High above the ground, the enormous Cloud Dragon twisted its hundreds-of-meters-long body and slowly flew toward Sardinia.
Dawn stood atop its head, his feet planted on scales like ice crystals. He looked as tiny as an ant.
Through Cloud Dragon's scales, Dawn saw a crimson monster inside it, roaring and snarling.
Notorious Big relentlessly pursued the high-speed currents of swirling ice crystals, as if it would never tire.
Dawn gazed at Sardinia, drawing closer by the moment, and felt a surge of excitement.
If he could kill Diavolo right here, then the trip to Rome would never happen, and fate would change.
"Things are different now. I have the power to turn the table. Cloud Dragon only needs to swallow Diavolo, and Notorious Big will take care of him."
Bzzzz—
Aerosmith flew back and forth in the distance. It wanted to approach, but didn't dare, and could only circle around like a headless fly.
A hair-raising sound came from inside Cloud Dragon.
But Notorious Big soon gave up on Aerosmith and continued its endless chase inside Cloud Dragon, unwilling to come out.
"Bucciarati, Aerosmith reports that a gigantic white snake is heading this way!"
Narancia shouted and instinctively took a step back. Caught off guard, he tripped over some rubble, cried out, and fell onto the ground.
The rubble cut his palm, and blood began to seep out. Narancia didn't even notice, only urging everyone to hurry and get away.
Faced with such a colossal creature, his childlike nature made him instinctively timid.
Even though he'd prepared himself to die, he still felt afraid when faced with something beyond his understanding.
Abbacchio stepped forward with a grave expression and reached out to help Narancia up. "Narancia, if Fugo were here, he'd definitely correct you. That's a dragon."
"Bucciarati, should we... find somewhere to hide first? It's getting closer."
Abbacchio looked at Bucciarati.
Bucciarati nodded. Faced with such a shocking sight, he was surprisingly calm.
No, he was actually shocked. It was just that his body seemed dead, completely unresponsive.
Giorno narrowed his eyes. With his keen eyesight, he seemed to make out the figure of a man.
"Wait. Something's not right."
Everyone stopped and looked again.
As Cloud Dragon drew closer, they all froze and couldn't help rubbing their eyes.
When they looked again, the man's figure had gradually become clearer.
This time, everyone saw him.
"Could that be... Mr. Dawn?!"
Mista gaped, glancing at his tiny pistol and then at the dragon in the sky. His jaw nearly hit the ground.
This was just too outrageous!
What on earth had happened up there?
He secretly congratulated himself. Thank goodness he hadn't attacked Dawn back then, or his body would probably be rotting by now.
"But... Mr. Dawn really does make you feel safe, of all things~"
As the ground drew closer, Dawn leaped and landed steadily.
He looked back at Cloud Dragon and ordered, "Go back up into the sky. Don't let anyone see you."
Cloud Dragon soared into the clouds. Its mist-formed body made it incredibly difficult to spot; only the occasional glimpse of a scale betrayed its passage.
Its size was simply too terrifying. If it appeared openly, Diavolo might panic, leading to unforeseen consequences.
"Everyone, stick to the original plan."
With a cigarette between his lips, Dawn took out a lighter and lit it. As he exhaled smoke, a confident look appeared on his face.
So what if Diavolo was the Two-Faced Emperor? He could go settle things with Notorious Big in its stomach!
Sardinia, street.
Honk!!!
A truck blared its horn. A red-haired young man reacted quickly, scooping up a little girl who was about to be hit and leaping to safety with her in one arm.
Foul-smelling mud splattered onto Tobio, forming a strange pattern shaped like a handprint.
"Be more careful next time, okay~"
Tobio pinched the little girl's pale, frightened cheek, stood up, and started to leave.
"Hey, young man. Wait a moment."
A voice came from an alley. A strangely dressed fortune-teller beckoned to Tobio, signaling for him to come over.
"What is it? I'm busy."
Tobio looked at the fortune-teller. Once he confirmed the man wasn't a Stand User, he immediately lost interest.
"You're a wanderer returning home. Sardinia is where you grew up."
The fortune-teller's eyes were keen as he continued, looking at Tobio. "Come over. I'm very interested in you, and I don't mind telling your fortune for free."
Tobio didn't approach. Instead, he turned and walked away, answering as he went, "I'm not interested in fortune-telling. Anyone who knows psychology could guess things like that. It's nothing impressive."
"Is that so?"
The fortune-teller smiled and continued, "You have a secret. Light and shadow, outer and inner—my reading tells me you have a split personality, and that you even use it to conceal your identity."
Tobio stopped. A flash of crimson suddenly crossed his eyes, and his voice grew a little rougher.
"Oh? That sounds interesting. Then go ahead and tell my fortune."
Tobio walked into the alley, lowering his gaze as a faintly murderous glint flickered in his eyes.
The fortune-teller pointed at the stain on Tobio's clothes. "Patterns that form by chance often hold deep meaning. This is a mark of fate. Now listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you."
Tobio didn't answer. He simply listened as the fortune-teller gave his reading.
But the more Diavolo heard, the more alarmed he became.
Good grief. If I let you keep talking, you'll end up revealing what kind of underwear I wore yesterday.
So Diavolo took over directly. Tobio's slender body bulged with powerful muscles, and his appearance and demeanor changed drastically.
Whoosh!
Tobio—no, now Diavolo—didn't even use his Stand. He grabbed the fortune-teller by the throat with one hand.
"Ugh... What are you doing?!"
The fortune-teller struggled desperately, staring at the man before him in shock.
"Your greatest success was having a godlike gift for fortune-telling and using it to make a living."
"Your greatest failure was crossing paths with me. Anyone who learns the truth about me, no matter how insignificant, has to be silenced."
Diavolo took out a photograph and stared at the fortune-teller, his eyes glowing red.
The photograph showed a front-facing portrait of Risotto, the leader of the Assassination Squad.
"Where is this man now?"
"I don't know. But you'll meet soon!"
"Good."
Diavolo nodded and took out another photograph. This one showed a man leaning against a wall and smoking, with only his handsome profile visible.
"I'll ask you again. Is this man dead?"
"This man... this man doesn't exist in fate! He isn't dead. On the contrary, you..."
The fortune-teller's words grew halting. Foam had begun to form at his mouth.
Diavolo's pupils contracted, and his voice betrayed a hint of anxiety. "Nani?!"
As he spoke, he released the fortune-teller and let him finish.
"Haah... On the contrary, you'll die at his hands. More than once."
"What do you mean, more than once?!"
Diavolo flew into a rage and grabbed the fortune-teller by the throat again. He squeezed so hard that the man's neck cracked audibly.
"I... I can't see clearly... Different times, different places, different worlds... It's all such a mess! So jumbled! I can't make sense of it!"
The fortune-teller's head lolled to one side. As though struck by a backlash, blood poured from all seven orifices, and he died.
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