425

[Black Heart]

As the two conversed, a sudden blood-red glow appeared in the sky—it was Mephisto, the Lord of Hell.

"Haha, congratulations, Ghost Rider, for finally breaking free of Zatanos' control," Mephisto clapped his hands, smiling broadly.

However, his smile quickly faded as he noticed Forseti, a figure that seemed out of place among the Ghost Riders.

Forseti still maintained his guise as a Night Elf, but Mephisto, being astute, quickly turned his gaze to the Demon Slayer Sword in Forseti's hands.

To demons, the distinct aura of the Demon Slayer Sword was unforgettable.

Drawing from his memory of the sword, Mephisto swiftly recalled Forseti as the one who slew the Old Demon, causing him to narrow his eyes. "Are you the Asgardian who escaped my clutches?"

Forseti felt a moment of unease, but seeing the hundreds of Ghost Riders surrounding them, he quickly composed himself.

"And what if I am?" Forseti replied calmly. "With the strongest legion of Hell gathered here, you would surely face formidable odds."

After a brief silence, Mephisto smiled again. "Indeed, Asgard is brimming with talent."

He ceased his scrutiny of Forseti and turned his attention to Norbert Kyle, inquiring, "I wonder if the Legion of Evil Spirits is interested in joining my domain—me, Mephisto..."

"Get lost!" a Knight interrupted rudely, brandishing chains that blazed with fire.

Mephisto deftly evaded the chains. "You are all too impertinent. If not for me, the Legion of Evil Spirits would never have had the chance to vanquish Zatanos."

"You are a demon; we are followers of God," Norbert Kyle retorted coldly, gripping his own chain. "I advise you to depart at once, or you may test the might of our legion."

Surveying the hundreds of fiery Ghost Riders below, Mephisto fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Very well."

With that, he turned abruptly and departed, his blood-red figure fading into the distance.

"Do you have a means to escape Hell?" Norbert Kyle asked Forseti.

Forseti shook his head, then gestured towards Hus, who approached with a wide grin.

"Have you found the Strength Medal?" Forseti inquired.

"Yes." Hus displayed the half of the metallic medal in his hand, which looked unremarkable, akin to an ordinary ornament. "And I sense I will find the other half in due course."

Though confident in his words, Hus appeared somewhat hesitant, as if contemplating something.

"Can you lead all the Ghost Riders out of Hell?" Norbert Kyle queried, eyeing him intently.

"Absolutely." Hus nodded assuredly, patting his chest. "I am certain of a stable portal to the outside world within Black Heart's domain. We can escape Hell through it."

"Black Heart? Isn't he Mephisto's son?" remarked one of the Ghost Riders.

Hus affirmed, "Yes, but he harbors no love for his father. In fact, Black Heart keeps secrets from Mephisto, including this portal."

Norbert Kyle fell silent for a moment. "I can handle him alone if needed. But regardless, we must remain vigilant against Mephisto. Even though he departed just now, he will not give up easily."

"Even before this, Mephisto coveted the Legion of Evil Spirits for a long time, attempting to wrest us from Zatanos' grasp."

Hus added, "Indeed. It would be prudent to depart now. As long as we remain in Hell, the threat from Mephisto and the other lords of Hell will persist."

Norbert Kyle nodded decisively, turning to address all the Ghost Riders. "Let us depart, my brothers, and leave this accursed place!"

"Move out!"

Even before he finished speaking, hundreds of Evil Spirit Knights mounted their steeds, hellfire blazing upon their riders, casting an eerie orange-red glow around them.

Thus, the entire Legion of Evil Spirits thundered forth under Hus's guidance, heading straight for the domain of the Hell Lord Black Heart, leaving a trail of flames in their wake.

Meanwhile, Mephisto sought out two other Hell Lords.

"Zatanos is dead?" Like Mephisto, these two Hell Lords possessed blood-red skin. The most notable difference lay in their physique—one burly and strong, the other tall and lean.

Meanwhile, in contrast to Mephisto's relative beauty among Hell Lords, these two appeared grotesque, with blood-stained fangs.

Indeed, Mephisto was among the few Hell Lords considered handsome by most living standards. These two represented the typical appearance of Hell Lords.

"Yes, Asmodeus, Beelzebub." Mephisto grinned. "The Legion of Evil Spirits has proven itself the most formidable force in Hell by striking down their former master."

"I always knew Zatanos would meet such an end," remarked Asmodeus, the massive figure. "He was a damned fool."

Beelzebub stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Mephisto, have you considered... trying to acquire the Legion of Evil Spirits?"

Mephisto nodded knowingly. "I have indeed tried. However, with the aid of an Asgardian, the Legion of Evil Spirits regained their freedom entirely. Moreover, they remain steadfast in their devotion to Jehovah. Naturally, my efforts were in vain."

"Asgardians?"

"Recall what I mentioned earlier—there was an Asgardian who, before my very eyes, slew the Old Demon and escaped Hell with the assistance of an unknown transcendent power," Mephisto recounted. "Though that power remains shrouded, I am certain his origins eclipse even Hell's might."

"If we wish to acquire some of the Ghost Riders, this Asgardian will undoubtedly pose a challenge."

The three Hell Lords continued their discussion.

"By the way, have you any inkling where Jehovah might have gone?" Asmodeus interjected suddenly.

"Who knows?" Mephisto replied evenly. "But he had better vanish for good. The founder of the Ancient Heaven is more fearsome than Odin. Even in Hell, I find him a rather unsettling figure."

"Agreed." Beelzebub's expression darkened, reminiscent of some grim memory. "He truly is a terrifying old man. My father fell by his hand."

"It is time we took action," Mephisto declared. "There may yet be a chance to secure the Legion of Evil Spirits. We must act swiftly, lest we lose an opportunity to command such potent Evil Knights."

"Let us proceed."

Despite having existed for millennia, Black Heart remained the youngest member among the council of Satan.

As the son of Mephisto, a second-generation Demon of Standard, his formidable father had secured his position as a lesser lord of Hell, despite his relatively modest power.

Yet, Black Heart harbored no affection for his father—nor did Mephisto harbor any for him. For demons, sentiments like tenderness were as rare as justice.

Moreover, following several conflicts, any stable or reliable business relationship between Black Heart and his father had dissolved long ago, replaced by clandestine rivalries.

On that particular day, Black Heart remained in a foul mood. He waved his hand dismissively, causing his two subordinate witches to withdraw.

"Boom!" However, just as the witches departed, a deafening roar resounded. Simultaneously, the palace gates collapsed, walls crumbled, and debris filled the air.

"Who dares?" Black Heart seethed with anger and astonishment.

"Boom!" Another earth-shaking explosion followed. A colossal beast wreathed in flames burst through the walls of Black Heart's palace—a mammoth with eyes ablaze in orange fire.

Black Heart's eyes widened. "Evil Knight!"

The mammoth beast lumbered forward, almost completely demolishing the palace gate, leaving a colossal breach. Beyond it stood hundreds of Ghost Riders.

Witnessing this spectacle, Black Heart swallowed hard, stepping back several paces.