Herman couldn't fathom why Ghost Rider counted him among the wicked. Wasn't he a model youth of the new era, exemplary in every way?
"I've never even killed a chicken!" Herman couldn't wrap his head around Ghost Rider's logic, thinking that creatures without brains really are idiots!
"Run!"
"Don't stay here! Scatter! He can't chase all of us!"
Vampires were naturally countered by Ghost Rider, and none of them even thought about fighting him. After a round of terrified screams, they scattered in panic, bolting in all directions.
Herman didn't give chase.
He wasn't out to exterminate every last vampire. As long as they didn't disgust him by getting in his way, he could pretend they weren't there.
After all, vampires in the Marvel world were like cockroaches—almost impossible to wipe out. Herman had no interest in a thankless extermination.
"I'm not Blade."
Watching the vampires flee like stray dogs, he decided these half-human, half-ghost creatures were better left to their natural enemy, Blade.
However…
Given how things were going...
Maybe Ghost Rider would help Blade take out the trash?
"Where I roam, no sinner escapes judgment!" Ghost Rider let out a low, dramatic growl.
He swung the pitch-black Hellfire Chain again. Steel wreathed in flame lashed like a serpent and wound around a vampire's body. The bound creature seemed to ignite all at once.
The wailing vampire's body took on a stony hue, and with a savage yank from Ghost Rider, it collapsed into ashes in utter agony.
"How can such a monster exist!"
The other vampires, horrified, ran even harder. Just as they were about to melt into the darkness, Ghost Rider whistled, and his motorcycle—engulfed in hellfire—roared to his side.
"Not a single one will escape!"
Ghost Rider mounted the bike. His skull let out a shrill cackle as he tore after the vampires, carving them apart with the chain in his hand.
Countless terrified vampires, caught before they could dodge, were sliced cleanly at the waist the instant they touched the pitch-black Hellfire Chain.
Bodies split into two or more pieces hit the ground, and the hellfire clinging to them spread across the remains in a blink. The vampires' vaunted regeneration meant nothing against an attack like this.
In just a few seconds, they were reduced to pitch-black charcoal. Threads of flame crawled over their scorched bodies as their already fractured souls burned away completely.
They didn't even get the chance to go to hell... That was the true terror of Ghost Rider—the power to annihilate the souls of the sinful.
Watching Ghost Rider cut a swath through them, Herman clicked his tongue in wonder, wondering which generation of Spirit of Vengeance this Ghost Rider was.
"Seems quite powerful."
Though Herman had only seen one version of Ghost Rider, he still knew a fair bit about them.
Ghost Rider had several distinct origins, the most powerful being the cinematic version—the one inhabiting Johnny Blaze.
He was both an Angel spirit and a vessel for an ancient demon, and Johnny Blaze himself came from a legendary family, descendants of the Medallion of Power's bearers.
Buffs stacked to the brim.
No way he wouldn't be formidable.
Of course.
Even such a Ghost Rider wouldn't end well. In truth, every Ghost Rider's fate was destined to end in tragedy. After death, their souls belonged to the Hell Lords.
After all, most Spirits of Vengeance capable of creating Ghost Riders in this era had long been controlled by the various Dimensional Demon Gods of Hell.
To some, it seemed like a guaranteed bargain: sign a simple contract, do some righteous deed punishing evil, and gain power for free.
Yet…
How could a Dimensional Demon God ever take a loss? Among the "benefits" they offer, power never comes without a price.
The cost of one's soul is one part of it.
Each time the host transforms using the Spirit of Vengeance, their consciousness is further eroded by that spirit. Eventually, they lose themselves entirely... and that's when the Dimensional Demon Gods pick a new guinea pig.
As for Ghost Rider's hosts—most are expendable. Weak willpower only shortens the service life; in the end, they all plunge into an abyss with no return.
"Who exactly is this Ghost Rider?" Herman leapt onto the smokestack of the abandoned factory, overlooking the massacre below.
He wasn't in a hurry to return to the Stellar Tower. Ghost Rider had already set his sights on him, and the last thing Herman wanted was to drag this trouble back to his own base.
Once Ghost Rider locked onto a target, he would hunt them to the ends of the earth.
"I'll fight you to the death!"
Not all vampires lacked backbone. Some, driven into a corner, roared and charged straight at Ghost Rider.
But such defiance was no different from suicide—like ants trying to topple a tree. With a swing of his Hellfire Chain, Ghost Rider wiped out whole swathes of them.
Perhaps he found relying on a single technique too dull.
When a vampire lunged at him head-on, Ghost Rider simply grabbed its head and forced eye contact.
"Look into my eyes! Your soul is stained with innocent blood!" Hellfire flickered within the hollow sockets of his skull.
"No!"
"Stop!"
The unfortunate vampire suffered a torment far worse than burning. His pupils shrank violently as waves of excruciating pain wracked his body, sending him into spasms.
Bulging veins twisted grotesquely across his neck.
Soon, that unbearable agony reached his very soul... Moments later, Ghost Rider tossed the silent vampire aside like garbage.
By then, the vampire's gaze had gone completely vacant, all traces of life extinguished. Though his body remained intact, it no longer carried even a shred of vitality.
"This move... seems unbeatable." Herman had seen it clearly. This was Ghost Rider's signature ability—the Penance Stare.
It was the true source of his power. Any being with a soul was powerless against its judgment.
Locking eyes with Ghost Rider forced one to relive every sin they had ever committed, again and again, while enduring the pain of their victims.
An instant in reality.
But within the judgment, it stretched into an eternity, until both soul and consciousness were utterly destroyed. Every shattered soul became sustenance for Ghost Rider.
Herman had no desire to face such a power, let alone be turned into food.
Though he prided himself on being a model citizen, the definition of sin was Ghost Rider's to decide.
Couldn't the Avengers be considered heroes? Yet in some parallel universes, a fanatical Ghost Rider had judged every single Avenger!
It was as though Ghost Rider alone made the laws. With such a tyrannical system of judgment, Herman had no faith in passing the test.
"As long as I don't meet his eyes, there's no problem." Herman was already formulating countermeasures. Closing his eyes wouldn't hinder his combat ability in the slightest.
Ghost Rider was still a living being... still had a mind.
"No one escapes! Accept my judgment!" Ghost Rider roared below, unleashing his fury as he cut down the fleeing vampires.
These vampires were fast, their strength and endurance far beyond ordinary humans—but still no match for Ghost Rider.
No one on foot could outrun a motorcycle. Their resistance was nothing more than a nuisance, and Ghost Rider was immune to nearly all physical attacks.
"Die!" Some vampires who put their faith in "firepower" uncovered heat-based weapons hidden throughout the factory.
However, even a Gatling gun blazing with blue flames couldn't harm him. Ghost Rider feigned being knocked down, mocking them like prey.
As the vampires jeered and moved in, the flames on his skull reignited. He suddenly sat upright, laughing maniacally as he slaughtered them, spewing a torrent of bullets from his mouth.
Though their souls were fractured, the sheer number satisfied him. Ghost Rider consumed them eagerly, discarding the withered husk of the last vampire.
Silence fell.
Ghost Rider strode toward the abandoned factory. Lifting his fleshless head, his hollow sockets blazing with hellfire, he looked straight at Herman atop the smokestack.
"I can feel it—your soul, steeped in sin!"
Ghost Rider raised his hand, pronouncing judgment in a low voice. The hellfire on his body, fed by countless souls, now burned fiercer than ever.