John did not become complacent. Because he had discovered something.
John rubbed his eyes and sighed as he looked at the stark black-and-white world before him.
"Did I turn color-blind?"
The world had lost its color.
John only discovered it after waking up that morning.
At first, he thought it was simply fatigue. Now it seemed this was the price of magic.
"Before, my right eye was blurry. Good thing it didn't make me completely blind."
Just color-blind, John comforted himself.
Basil flew into the room, tilting its head.
Riddle flew over beside it and hooted softly.
John took out some dried fish and placed it in front of the two owls. The third owl, the big-headed grey owl Kiki, flew in, only to be kicked right back out by Basil.
Clearly, as a new owl, Kiki did not have the qualifications to dine with the two big shots.
John walked down from the attic. Watson was staring at an envelope.
It had already been a week since they left Hogwarts, and Watson still seemed somewhat unsatisfied.
"I stationed twenty men at the school gates with Chicago Typewriters, plus three Gatlings and a tank we acquired."
Watson smacked his lips regretfully. "There was also an armed helicopter your grandfather borrowed from Russia. None of it got used."
John silently looked at his father.
Given the current situation in Russia, and with Grandfather's influence there, acquiring an armed helicopter did not seem that hard to accept.
What John had not expected was that his father had actually managed to bring all this equipment in.
"Leaving aside how the helicopter got here, where exactly did you buy the tank?"
"There's an American immigrant named Yuri Orlov. They call him the Lord of War. There's nothing he can't get his hands on."
Watson shrugged. "I've had some business dealings with him."
"Aren't you supposed to be opening a hotel?" John asked in surprise.
"A hotel needs some security measures." Watson said it so casually that one could not help but wonder just what level of "security" he meant.
Sitting on the sofa, Watson sighed. "Magic really is amazing. I thought the house was done for after the explosion, but it's perfectly fine."
The Wick house had been blown up once. Watson had originally thought they would end up sleeping on the streets.
Instead, John merely waved his wand and restored the place.
To the outside world, they claimed they had hired a very reliable construction company.
Believe it or not, the Dursley family certainly did.
They even went out for a nice meal to celebrate that this year's holiday would no longer be spent nervously with Harry.
The magic of love required Harry to stay with the Dursleys for a sufficient time before adulthood, but now that Voldemort was dead, that protection no longer needed to be "renewed."
Petunia felt somewhat conflicted, but Vernon was purely delighted.
Just yesterday, Vernon had personally come by and delivered a roasted turkey to the Wick household.
As for the taste of the turkey, that was open to interpretation.
John had always suspected they only ate turkey because it was cheap and came in large portions.
Sitting down for breakfast, John stared at the two jars of jam in front of him.
Unfortunately, the jam jars at home looked exactly the same, and the labels had been torn off by a certain idle middle-aged man.
One was blue. One was red.
Blueberry and strawberry.
And that very middle-aged man was now reaching out to John, asking for the strawberry jam.
After hesitating for a moment, John handed the jar on his left to Watson.
Watson, none the wiser, kept reading the letter in his hand while spreading the jam onto his bread.
A few seconds passed.
Watson looked suspiciously at the blueberry jam in his hand, then raised his head to look at John's perfectly calm expression.
He began to wonder if his son had done it on purpose.
Testing the waters, he asked, "Was that intentional, or an accident?"
"An accident," John said without changing his expression.
From Watson's face, he had already seen the truth.
Watson stared at the blueberry jam.
An accident?
Then why did his expression look so perfectly justified?
Fortunately, Watson did not dwell on it for long. He asked, "Are you going to work at your… uh… magic company today?"
Over the past week, Watson, as a father, was still having trouble accepting it.
He had worked so hard to build his business, only to find out his son had already started running a company years ago.
So all his hard work had just been for his own satisfaction?
Watson felt thoroughly depressed.
John nodded. He still needed to make a trip to Silverhand Manor.
Mrs. Wick was brewing a fresh pot of jasmine tea, which Daphne had sent her.
Tasting tea from the magical world did not seem all that different from the Muggle world.
After finishing his bread, John headed to the basement and used the fireplace to travel to Silverhand Manor.
Heinrich was living there.
John had come to check his condition.
After all, this was the first person in the magical world in many years to truly die and then be revived.
It was not strange for John, a Level Seven alchemist, to personally examine him.
Perhaps because the Elixir of Life had been used as the foundation to reconstruct his body, Heinrich's body was brimming with vitality.
John watched as Heinrich sliced open his palm. Without using any magic to heal it, the wound quickly closed, leaving only a thin red line.
"Remarkable."
John had created a total of one and a half lives.
The first was the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, a completely new creation born from a magical rampage.
The half was Heinrich, whose body had been reconstructed with the Holy Grail to receive his soul once more.
From the current results, each of the one and a half possessed their own unique traits.
After finishing the examination, John looked toward the door and pressed a hand to his forehead. "You should think of a way to make Kim Ledislay a little less clingy."
Heinrich's face darkened. Looking outside, Kim, like a big golden retriever, was peeking in.
Ever since Heinrich's revival, the kid had been terrified of losing him again.
John said, "I'll give you both some time off. Think of it as going out to relax."
Heinrich replied expressionlessly, "No need."
"No," John said earnestly, "you do need it."
As the one who had grasped the light for Edgar, Heinrich truly did need some rest.
"Consider it a company-funded trip. I need you to go to America, and then to France."
John continued, "I'm planning to open another branch. I need you to coordinate the details with Nagini."
Well, it was not purely a vacation after all, and Heinrich did not refuse again.
After the two of them left, John leaned back in his chair, looking somewhat worn out.
He rubbed his eyes. This time, it was not just color-blindness.
His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier.
At this rate, he might go blind.
"I need to check this," John murmured after a moment, deciding to give himself a full examination.
He stood up, and his head suddenly swam.
"Huuf.. huff.."
Grabbing the edge of the table, John's expression darkened.
"What's going on?"
Something was very wrong.
More than wrong.
John looked down at his hand. A circular mark had appeared there.
The Gate of Objects/Things.
What was happening?
John stared at the circle.
"Surprised?"
A voice suddenly sounded beside his ear.
He looked up and saw an unexpected figure appear in the study.
Death.
More precisely, it had not appeared physically, but was reflected within John's eyes.
In that distorted, hoarse voice, Death said, "Those who toy with death never meet a good end. Especially when you have broken the iron law of the magical world."
Perhaps it was an illusion, but Death seemed faintly gloating.
"Even Death, who governs life and death, has no authority to bring the dead back."
"You have done something that violates the rules. You must pay the price."
Death extended a finger. Though it was not truly present in this world, John felt his body being touched.
That skeletal finger pressed against John's chest, and the genderless, distorted voice rasped, "You have angered this world."
"You will be punished. The price is…"
John lowered his head to look at his left hand. Golden sand was flowing out along his arm.
In his right hand, the silver soul and the black Devouring Curse were leaking away.
From his eyes, black and violet energy surged outward.
"Perhaps we will meet again. Perhaps we will not."
Death waved at John and said, "Farewell, one who toys with death. Challenger of the rules."
John felt his body being pulled away.
At that moment, high in the sky—
Across the daylight sky, streak after streak appeared, like scars left by violent collisions.
"Awooo—!"
A wolf's howl rang in his ears, and John's expression changed.
He seemed to see the White Wolf, a disaster from another world, drawing closer to him.
When he opened his eyes again, John found himself in a place similar to the space before entering the Gate of Objects.
He saw the worlds colliding and intersecting, the resulting shattering of rules creating the span between one world and another.
"The true Conjunction of the Spheres."
John drew in a deep breath. He had not expected to be exiled—exiled by magic itself.
It seemed his rule-breaking had truly angered magic.
Now he either had to wait to be cast into another world, or take the initiative.
"Since you know I don't follow the rules, then be prepared for me not to follow them."
John had never been someone to sit and wait for death. His eyes shifted into vertical pupils as he raised his right hand.
There was still an unfinished contract on it.
The Gate of Objects/Things traced its lines, forming a connection with a witch from another world.
Head to that world?
No. John was only using this power to exchange for something.
"Equivalent exchange."
A chaotic light flickered in John's eyes.
The next second, golden flames ignited in his right hand, and a key appeared in his palm.
In the final moment before being completely exiled, he used the key to open a space.
Inside stood a massive stone monument.
Gripping the locket at his chest, John entered the monument.
The very next second, the monument was destroyed by the force of exile.
When John opened his eyes again, there was nothing but endless darkness.
He did not know where he was, but he could be certain of one thing—he was still in the original world.
Footsteps sounded near his ear.
Then came a woman's voice.
"Where did this young wizard come from?"
_____
o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel