Kez Merlin studied the latest system information.
Of the twenty-two Pathways, the Sequence 9 levels of four had now been activated: Seer, Spectator, Mystery Pryer, and Savant.
As long as he supplied enough energy, the system could manufacture the corresponding Sequence 9 potions whenever he wanted.
At the moment, he still had one thousand energy points available.
Kez opened the intelligence report he’d received from recovering the Mystery Pryer Characteristic.
The system didn’t specify the Sequence of the new Beyonder Characteristic, but the icon associated with it was unmistakably shaped like a key.
More importantly, its last known location wasn’t in New York.
“Another guessing game?”
Kez studied the symbol.
“Door Pathway?”
He frowned.
“Or maybe it’s a Sealed Artifact.”
Either way, that could wait.
“First things first. I need to recover the Clown Characteristic and advance.”
Kez closed the system interface, left his bedroom, and called out toward the rest of the shop.
“Anger, we’re going for a walk.”
The golden retriever came racing over almost immediately.
Somehow, he’d already managed to get himself into his harness and was carrying the leash in his mouth.
Kez took it from him with an amused smile, locked up the shop, and flipped the sign to CLOSED before heading outside.
Man and dog set off toward the Continental Hotel.
…
The Continental Hotel.
Room 304.
Holmes sat staring thoughtfully at the clown mask in front of him.
He had bought it almost on a whim during his last assignment, picking it up from a street vendor because he needed something to conceal his face.
Then he’d worn it while carrying out the hit.
That casual decision had completely overturned his understanding of the world.
The moment Holmes put on the mask, his physical coordination, strength, and speed improved dramatically, far beyond anything he could normally achieve.
Even his instincts became unnaturally sharp, almost like a sixth sense that allowed him to anticipate an opponent’s next move.
Unfortunately, the mask came with a rather inconvenient side effect.
Whenever he used its power, it produced the exaggerated laughter and sounds of a performing circus clown.
So much for stealth.
What should have been an assassination had turned into a full frontal assault, multiplying the difficulty of the mission several times over.
Fortunately, the same mask responsible for creating the disaster had also given him the power to survive it and complete the job.
How things had gone that catastrophically wrong in the first place was beside the point.
“What an incredible piece of equipment.”
Holmes picked up the clown mask.
“If it didn’t start laughing every time I put it on, it’d be perfect.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe I could even make a name for myself like John.”
Holmes slipped the mask inside his coat and left the room.
He was heading down to the hotel’s underground bar to see whether there were any worthwhile contracts available.
…
By then, Kez Merlin and Anger had arrived outside the Continental.
Kez looked up at the rebuilt hotel but didn’t spend much time reminiscing about what had happened to the previous building. Find the original chapter at g.com.
He simply walked toward the entrance.
The doorman recognized him immediately and pulled the door open.
“Welcome, Mr. Merlin.”
Kez gave him a slight nod and entered with Anger at his side.
The sight of a man strolling through the Continental lobby with a golden retriever immediately drew attention.
After all, the last famous figure associated with walking into places like this accompanied by a pet dog had been none other than the legendary assassin John Wick—Baba Yaga himself.
One newly initiated assassin sitting near the lounge area looked at Kez and scoffed.
“What’s this supposed to be? Cosplaying as Baba Yaga?”
He smirked.
“Guy thinks walking around with a golden retriever is enough to make him a legendary hitman.”
The veteran sitting beside him immediately hissed under his breath.
“Shut your mouth.”
At the same time, several assassins who recognized Kez removed their hats, pressed them respectfully against their chests, and inclined their bodies in greeting.
The newcomers stared.
“Who is he?”
“Some legendary assassin?”
“Why haven’t I ever seen his name on any ranking?”
One of the veterans answered quietly.
“He’s not an assassin.”
“That’s Kez Merlin. He owns the occult shop in Forest Hills.”
“When John Wick was declared excommunicado and had nowhere left to turn, he went to Merlin looking for a way to survive.”
“According to the stories, Merlin was the one who pointed him toward a path that kept him alive.”
The newcomer looked incredulous.
“That’s impossible.”
“Everyone who helped John Wick back then paid for it. Even the New York Continental got blown apart.”
The veteran nodded.
“Exactly.”
“That’s why people respect Merlin.”
He lowered his voice.
“Representatives of the High Table supposedly walked into his shop acting important and walked out a lot more respectfully.”
“No one knows exactly what happened in there, but Merlin came out of the whole thing without a scratch.”
“And his divinations?”
The veteran shook his head.
“Perfect record.”
“Never wrong.”
“…”
Kez noticed several assassins bowing respectfully toward him and acknowledged them with a slight nod before continuing toward the front desk.
The concierge behind it was no longer Charon.
The new attendant greeted him with equal courtesy.
“Welcome, Mr. Merlin. How may we assist you?”
“Is Winston here?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll contact him immediately.” This story is hosted at g.com.
Kez nodded.
The attendant picked up the front desk phone and placed the call.
“Manager, Mr. Merlin is here to see you.”
Upstairs, Winston was mildly surprised when he received the message.
Kez Merlin had never shown much interest in the assassin underworld.
Over all the years Winston had known him, Kez had visited the Continental so rarely that the number of occasions could probably be counted on both hands.
Several of those visits had been connected to John Wick.
Which raised an unpleasant possibility.
‘What happened this time?’
Winston entertained several possibilities in the space of a second before answering.
“I’m on the top floor. Please send Mr. Merlin up.”
“Of course, Manager.”
The concierge hung up and turned toward Kez.
“Mr. Merlin, Manager Winston is waiting for you upstairs.”
He glanced toward a female employee standing nearby.
“Ivan, please escort Mr. Merlin.”
The woman stepped forward politely.
“Mr. Merlin, right this way.”
Kez followed her toward the elevators with Anger trotting beside him.
The moment he left the lobby, several assassins immediately pulled out their phones.
Messages began spreading through the underground network.
[Master Merlin just left his occult shop and showed up at the Continental. Anyone know if something big is happening?]
[…]
Kez, completely unaware—or simply unconcerned—with the stir his arrival had caused, followed Ivan all the way to the top floor.
When they reached Winston’s door, she glanced down at Anger.
“Mr. Merlin, would you like us to look after your dog while you’re meeting with the Manager?”
“No, thanks. He stays with me.”
Ivan nodded and opened the door.
“Manager Winston is inside.”
Kez entered with Anger.
The moment the door opened, Winston rose from his chair and came forward with a welcoming smile.
“Kez. It’s been a while.”
He spread his arms for an embrace.
“Nice of you to remember this old man exists.”
Kez politely returned the hug.
“It hasn’t been that long. I came by when the hotel reopened, remember?”
Winston sighed dramatically.
“Once. Exactly once.”
“You could visit an old man more often.”
He gestured toward the nearby seating area.
“Come on. Let’s sit down and talk.”
Kez nodded and followed him toward the sofas.