[Ding, mission complete. Reward: +1 Free Attribute Point, Blessing: Leader]
[Leader: When leading a team, gain an all-around enhancement and provide a positive boost to team members.]
He had completed the trial—meaning he was finally back outside.
"Seven days have passed… so the flow of time really is different."
With the dream challenge over, John tested the time difference between the two worlds.
As a wizard versed in temporal magic, he understood the nuances of time.
He opened his status panel to check his attributes.
First was his mana—no major changes there. Upgrading from Level 6 to Level 7 required 100,000 points, more than the total needed for all previous upgrades combined.
No wonder so few wizards could reach the level capable of rivaling Voldemort.
For most people, Level 5 or 6 was the peak of their lifetime.
At present, John's strongest spells were Incendio Maxima and Confringo.
After the enhancements from the Fire Dragon and the Phoenix, Incendio Maxima had reached Level 7—his first Level 7 spell.
The Eternal Flame and Fiendfyre had merged into a new form.
Next was Confringo, still at Level 6. It hadn't leveled up, but its power had significantly increased—no need to elaborate further.
The greatest gains from this trial were in Runecraft, Alchemy, and Ancient Magic.
Ancient Magic had risen to Level 4 and could still be improved.
Alchemy, after the successful creation of the Monolith, had reached its limit—its icon turned from gray to upgradeable once more.
Runecraft had advanced to Level 7, proving that John's time studying in the Royal Palace Library had not been in vain.
From the trial, he gained one free point, plus three additional points for completing his fifth year.
Including what he already had, that made a total of seven free points.
John allocated two points into Alchemy first.
Alchemy advanced to Level 7 again, turning gray—meaning it could no longer be upgraded for now.
He then invested one more point into Ancient Magic, raising it to Level 5.
Four free points remained.
He glanced at his status panel.
The Crushing Curse, Occlumency, the Shield Charm, and Transfiguration had all reached Level 6.
Only the Crushing Curse and the Shield Charm could still be improved.
Each further upgrade would require two free points.
After some hesitation, John placed the points into the Shield Charm, raising it to Level 7.
The newly enhanced Shield Charm felt entirely different now.
He kept the remaining two free points in reserve for emergencies.
Stepping out of the spring, John flexed his right hand. On the back of it, he could faintly sense the unfinished contract still linked to the void.
He clenched his fist toward the empty air, Crack! and the Silver Wick Sword appeared in his grasp.
Along its blade, ten runes gleamed in different colors.
"The Sword of the Trial," John murmured, feeling the surge of magical power radiating from it.
"You've finally caught up to Gryffindor."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as the Silver Wick Sword gave a resonant hum, as if responding to his words.
Releasing his grip, John checked his belongings once more.
Several coins from the Witcher's world crumbled into dust and vanished.
The bearskin cloak on his back had also disappeared—apparently reverting to illusion once he left that world.
A realm between reality and illusion.
However, the Signs and swordsmanship he had learned remained intact.
The improvement in Ancient Magic was largely thanks to the Signs.
Several rings were missing from the pouch, and the rest of his belongings had regained their original magical engravings.
Leaving the castle, John followed the passage outward.
He exited the mountain tunnel and, spotting the buildings below, began walking down the slope.
Along the way, he encountered a brown bear—but before John, the creature behaved as meekly as a puppy.
The moment he stepped into the Jovonovich estate, he heard the sound of an argument.
Listening closely, he realized it was his father's voice.
Mixed in were the crashes of shattering porcelain and the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh.
His heart tightened. Were his uncles beating up his father again?
Quickening his pace, John hurried inside.
...
The Jovonovich estate.
As long as he didn't intend to kill the man in front of him, no one could stop him.
Not even his father-in-law, old Jovonovich.
Andrei took a solid punch to the face, hard enough to almost break his prominent nose.
"I want my son!"
The man who was usually mild and deferential before this group now raged like a furious lion.
Watson's eyes were bloodshot as he gripped the collar of Andrei—the one he feared most—with both hands, forcing out a hoarse roar from deep within his throat.
"Tell me! Where is my son, John Wick?!"
Andrei remained silent, and that silence only fueled Watson's fury.
He seemed to have forgotten that the man before him could snap a tree trunk with his bare hands. His own fists bled from striking bone and stone, yet he didn't even notice.
He looked up at his father-in-law—the man he had always respected.
But under that gaze, even the old Jovonovich, the man the city's mayor had to pay visits to, stayed wordless.
"Yadani is…"
"He's John—John Wick!" Watson roared. "My son! My own flesh and blood!"
He glared at the women too afraid to approach and the men standing in mute silence.
"If my son never comes back, I'll lose my mind. I'll become a beast."
In that moment, Watson wasn't the London underworld boss or the financial manager he appeared to be.
He was simply a father who had lost his child—and that made him all the more terrifying.
"I won't harm any of you," he said coldly, "but for the rest of your lives, you will never have my acknowledgment."
Mrs. Wick covered her mouth in disbelief. She couldn't comprehend that her own father had caused her son to disappear.
"Natalia," Alexi tried to calm his sister down.
Smack!
Alexi's head jerked to the side, a red mark blooming across his cheek.
Mrs. Wick stood firmly beside her husband.
The she-wolf of the Jovonovich family now had a child of her own—she had become even more formidable.
Even John's aunts didn't dare approach.
Watson had discovered his son missing the next day. At first, he wasn't too concerned—his son had a habit of vanishing without notice.
On the third day, he asked Sheriozha about it and, hearing that John was fine, he set the matter aside for the moment.
But on the fourth day, he requested to see his son...
—and was denied.
Now, on the seventh day, he was exchanging blows with his brother-in-law.
Alexi, the most level-headed among the brothers, tried to restore calm.
None of them had anticipated that after John slew that flying lion, all means of observing him would cease to work.
This situation was unprecedented.
They had tried everything to bring John back but failed.
All they could do was keep it hidden for the time being.
However, Watson, whose profession revolved around reading people, could see right through their guilty expressions.
That was why he was so furious.
"I swear, if something happens to my son.."
Just as the tension reached its peak—John returned. "Umm, hey guys..?"
He was surprised to see that his father wasn't the one getting beaten up.
"Uh, what's going on here?"
Everyone was caught off guard by John's sudden appearance.
Especially his parents.
A gust of wind brushed past him, and before he could react, he was pulled into a warm embrace.
Those seemingly slender arms held a strength that could crush him against her chest.
Struggling to lift his head, John looked up and saw his mother's tear-streaked face.
With her usually composed voice trembling, Mrs. Wick said, "I can't believe they sent you to take that trial."
Watson released Andrei but didn't forget to give him a kick on the way down—after all, chances to beat someone without getting hit back didn't come often.
He had twisted his ankle while rushing over, yet he forced a grin through the pain. "John, where have you been?"
He wanted to hug his son but hesitated, afraid the blood on his hands would stain John's clothes, so he just stood there, smiling awkwardly.
If John hadn't overheard what his father said earlier, he might've thought they were having a tea party here.
Seeing his usually mild-mannered father lose control like that for his sake, John couldn't help but smile—an innocent, almost childlike smile.
"I'm fine, Dad."
He reached out first, pulling Watson into a hug.
Watson froze for a moment, unable to believe it, then patted John's back hard several times.
"As long as you're okay." Watson grinned like a child himself.
The three of them—father, mother, and son—were finally reunited.
The Jovonovich family slowly stood up.
They watched in silence until John's grandfather finally spoke, hesitantly: "Yadani… did you succeed?"
It seemed his grandfather and the others still didn't know what he had gone through.
When John saw his mother glare sharply at the old man, he gave her a small gesture, reassuring her to stay calm.
Stepping out of his parents' embrace, John gave a slow nod to his grandfather.
A broad smile spread across the old man's face as he laughed heartily. "Then we'll need a feast to celebrate!"
"Andrei, go fetch the best chef—and remember, no violence this time."
Andrei wiped the blood from his nose. In truth, the few punches Watson had thrown weren't nearly enough to seriously injure a witcher; they had just left him looking rather disheveled.
As he walked past Watson, Andrei paused.
Watson tensed, thinking another punch might be coming, but instead, Andrei said seriously, "Welcome to the Jovonovich family, brother-in-law."
Watson blinked in surprise. The rest of the Jovonovich family no longer looked at him as the foreigner—but as one of their own: a father, a husband, a member of the family.
His actions had earned everyone's recognition.
Watson still felt a little dazed.
At the banquet that followed, he was plied with drink after drink.
Meanwhile, John was summoned by his grandfather to discuss what had happened.
From that conversation, John drew a conclusion:
Perhaps the Jovonovich bloodline itself was the result of another world—its origins linked to witcher mutagens that had since changed over generations, altering the formula enough that their eyes no longer turned amber.
They had also lost that long-lived vitality.
The next day, John's grandfather stayed awake all night, studying the potion formulas—each one brought back by John from Kaer Morhen.
These were precisely what the Jovonovich family had been missing.
On the third day, John boarded a flight back home.
This time, he gazed out the window, watching as a bird was sucked into the engine, causing it to explode. He fell into quiet contemplation.
What struck him most was that none of the passengers seemed alarmed; every face remained calm, as if this were routine.
An elderly man even sighed in relief. "Only one engine blew this time. Last time, it was three."
Well, it was a Russian airline—those who'd flown it knew the deal.
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