"SIR, John Wick is currently in Nick Fury's office. From the looks of it, his joining S.H.I.E.L.D. is almost a done deal. He just hasn't officially agreed yet—he says he's waiting for your approval."
"My approval?" William raised an eyebrow. "He and I no longer have an employment relationship. He's free to do whatever he wants—what does he need my permission for?"
That said, William was clearly pleased that John had thought of him first.
Silently sensing the location Sunday provided, William teleported and appeared on the sofa in Fury's office in the blink of an eye.
Just as Nick Fury was boasting about how close he was with William, the sudden appearance scared him so much he nearly leapt out of his seat. His hand instinctively reached under his armpit, only relaxing when he saw it was William.
With a sour face, Fury grumbled, "You couldn't give a warning first? What if I'd accidentally shot you?"
"You're welcome to try," William said with a grin. "See whether the bullet hits me… or turns around and hits you."
Shooting a dark look at William, Fury said nothing, while John Wick—his pupils dilated in shock—sat frozen in place.
"I'm sorry about your wife, Helen," William said, turning to him.
At the mention of Helen, John's initial alarm and confusion shifted into sadness. After a long pause, he asked with uncertainty, "Is Helen… really in heaven?"
"Of course," William nodded. "Mephisto was eyeing her soul, so I had Odin's daughter Angela escort her personally to the Tenth Realm—Heaven. Unless the angels there have lost their minds, any soul that enters Heaven is guaranteed a better fate than one in Hell."
"Odin's daughter? Tenth Realm? Angels?" Fury's mind raced, quickly realizing that William not only lacked reverence for the mythological pantheons, he practically looked down on them with disdain.
While Fury was focused on William's attitude and the existence of these realms, John Wick was trying to understand why any of this was happening to him and his wife.
"Why did you and Mephisto target me and Helen? We're just normal people…"
"No, John," William replied calmly, "your soul is… unique. So unique that Mephisto decided to drag you to Hell the moment he laid eyes on you."
John shook his head, unconvinced, but seeing William dead serious, he slumped into the sofa with a sigh. "So if I hadn't invited you to Helen's funeral, none of this would've happened?"
William shrugged. "Maybe you were just unlucky. That cemetery on Long Island hid a Spirit of Vengeance—a Ghost Rider—who's been free from Mephisto's control for over a century. And that Ghost Rider was carrying the San Venganza Contract."
With a wave of his hand, an ancient, curled parchment appeared in William's palm.
"This contract contains the damned souls of a thousand fallen saints. If Mephisto or another demon king got hold of it and released them in Venganza, that town would instantly become a second Hell.
"So I used your situation and my bet with Mephisto to mask my real intent—helping the Ghost Rider escape."
Then he sighed dramatically. "But hey, Helen made it to Heaven. That's better than Hell, right?"
He rubbed his forehead with feigned exhaustion. "To help Helen, and to give you—a man who's killed hundreds—a shot at going to Heaven… I even owe a favor to Angela, daughter of the All-Father. I don't know how I'll repay that."
Wait, what? Even favors can get you into Heaven?
Both John and Fury were stunned. Fury, in particular, began to wonder if maybe he should start cozying up to William—after all, who knew what awaited someone like him in the afterlife?
And if there's a choice between Heaven and Hell, who wouldn't choose Heaven?
John wanted to protest that William had interfered in Helen's fate without asking, but the moment he heard "Heaven," all objections caught in his throat.
"So two days ago, I… really died? That light I saw was real?"
"What do you think?" William shrugged. "Too bad you let Mephisto sweet-talk you. All the preparations I made ended up wasted."
Seeing John's face stiffen, Fury quickly interjected, "But he's alive now—that's what matters, right?"
That, at least, was true.
As long as you're alive, who cares what happens after death?
William smiled and snapped his fingers. The magic circle on John's chest lit up immediately.
"Holy Light is the exclusive energy of the Tenth Realm and the angels. Apart from a few exceptionally gifted humans, no one can wield it. After everything you've endured, consider it a blessing in disguise."
The moment "Holy Light" was mentioned, John ignored the burning pain in his soul and blurted, "Mr. Devonshire, can you teach me how to use this power?"
"Teaching you how to cast basic Holy Light spells is no problem. But if you want to train in it? You'll need someone else. My own method definitely won't work for you."
While John and Fury looked at him in confusion, William extended his hand. A brilliant ball of light appeared in his palm, which morphed into various shapes under his mental control.
The two men stared wide-eyed in stunned silence.
With a cheeky grin, William pulled a Devonshire gold coin from his storage space and melted it with a burst of flame. Under precise manipulation, he shaped the molten metal into three stag-head rings and etched a healing spell of the Holy Light into each.
Then he compressed the glowing energy into the rings, making them shimmer even more dazzlingly.
To avoid drawing too much attention, William blew a gust of wind magic across the rings, sanding them down into a matte finish.
Satisfied, he handed one ring to John Wick. "My training methods only work for people in the Devonshire bloodline—and they require specific talents. It took me twenty years to build my spiritual power to the Legendary level. Only then could I master and cast any spell I wanted."
"Any spell?" Fury gulped.
And then William gave them a demo.
Fire, ice, tornado, lightning, stone, Holy Light—even a pitch-black skull wreathed in shadow—all appeared in sequence before him.
Fury was rattled to his core, and John Wick instinctively recoiled when the dark magic emerged.
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