tightly. She then began recounting everything that had happened: how he had been burned alive by villagers, how she saved his soul, how Belith attacked and stole part of it, how she created a fairytale world for him, and how they eventually defeated Belith with Jon.

As she spoke, memories returned to Pinocchio, memories of dispensing justice in the town, of meeting Jon, and of everything in between.

He stepped toward Jon and bowed. "Thank you for everything, Jon."

Jon waved it off. "No need to thank me. I was just killing time."

Viola smiled. "Alright, Pinocchio, let's go home."

But Pinocchio hesitated. "I'm sorry, Viola. I don't think I'll be going back."

"Why not?" she asked, puzzled.

He paused, then said thoughtfully, "When my memories came back, I realized something. In that world you made for me, the townspeople didn't fear me. They liked me. Truly."

"That was because they gained benefits from the world I created," Viola said softly. "And because I protected you. In another place, without that shield, you'd face the same hatred again."

"There is no happy ending, sister. People need a reason to accept you. That's why they didn't report you as a witch. I want to find my own path now. I want to keep doing what I did in that town, driving away bullies and beasts."

He glanced down at his massive, exaggerated frame. "I'm stronger than anyone I've ever met. Maybe that strength is my purpose."

Click.

He slid on his sunglasses, cocked his shotgun, and grinned. "At least next time I won't be stupid enough to get burned at the stake. I can protect myself now. What is there to worry about, sis? I've found my path. Be happy for me."

Viola held back tears, then smiled and nodded. "…. brother."

"Goodbye, sis. Goodbye, Jon." He turned coolly and added, "I'll be back."

As Pinocchio faded into the distance, Viola let out a quiet sigh.

Among witches, Viola had always considered herself lucky. Most witches were cursed to never stray far from the forest, a curse that kept them isolated and alone. But Viola had a brother, and that had made her childhood a little less lonely. Still, today, even she could not escape that fate.

"Don't worry," Jon said reassuringly. "He'd come back."

Viola nodded softly. "So... what now?"

"I continue my journey. Next stop: the royal capital," Jon said. "By the way, have you seen this before?"

He held out the mysterious black stone.

Viola studied it closely and shook her head. "Hmm… It's saturated with dark energy."

What puzzled Jon was that even Belith's vast knowledge had no mention of it. And Belith knew more about dark forces and the Void than anyone he had met, even delving into secrets of the Voidborn. Yet this stone remained a complete mystery.

Only two possibilities remained: either the stone was insignificant... or it was something far beyond their current understanding, perhaps from another world entirely.

Jon dismissed the first idea. Something powerful enough to corrupt a witch's mind couldn't possibly be "insignificant."

For now, his only lead was the black market merchant who had sold the stone. He'd have to find that man in the royal capital.

But Jon had also found a new target—the Voidborn themselves.

Belith's memories had revealed deeper layers of this world. Hidden knowledge, buried truths. This world was far more dangerous and complex than the American Horror Stories' world he'd visited before. No wonder entering here cost so many Penalty Points.

***

After parting ways with Viola, Jon resumed his journey, heading straight toward the heart of the kingdom. He traveled tirelessly, pushing through an entire day and night before finally arriving at his destination.

When he arrived, the sun was just beginning to rise. The capital city was already alive with commotion. Citizens were gathered at the gates in massive numbers, murmuring and buzzing with excitement.

Curious, Jon grabbed a passerby and asked what was going on. The man glanced at him and said, "You're clearly not from around here. Today is a monumental day, our great king is marching to war. The entire kingdom has come to send him off with honor!"

After a moment's thought, the man added, "But more importantly, today we get to witness the beauty of our beloved queen. They say she's a sight beyond words!"

"The queen?" Jon blinked. If he recalled correctly, the queen had a fully grown son, that beastly prince who was already in his twenties. That would make the queen at least in her forties or fifties. How could she still be called a stunning beauty? Unless... she was some sort of immortal hag?

The man gave Jon a baffled look. "You can't be serious. Even outsiders have heard of our glorious Snow White Queen!"

"Snow White? Wait, you mean... the Snow White?" Jon asked, now clearly flustered.

"Exactly! She was once the princess of this very land. Our former king was killed by a wicked witch who nearly took the entire kingdom, and even tried to murder our beautiful princess. But Prince Kirk from a neighboring duchy rode in on his white horse, saved her, and overthrew the evil witch. He became king, and she our queen. Without them, this land would've fallen into ruin."

As the man spoke, Jon couldn't help but process the story. It sounded like the classic Snow White fairytale, complete with the prince and the witch. But experience had taught him the truth was never that simple. The real story was always more complex, more twisted. And in his time, most witches he'd met weren't truly evil, even Belith, who had shed more than her share of blood, couldn't be considered purely villainous. Her actions, though cruel, had deeper motivations.

Meanwhile, inside the royal palace, King Kirk, once the heroic prince, was now organizing his military campaign with his council of ministers.

They were preparing for war against a neighboring kingdom, one they hoped to conquer and subdue.

***

"Your Majesty," a minister said as he knelt on one knee. "The allied duchies have answered your summons and are ready to march to the front."

On the throne sat a man with golden hair, noble bearing, and a handsome face. Despite being over forty, he appeared younger than his sons.

A faint smile touched King Kirk's lips. "Good. Go wait outside for further orders. Send in the servant from the Tower. I need to question him before we depart."

As the minister left, the king suddenly asked, "By the way, where is Snow White now?"

A rare softness replaced the usual sternness in his eyes.

A nearby maid answered respectfully, "Her Majesty is in her chamber, preparing her appearance. She wishes to send you off in perfect form, Your Majesty."

"Very well. Leave us."

Soon after, a servant in plain clothes was brought in. Upon entering, he instantly fell to his knees and spoke in an exaggerated tone, "Oh, my great king, my radiant master, you shine like the sun upon this suffering land! Even I, a lowly servant, feel the warmth of your divine presence!"

He then crawled forward, lowering his voice to a grovel. "Please, O glorious master, allow your humble servant Willis to lick the dust from your feet as a token of loyalty!"

"Get lost!" King Kirk snapped, visibly disgusted. The man made his skin crawl. Still, though revolting, Willis had his uses. He was obedient, clever in petty ways, utterly lacking in ambition—the perfect pawn for dirty work no one else wanted.

"Answer me," Kirk commanded. "What progress has the witch in the Tower made with her research?"

Willis replied, "My great master, I have done my utmost to monitor her. However, the old hag is confined to the Iron Tower, surrounded by anti-magic wards. She is constantly fatigued and sleeps for long hours, making progress slow."

"Enough!" Kirk growled, a flicker of irritation darkening his features. He rose from his throne, walking down the steps with an air of menace. "Trash will always be trash. I'll give her two more months. That should be enough. If she hasn't produced the results I want by the time I return, she'll face my full wrath!"

***

At that same moment, deep within a forbidden altar, a dark red magic circle pulsed with raw, arcane energy. Dozens of young maidens, chained and shackled, were led forward by guards.

Seeing the swirling crimson aura, the girls' faces turned pale with terror.

An aged priest stepped forward, declaring loudly, "You have been chosen! Unlike the lowly rabble, your noble lives shall be sacrificed to bring fortune to our king. Rejoice in your sacred honor!"

"Begin!"

At his command, the girls hesitated, inching forward reluctantly. One brave girl finally leapt into the circle.

But the moment she touched the arcane runes, blood-red spikes erupted and skewered her body. It was a gruesome sight.

Panic swept the others, who began to stumble backward in fear.

Their families may have received food in exchange for their sacrifice, but now, confronted with death, survival instinct took hold.

The priest, enraged by their hesitation, slammed his staff to the ground. A wave of magical force surged out, hurling the girls into the bloody vortex.

Screams filled the air. Blood soaked the altar.

"Such beauty!" the priest sighed with satisfaction. "A scene painted in blood. Her Majesty the Queen will surely be pleased."

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(A/N: If you want to see more chapters, go to my Patreon to see more chapters ahead. patreon.com/TheMightyZeus)

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- The end of this arc is approaching. Can you guess what the next world will be?