Elsewhere—
Back at the Assassin's League headquarters, Smith Dole heard the voice of Dadai in his ear.
"Master, Elder X is calling via video."
Smith Dole responded,
"Put it through."
Soon, the image of Mr. X appeared before him. Because it was a video call, Smith could see Alexei standing beside him, as well as their surroundings.
"Leader, the werewolf leader Michael and the vampire elder Selene wish to pledge their loyalty to you and lead their entire races to join the Assassin's League. They are willing to serve as the twin gatekeepers of our order."
Mr. X then gave a quick report summarizing the current situation.
After hearing it, Smith Dole could easily tell that Alexander was trying to wash his hands of everything. As someone who knew the original storyline, he was well aware that Alexander was yet another figure—like the Ancient One or Odin—who had lived long enough and was ready to retire. He had simply had enough of cleaning up after others.
Unlike Odin and the Ancient One, though, Alexander didn't have their level of power. In the end, he'd gone out with a bang—literally—exposing both vampire and werewolf races.
Still, it was a surprising turn of events. Michael, that poor guy, had actually become the leader of the werewolves. And Selene, a vampire elder? Quite the unexpected shift.
"X, I accept their loyalty."
"However, the vampires will have to wait until after the Dragon Ball Tournament concludes."
"As for Michael and the werewolves, they can come to New York. We'll arrange the loyalty ceremony and preparations."
"And don't forget my rules."
With that, Smith Dole ended the call. Since Alexander hadn't been brought up, he didn't ask.
Looking at the two still kneeling before him, Mr. X said:
"You heard our leader's response."
"Michael, bring your werewolves and come with us to New York."
Michael nodded.
"Yes, X-san."
"But… what exactly did the leader mean by his 'rules'?"
Mr. X didn't bother sugarcoating it.
"How many werewolves in your group are African American converts?"
"I recall that guy Raze mentioned there weren't many left."
Michael thought for a moment and replied,
"None. They all died during the earlier war."
Mr. X waved his hand.
"In that case, we're good."
The arrangement was finalized. After Alexander promised significant support for the Assassin's League and Brotherhood within England, he saw the four of them off the carrier.
Once they were gone, Alexander stood up and said:
"Finally dumped those two troublesome species. Now I can breathe easy."
Worrell Roche then asked:
"Sir, should we continue monitoring the two races?"
Alexander replied,
"Stick to our previous work. Once they're fully under the Assassin's League, they'll no longer be our concern."
…
Three days later.
Mr. X, Alexei, Michael, and the remaining werewolves chartered several planes and departed for New York.
The continuous wars had greatly reduced their numbers. And since they'd always lived underground, the werewolves had little wealth compared to the Assassin's League. No corporations, just a few hidden bases, some cash, and valuables like gold and antiques.
After three days of frantic packing and organization, they moved everything—carry-ons and cargo—out of London. It was a full-scale migration.
Initially, some werewolves were against Michael's decision to relocate. They didn't want to leave London. But with Michael's fists—and a team of soldiers sent by Alexander—everyone eventually submitted.
As for whether Michael's leadership would turn out well, even those who'd helped him ascend weren't sure. One thing was certain though: in New York, they wouldn't have to live in sewers anymore.
…
Meanwhile—
Bruce Banner, having once again evaded the military's pursuit, arrived at Culver University in Virginia.
As he walked across campus, memories of his life here came flooding back—including memories of his love.
While lost in thought, he suddenly spotted her sitting on a bench by the lawn.
But just as he was about to approach, he saw she had a new boyfriend.
A pang of sadness hit him, but he couldn't blame Betty. Not when he was currently a walking disaster—a dangerous monster.
He reached into his pocket and felt the Dragon Ball he had.
If he could gather the remaining six, he could finally eliminate the Hulk from his body… and become a normal man again.
Later, Bruce found an old friend—the owner of a local pizza shop. Disguised as a delivery guy, he used a box of pizza to bribe a building guard and snuck into the university lab.
But once at the computer, he found all his research records had been wiped.
Even worse, the equipment he needed had been locked behind another door, requiring an ID card he didn't have. Without it, he couldn't begin tracking the other Dragon Balls.
Disappointed, Bruce left the building—only to find a man standing in his path.
It was none other than Smith Dole.
Banner recognized him instantly. Even back in Brazil, he'd seen the man's face on the news.
"Did General Ross send you to catch me?"
Smith shook his head, then pulled a special coin from his pocket—the ticket to the Dragon Ball Tournament.
"Dragon Ball holder Bruce Banner. On behalf of the Assassin's League, I now issue you your entry ticket to the Dragon Ball Tournament."
"Ticket holders will battle one-on-one for possession of the Dragon Balls. The final victor, after passing my evaluation, will earn a wish—so long as it doesn't involve destruction or evil."
Bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly processed what he'd heard.
"You mean… the Dragon Balls belong to the Assassin's League?"
"You released something so powerful… and you're hosting a tournament for it?"
Smith Dole smiled and replied:
"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
"Bruce Banner, this is your ticket."
Bruce accepted the coin, visibly relieved. This meant he no longer needed to find specialized equipment or scour the world aimlessly.
Still… what kind of power did the other contenders have?
…
(End of Chapter)
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