As more and more holy light poured into John Wick's body, Mephisto could clearly sense that at this rate, the soul that was still just an ordinary human's wouldn't last much longer under the burning force of the divine light.
Unwilling to see such a delicious soul get purified by angels and still clinging to a shred of hope that he might locate Iosef within the next two days, Mephisto made a snap decision: John Wick couldn't die—not yet.
If John Wick were to die, it had to be in a way that sent his soul to Hell, not let it be thoroughly purified by angels as was happening now.
Compared to Gabriel, who could only act remotely from Heaven, Mephisto—able to project himself onto Earth—had a significant advantage.
Severing John Wick's connection to the holy light didn't take much more than a bit of effort on his part.
Awakened repeatedly by the excruciating pain, John Wick was gripped with fear and dread. He realized that if this continued, he might not even qualify for Hell—his very soul might vanish entirely.
Tormented to the brink, he began to wonder if his current suffering might be some divine test from Heaven. But when a voice appeared in his mind, offering guidance on how to take control of the magic circle on his chest, the instinct to survive kicked in. He obeyed that voice and started to wrest control of the circle for himself.
"Fool," a voice thundered in his mind. "Someone like you, who doesn't truly trust Heaven, will never enter it."
In Heaven, Archangel Gabriel maintained a gentle and kind expression, but in his heart, he had already branded John Wick as unforgivable.
Ever since discovering that William had the power to inflict massive damage on Hell, Gabriel had sought to ease tensions and draw William to their side.
But now, not only did John Wick show no faith in God, he also willingly accepted help from Mephisto and outright rejected Gabriel's attempt to purify his corrupted soul.
Panting heavily, John Wick cursed under his breath at this so-called angel who spoke of trust but almost killed him without warning or explanation.
He had genuinely felt he wouldn't survive the final stage of purification—the holy light would have completely disintegrated his soul.
Now, having narrowly escaped death, John Wick couldn't help but begin to reassess his views on angels.
The angels, it seemed, had been disconnected from Earth for too long. They didn't understand that in today's world, 99% of people were fundamentally self-serving.
And John Wick, a hitman who had faced death more times than he could count, had long learned that placing blind trust in someone was a direct path to the grave.
For him to pass some heavenly "test"? A one-in-a-hundred chance would already be considered a miracle.
Once he'd recovered somewhat, John Wick found himself drenched in sweat. He staggered off the Kun-class aircraft and headed into his house for a much-needed shower.
Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D. taking responsibility for the incident involving the werewolves, not even the local police bothered to follow up—the situation was quietly swept away.
Staring at the magic circle reflected in the mirror on his chest, he noticed that simply thinking about it made the circle manifest again. A faint thread of holy light entered his body, though it was worlds apart from the force that had entered under Gabriel's command.
Soon, just like before, the holy light began attacking the parts of his soul still tainted by Mephisto.
The pain, radiating from the very depths of his soul, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Within moments, sweat poured from his brow and his hands clenched into fists as he endured silently.
Fortunately, compared to what he'd endured under Gabriel, this pain was ten to a hundred times weaker.
He gritted through it and eventually managed to channel a small wisp of holy light into the palm of his hand.
To use holy light, he had to endure this agony—an exchange of pain for power that no one could easily quantify.
For John Wick, despite the slow growth of holy energy and the soul-searing pain it inflicted during use, this was real supernatural power. From the moment he acquired it, he had a tangible edge against demons—against Mephisto.
So long as he kept killing demons, surely God would one day welcome someone as skilled in demon-slaying as himself into the heavenly ranks.
John Wick mused on this with satisfaction, conveniently forgetting—or perhaps willingly ignoring—the fact that he had already rejected Heaven's call not once, but twice.
And ironically, it was Mephisto, the ultimate villain, who had saved him—twice.
Ding-dong.
Just as he'd finished dressing and was checking his weapons, the doorbell rang. Relaxed just moments ago, John Wick immediately tensed.
Gun in hand, he cautiously approached the door, staying out of direct line of fire. He cracked the door open slowly—only to see a middle-aged man in a government-issue suit, smiling politely.
"John Wick? I'm Agent Phil Coulson."
As Coulson reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve ID, he noticed Wick's eyes flash with a sharp, threatening glint and quickly froze mid-motion. "Easy. I'm just getting my ID."
John gave a slight nod, and Coulson slowly pulled out a badge holder. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Pleasure to meet you, though I'll admit, I have mixed feelings about being sent to see you at this moment."
Seeing Wick's puzzled look, Coulson had no intention of explaining how he, along with Black Widow and Hawkeye, had suffered major setbacks at William's hands.
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Nor did he want to admit he had zero interest in getting involved in anything connected to William.
But after agents sent to dispose of the werewolf corpses outside John Wick's house reported back, Nick Fury had specifically named Coulson for the task of first contact.
"We just handle special situations—like those people who tried to kill you earlier."
Wick paused, then quickly understood. "You were the ones who covered up the fight?"
"Not going to invite me in?" Coulson tucked away his badge. "Relax. As the only human in recent history to single-handedly kill fifteen werewolves, not only have you caught our attention, but—if you're unemployed—we're strongly hoping you'll consider joining us in protecting the Earth."
"Protect the Earth? Could you come up with a cheesier reason?"
Tapping the back of his ear, Wick activated Sunday, who quickly verified Coulson's identity.
Only then did John tuck his gun behind his waistband and open the door, motioning Coulson inside.
In the living room, Coulson sat on the couch, watching as Wick poured coffee.
"Yeah, I get it. 'Save the world' sounds a bit outdated. But we're not the only ones doing it. Your boss, William Devonshire, has been at it for years. In fact, he's saved all of us more times than I care to count."
Hearing William's name and the mention of world-saving, John Wick froze mid-pour.
It wasn't until the hot coffee overflowed and scalded his hand that he snapped out of it, quickly preparing two fresh cups and returning to the sofa.
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