Chapter 30: What the Hell Is the Ghost Rider?!

“Boom!”

Through Evelyn’s senses, everything seemed to slow to an extreme crawl. Torrential flames erupted upward from Cage’s bike’s steel wheels with a deafening roar.

The terrifying explosion instantly shredded the bike’s undercarriage. Countless metal fragments shot outward with both a slow, heavy weight and a swift precision, like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

The surging flames climbed higher, engulfing Cage and his bike completely.

Then the fire continued to rise, threatening to swallow even Evelyn and the Hell Mammoth!

At this moment, the Hell Mammoth was still poised with its front lifted, ready to slam down. This industrial beast, its front raised high, could no longer perform any other maneuvers.

It seemed Evelyn could no longer dodge this explosion—she was destined to be swept up in it!

“Bang!”

Evelyn drew Shut Up in a flash and fired sideways.

Two bullets spun out, blasting a corner of a nearby building. The recoil of Shut Up surged through her wrist, arm, and entire skeleton, transmitting into the Hell Mammoth beneath her.

“Boom!”

The Hell Mammoth altered its trajectory in midair and landed safely, avoiding the explosion.

The sheer recoil of Shut Up had forced the 418-kg industrial assault platform to change course!

“Tch!”

Evelyn clicked her tongue in mild annoyance. “So in the end… the finishing move was self-destruction?”

The biggest obstacle to winning, Cage, had been swallowed by his own explosion, likely leaving nothing but bones behind.

Now, claiming the prize was basically a done deal…

“Creak… creak…”

From within the fireball, a series of crisp, bone-like cracking sounds suddenly emerged.

Huh?

Evelyn spun around. Within the rapidly moving fireball, a faint humanoid silhouette appeared?!

“Whoosh!”

A still-burning wheel burst through the flames, followed by a bike completely engulfed in fire, flinging the fireball behind it!

And the rider… was a skeleton entirely wrapped in flames?!

The racing suit was burnt to tatters, and the helmet—once emblazoned with a flaming skull—had shattered in the explosion, revealing a skull genuinely burning in the flames, yet showing no signs of charring.

“Ghost Rider?”

Evelyn muttered quietly to herself, “I should’ve realized when I heard the name Cage…”

“But now, it’s confirmed—I don’t need to hold back anymore.”

She raised Shut Up and, without turning her head, used the rearview mirror to aim at the “Ghost Rider” behind her.

“Because… you are…”

…

“A demon?!”

In the VIP viewing room at the bridgehead, Pugi, perched on the back of a sofa while preening its feathers with its beak, suddenly lifted its head.

A scent that made it want to sneeze suddenly hit its nostrils.

Pugi fluttered its wings and circled the room before confirming the source of the smell.

It was on the city track!

Although the scent was faint and distant, Pugi could still pinpoint its location.

“No!”

Pugi shook its head. “It’s definitely the scent of a demon, but…”

“It seems to be coming from a human!”

The realization shocked Pugi.

For ordinary church members, the smell of demons, demon-possessed individuals, or half-demons might be hard to differentiate.

But for Pugi, the distinctions were clear:

• Demons had a pure, unmistakable scent.

• Demon-possessed humans smelled like humans completely corrupted by demonic essence—barely human at all.

• Half-demons had a diluted blend of human and demon scent, like watered-down wine—faint, strange, yet somewhat intoxicating.

To be honest, Pugi had only ever encountered one half-demon: Cyril. It was likely the only one in the world.

And Pugi actually liked Cyril’s scent—it didn’t trigger allergies and was slightly intoxicating, like fine wine.

But this new scent… was entirely different, a fourth type.

It wasn’t purely demonic, not a possessed-human scent, and not the diluted half-demon scent.

It was like a layer of oil floating on water—the demonic and human elements were distinctly separate.

In other words, this being was neither a demon, nor possessed, nor a half-demon.

It was…

A human capable of wielding demonic power?!

What the hell?!

If it weren’t for maintaining its sanity, Pugi would’ve thought it had gone mad.

A human wielding demonic power? Impossible!

This had to be reported to Evelyn immediately!

Pugi flapped its wings and attempted to exit through the vent above the bay window.

But…

It glanced back at the ornate wooden door of the viewing room.

If it left, the room’s protective barrier would fail, and Serra might return—discovering Evelyn and Cyril gone…

What should I do?!

Pugi flew frantic circles, shedding a few feathers onto the carpet.

“Forget it! Demon business comes first!”

With that, it darted out the vent like a streak of blue light.

Hopefully Evelyn won’t stew me in soup…

Serra, please don’t return now!

The blue bird-shaped figure flitted past the organizers’ office windows, its shadow briefly casting on the carpet before vanishing into the night.

“Bird?”

Eldridge curiously peered through the window at the blue bird. “A blue bird… rare sight indeed.”

…

Serra pushed her cart to the ornate wooden door, the four casters squeaking to a halt.

“Knock, knock!”

She tapped the door symbolically before opening it.

The knock wasn’t for permission—it was a notice: I’m coming in.

Normally, when serving Master Cyril, she wouldn’t do this.

But with Evelyn present, she did. Evelyn was a dangerous individual trying to approach the Master, and Serra’s politeness was her maximum tolerance.

“Creak~”

The door opened slowly, revealing not Cyril and Evelyn conversing, but:

An elderly gentleman with a monocle, impeccably dressed with graying hair, seated by the bay window.

Next to the sofa, a servant stood straight as a statue, holding a silver tray.

Wrong room?

Serra frowned. Making such a basic mistake wasn’t like her.

“Sorry, I took the wrong room.”

Regardless, she maintained her elegant posture, bowing slightly to the two inside before preparing to leave.

“Could I detain you for a moment?”

Unexpectedly, the elderly gentleman adjusted his buttons, rose with his cane, and walked toward Serra.

“Such elegant and poised maids are rare these days,” he said. “Would you be interested in working at my estate?”

Work at your estate?

Serra silently assessed the man. He was absurd—who asks that on first meeting?

Despite internally dismissing him, she kept up proper decorum.

“I’m loyal only to my master.”

Though disdainful, her tone and bow were flawless—polite, elegant, and firm.

“That is a shame.”

The gentleman tapped his cane on the carpet with a soft thud. “But your loyalty is priceless.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” he added, carefully adjusting her cart’s direction. “Please don’t take it to heart. Perhaps we shall meet again.”

“Thank you.”

Serra bowed slightly in response and exited.

“Creak~”

The lavish door closed. The gentleman retrieved his brass pocket watch, scrutinizing the ticking hands.

“Mr. Enzo?”

The servant asked, “Not checking?”

“No.”

Enzo kept watching the watch: “The race result is settled, and my business is nearly done…”

“Snap!”

As the hands passed twelve, the watch cover closed. Its ornate brass skull engraving reflected the light with an eerie gleam.

“Watching further would be pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“Boom!”

At the same time, a distant explosion echoed.

The servant’s gaze instinctively followed the source—a column of fire erupted from the cityscape, likely in the industrial zone near the track’s midpoint.

Could it be one of the racers’ bikes?

As far as the servant knew, only Cage could have reached the industrial zone at this time.

Could the explosion be Cage’s bike?!

The servant looked back at Enzo—but he had already pushed the door open, leaving only the silhouette with his cane.

“And I just found a very good business opportunity…”

And that was all he said.