When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

"I'm gonna fill your loyalty up your ass until it spills out your mouth."

The Saō Ō (Bowery King)'s trash talk didn't faze the Saibanchō (Adjudicator) in the slightest. She remained indifferent as she replied:

"I gave you your chance."

As for his so-called loyalty, the Adjudicator didn't care. The rules of the Kōdai Tēburu (High Table) superseded everything.

The Bowery King looked at her and said:

"Well, since that's how it is, maybe it's time I told you something."

"Get your high and mighty ass off the Table—and go f*** yourself."

Still unfazed, the Adjudicator responded with a blank expression:

"I'll take that."

"You gave John Wick seven bullets. Your debt will be paid in seven cuts."

The Bowery King breathed easier. Seven cuts sounded painful, but it wasn't a death sentence.

"Alright," he muttered. "Sometimes, you gotta cut a bastard a few times."

Then he turned to Zero, standing beside him, and with one hand over his pigeon's eyes, said:

"Don't watch this, sweetheart."

Turning back to the Adjudicator, he added:

"The king is dead."

Then he released the white pigeon and faced Zero:

"Long live the king."

Zero didn't hesitate. He slashed him seven times—

Shff, shff, shff—

Blood sprayed as the Bowery King collapsed in pain, screaming.

The Adjudicator gave him one final glance, then left with her people.

The judgment was delivered. He was no longer the king of Bowery.

Once everyone had left, Erra appeared on the rooftop, looked at the bleeding King, and carried him away.

······

Two Days Ago — Paris

Gramont, a member of the High Table, summoned Caine.

As Caine entered, Gramont whistled at him like calling a dog.

"I have a job for you."

Caine replied coldly:

"With all due respect, I'm retired."

"Washed my hands clean."

A servant approached with a tray. Gramont took a bite of dessert and said:

"I disagree."

Caine doubled down:

"I'm no use to you. No use to the High Table."

Gramont smiled:

"That's not your decision to make."

Caine chuckled bitterly, wiped his nose with a finger, and said:

"You should find someone else."

Gramont took another bite, then looked up:

"You were too close."

When his men found Caine, he'd been listening to his daughter play violin—breaking his agreement with the Table not to see her.

"Today, way too close."

"You've endangered her."

Faced with veiled threats, Caine said nothing more. He reached for the tray and picked up a card.

Running his fingers over the Braille, he read: "John Wick."

Gramont said:

"An old colleague, right?"

Caine exhaled deeply:

"Yes."

"A friend."

Gramont nodded:

"Mhm."

"Our agreement remains. We give you a name, you kill them."

"If you don't—we kill your daughter."

With a sigh, Caine knelt on one knee and raised his cane:

"I accept. I will serve."

Gramont clapped:

"Fantastic."

Then he stepped closer:

"But this target is different."

"John Wick has broken the High Table's laws and sided with our enemy—the Ansatsusha Renmei (Assassin's Guild). They now protect him."

"This time, you won't just be facing Wick. You'll be up against Guild agents too."

"You'll even have to breach their base to find him."

Caine's face darkened.

"Alone?"

Gramont shook his head:

"Of course not. Much as I admire you—"

"Kira will lead a strike team along with three additional units. They'll stage a feint against the Guild while you take out Wick."

Caine nodded:

"Understood."

······

Moroccan Desert Edge

Smith Dole calculated the timing—three days since Wick departed. According to plan, he should now be meeting the High Table Elder.

He concentrated on the Ryūzu (Dragon Ball) Wick carried. A vision came into his mind: Wick collapsed in the sand, unconscious. Then, an Arab figure leading a camel appeared on the dunes, picked him up, and carried him away.

Realizing Wick had been taken to the Elder, Smith raised his hand and said:

"Time to move. Get ready."

"I'll guide us."

Behind him stood thirty-two assassins, all armed, riding camels. Their weapons were custom-made by the Guild—immune to the effects of sand and wind.

Wesley cracked his neck and said:

"About damn time. Evil shall fall. The High Table ends here."

Fox looked out at the endless desert. She preferred city hits, not open warfare. She glanced at her new bulletproof suit and hoped it would be enough.

······

Elsewhere — New York

Caine arrived with Kira's team.

Kira met the Adjudicator and asked:

"How goes your side?"

She looked toward the New York Continental Hotel, then said:

"The Belarusian syndicate and the Bowery King have been punished. Only Winston remains."

"And your move?"

Kira answered:

"We planned a night strike on the Guild's NYC base. But new intel suggests Wick was seen in Casablanca three days ago. He may have entered the Moroccan Continental."

"But the hotel manager Brenda claims Wick used a Chikoku Keiyaku (Blood Oath) to obtain the Dragon Ball from manager Sofia."

"He's since disappeared."

The Adjudicator remarked:

"A blood oath... Then Sofia technically didn't break any rules."

Kira nodded:

"If no further leads emerge, we'll probe the Guild directly. There's a high chance they've regrouped."

······

(End of Chapter)