Chapter 119: Ghost Rider VS Muzan Kibutsuji
The air was thick with tension, the night pregnant with the promise of violence. The battlefield, a desolate expanse under the haunting glow of the moon, was about to bear witness to an epic confrontation.
Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, stood with an aura of malevolence. His hands, once human, now grotesque weapons, stretched and morphed into a myriad of razor-sharp blades. With a predatory grace, he launched himself into the air, a leviathan of darkness, his shadow a shroud over the Ghost Rider.
Clang!
Slash!
Clang!
The sound of metal on metal rang out as Muzan's blade-like arms descended upon the Ghost Rider with a fury born of centuries of bloodlust.
Clang!
Jon, the Ghost Rider, stood his ground, his eyes alight with an infernal blaze. With a swift motion, he drew forth his chains, the links glowing red-hot with hellfire. The chains met Muzan's onslaught with a resounding clang, the impact sending waves of fire rippling along their length, Muzan's alabaster hair dancing in the tumultuous air.
Their powers clashed, an unyielding force against an immovable object, the two adversaries locked in a prolonged stalemate. Muzan, a being who had brushed against the threshold of perfection, wielded strength that was nearly insurmountable. Jon, even with the Ghost Rider's might, felt the strain of the battle, his resolve flickering like the flames that encased him.
Sensing the waning spirit of his foe, Muzan's lips curled into a sinister smile, his assault intensifying. Jon staggered, each step back a silent concession to the demon's superior might.
But then, the air shifted, a palpable change that halted Muzan in his tracks. A cold, oppressive force enveloped him, the very essence of dread that even a creature of his stature could not ignore.
Hellfire erupted from Jon, a pyroclastic surge that transformed him, his flesh consumed by the blaze until he stood as a skeletal avatar of retribution, his bones alight with white flames.
"You..."
"….. Are guilty!" the Ghost Rider proclaimed, his voice the tolling of a death knell.
Boom!
The flames exploded from Jon, a volcanic fury that scattered like a storm of magma. Muzan recoiled, the sensation of the hellfire searing into him, a reminder of a peril he had once thought himself immune to.
Indeed, the flames bore a resemblance to the sword techniques of Tsugikuni Yoriichi, the only being who had ever marred his immortal flesh. The wounds inflicted by Yoriichi's blade were a curse that defied his regenerative abilities, a blemish upon his otherwise perfect existence.
"My neck... it's starting to hurt again!" Muzan cried out, his visage twisting into something even more grotesque, if such a thing were possible.
Hundreds of years had passed since Tsugikuni Yoriichi had left his mark upon Muzan's neck, a scar that was a constant reminder of his mortality. Now, as he faced the Ghost Rider, the specter of Yoriichi seemed to loom over him, the ancient pain flaring anew as if the legendary demon slayer himself had returned to haunt him.
"!"
Muzan's form crumpled, his once imposing figure now reduced to a desperate creature writhing in the dirt. The searing hole in his throat, inflicted by the Ghost Rider's chains, was a gaping maw of defeat, oozing with the dark ichor of his demonic lifeblood. His legs, once pillars of strength, now buckled, leaving him seated in the dust, a king dethroned by his own hubris.
His glare, though filled with the ferocity of a cornered beast, betrayed the dawning realization of his vulnerability. The veins on his face stood out like dark rivers, and his skin took on a reddish-black hue, a testament to the poison of his own malice coursing through him.
The Ghost Rider, an embodiment of vengeance, advanced, each step a measured promise of retribution. Muzan's eyes, once filled with the fire of anger, now flickered with the cold light of fear. He retreated, his instincts screaming at him that he faced not just an adversary, but an executioner.
"Look at you, like a stray dog!" the Ghost Rider taunted, his voice a gravelly echo of scorn. With a mere flick of his wrist, the chains, now extensions of his fiery will, split and lashed out, ensnaring Muzan's limbs with unerring precision. They pinned him to the earth, a display of dominance that left the demon lord screaming, his voice a symphony of agony.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
Muzan's scream was a sound that could chill the very marrow of the living, a sound that spoke of an ancient being confronted with the mortality he had so long evaded. His life, a tapestry of centuries, had been one of ceaseless conquest and knowledge. Yet, in the presence of the Ghost Rider, his pride lay shattered, his omnipotence questioned.
The Ghost Rider, with a grip as unyielding as fate, seized Muzan by the hair and hoisted him up. The demon's form dangled, pitiful and defeated, as the Ghost Rider prepared to deliver the Penance Stare, a fate worse than any death Muzan could have imagined.
Bang!
But Muzan, in his final throes, refused to succumb quietly. With a surge of will that belied his weakened state, he unleashed a shockwave, a desperate gambit born of his primal survival instinct. The ground trembled, a testament to the demon's lingering might.
This attack, a move reserved for the precipice of oblivion, was designed to ravage the nervous system, to incapacitate, to kill. But Muzan had not counted on the resilience of the Ghost Rider, an entity beyond the frailties of flesh and blood.
The shockwave dissipated, and still, the Ghost Rider stood, unscathed, his grip on Muzan unrelenting.
"No... Why is this happening? Why do you oppose me?! Why does everyone oppose me?! I just want to live forever, what's wrong with that?!" Muzan's voice was a mix of rage and despair, the outcry of a being who could not fathom his own fallibility.
"Because..." the Ghost Rider's voice, a sonorous echo of finality, cut through the chaos of the night, "this universe had enough of you!"
Muzan, held aloft like a marionette with its strings cut, could only stare into the abyssal depths of the Ghost Rider's eyes. The flames within them seemed to dance with a life of their own, a macabre ballet that spelled his doom.
Ghost Rider's grip tightened on Muzan's collar, his voice a crescendo of righteous fury as he slammed the demon against the wall, "Then tuck your tail and roll back to hell, you ugly thing!"
Boom!
The wall cracked under the force, a spiderweb of destruction radiating from the point of impact. Muzan's body, once the epitome of demonic evolution, now seemed nothing more than a ragdoll in the hands of an avenger.
"Look into my eyes... Your soul has been tainted by the blood of the victims... Feel their pain!" The Ghost Rider's command was not just a sentence; it was a gateway to atonement through agony.
Muzan's mind was thrust into a maelstrom of torment, each victim's scream, each life he had extinguished, now a lash upon his very essence. The Penance Stare incinerated the soul with the weight of sins accumulated over a thousand lifetimes.
[Ding! Main mission completed, Judgment of the Demon King Muzan Kibutsuji, 3000 Penalty Points awarded]
[Ding! Legendary character updated, Judge a thousand sinful souls across myriad realms, current progress 73/1000]
[The portal to return is ready to exit the current universe, will you leave now? Yes/No...]
"No." The word fell from Jon's lips with the certainty of one who knew his journey was not yet complete.
He had to pay a visit to the village of the swordsmiths. Tsugikuni Yoriichi's Nichirin Sword was not just a weapon; it was a legacy, a piece of history that Jon felt compelled to seek out. As well as a task he had to complete.
And there were farewells to be said. Shinobu and Kanae had shown him kindness in a realm not his own, and he would not depart without expressing his gratitude.
As Jon's gaze fell upon the lifeless husk of Muzan, a thought occurred to him. The body, though now an empty vessel, was still a relic of immense power and darkness.
"Igris!" With a snap of his fingers, Jon summoned his skeletal dragon, Igris, who appeared with a flourish of otherworldly energy.
"That one lying there," Jon pointed to Muzan's corpse, "he's yours now, eat him up!"
Igris, the loyal and voracious dragon, roared in anticipation, his wings beating the air with fervor. He lunged forward, his jaws opening to reveal a maw that was an abyss unto itself. With a single, swift motion, he consumed Muzan's body, the act of devouring as natural to him as breathing.
The night air was filled with the sound of Igris's satisfaction, a grim reminder that even in death, Muzan Kibutsuji would serve a purpose, fueling the power of another creature of the night.
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