17

Matt could not see, but his superhuman senses painted a vivid picture in his mind. He "saw" the priest levitating unnaturally, suspended by the force of John's magic. The scene was both surreal and unsettling, making Matt more curious than ever about John's true identity. Was this man truly a magician, or was there something even stranger at play?

As a lawyer, Matt had always leaned toward science and reason, but his wisdom told him that the world was far more complex than most people believed. Tonight, in this church filled with secrets and shadows, he was forced to accept that some things simply defied explanation.

The priest, shrouded in terror, could not hide anything from John. Fear radiated from him in waves, and his voice trembled as he confessed, "We want to ban him and become the master of darkness in this world!"

He blurted out everything in one breath, unable to resist the pressure of John's presence. The fear that struck his soul was overwhelming, and the terrifying ability John displayed left him utterly broken.

"At the High Table, someone was dissatisfied with his actions," the priest continued, shaking uncontrollably. "It was that person who joined forces with us to take action!"

So it was not just the Ten Rings Gang involved. There were others, powerful forces lurking in the shadows. The High Table—Matt recognized the name from whispered rumors in the underworld—was not just a legend after all.

John released his grip, letting the priest collapse to the ground, gasping for air. "High Table?" John repeated, lost in thought.

He recalled what he knew. The High Table was the original council of twelve underground forces that his father had recruited when founding the alliance. Over the years, the High Table had become the highest authority in the entire criminal underworld, with influence stretching across continents. Its members commanded armies, controlled fortunes, and enforced a strict code of rules. If someone from the High Table wanted John's father dead, it meant a new generation of leadership was about to rise.

"I've told you everything I know," the priest whimpered, lying on the cold stone floor. "We are just a lurking team. The real power is elsewhere."

Matt listened intently. He knew the Ten Rings Gang were terrorists, but this priest was only a pawn. The real masterminds were still out there, pulling the strings. He remembered the story of Tony Stark being kidnapped by the Ten Rings and forced to build weapons for them. Tony had escaped by forging a suit of armor, but the incident had shown just how bold and dangerous these organizations could be.

John's eyes narrowed as he slipped his wand from his left hand to his palm. He raised it and gave it a sharp wave. "Imperio," he intoned.

A flash of light passed over the priest, whose expression went blank. He stared ahead, empty and obedient.

"I will let you go," John said coldly, "but you have to do one thing for me. Go back and deal with the mastermind. Tell him that Wick says hello."

He leaned down and whispered in the priest's ear, his voice icy. "Do whatever it takes to get back to him and deliver my message."

John pressed a gold coin into the priest's pocket and patted his chest. The priest nodded, dazed and compliant, as if John were his master.

The Imperius Curse—Matt had never seen anything like it. He knew enough to recognize the spell was evil, a form of mind control. But he also understood that sometimes, to fight monsters, you had to use dark tools.

The priest, overcome by fear and the force of John's will, could not break free. He stood up like a zombie and shuffled out of the church, disappearing into the night.

"What did you do to him?" Matt asked, his curiosity overcoming his usual caution.

"A magic," John replied calmly, "that allows him to do something for me."

"Are you really a magician?" Matt pressed.

"Wizards, to be precise," John corrected him, glancing sideways at Matt. "By the way, do you not think it would be better if you changed into a combat uniform?"

Matt, dressed in black and covering his eyes with a felt hat, answered matter-of-factly, "This is more convenient."

John grinned. "As far as I know, superheroes wear tights. Maybe you would be more like Daredevil that way."

"That is their style, not mine," Matt said, tapping his guide stick on the ground. "What do we do about all these people?"

"You are a great partner, Matt," John said, a note of genuine respect in his voice. "You have not let the darkness consume you. That is rare."

Matt was surprised by the compliment, but he did not show it. Instead, he asked, "So, what now?"

"Of course, those people are best left to professionals," John replied, stretching out his hand. "Lend me your phone."

"You should really buy one yourself," Matt muttered, but he tossed his phone to John anyway. It landed perfectly in John's hand.

John dialed the police station. "Hello, this is Hell's Kitchen. We have found a group of terrorists armed with heavy firepower hiding in the church. There are ten of them in total. Oh, wait—one is gone now. You had better come quickly."

Matt listened impassively as John finished the call, then tossed the phone back. "There, all solved," John said softly.

"But there is one thing. The FBI will probably come too. I hope you can handle this for me."

John walked deeper into the church, uncertain if the people here had been killed or if the other side had simply taken over. He made his way to the confessional, raised his wand, and with a flick, blasted the wooden booth apart.

Gold spilled out from beneath the floorboards, glinting in the dim light. John picked up a heavy piece and weighed it in his hand. "There is probably more than a million dollars' worth of gold here. I wonder if it belongs to the local gangs."

He smiled and tossed a gold nugget to Matt. "How about we share it?"

Matt caught the gold, feeling its weight in his palm. It was worth a fortune, but he did not hesitate to throw it back to John. "Thank you for your kindness," he said, his voice steady. "But if I wanted money, I would not have chosen this path."

John caught the gold with a regretful sigh. "With three of these, I could buy your law firm."

Matt shook his head. He had always known how to use rules to restrain people's behavior. If he accepted this wealth, he would be no different from the villains he fought in Hell's Kitchen.

Seeing Matt's refusal, John grinned, stood up, and tossed the gold nugget back onto the pile. The crisp sound of gold colliding echoed through the church. He raised his wand and, with a casual wave, made the gold leap into his pocket. In moments, it was all gone.

He walked over to Matt. "We need to find a place to pay you."

"I will not use the money myself, but it can be put to good use," Matt replied.

They left the church together, the members of the Ten Rings Gang inside still unconscious from John's spell. Outside, Ferdinand was waiting anxiously in the car. When he saw John and Matt emerge, he breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to open the door.

John did not hesitate and climbed into the car. "Go to your law firm?" he asked.

"No need," Matt replied calmly as he got in. "I do not want anyone else to get involved."

"You think of me too darkly," John said, taking out a gold piece and tossing it onto the passenger seat.

Ferdinand's eyes widened at the sight of the shining gold. He nearly hit a streetlight as he pulled away from the curb.

"This... this..." Ferdinand stammered.

"Your reward for today," John said casually. "You drove me here, so I pay you. Equal exchange."

Ferdinand clutched the gold like a treasure, grinning from ear to ear. John urged, "If you do not want to be mistaken for a suspect, you had better drive quickly."

"Oh, right now, boss. Sit tight," Ferdinand replied, stepping on the accelerator.

As they sped away, police cars raced toward the church. Two FBI agents led the team inside. They found nine unconscious men hanging from the rafters, weapons scattered on the floor—including rocket launchers. The officers gasped at the firepower. If the police had not arrived in time, the carnage could have been unimaginable.

"Who did this?" the lead detective wondered aloud.

The police had just received a call about a disturbance at Hell and Heaven, but when they arrived, the place was empty. Now, at the church, they found terrorists strung up like trophies.

All members of an underground force had vanished, and another terrorist group had suddenly appeared. The situation was mysterious and confusing.

"John Wick has entered Hell's Kitchen," one agent remarked, recalling a tip they had received earlier.

It was no coincidence. As soon as the FBI learned that Hell and Heaven were connected to the attack on Wick, all members of the club disappeared. Add in the anonymous tips, and it was hard not to suspect that John Wick was behind it all.

The son of the Wick family—the man they had once dismissed as a harmless recluse—was now at the center of a storm.

Earlier that day, they had met him at the police station. Before today, they had believed that Wick's son was a bookish nobody who rarely left home. Now, it was clear that their understanding had been completely wrong.

"All his information is in the UK. This is going to be difficult," the agent muttered as the team continued their investigation.

While the FBI puzzled over the events, John and Matt returned home. Ferdinand, now John's full-time driver, was still admiring his gold reward.

John could not help but wonder if the gangsters who had handled the gold had disinfected it. He hoped Ferdinand would not catch anything from it.

As they entered the living room, John was greeted by a familiar figure standing with his back to him.

"You are finally back, John Wick," said Nick Fury, his voice calm but unmistakably authoritative.

John exchanged a glance with Matt, both of them realizing that their night was far from over.