X-san held the letter in his hand, scanning its contents. It was all about John Wick.
The High Table's Chief Executive Officer, Gramont, had formally requested that the Ansatsusha Gundan (Assassins' Guild) rescind their protection of John Wick, citing his violations of their rules.
Of course, they didn't come empty-handed—they were offering 30 million dollars in exchange.
X-san carelessly tossed the letter onto the table and said coldly:
"John Wick has already joined the Assassins' Guild. He's one of ours now. We will protect him."
"And while you're at it, tell your Kōshaku (Marquis) to cancel the bounty."
The envoy frowned.
"Are you sure about this?"
"You'd risk disturbing the peace we've maintained for years… all for a killer who defied the High Table's rules?"
X-san looked at the envoy with a calm, unwavering gaze.
"Go back and tell your Marquis: if any assassin dares stir trouble on our turf, we will treat it as a direct provocation against the Assassins' Guild."
"If he prefers hiding in his bunker forever, then by all means, let the bounty stay up."
The envoy fell silent for two seconds, then turned and left. This matter was now above his pay grade.
X-san watched the man disappear from sight, then cast a disdainful glance at the letter signed by Gramont.
That guy doesn't have much longer to live anyway.
······
Elsewhere.
Moroccan Continental Hotel.
Sofia twirled the two-star Ryūzu (Dragon Ball) in her hand—a prize she'd come across by sheer luck.
Komora was still placing bounties for this item, offering up to $2 million per piece.
She only knew it was called a Dragon Ball but had no idea what it actually did. Still, she believed she could uncover its secrets.
After all, John Wick was bound to her by a Chikoku Keiyaku (Blood Oath). And now that the man was being hunted worldwide, if he came to Morocco, it would only be to seek her help. That would be the perfect time to find out more.
If the item had some extraordinary power, she could leverage it. If not, she could sell it to Komora—two million wasn't small change.
Soon, she received a text: one of her men had spotted John Wick at the docks.
······
Moroccan Division of the Assassins' Guild.
Inside a villa, Wesley asked curiously,
"GOD, when are we taking action?"
Smith Dole didn't respond to the excited Wesley. Instead, he turned to Fox and asked,
"How's the manpower here?"
Fox replied,
"The Morocco division has 18 assassins. We've transferred another 12 from other branches—they should arrive by tomorrow."
Thirty assassins, plus himself, Wesley, and Fox. That gave them 33 highly capable individuals—more than enough to wipe out the local High Table faction.
Smith Dole then asked:
"What about the body armor we copied from the Continental?"
He'd taken a liking to the second-generation bulletproof suits used at the hotel. Made of advanced materials, they resembled normal suits—sleek but highly effective. When bullets hit, the suit absorbed the impact across its entire surface. Unless shot in the head, the user would remain unharmed.
"We've successfully replicated them. The materials are rare, so mass outfitting takes time."
"But the entire assault team will be equipped with the new suits."
Smith Dole nodded in satisfaction.
One purpose of infiltrating the Continental had been intelligence. Another was wiping out African-American assassins. But most of all, he'd been targeting those suits. Unlike the bulky tactical vests available on the market, this armor was exactly what the Guild needed.
With the Assassins' Guild's sharpshooting skills combined with this gear, they would be near unstoppable.
"As for when to move—we're not rushing."
"This Elder is hiding out in the desert, far from civilization. Charging in blindly with our current numbers would be reckless."
"Everything hinges on John Wick. Once he's brought before the Elder, we can pinpoint the location of their base."
"Once we confirm the location—that's when we strike."
Wesley was surprised.
"GOD, do you really think John Wick can get an audience with a High Table Elder?"
Smith Dole chuckled.
"Wick is a legendary assassin. Some Elders would still see value in bringing him under their wing."
······
Evening.
John Wick arrived in Casablanca.
He was heading toward the Moroccan Continental Hotel when, beneath a three-way bridge, he found himself ambushed again.
Three assassins emerged, all drawing knives, surrounding him.
John didn't wait. He struck first, darting toward one of them. With quick sidesteps and feints, he avoided the slashes.
Catching the man's knife hand, he punched him square in the face, followed by a vicious elbow strike.
Two more charged in to help—but John kicked one back, then used a judo throw to flip the first attacker over.
One of the fallen assassins sprang up, stabbing toward John.
John reacted instantly, grabbing the man's wrist. The two locked in a tense struggle.
"Enough."
A voice rang out from beyond the bridge. A bald man walked up, lighting a cigarette.
Standing between the two, he said,
"I'm afraid this gentleman is not to be touched."
The assassin frowned.
"But he's been excommunicated."
The bald man narrowed his eyes.
"Word is, the Manager has granted him a pardon."
John was visibly surprised. A pardon? Since when?
The bald man met his eyes.
"Mr. Wick, would you come with me?"
John let go of the assassin's wrist, ending the fight. He handed the man's knife back respectfully.
The bald man gestured politely for John to follow. After a brief glance at the three attackers, he turned and led the way.
One of the assassins, clearly unwilling to back down, silently drew a knife, aiming to throw it at John's back.
But before he could act, the bald man spun around and shot him dead.
Holstering his gun, the bald man said to John:
"Welcome to Casablanca, Mr. Wick."
John nodded in gratitude.
"Thanks."
The man smiled, then led him away from the bridge.
······
(End of Chapter)