Ch. 57: The Good Bad Dream

The dust was still settling in the aftermath of Agatha's hasty retreat, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the lingering echo of her malevolent laughter. Chris, his heart pounding with adrenaline and awe, sprinted towards the figure standing amidst the chaos. The Ghost Rider, Jon, was a silhouette of fire and fury against the backdrop of destruction.

"Jon!" Chris called out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. His eyes were wide, reflecting the ethereal glow of the Ghost Rider's flaming skull. "I can't believe it... you're the Flaming Skeleton!"

His words hung in the air, a testament to the revelation that had just unfolded. But before Chris could fully process the enormity of the situation, Jon's fiery fist connected with his face. The impact sent him sprawling backwards, his words cut short by the sudden assault.

"Don't say that name again!" Jon's voice was a harsh growl, the words crackling like the fire that danced around his skeletal form. He pointed a flaming finger at Chris, his fiery gaze burning into his friend's shocked expression. "I've wanted to do this for a long time!"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the brotherly camaraderie that had once existed between them. Chris, nursing his bruised jaw, looked up at Jon with a mixture of hurt and confusion. But Jon's attention was elsewhere, his fiery gaze scanning the surroundings, his mind already strategizing their next move.

Agatha's escape had been too easy, too convenient. Jon knew her too well to believe she would retreat without a fight. He remembered her relentless pursuit of the Chaos Magic in 'WandaVision', her determination unwavering even in the face of defeat. She was a formidable adversary, and now she knew his secret, his identity.

"She knows my identity!" The realization hit Jon like a punch to the gut. His flaming skull turned towards Chris, the fire in his eyes flickering with a sudden urgency. "Oh no!"

His words echoed ominously in the silence that followed, a stark reminder of the danger they were in. Agatha's knowledge of his identity was a threat not just to him, but to everyone he cared about. He had to act, and he had to act fast.

Without another word, Jon apparated, his flaming form disappearing in a burst of fire and smoke.

As the dust settled and the echoes of the battle faded, Chris stood alone in the silence, his mind racing with the implications of his friend's secret. He knew then that their lives had changed irrevocably. The revelation of Jon's identity as the Ghost Rider was a game-changer, a twist of fate that would test their bond as friends.

***

Simultaneously, in a quiet corner of the city, Ayla stirred from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of her room. But as her gaze fell on the space beside her bed, her heart pounded in her chest. A shadowy figure was materializing from the darkness, its form slowly taking shape.

With a gasp, Ayla reached for the lamp on her bedside table, flooding the room with light. The figure was now fully visible, a woman draped in a tattered purple robe, her face twisted into a sinister smile.

"Hello, Ayla," the woman greeted, her voice as cold as ice. "Our names sound similar, don't they? Perhaps it's fate."

Ayla's eyes widened in fear as she took in the woman's appearance. She scrambled backwards, her voice trembling as she stammered, "W-who are you?"

"I am a witch," the woman replied, her smile never wavering. "And a very bad one at that."

As she spoke, a purple glow began to emanate from her hands, the air around her crackling with magic. Ayla's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes wide with terror.

"Don't hurt me!" she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That depends on your Jon," the witch replied, her gaze never leaving Ayla's terrified face. "Let's see how much he values you."

As the witch's magic-laden hand inched closer, Ayla let out a terrified scream. But before the witch could touch her, a figure materialized out of thin air. Jon, clad in a black leather jacket and a chain wrapped around his body, stood between Ayla and the witch.

"Jon!" Ayla's voice was filled with relief, her fear momentarily forgotten.

The witch, Agatha, turned her attention to Jon, her smile widening. "Ah, you're here!"

With a swift movement, she sent a wave of purple magic towards Ayla. Ayla's face went blank, her eyes devoid of any emotion. Jon's heart clenched at the sight, his voice filled with desperation as he demanded, "What did you do to her?!"

"The Soul-Capturing Curse," Agatha replied, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Her soul is now under my control. A single thought from me can end her life. And if I die, she dies with me."

Jon's fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering beneath the surface. But Agatha seemed to relish his reaction, her laughter echoing in the room. "It seems you care about this girl very much. I wonder, what will you do if she dies?"

As she spoke, she turned her attention back to Ayla, her fingers dancing in the air. But before she could cast another spell, Jon's voice cut through the tension.

"Stop!" he commanded, his voice echoing in the room. Agatha paused, her gaze shifting back to Jon. "You know what I want," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

Jon nodded, his gaze never leaving Ayla. "I'll give it to you," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I'll give you everything."

As he spoke, flames erupted from his hands, the hellfire illuminating the room. Agatha extended her arms, the fire being drawn into her body. The power surged through her, eliciting a maniacal laugh from her lips.

Once the hellfire was transferred, Agatha conjured a flame in her palm, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Now, fulfill your promise and let Ayla go," Jon demanded, his gaze fixed on Ayla.

Agatha's laughter echoed in the room, the sound chilling to the bone. The game was far from over, and Jon knew he had to play his cards right to save Ayla and defeat Agatha.

Agatha's smile was a chilling sight, her eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. "I gave you a chance to negotiate, Rider," she taunted. "Had you handed over the hellfire willingly, none of this would have happened. So now..."

Her gaze shifted to Ayla, her hand raising ominously. "I will offer her soul to Chthon, the Elder God of Earth!"

But before she could complete her spell, her magic faltered. Ayla, who had been under her control, suddenly snapped back to reality, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"J-Jon?!" she murmured, her gaze darting between Jon and Agatha.

"Ayla, get behind me," Jon instructed, his voice calm despite the tension in the room. Ayla obeyed instantly, scrambling off the bed and rushing to Jon's side.

Agatha looked on in disbelief, her magic and the hellfire she had just absorbed suddenly unresponsive. "How is this possible?" she muttered, her eyes darting around the room.

Jon raised his hand, a small flame flickering in his palm. "Look around you," he said, his voice echoing in the room.

Agatha's gaze followed his instruction, her eyes widening as she noticed the strange, fiery runes etched onto the walls. "Under a specific spatial spell, only the caster can use their magic," Jon explained, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Thank you for teaching me that, Agatha Harkness."

As he finished speaking, the hellfire surged out of Agatha's body, drawn back into Jon's. Agatha let out a cry of despair, her body weakening as her power was drained.

"No!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the room. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Jon absorbed all the hellfire, his form glowing with the regained power.

"You win," Agatha conceded, her body slumped on the floor. She looked up at Jon, her eyes filled with defeat. "What will you do now?"

"To fulfill my duties as the Ghost Rider," Jon replied, a smile playing on his lips. He turned to Ayla, instructing her to close her eyes. Ayla obeyed, turning away as Jon lifted Agatha up, his Spirit of Vengeance form activated.

"Look into my eyes," he commanded, his voice echoing in the room. "Your soul is stained by the blood of your victims. Feel their pain."

Agatha's screams filled the room as she was subjected to the pain of her past sins, her soul eventually consumed by the flames of her own guilt.

[The legendary mission has been updated, adjudicating a thousand sinful souls, the current progress is 58/1000]

[The Soul Sacrifice Function has been successfully activated. The soul has been traded, and 1200 penalty points were obtained.]

Jon retrieved the Darkhold from Agatha's ashes, storing it safely away in the system's storage. He then turned to Ayla, his voice gentle as he reassured her, "It's over, Ayla."

Ayla threw herself into Jon's arms, relief washing over her. Jon smiled, guiding her back to bed. "It was just a bad dream," he soothed, tucking her in. "Sleep now."

Their moment of peace was interrupted by a knock on the door. Annie, clad in her pajamas, peeked in, concern etched on her face. "Ayla, what happened?! I heard screams!" she asked, her gaze darting between Jon and Ayla.

"Nothing, she just had a bad dream," Jon replied, offering Annie a reassuring smile.

Annie sighed in relief, turning to Ayla. "Did you have a nightmare?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Ayla shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "It wasn't that bad," she replied, her gaze meeting Jon's.

Annie wished them goodnight, leaving the room with a final reassuring smile. Ayla settled into her bed, her heart filled with a newfound sense of security. She knew she would sleep well that night, for she had just discovered that Jon was a superhero.

(A/N: The Crimson Gem of Cyttorak's chapters ends here; Next station: Men in Black)

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