A loud gunshot echoed through the air.
John jolted awake, heart racing. For a moment, he didn't move. The sound lingered in his ears like a ghost from a nightmare. Slowly, his breathing steadied. He looked around — a small, dimly lit room, the air thick with the faint scent of alcohol and dust.
He blinked twice, then whispered, "System."
A faint purple interface flickered into existence before his eyes.
Synchronization complete.
He stared at it but said nothing. That one message was enough to confirm it — everything that happened yesterday was real. None of it had been a dream.
He sat up and rubbed his temples. The events of the previous night replayed in fragments — chaos, the fight, the strange woman who appeared out of nowhere. Janet.
He got to his feet and walked toward the window. The sound of the waking city drifted in: footsteps, distant chatter, the hum of traffic. The light outside told him it was around six in the morning.
He rested his hand on the cold window frame. "So… this is still real," he murmured, half to himself.
Yesterday, there hadn't been any time to think. But now, in the quiet, things started to settle. He somehow knew this place — wherever it was — belonged to Janet. One of her safe houses, probably. He didn't know how he knew; he just did. Maybe instinct, maybe something else.
Yesterday He didn't know her well. Didn't even trust her, not fully. But something inside told him he could. And that same something felt familiar .
looking down at the waking City as the city noise increases.
He remembered his old life — the assassin's life. The endless missions, the blood, the silence of death. He remembered dying, and after that… nothing. Just emptiness.
When he had first opened his eyes in this world, he thought he had taken over someone else's body — that he had transmigrated. But now, after everything that had happened, he knew better.
He hadn't taken anyone's body.
He was John. And John was him. (A/N: John 1:1)
He had been reborn in this world since birth. The person called "John" wasn't someone else — it was him all along. Only, a part of him had been sealed away, hidden deep inside. That missing piece — the assassin's instincts, his full nature — had been locked away from the start.
And now, after the chaos of yesterday, that part had awakened.
He didn't know who or what caused it. Maybe someone sealed it deliberately. Maybe it was fate. But for now, he wasn't going to chase that mystery.
All he knew was that for the first time, he felt whole.
The assassin from his former life and John of this world had finally become one. Not two minds — just one soul, complete. (A/N: Please don't ask how)
And then there was the system.
He looked again at the glowing purple text before him.
Synchronization complete.
Progress: 5%.
He opened the system interface, and more text appeared:
Current Template : Legendary Assassin – Hit (Universe 6).
"Hit?" John said under his breath.
The name hit (no pun intended) him with a strange rush of nostalgia. Not from his assassin life — but from the quiet moments in between.
Back then, when he wasn't on a mission, when he had a little time to breathe, he'd watch anime and catch up on mangas. It was a secret no one ever knew, one he planned to take to his grave. He used to laugh at himself for it — a world-class killer watching anime .But it gave him peace.(A/N: Don't be ashamed of what you love my guys unless you're a lolicon)
And his favorite show — the one that started it all — was Dragon Ball Z.
He used to watch it between jobs, drawn to its raw energy and relentless growth. He respected Goku — deeply.
From a naive boy who could blow up a car with a Kamehameha to a man who could fight gods and shake the universe itself.
That kind of progress… that endless drive to improve — it was something John understood better than most.
But the one who spoke to him most wasn't Goku. It was Hit, the silent assassin from Universe 6.
Everything about Hit resonated with him — the calm precision, the quiet confidence, the cold focus of a man who needed no recognition. And above all, his motto: I keep on improving.(A\N: He says this in Dragon Ball Fighterz)
That simple phrase had defined John's life. It was the reason he became the best.(A/N: don't try this at home)
He used to imagine what it would be like to have Hit's power — Tokitobashi (Time Skip), to always stay one step ahead. It was a childish fantasy, one he used to laugh at whenever it crossed his mind.
But now… the universe, God or whatever force ruled it, seemed to have answered that wish.
He clenched his fist, and for the first time, he felt it — something new moving within him. His body felt lighter, sharper. His energy flowed differently now. He stretched his arm and felt the faint hum of strength ripple beneath his skin.
He chuckled softly. "Well, looks like I don't need those bandages anymore."
He could tell — the system didn't just give him strength. It had unlocked something fundamental. He was no longer incomplete. He was awake. He has enough time to check that out later, but first...
John turned from the window, his bare feet silent against the cold floor. His eyes landed on a mirror resting against the far wall. He has seen himself in his memory port he's not sure he he want to know how he looks
He approached it slowly. The morning light caught his reflection as he stopped in front of it.
The man in the mirror stared back at him — sharp eyes, dark hair, calm expression. There was something both familiar and foreign about this face.
He tilted his head slightly, studying his reflection. A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Wow," he said softly.
.
.
.
"I look like John Wick."