When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

Hearing that, the Elder asked curiously:

"Shenron?"

John Wick nodded.

"That's right. According to the information I've received, it's a dragon god."

The Elder frowned.

"And what can this Shenron do? What's its power?"

John was silent for two seconds before answering calmly:

"Shenron can grant a wish to whoever summons it."

The Elder froze, stunned by the answer. With a trace of disbelief, he asked again:

"You're saying it grants wishes?"

"Like Aladdin's magic lamp?"

John nodded again.

"Yes."

The Elder stood up, visibly excited. He was just about to ask about the two Ryūzu (Dragon Balls) John possessed when—

Shff! Shff! Shff!

Bullets tore through the air, piercing the heads of the nearby guards.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One by one, the guards collapsed, dead before hitting the ground.

Seeing this, John finally exhaled in relief. Without hesitation, he drew his weapon and took the Elder hostage at gunpoint.

As gunfire erupted and bodies dropped, armed guards emerged from the surrounding tents—but they were immediately cut down by the barrage of bullets.

Smith Dole and the members of the Ansatsusha Renmei (Assassin's Guild) were all expert marksmen. Wesley and Fox were especially elite. As enemies poured out of the tents, they were gunned down with precision, completely suppressed.

Smith Dole leapt off his camel and sprinted toward the Elder's pavilion, quickly outpacing the main force behind him.

The Elder watched in horror as chaos unfolded around him and said:

"John Wick, do you even know what you're doing?"

John pressed the muzzle harder against his temple.

"I told you—I came for you."

Hearing that, the Elder seemed to understand and fell silent.

Smith Dole entered the pavilion after taking out a sniper who'd been aiming at John. He glanced around. All of the Elder's guards were Arab and ill-equipped—many weren't even wearing body armor.

Apparently, years of peace in this remote outpost had made the Elder complacent. His guards were easy prey for Smith's elite force.

Thanks to their accuracy, the Assassins didn't even need to engage in close quarters. It was all long-range execution.

The High Table's shooters couldn't even land effective shots. Even those who got lucky couldn't penetrate the Assassins' body armor. Only a few camels had been killed.

Outclassed and unprepared, the High Table's gunmen were no match for the Assassins.

In the chaos, Wesley even activated "bullet time," weaving through the battlefield, correcting errors and finishing off stragglers with his signature curving bullets, ensuring zero casualties on their side.

The Elder's forces were annihilated.

Smith looked at John, who still held the Elder at gunpoint, and said with a smile:

"John, I told you—just help us locate the Elder, and we'd arrive in time."

John replied tensely:

"I bought us some time using the secret of the Dragon Balls. If we'd been any later, he probably would've kept listening."

Despite his calm, John was worried. Would this choice affect his evaluation? Would he be seen as a liability?

As for the Elder learning the secret of the Dragon Balls, Smith Dole didn't care. After all, this man was about to die.

He stepped up to the Arab man and said:

"So, this must be one of the Twelve Seats of the High Table—the Elder himself."

Outside, the gunfire faded. A few final screams. Then silence.

The Elder, surrounded by corpses, showed no fear. He stared coldly at Smith Dole.

"So, the Assassin's Guild intends to break its truce with the High Table?"

Smith replied indifferently:

"Truce?"

"Seems you've forgotten the Guild's mission and principles."

The Elder fell silent.

Smith looked around. Wesley, Fox, and the others had arrived.

"Elder, kindly take us to your real base."

Clearly, this campsite—a few tents and a pavilion—wasn't the Elder's true headquarters. At most, it was a meeting point. No real defenses. No security. It couldn't be the seat of power.

The Elder knew he needed to get word out about this betrayal. Dying here would accomplish nothing. If he could reach the base, there was still a chance—either to survive or to warn the other Elders.

"Since you're so eager, I'll take you there."

Smith raised an eyebrow at how easily he agreed, but didn't argue.

"Then we're in your care."

The Elder slowly stood and stepped out of the pavilion. His eyes scanned the corpses of his men as he silently tallied Smith's numbers—34 people. Maybe there was still hope.

He didn't mention the Dragon Balls again. In his mind, that was just a fabrication created by the Guild and John Wick.

"The road's long. Follow me."

John bent down, picked up the San Xing Qiu (Three-Star Ball), and silently pocketed it, following the Elder.

The Elder mounted a camel and began leading the group toward his true headquarters.

Fox rode alongside Smith. Some of their camels had been shot in the earlier battle, so now they doubled up.

She leaned toward Smith and whispered:

"When do we notify the other teams?"

Smith glanced at his combat scanner. No new energy readings. That meant they were still far from the base.

"Once we locate it, call them via satellite phone."

The three groups were meant to strike simultaneously. That way, the Elders couldn't alert one another or call for help.

······

(End of Chapter)

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