In the vast desert, Smith Doyle kept one eye on John Wick through the Dragon Ball, while leading his men slowly in that direction.
Fortunately, they were riding camels—if they'd taken SUVs, they'd probably be stuck in the sand by now.
Smith kept a calculated distance. He didn't want to get too close before John met the Elder; after all, in the open desert, closing in too fast would only reveal their presence.
But he also couldn't hang back too far. He needed to be close enough to act. If he arrived too late, John might lose a finger—or worse. And now that John was under his command, he couldn't afford that.
---
Time crept by.
Eventually, John Wick was brought before the Elder. A servant didn't bother with pleasantries—he yanked John off the camel and threw him onto a thick carpet. Sunlight hit his face, and John slowly came to.
"Drink."
The voice in his ear made John instinctively reach for his pocket—where the Dragon Ball was hidden.
"Relax. Your belongings are still with you. Now drink."
Only then did John truly regain his focus. He looked up in the direction of the voice.
A man sat before him, dark-skinned, robed in ornate Arab attire, radiating power and luxury.
John slowly sat up and lifted the cup of water in front of him. Just as he was about to drink—
"Tell me, child," the man said.
"Why did you lose your way?"
John turned toward him, voice low and deliberate.
"I didn't lose my way. I was looking for you."
The Elder's lips curved. "And you think I was talking about geography?"
John didn't respond immediately. He simply tilted his head back and drank deeply—he was parched.
"I've never seen someone fight so hard to escape the world of killers," the Elder said, standing and walking over to him, "only to circle back to where it all began."
He crouched down to meet John eye to eye.
"Tell me, Jonathan… why do you want to live?"
John's voice was soft but unwavering:
"My wife, Helen. For her. For us."
He lowered his head. Inwardly, he was already calculating—when would Smith arrive? When could he make his move?
The Elder didn't press. He just asked another question:
"So you want to live… for a memory of love?"
John raised his eyes. His voice came deep and firm:
"Not just a memory."
The Elder studied him for a long moment. Then:
"I heard the Assassin's League granted you protection."
John was slightly surprised, though not entirely—of course someone like the Elder would know. He didn't bother lying:
"They did."
"You're the first—perhaps the only—former Continental assassin to join their ranks," the Elder mused.
"I'm curious… why would they protect you?"
John thought of the Dragon Ball Helen had left him.
"Maybe it's luck," he said. "Maybe it's her blessing."
The Elder chuckled softly, clearly not buying it.
"And now that you have their protection… why come to me?"
John knew he needed more time. He answered calmly:
"I need the bounty on my head lifted."
The Elder didn't look surprised—he'd already suspected as much when John began his journey across the desert.
"So you're not content to stay hidden in their sanctuary."
"I can give you what you want: freedom. No more assassins hunting you. No more fear. But you'll have to earn it."
"Five tasks. And a secret."
"You give me those, and I'll restore your status. The bounty will vanish."
"But those five tasks… they'll demand everything you have left in this life."
He wanted John's loyalty, of course—but after the League's backing, he knew John would never truly swear fealty. This was the compromise. And five life-long missions was no small gift.
John remained unreadable, but inwardly, he was amused. The Assassin's League would be going to war with the High Table soon. And this Elder—he'd likely be one of the first to die.
Accepting his terms meant nothing. All he needed was time.
The Elder sat back on his throne and added:
"Of course, the choice is yours."
"Live free to honor your wife… or rot in their fortress until the end of your days."
John rose slowly, scanning the horizon. Still no sign of Smith.
So he asked:
"What secret do you want?"
The Elder's eyes gleamed, taking it as agreement. He clapped.
A servant approached with a wooden box and placed it before John. Opening it, he revealed its contents.
John blinked in surprise. Inside was a Dragon Ball—one with three stars.
A Three-Star Ball.
His pulse quickened. If he played this right, he'd soon have four of them. Just three more, and he could make the wish.
The Elder leaned forward.
"Tell me… what is this artifact really? What secret does it hold?"
John hesitated, then replied:
"Do you really want to know?"
"Wouldn't it be better if we discussed the tasks first?"
The Elder only grew more intrigued.
The more you tried to hide something, the more he wanted it.
"The tasks can wait. This is what matters right now. So tell me."
John took a deep breath, then spoke slowly:
"If you insist on knowing… I hope you won't regret it."
"This is the Three-Star Ball—one of seven Dragon Balls."
"There are seven total, each marked with a different number of stars. One through Seven."
"When all seven are gathered… they summon the Dragon."
—End of chapter—
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