Staring at John Wick, the giant said,
"You look a bit weak, John."
John met his eyes and answered,
"Ernest, the time's not up yet."
Unbothered, Ernest replied,
"Almost."
"Who's to say exactly when you died, anyway?"
John's face grew tense.
"You sure you want to do this?"
Ernest tilted his head, greed gleaming in his eyes.
"Twenty million—that's a hell of a lot of money."
John's tone dropped.
"No. First, you've got to live to spend it."
What Ernest didn't know was that Smith Dole and Fox had heard every word. Reporting this to Winston would be enough—the Continental would take care of the rest.
But Ernest didn't hesitate. He suddenly pulled a short dagger from his coat and lunged at John.
John snatched a book from a nearby shelf and used it to parry. The two clashed immediately.
Though Ernest managed to stab John in the shoulder, John fought back fiercely and disarmed him.
Using his superior height and reach, Ernest grabbed John's head with one hand and put a finger to his lips with the other.
"Shhh."
Then, he smashed John's skull into the bookshelves—again and again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Finally, he kicked John out of the bookshelf section and into the hallway.
Lying on the ground, John spotted Smith Dole and Fox casually watching from nearby. He showed no surprise—he just grabbed the book again and slammed it into Ernest's groin.
"Ahhh!"
Ernest cried out, clutching himself, and John took the chance to slam the book into his throat.
Smith Dole raised an eyebrow. "Always the low blows or the throat. Pure kill moves."
On the scouter, Ernest had a combat rating of 6—on par with John—and held a size advantage. But after John's brutal assault on his throat, Ernest collapsed, dead.
John stood over the body, placed the book neatly back on the shelf, then winced. Blood soaked his hand as pain surged from his wounded shoulder.
Smith spoke calmly:
"Continue. This is part of your evaluation."
John nodded. He knew Smith wasn't here for the bounty. With Dragon Balls in their possession, wealth meant nothing.
He pushed forward, rushing out of the library. He knew that with the distance to the Assassin League ahead, if he didn't treat his wounds, blood loss alone might kill him before anyone else had the chance.
Fox snapped a picture of Ernest's body and sent it to Winston with the message:
"Someone acted early."
Winston cursed under his breath.
"F**k."
He immediately sent a message to all New York-based assassins:
"Anyone violating Continental rules will be punished."
The message included Ernest's corpse photo.
Ten minutes remained before John Wick's excommunication would become official.
······
Elsewhere…
In the Bowery, the underground king Bowery King told his subordinate, Erra,
"Spread the word. The Bowery respects the excommunication."
"No help or services for John Wick."
······
Smith Dole and Fox followed John to a Chinatown black-market doctor's apartment. John banged on the door, shouting:
"Doctor! It's Wick!"
A metal slit in the door opened. The doctor looked out and frowned.
"Mr. Wick—no. You shouldn't be here. Time's almost up."
"I know," John said urgently. "Please, doctor. There's still time."
But the doctor shook his head.
"No. I can't."
John took out a Continental gold coin and held it up.
"I've got five minutes. Please."
The doctor hesitated… then took the coin through the slit and opened the door.
"Get in. Quick."
As soon as John entered, the doctor peeked down the hallway—only to spot Smith Dole and Fox. He froze.
Smith smiled.
"Five minutes left. Go do what you need to."
Then they walked in too, shutting the door behind them.
The doctor panicked, unsure what to do.
John shouted,
"They won't lay a hand on me. Hurry!"
Snapping out of it, the doctor led John to the workstation.
"Sit. Quickly."
John shed his jacket, revealing the deep shoulder wound.
The doctor inspected it.
"Let me see… A stab wound. Deep. Artery's cut."
"You'll need stitches."
He began immediately.
Seconds ticked away.
John stared at the clock on the wall.
"Doctor."
"I'm almost done—halfway through," the doctor replied, still stitching.
"Five seconds left," John said.
Then he began the countdown.
"Five… Four… Three… Two… One."
At exactly 9:00, the clock chimed.
The doctor looked at John, regret in his voice.
"Sorry, Mr. Wick. I can't help you anymore."
John nodded.
"I understand. It's the rule."
The doctor echoed,
"The rule."
Then glanced nervously at Smith and Fox.
"I didn't break it. I stopped on time."
Smith nodded.
"Punctual."
John Wick was now officially excommunicated. Anyone affiliated with the High Table was forbidden from offering him help.
Without asking Smith or Fox for aid, John picked up the needle and continued the stitching himself, using the mirror as a guide.
······
Continental Hotel, Information Center.
A global message was dispatched to all registered assassins:
Target: John Wick and two Dragon Balls
Image: Included (4-star ball shown)
Bounty: $20,000,000
- John Wick: $16,000,000
- Each Dragon Ball: $2,000,000
Eligibility: All global assassins
Status: Active
Last Seen: New York – Chinatown
Update: Excommunication bounty now in effect.
······
(End of Chapter)
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