Reborn as a Ghost Rider

The wind howled through the shattered windows of the old, abandoned cathedral on the outskirts of the city. The floor beneath Naomi Blaze's feet was littered with shards of glass, dust, and debris, but standing in the center, she paid no attention to the destruction. Moonlight barely seeped through the filthy stained glass, casting dark, almost otherworldly shadows. On the stone floor, amidst old bloodstains and remnants of long-forgotten rituals, fresh lines of white salt and charcoal gleamed—a meticulously drawn pentagram, ancient as darkness itself.

On the altar, illuminated only by the faint glow of candles, lay a sacrificial goat. Its eyes, dark and vacant, stared into the void. The air reeked of incense, mingled with the metallic tang of blood. In Naomi's hands was an ancient book, its leather binding looking as though it had endured millennia. It was her trophy, seized from a devil-worshiping cult destroyed by the Rider.

She knew there was no turning back. This ritual was her last chance to rid her family of the approaching evil once and for all. She thought of her children's faces, Barton's smile, and the warm light of their home. These images were her shield against fear.

"You wanted this, Mephisto," Naomi murmured. "Now let's see how you like it."

Setting the book aside, she checked the pentagram's symbols and lit the final candle. The words of the incantation left her lips in an ancient tongue, as though even the wind agreed with her invocation.

"Oh, great prince of the underworld, lord of all souls and eternal fire, appear before me!"

The ground trembled as though something immense was clawing its way from the depths. The flames of the candles flickered violently, then turned a vivid crimson. Cracks formed at the pentagram's center, and thick smoke began to rise, carrying with it the stench of sulfur.

"You dare disturb me, mortal?!" The voice echoed through the cathedral, filling every corner of the space.

A towering, twisted figure of an archdemon stood before Naomi. His skin glowed a fiery red, and massive horns spiraled upward. His form shifted—one moment a monstrous beast with dagger-like teeth, the next, a refined and almost divine human shape.

"I am the one foolish mortals call Satan! Worship or die!"

Standing outside the pentagram, Naomi gazed at him calmly. Her eyes betrayed no fear, only determination.

"Save the theatrics for teenagers trying to resurrect their cats. I'm no novice in demonology," she said, boldly meeting his gaze. "If you weren't interested in a conversation, you wouldn't have come."

His growl reverberated off the walls.

"You're a brazen mortal! Why shouldn't I tear you apart right now?"

"Because you can't." Naomi's voice was cold as she gestured around the cathedral. "This is holy ground, imbued with heavenly power. You can't harm me here. Either listen to me or leave!"

The demon fell silent. For a moment, an intrigued glint flickered in his eyes.

"Speak, mortal."

"I want to make a deal with you."

He laughed, a booming sound like the underworld itself.

"A deal? One soul isn't worth my time! You don't understand who you're dealing with, mortal."

"Oh, I understand," Naomi replied, her voice unwavering. "I offer my soul to the strongest in Hell for the protection of my family."

He leaned closer, his eyes blazing like burning coals.

"You love these people so much you'd sell yourself to me? Amusing. But one soul isn't enough. I make deals for generations, not individuals."

"I am no ordinary mortal." Naomi's hand ignited with hellfire. "And you know it. Come on! Don't you want a Ghost Rider leading your army of darkness?"

Her confidence gave him pause. Then he nodded, attempting to hide his eagerness.

"I can find use for your talents, Rider. But the deal must be in writing. I want to ensure you understand the terms."

"I expected nothing less."

Naomi pulled a prepared sheet of paper, ink, and a quill from her bag, handing them to the demon.

The devil began writing, detailing every aspect of how he would claim her soul and make her his eternal servant. Out of spite, he granted her one more month of freedom to spend with her family, ensuring she'd fully grasp what she was about to lose.

Naomi signed her name.

The contract's power, the essence of Hell itself, surged through the signature. There was no turning back. Not even the gods could break the magic of the pact.

"Naomi, Naomi," the demon smirked, tucking the contract into his sleeve. "I don't know how you uncovered my little scheme, but it changes nothing. You probably think you've outsmarted Satan himself. That now I can't touch your precious Johnny, Barbara, or Danny. You're mistaken."

He grinned wickedly, his form shifting back to one with horns and a tail.

"You're no genius, Naomi. You're just a pathetic mother who'll do anything to protect her offspring! There's nothing more pitiful," he hissed. "Your soul is already mine. I'll tear it apart slowly and with care. And your children will watch."

He let out a devilish laugh.

"They'll soon join you! I'll shred their souls to pieces so you'll hear their screams forever. Believe me, I keep my word. I'll find a loophole to break the contract. I have eternity, and you have no time left, foolish mortal!"

Naomi's gaze was icy.

"I hope you enjoyed your little display of demonic pride," she said coldly. "Savor your false triumph—it's the last you'll ever have."

"False triumph?" he echoed, confusion flickering across his face. "What have you done, mortal?!"

Naomi's hand ignited with hellfire as she grabbed the demon's face and tore it away like a mask.

"You dared?!" he shrieked, writhing on the floor, clutching at the remnants of his face. "I am Satan!"

Naomi laughed.

"You're not Satan," she said, pressing her heel onto his stomach. "You're Mephisto, a pathetic imp dreaming of being something greater. You've spent your life pretending to be Satan, but now you face the Rider. And I'll remind you what true terror is."

Mephisto tried to flee. She, reading his thoughts, smirked and held up her copy of the contract. There was no escape. Their souls were now bound; she could find him anywhere in Hell.

With ease, Naomi plunged her hand into his chest, pulling out his heart—a black organ bound by tight cords of hatred.

"You'll return this…" Mephisto rasped, his voice growing weaker.

"Too bad this won't kill you completely," Naomi remarked, examining her prize. "Then again, with the magic of the contract, I can track you across dimensions. Let's see what runs out first—my month of freedom or your vessels."

Panic flickered in his eyes—a primal fear of true annihilation.

"Please, Naomi," Mephisto whispered, black blood dripping from his lips. "Have mercy. I'll give you an artifact, free your soul, swear never to harm your family—I'll annul the contract…"

"Of course, you will. You need to rid yourself of my mark," she said, tightening her grip on his heart. "But your lies have no power."

"The power of an oath won't let me break the agreement!" Mephisto protested desperately.

"Just as the contract requires you to protect my children," she retorted, fire blazing in her eyes. "Yet a moment ago, you swore to find a loophole to destroy their souls. Your demonic nature won't let you forget this slight. You'll brood over revenge for centuries. I can't allow you to return to Hell."

"You'll kill me?"

"You don't deserve death. You don't deserve mercy."

Naomi returned his heart to his chest. Mephisto's body convulsed as it began to beat again.

"What are you planning, mortal?" he croaked, coughing. "What game are you playing?"

"Don't you get it yet?" She removed her foot from his stomach and turned her back on him deliberately. "You're entirely under my control now."

Mephisto bolted for the cathedral's exit.

"Sit!" Naomi barked.

Like a trained dog, Mephisto sat on the pentagram, unable to stand.

"What have you done to me?!" he roared, unable to rise. "Confess, witch!"

"Nothing special—just fulfilling my part of the contract," she said with a smirk. "If you read carefully, you'll notice a clause about liability. A minor formality, really, about penalties for failing to meet the terms. You see, Mephisto, I signed the contract for the protection of my children from immediate threats. You were so eager to claim my soul, to have a tame Rider at your disposal, that you didn't stop to think. Who is the greatest danger to a Rider's children? Demons? They're far away in Hell. Vampires? They attack only at night. The greatest threat to my kids is their mother—me, when I lose control. And you just proved your incompetence! You've violated the contract, and for that, you're entirely mine!"

"I am the embodiment of evil!" Mephisto snarled, grinding his teeth. "You wouldn't dare stand against me!"

"I already have," she replied with an icy grin. "Now, shut up until I permit you to speak."

A glowing red collar appeared around Mephisto's neck, its magical leash tethered to Naomi's soul, binding them forever.

"You're my servant now," she said, leaning down to him. "You will serve me, and every day of your existence, I'll shred your pride into pieces. Welcome to Hell."

Mephisto couldn't reply—his face contorted in terror. He knew, without a doubt, that he truly belonged to her now.

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Writer notes:

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