{300 Power Stones bonus chapter }
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New Seer Town.
A small town John Wick had not set foot in for over twenty years.
Back then, the Tres Bille Organization had massacred the entire settlement.
It lay abandoned for years—
until a group of Mexican cartel members discovered it and turned it into a "flour" transit hub.
On the surface, residents lived there as if it were a normal community.
In reality, it was a hub for the drug trade.
Even crime bosses from America often came here for supplies.
Among them—
the Viggo Gang of New York.
"Abram! Remember… just sit quietly by my side. Let me handle everything else!"
Inside the town tavern, Viggo sat in a corner, lecturing his younger brother.
Abram sat beside him, frantically scribbling notes with a pencil in a small notebook.
From time to time, Viggo's gaze shifted toward the window.
As head of the Viggo gang, his purpose here was clear:
to secure flour shipments.
And why bring his brother?
Because Abram's taxi company in New York was about to go bankrupt.
As an older brother, Viggo couldn't let him drown in debt.
Besides—Abram's fleet of taxis would make an ideal smuggling channel.
And Abram himself was eager to make money.
So the brothers came together to this Mexican town.
Creak—
The tavern door opened.
John Wick stepped inside.
He glanced around, not noticing Viggo and Abram in the corner.
"Whiskey, please."
He went straight to the bar and ordered a drink, ready to casually ask about the town's situation.
But suddenly—
SMACK!
The tavern owner slammed his palm heavily on the counter.
"We're not serving today. If you want a drink, go somewhere else!"
A man seasoned in the underworld, John Wick instantly understood.
He had walked into a deal in progress.
Without saying a word, he stood up to leave.
But it was too late.
The tavern door opened again—
and several cartel thugs covered in tattoos walked in, hauling crates of "flour."
They noticed John Wick.
Instead of speaking, they turned toward Viggo and Abram.
Both brothers shook their heads.
The meaning was clear:
He's not one of us.
The thugs' eyes darkened.
Their hands crept behind their backs.
They were going to draw their guns.
And eliminate the stranger.
John Wick saw it too.
Backing away, he raised his hands in a calming gesture, trying to de-escalate.
He hadn't brought a gun on this trip.
He scanned the tavern quickly, searching for anything he could use as a weapon.
The best outcome would have been avoiding a fight.
But clearly—
that wasn't going to happen.
The thugs' fingers wrapped around their pistols.
In a flash—
John Wick snatched the pencil from Abram's hand!
He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest thug's wrist mid-draw.
The pencil tip stabbed directly into the man's carotid artery!
Turning sideways, John twisted, pulling the pencil free—
then drove it upward through another thug's jaw, stabbing into his mouth!
Bang! Bang!
The last thug fired two shots.
But John Wick dragged the dying body in front of him, using it as a shield.
He shoved the corpse forward.
At the same time, he yanked out the pencil from under its chin and hurled it—
The tip sank straight into the shooter's right eye!
The man screamed.
John surged forward, stomping down.
The pencil drove deeper into his eye socket.
The entire exchange was smooth.
Fluid.
Over in less than a minute.
BANG—!
Another shot rang out.
The tavern owner had fired from behind the counter.
John Wick hadn't brought a gun.
Nor was he wearing a bulletproof suit.
The bullet struck his side.
No time to check the wound.
He grabbed a glass from the counter, hurled it at the tavern owner—
then dropped to the floor, scooped up a fallen pistol, and fired three shots.
The tavern owner collapsed.
It was over.
John Wick turned his head.
Viggo and Abram were cowering under the table.
He didn't kill them.
Instead, clutching his bleeding side, John staggered out of the tavern.
A long silence.
Finally, Viggo peeked out.
He stared at the corpses on the floor—
especially the last man, pencil still jammed in his eye.
He swallowed hard.
"Oh, shit! That guy just killed three people… with a pencil!"
Abram stared at the carnage, speechless.
He gulped loudly, unable to believe it.
Viggo was shaken too.
But then his gaze shifted out the window.
John Wick's silhouette was already disappearing down the street.
Grinding his teeth, Viggo grabbed Abram.
The two scooped up the crates of powder, jumped into their car, and sped off after John Wick.
Little did Viggo know—
one day, over nothing more than a dog,
he would die by John Wick's hand.
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