The first gate of San Venganza loomed before Steven like the
jaws of some ancient, cursed beast. The air was thick with decay, and the ground beneath his feet was a mixture of ash and burnt soil. Shadows writhed across the landscape, forming shapes that seemed to mock him before vanishing into nothingness. The sky was painted in unnatural hues—a sickly mix of crimson and black, with the blood-red moon now sinking slowly on the horizon.
Steven's breath fogged the air, though the temperature felt neither cold nor hot, just… wrong. Every step he took felt like a march into a nightmare. His motorcycle's flames flickered dimly, as though even the Rider's power hesitated in the presence of such malevolence.
As he crossed the threshold, his eyes caught the twisted figure of Blackout standing tall on a crumbling altar. The villain's dark energy rippled outward, distorting the space around him. In his clutches, like a lifeless doll, was Kristina.
Her once vibrant spirit was dulled, her body battered and bruised. Her torn clothes barely clung to her, revealing more than Steven could bear to see. Blood smeared her arms, and her hair clung to her tear-streaked face. Yet, even in her vulnerability, there was defiance in her eyes. Her voice, hoarse but unwavering, rang out.
"Steven! Don't give him the paper! Let me die if you have to, but don't let him win!"
Steven's jaw tightened. He didn't respond, but his steps grew faster, his movements more deliberate. He didn't dare look Kristina in the eyes—not yet. If he did, the resolve he had so carefully built would crumble.
Blackout grinned, his teeth sharp as daggers and stained with malice. "Touching, isn't it? The lengths you'd go for love. But tell me, Rider—" His grip on Kristina's spine tightened, drawing a scream from her. "—how far are you willing to fall?"
Steven stopped a few paces away, his fists clenched at his sides, the parchment tucked securely into his jacket. His silence was unnerving, even to Blackout. The villain tilted his head, his amusement flickering.
"You're here to make a deal, aren't you?" Blackout sneered. "Hand it over, and maybe I'll make her suffering quick. Or don't, and I'll tear her apart right in front of you."
Kristina's voice cracked as she cried out again, her body trembling. "Don't do it, Steven! Please, don't—"
Steven's gloved hand moved slowly to his jacket, pulling the paper free. The ancient parchment seemed to pulse with a dark life of its own, and the moment it was exposed, the winds around them howled like a chorus of the damned.
Blackout's grin widened as he tossed Kristina aside like a discarded toy. She hit the ground hard, rolling across the ashen earth, her screams echoing in the desolate landscape.
But Steven was already moving. In one fluid motion, he transformed into the Ghost Rider, the flames roaring to life around his skull. His chain shot forward, wrapping around Blackout's wrist and yanking him off the altar.
The two clashed with an intensity that shook the very ground beneath them. Blackout's dark energy swirled like a storm, countering every strike from Steven's flaming chain. The Rider's punches landed with the force of a freight train, but Blackout was faster, dodging and retaliating with brutal strikes that sent Steven sprawling.
Kristina, groaning and clutching her side, managed to drag herself to her knees. Her vision blurred, but she could see the two titans tearing through the landscape. Blackout's dark form loomed larger, his blows heavier, while Steven's flames flickered, his strength waning.
"Steven!" she cried, her voice barely audible over the chaos.
Blackout laughed, his voice a guttural growl. "Look at you, Rider! Weak, desperate, clinging to a power you barely understand." He slammed his fist into Steven's chest, sending him flying into a charred tree that splintered on impact.
As Blackout advanced, Kristina spotted a rusted hammer lying in the rubble. Summoning what little strength she had left, she grabbed it and stumbled toward the fight. Blackout had Steven pinned to the ground, his massive hands crushing the Rider's throat.
"Time to extinguish that little flame of yours," Blackout sneered.
Before he could deliver the killing blow, Kristina swung the hammer with all her might, smashing it against the back of Blackout's head. He roared in pain, releasing Steven and staggering forward.
The Rider rose slowly, his flames flaring back to life. His hollow voice echoed with wrath. "Look into my eyes..."
The moment Steven's Penance Stare locked onto Blackout, the air around them turned heavy, suffocating. The flames of the Ghost Rider's skull flared brighter, illuminating the dark abyss of Blackout's twisted soul.
Blackout tried to resist, clawing at the air as if he could escape the gaze that pierced into the very core of his being. But it was too late. The power of the Penance Stare was unrelenting, dragging him through the carnage he had wrought.
…. see the pain, the suffering, the despair of every soul you've destroyed…..
The first memory struck with brutal force.
A small, dimly lit chapel appeared before him—a place of peace now marred with blood. Twelve innocents knelt, their hands bound, their eyes wide with terror. Blackout's laughter echoed as he walked among them, the light dimming wherever he stepped.
…Feel their agony as they begged for mercy, their cries echoing in the void you left behind…
"Please, spare us!" a woman sobbed, clutching a rosary tightly in her trembling hands.
Blackout leaned down, his cold, lifeless smile inches from her face. "Pray all you want. No one's listening."
With a casual swipe of his hand, her life was extinguished. The others screamed, their cries reverberating in Blackout's mind as the Rider forced him to relive their final moments. Each face flashed before him, their desperate last words ringing in his ears:
"God, help me!"
"I have children!"
"Don't do this! Please!"
The Rider's flames burned hotter, reflecting the anguish of the victims as they begged for mercy that never came.
…Witness the terror in their final moments, the fear you carved into their hearts…
Then came the murder of St. Isaac Lewington.
A serene figure, draped in simple robes, stood defiant in the face of Blackout's darkness. "You will not break me," the priest said, his voice steady even as Blackout's blade pressed against his throat.
"You're wrong, holy man," Blackout sneered. "Everyone breaks."
The scene erupted into chaos as the priest was struck down, his blood staining the sacred altar. The screams of his congregation echoed like a mournful hymn, their faith shattered alongside their protector.
"Forgive him, Father," Isaac whispered with his final breath, his voice trembling with pain.
…Their faces, their voices, their lives—they are your legacy. Every drop of blood, every broken scream, every stolen breath, it all burns within you now….
The memories became more chaotic, more violent.
Blackout's hands were stained with the blood of countless others—men, women, and even children. Their faces blurred together in his mind, but their voices were deafening.
"You're a monster!"
"Why are you doing this?"
"Please, let me live!"
Each cry was a dagger to his soul, each face a reflection of the destruction he had caused. Their screams built into a crescendo, a symphony of agony that drowned out even Blackout's own thoughts.
…Look into my eyes, Blackout, and see the judgment of the damned."
Then, the final moments.
The screams grew louder, more relentless, as the weight of his sins bore down on him. Blackout's body convulsed, his mind overwhelmed by the terror and pain he had inflicted. He saw their eyes—accusing, haunted, unblinking—as if they would never let him go.
"Feel their pain," the Rider's voice echoed, low and hollow. "Every scream, every tear, every soul you've taken. They are with you now."
Blackout's defiance crumbled as he fell to his knees, his body wracked with the torment of those he had wronged. The flames around Steven's skull burned brighter, their light casting the shadows of Blackout's victims onto the ash-covered ground.
"Stop!" Blackout howled, his voice cracking. "I didn't… I didn't mean—"
But there was no mercy, no escape. The Penance Stare showed him the truth: he was the monster he feared most.
Finally, his body gave out, collapsing into the ash as his dark energy unraveled into nothingness. The screams faded, leaving only silence as the flames of justice consumed the last of his soul. His body convulsed, his dark energy unraveling until he collapsed, lifeless, into the ash.
Steven stood over his fallen foe, the flames dimming around him as the sun began to rise. He turned to Kristina, who was slumped against a rock, her face pale but alive.
"It's over," he said softly, though the weight of the battle lingered in his voice.
Kristina managed a weak smile, her eyes closing as she whispered, "It's never over, Steven."