(Jeanyx's Point of View)
Snow stretched for miles across the northern front, white and endless—like the land itself had forgotten color. The Russian convoy moved in silence, engines muffled beneath canvas and frost. Every so often, I'd catch Malik shivering on his bike beside me, muttering curses into his scarf.
The air was heavy, wrong somehow. I felt it before I saw it.
When the German trenches came into view, even from half a mile out, I stopped my bike and just… stared.
Rows upon rows of crosses lined the enemy's front. Massive wooden ones, some wrapped in silver wire, others painted in holy symbols. Priests moved between them, swinging censers that poured gray smoke into the air. The soldiers themselves all wore smaller crosses around their necks, and from this distance, I could hear faint hymns—hundreds of voices trying to drown out fear.
Malik pulled up beside me, squinting. "What the hell is that? A church service?"
I started laughing. Hard.
Not the quiet kind either—the kind that echoed across the frozen plain. The kind that didn't sound human.
"Oh, this is rich," I said, wiping a tear from my eye. "They actually think that'll help."
Nyxia's voice rippled through my head, velvet and sharp.
They've built themselves a wall of faith.
"Faith won't stop fire," I murmured, still grinning.
Malik looked between me and the field. "You're telling me they set up all that for you?"
"Pretty sure they did."
He shook his head. "Jesus, man. You've officially scared a whole army into finding God."
"That's their mistake," I said. "God stopped listening a long time ago."
I swung my leg off the bike and walked a few paces forward, the wind tugging at my coat. From here, I could see the priests standing in front of the line—young, terrified, clutching their crosses like weapons. One of them held up a Bible and shouted something in German, voice cracking through the wind.
I couldn't understand the words, but I didn't need to. His fear said everything.
Malik pulled up his goggles. "So, what's the plan? Burn through them?"
"Eventually." I crouched, scooping up a handful of snow. "But first, I want to see how far their faith takes them."
The snow in my palm melted instantly, turning to black water that steamed against my skin. Nyxia stirred beneath the surface, whispering something ancient and sweet.
They call on heaven, she said, but only you answer.
I smiled faintly. "Let's show them what kind of God listens today."
The air around me grew thick—heavy with ash and smoke that hadn't existed seconds before. My bike roared to life behind me, engine growling like a beast hungry for blood. Malik's eyes widened as purple fire crawled up its frame, licking at the wheels.
"Alright, damn," he muttered. "Guess we're doing this."
"We are." I swung onto the seat and twisted the throttle. "Stay behind me if you want to keep your skin."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it, boss."
As I revved the bike, the fire grew—black and violet, hungry and alive. Wind howled down from the north, and for a moment, everything went still. The Russians behind me whispered prayers. The Germans across the field clutched their crosses tighter.
And I laughed again—low, almost gentle this time.
"Let's see how holy they feel," I said, voice echoing across the snow.
The bike screamed forward. The world turned into a blur of color and terror. Snow burst into steam beneath my wheels, fire streaking behind me like a comet's tail. Malik followed close, his new engine roaring pure silver thunder.
From the trenches, the Germans raised rifles and prayers.
From the hill, the Russians raised their heads and saw their demon prince charge into hell.
And in that moment, between the sound of hymns and gunfire, I felt something I hadn't in years.
Alive.
The priests had gathered near the center trench, chanting louder now, smoke curling into the frozen air from their censers. German soldiers clutched their rifles and crosses both, whispering prayers as I approached. Their fear rolled off them in waves—tangible, sweet.
I slowed my bike, letting the engine growl low and steady. Every eye in that trench was fixed on me. Some trembled, some wept, others just stared in defiance.
Then, I stopped right before the first line of crosses.
The nearest priest stepped forward, hand shaking as he held up his silver crucifix. "Zurück, Dämon!" he screamed. "Im Namen Gottes, verschwinde!" (Back, demon! In the name of God, begone!)
The others joined in, voices cracking through the smoke. Holy water splashed the snow, steam rising where it touched.
And for a moment, I let them believe.
I hissed, recoiling, lowering my head as if their faith was burning me. Nyxia stirred beneath my skin, purring with amusement.
Oh, you wicked man…
The soldiers roared in triumph, hope flooding the air like blood in the water. They screamed louder, firing into the ground around me, cheering as if salvation had come at last.
Then, I started laughing.
It was quiet at first—a chuckle that twisted into something raw and manic. My shoulders shook. My breath came out in plumes of violet smoke. I straightened slowly, and every voice on that line died mid-chant.
"I'm sorry," I said, smiling through the fire. "I really tried to play along."
The laughter broke free—low, echoing, endless.
And as I stepped forward, my boot crushed one of their silver crosses. Nothing happened. No fire from heaven. No divine judgment. Just the snap of metal under my heel.
I took another step, and another. The priests stumbled back, clutching their books and their beads like shields.
"You really thought he'd save you?" I asked, voice deepened with Nyxia's resonance. "Tell me—where was your God when the shells fell? When your sons burned? When your faith cracked and you begged the dark for mercy?"
The nearest priest dropped to his knees, praying faster.
"Go on," I whispered. "Pray louder."
The ground beneath me pulsed. The mold that slept in the earth responded to my call, rippling under the snow. A moment later, it erupted—black tendrils bursting from the ground like serpents. They lashed out in every direction, spearing through the snow and wood, coiling around men and priests alike.
Screams filled the air.
One priest tried to raise his cross again, but a tendril shot through his chest, lifting him into the air. Another wrapped around two soldiers, crushing them until their spines snapped like twigs.
Blood sprayed the snow in ribbons of red and steam.
Malik watched from the hilltop, jaw clenched tight, eyes wide. I could feel his horror even from here—but he didn't move. He knew better than to interrupt me when I was working.
The mold spread faster now, covering the trenches, devouring the wooden crosses that dared stand against it.
A priest screamed something about salvation, but his voice cut off when a tendril ripped him in half and dragged his body down into the muck.
I walked among them as it happened, fire swirling at my feet, Nyxia's laughter ringing in my skull. The air stank of gunpowder and faith turned to ash.
When the last body fell silent, I looked around at what was left. The snow had turned black. The crosses burned with purple fire. And the priests—the ones who hadn't died screaming—were gone entirely, swallowed by the mold.
I exhaled, the last of the flames fading from my skin.
"Faith," I murmured, shaking my head. "You people really never learn."
Behind me, the battlefield was quiet again. No hymns. No prayers. Just the slow, steady sound of mold retreating back into the soil, waiting for my next command.
Nyxia purred in my thoughts, her voice warm and amused.
That was cruel, even for you.
I smiled faintly. "They started it."
And as I walked away, leaving behind what was once holy ground, the air filled with only one sound—
the echo of a demon's laughter where God had gone silent.
The battlefield was quiet now.
No screams, no prayers, no sound but the soft crackle of cooling fire and the hiss of snow melting where the flames had kissed the earth. The air still smelled of iron and ash.
(malik pov)
Jeanyx stood at the center of it all, cloak whipping in the wind, his eyes dim again—no longer burning, just glowing faintly like embers half-buried in coals. The mold had vanished back into the ground, leaving behind black scars in the snow.
I parked my bike beside him, my hands still shaking. I'd seen death before. Hell, I'd caused my fair share of it in France. But this? This was different. The Germans hadn't just died—they'd been erased. Torn apart like their faith meant nothing.
"Did you have to be that brutal?" I asked quietly.
He didn't look at me. "Brutal?"
"Yeah, man." I gestured to the mess around us. "You could've ended it clean. Instead, you made a damn spectacle out of it."
He finally turned his head, his violet eyes faint in the haze. "You still think there's such a thing as a clean death?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look he gave me—cold, tired, older than anything I'd ever seen—shut me up.
After a long silence, he spoke again. "You want the truth, Malik?"
"Yeah," I said. "Try me."
He took a slow breath. "Every god you've ever heard of—every one people ever whispered to or bled for—was real. All of them. The Greeks, the Norse, the ones in your Bible, the ones you've never even heard of. Every pantheon, every myth."
I stared at him. "You're joking."
He didn't even blink. "I wish I was. But here's the real punchline—ninety-nine percent of them were arrogant cunts."
That caught me off guard enough to make me bark out a laugh, even if it sounded nervous. "You're serious?"
He nodded. "Power makes gods, but power never made them good."
I rubbed my face, trying to process it. "So… what about God? The Christian one?"
"He's real," Jeanyx said. "But not the top of the ladder. The real one—the one above everything—is called the One Above All. The true creator. The architect of every universe, every thread of reality. The god you grew up with is… smaller. Think of him like a manager, not the CEO."
I blinked. "You're telling me God's got a boss?"
He smiled faintly. "More or less."
I crouched down, grabbing a handful of snow, mostly to give my hands something to do. "How the hell do you know all this?"
His eyes dimmed. "Because my power doesn't come from a demon, Malik. It comes from an angel—an angel of justice. One that was thrown into Hell for defying Heaven's order. When it fell, it changed. Its light twisted into vengeance. That's what makes a Ghost Rider."
He paused, glancing toward the sky, his tone softening. "But I'm not like the others. I never made a deal with the Devil. No chains, no contract, no master. The spirit bonded to me willingly. I carry both halves—angel and vengeance. Heaven's light and Hell's fury."
I stared at him, trying to keep my voice steady. "You're telling me you've got angel blood in you?"
"Not blood," he said. "Energy. And once—just once—I managed to use the full extent of it. But that kind of power… it changes you. It nearly burned me out of existence. Since then, I haven't been able to touch it again."
He looked at his hand, flexing it like it didn't quite belong to him. "But when it happened, I saw something. I understood how everything connects. Every thread. Every world. Every timeline."
He crouched, picking up a bullet casing from the snow, holding it between two fingers. "Every choice we make creates another branch. When I saved you, another version of me didn't. Somewhere out there, you died in that truck. Your wife raised your son alone. Maybe he grows up bitter. Maybe he never forgives the world. Maybe he becomes someone like me."
I felt the air freeze in my chest. "That's… too much, man. That's too big."
"Yeah." He let the casing fall. "It is."
I exhaled, a cloud of breath vanishing into the cold air. "So what—you know everything that's ever gonna happen?"
He shook his head. "No. I just understand how it happens. There's a difference. I don't see every timeline; I just know they're there. Like hearing an echo from a room you'll never walk into."
I stood quiet for a while, letting the wind fill the space between us.
Finally, Jeanyx turned toward me, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "Don't think about it too much, Malik. Trust me. It's the fastest way to go mad."
I nodded slowly. "You're already there, huh?"
He gave a faint, crooked smile. "I passed that exit a long time ago."
We stood there under the gray sky, surrounded by the ashes of faith, two men on a battlefield that didn't feel like it belonged to either of us.
One of us still human.
The other… something the gods feared.
And somehow, in that moment, I wasn't sure which one had it worse.