Tourists at the Tower of London were evacuated.
A man had just stepped out of his car when he heard a violent explosion.
Moments later, thick smoke billowed from the White Tower, a structure with nearly a thousand years of history. The glass in the windows melted rapidly.
Terrifying cracks spread densely across the tower.
The man stared in shock at the historic building, now on the verge of collapse, and ground his teeth. "This is what you meant by nothing happening, Watson Wick?"
A roar echoed.
A golden fire dragon shattered the outer wall.
The pressure of the blast swept outward, knocking several police officers off their feet.
"Sir, we cannot yet determine whether there will be a third explosion."
A police officer ran over to report, still shaken as he glanced at his colleagues who had been blown away.
Mycroft's expression darkened as he stared at the scene.
…
No one remained standing before Watson.
One charred corpse after another was frozen in the posture of its final moment.
He stared blankly at the sword in his hand.
The golden fire dragon that burned along it split into three smaller dragons, each eight feet long, circling around him.
"Is this John's power?"
Facing magic so directly for the first time, Watson was deeply shaken.
He immediately thought of his wife and ran through the ruins to find her.
Mrs. Wick looked at him with suspicion, making him smile awkwardly.
If the flames had not shifted away, she might have suspected that her unreliable husband was trying to take the chance to find their son a new mother.
"Are you alright?" Watson asked.
"I'm fine. My dear."
The couple gazed at each other affectionately.
The intense, heart-pounding ordeal seemed to deepen their bond.
Watson slowly leaned closer, and Mrs. Wick gently closed her eyes.
Just as they were about to share a passionate kiss amidst the flames, two furry heads, one black and one white, stared at them from the side.
"Ahem."
Watson forced himself to remain composed under the owls' gaze.
Mrs. Wick also blushed at her own uncharacteristic behavior.
They quickly stepped apart. Covering her flushed cheeks, she said, "What about the fire?"
A good question.
The firefighters outside were asking the same question.
Golden flames spread along the ancient structure, continuing to expand.
They used high-pressure hoses, only to find it had no effect.
The fire simply could not be extinguished.
Watson said uncertainly, "Since this was caused by John's sword, it should be able to handle it, right?"
He tried swinging the Silver Wick Sword and gave an order. "Withdraw the flames."
The three fire dragons behind him roared at the command, spreading their wings and taking flight. Wherever they passed, the eternal fire was drawn back into their bodies.
The thick smoke also vanished.
When the three dragons returned, they had grown from eight feet to ten feet in length.
"What was John's next instruction?" Mrs. Wick asked as she got to her feet.
"Right, our son." Watson froze for a moment, then hurriedly recalled the next step.
"We need to go to his house in the magical world."
He looked at the two owls and quickly asked, "Do you know how to get there?"
Riddle nodded and spread his wings, taking flight.
Watson grabbed Mrs. Wick and hurried after it.
Passing the charred remains of the Grove Street Gang, they rushed down from the White Tower.
Outside, the area was already crowded.
Armed forces, police, firefighters, bomb disposal experts…
Watson was momentarily stunned as he ran out.
"Watson!"
Mycroft glared at him with anger.
"Mycroft?"
Unlike him, Watson's eyes were filled with surprise.
He noticed his car, still smoking, being put out by firefighters, and quickly led Mrs. Wick over.
"Do you have anything to explain?"
"Give me the car keys. I need them urgently."
They spoke at the same time.
Mycroft was taken aback. So not only had he blown up a historic building of the British Empire, he was now asking for car keys?
Did he think running the Continental Hotel meant he could do whatever he wanted?
Mycroft's expression darkened as he told the driver beside him, "Give him the keys."
He fixed his gaze on Watson. "You had better give me an explanation by quarter to five this afternoon."
"I will."
Watson took the keys and hurried into the car, naturally sitting in the passenger seat.
Watching the black SUV drift and slam through two police cars as it sped away, Mycroft could not help rubbing his forehead.
"What a mess."
If not for the fact that Watson's operations benefited the entire country, he would have already issued a warrant for his arrest.
Now…
Mycroft covered his nose with a handkerchief and stepped into the heavily damaged St. John's Chapel.
He examined the charred bodies and muttered, "Just what did you do, Watson?"
An agent from MI6 accidentally touched one of the corpses, and it crumbled instantly.
"The temperature here must have reached at least a thousand degrees," said a man with a receding hairline as he conducted his analysis.
Mycroft shook his head. Staring at the bodies frozen in their final postures, he said, "Over five thousand. Only that kind of heat could carbonize them completely from the outside in within an instant."
"To produce five thousand degrees in an instant, what exactly did you do here, Watson?" Mycroft murmured.
Could the underground king have detonated a small nuclear device here?
If that were the case, this place would have been completely leveled.
Gazing at the remains, Mycroft gave his orders to the MI6 agents. "Seal this area. Update Watson Wick's file."
"Suspected of possessing weapons of mass destruction. Classify at the highest level. Someone call Ethan Hunt and James Bond, I want them on this case!"
This time, the agents of MI6 were thrown into a frenzy of activity.
The last time they had been this busy was during the bloody reshuffling of London's underground forces.
A financial manager once regarded as a strategist by Finn Wallace had, after that funeral, brought about a complete transformation of the entire underground kingdom.
"Watson Wick, just how much are you hiding from me?"
Mycroft's thoughts churned.
A suspected connection with the Soviets, and a wife who might be the daughter of a powerful family.
A son who attended school yet could not be traced even by MI6.
A man who appeared ordinary, yet was called the underground king, possessed the strength to cleanse the entire underworld, and had ties to the so-called Lord of War.
What kind of family was this?
…
The black SUV followed Riddle's guidance and made its way to the outskirts of London.
Basil flew out of the car, and as if pulling back a curtain, a grand manor gradually revealed itself where it passed.
"If I had known, I wouldn't have worked so hard."
Watson felt his heart tighten. He had struggled his whole life for money, yet his son already owned a luxurious estate, the kind that came with sprawling grounds.
"I feel like I've just stepped into Downton Abbey."
Watson's mouth twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his dignity as a father.
He was still living in a 5,000 square feet Mansion, while his son already owned an entire 10,000-12,000 square feet grand Manor!
Along the way, security personnel appeared throughout the estate, watching the unfamiliar vehicle.
Some wizards did not recognize the car, but they recognized the black owl.
They drove all the way into the manor grounds. Riddle and Basil flew toward the house.
Watson and Mrs. Wick got out and followed.
Pushing open the doors, they saw their son's friends.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wick," Percy said. He had abandoned his duties at the Ministry of Magic to come here.
As a rising star in the Ministry, it was the first time he had left everything behind in front of everyone.
"This time, it's our turn to help John," Percy said.
Malfoy had cut short his planned trip to Germany with his parents and spoke bluntly, "We can't keep letting our king take risks alone."
"Yeah," Heinrich drew his wand. Kim smiled faintly and did the same.
Daphne stepped forward to greet the Wicks, her expression resolute as she said, "Please trust us, Uncle, Aunt."
Her younger sister Astoria found it a little strange. Percy called him Mr. Wick, while Daphne called him Uncle.
Had her sister finally come to her senses?
Shaking her head, Astoria patted her face, reminding herself to stay fully focused. She could not afford any mistakes.
Malfoy noticed Astoria's actions and silently gave a thumbs-up. "My Asto is truly the cutest."
Fleur looked at Malfoy with quiet disdain. Did he really think no one could see through his little thoughts?
She immediately pulled Astoria slightly, guiding her to stand just behind her.
Malfoy cursed inwardly.
Mrs. Wick was deeply moved. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Before the tear could fall, a force drew it toward the center.
Watson felt heat in his pocket. When he took it out, it was the card.
The blood that had flowed was absorbed into it.
At the same time, Watson stepped forward with the sword and drove it into the ground.
Fleur also took out her card and watched as it flew toward the center.
The two cards overlapped and vanished. The ouroboros within them released its tail and emerged, forming an eight-shaped loop as it coiled around the gemstone on the hilt of the Silver Wick Sword.
The members of the Constellation Society raised their wands in unison.
Brilliant beams of magic shot toward the Silver Wick Sword at the same moment.
A vast surge of magic gathered, amplified by the Philosopher's Stone and touching upon the anchor of time.
In an instant, a golden portal burst open.
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