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Chapter 1022 - Chapter 1022: Constantine

Since Mephisto was also eager to keep their conflict within a manageable scope, he quickly spoke up, afraid William might stir up more trouble,

"I can swear not to harm your family, but you must also swear not to unleash stellar energy into my domain like you did to Set's Dark Kingdom."

William frowned, silently weighing whether or not to make such a promise.

Earlier, when he asked how Mephisto had connected with Heaven and saw Mephisto hemming and hawing, William suspected that the Hell Will itself might have reached out to the Light God of the Tenth Realm — perhaps provoked by William's devastation of Set's kingdom with stellar energy.

In fact, William had previously considered using this method without hesitation. It was only Mephisto's desperate counter-threat that made him calm down and think it over.

Now, reflecting on it, William became even more suspicious. Why was it that he could hear the Hell Will's rumbling response on Earth? It felt deliberate — as if the dimension's will wanted him to hear it.

But casually giving up a weapon capable of threatening an entire dimension? No way.

Such devastating measures, though dangerous, were still vital survival trump cards — just like nuclear weapons for humanity. Abandoning them would be foolish.

After thinking carefully, William said,

"As long as Hell's forces, or any individual from Hell, do not threaten the lives of me or my family, I vow not to use such destructive methods preemptively."

Boom!

A thunderous echo rumbled in his ears.

Fuck.

William's heart tightened.

That wasn't even a formal oath! Yet the dimensional will still took it as binding.

However, a new thought immediately struck him:

If a demon lord tries to kill me and fails, would the Hell Will itself punish them in order to prevent me from retaliating?

If so, as long as William remained alive and in possession of the Space Stone, no demon or hellspawn would dare target his family.

That idea sparked another:

Fischer—the demon he'd captured before.

William suddenly remembered the fine line between "family" and "kin."

Among the Cavendish branch alone, there were plenty of blood relatives, though they had long been so distant that most didn't even know they were connected to the Devonshires.

Still, from a technical perspective — distant or not — blood ties were blood ties.

Maybe he could drag Fischer back to Earth and test it...

Once the thought took root, William couldn't resist. As soon as Mephisto finished his own vow, William booted him back to Hell without hesitation.

Satisfied that John Wick was merely unconscious, William teleported back to London.

Once there, he tasked Sunday with digging up every last relative connected to the Devonshire bloodline.

The findings were surprising: there were quite a few distant relations — enough to fill a small book — but they were so removed that hardly anyone even remembered the connection.

Still, family was family — and William's mind churned with ideas for experiments.

Meanwhile, time passed unnoticed for William as he schemed for hours.

In New York, just as dawn broke, John Wick stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep — his body trying to repair the spiritual damage he'd suffered.

Lying face-down, the moment he opened his eyes, an unnoticed glow flickered across his pupils — a holy rune bearing the character "丰."

The Archangel's necklace on his chest had completely lost its divine power, becoming nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

John's first coherent thought was astonishment that he was even alive.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief — but as memories of last night came flooding back — Heaven, Helen, Mephisto whispering into his ear — his relief quickly turned into confusion.

Had it all been a dream?

He touched the back of his head, where he remembered taking a brutal hit.

His hand came away sticky with dried blood — but when he checked the wound, there was nothing there. No pain. No injury.

Was it really just a dream? he thought.

Then what about this blood?

Sitting up, he checked himself over carefully. No bruises, no wounds — nothing.

Still confused, his thoughts turned to Daisy.

Lifting his head, he immediately saw her—

—Daisy, crouched low to the ground, watching him with cautious, worried eyes.

Joy surged through John Wick's chest—only to falter the next second.

Next to Daisy was another small body — motionless, lying in a pool of blood.

The dead dog looked exactly like Daisy.

Squinting, John Wick realized there was a difference:

The crouching Daisy was semi-transparent — a ghost. The one lying still was painfully real.

John's blood ran cold.

He scrambled to his feet and reached for Daisy—only for his hand to pass cleanly through her.

The realization hit him like a freight train.

Last night was real. All of it — Mephisto, Heaven, Helen — it actually happened.

He realized, too, that his new ability to see spiritual forms must have come from either his death-and-resurrection experience… or his contact with Mephisto.

And the overwhelming regret slammed into him like a tidal wave:

Because of my hesitation… I missed my chance to join Helen in Heaven.

The self-loathing, the remorse, the rage... it all built up inside him until he was suffocating.

If suicide weren't a guaranteed ticket to Hell, he might've already pulled the trigger on himself.

His grief, anger, and despair roiled inside him until he finally—finally—felt the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

Dragging himself upright, he staggered forward and gently gathered up Daisy's spirit.

In the backyard, under the big tree, he dug a grave — using an old shovel and a beautiful gift box as a makeshift coffin.

He placed Daisy's real body inside with shaking hands.

Kneeling before the grave, he forced himself to whisper,

"Daisy... wait for me in Heaven with Helen. After I avenge you… after I reclaim Helen's gift… after I destroy Mephisto…

I'll come find you both. Wait for me, Helen. Wait for me, Daisy."

As if understanding him, Daisy's spirit nodded once, then transformed into a glowing beam of light and vanished into the sky.

John Wick stood motionless for a long time, staring at the spot where she disappeared.

Only when the sun rose high did he finally turn away, carrying Daisy's dog tag back into the house.

He changed into clean clothes, put on his shoes, and headed down into the basement armory.

Today, he would kill Iosef Tarasov — and his two accomplices.

Only...

Where would he even find Iosef?

After only a moment's hesitation, John Wick picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn't used in a long, long time.

"Sunday," he said quietly, "are you there?"

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