[What If: Jotaro Alone]

Giorno officially took over the Passione Organization. In a short time, all of Italy was gripped by fear. Anyone who dared commit crimes in defiance of the crackdown was killed without mercy.

The Passione Organization mobilized all its resources, and before long, news of Tobio came back.

Inside a restaurant.

"Tobio escaped by boat?"

Dawn looked at Bucciarati in surprise and took a sip of coffee. He hadn't expected Tobio to be so decisive—to flee by boat in the middle of the night.

Bucciarati nodded, poured out the coffee the waiter had brought, then took out a bag of blood and added some to his cup himself.

Bucciarati raised the cup and took a sip. He visibly relaxed and let out a breath.

Since he had been transformed from a corpse, Bucciarati hadn't become completely immune to bloodlust. Taking in a moderate amount of blood was good for him.

"Mr. Dawn, what are your plans from here?"

Bucciarati asked casually, taking a sip from his cup.

At that, Dawn lifted his coffee to his lips. He didn't answer right away, instead falling into thought.

He'd only been in this world for a few days, yet he'd awakened a Stand and gained a group of companions he could entrust with his life.

In terms of strength alone, he was already close to being an Ultimate Lifeform, with a humanoid Stand that was well over the top in strength and speed.

Dragon Tamer, an Ultimate Lifeform, was nearly impossible to kill. King Crimson, with two souls in one body, could erase time. And the Scales of Awakening still had one trade left.

The Stone Mask had been used for two transformations. Even covered in cracks, it wouldn't be difficult to use it to transform another being who could surpass vampires.

If he really didn't want to act, he could always shut the doors and let Notorious Big out.

Looking back, he'd conquered Italy in just a week, driven Tobio away, and even cleared the Kars scenario in the Hypothetical Universe.

After Golden Experience Requiem rejected fate's final attempt to interfere, it seemed to have given up and vanished without a trace.

Perhaps some changes had taken place behind the scenes, but at least everything appeared calm on the surface.

"Mr. Dawn?"

Bucciarati tipped back his cup and drained the blood. A satisfied smile appeared on his face, and then he softly called out to Dawn.

"I'm fine."

Bucciarati nodded and stood up to pay. The two of them left the restaurant.

Dawn took out a cigarette and lit it.

Smoke curled around them as they walked side by side.

Though cigarettes weren't considered soft drugs, no one dared smoke so openly on the streets of Italy these days. Dawn was the sole exception.

Giorno's anti-drug campaign had swept across Italy. Anyone caught was shown no mercy; even lining up to kill themselves was standard practice.

As the two chatted, a figure appeared around the corner.

A man in a police uniform blocked their way. After hesitating for a moment, he took out an ID and showed it to them.

"What do you want?"

Bucciarati asked coldly. The man froze, then shook his head and turned to leave, disappointment showing in his eyes.

Dawn suddenly called out.

"Wait."

The uniformed man stopped and turned around.

Dawn stepped forward and gave him a shove, then slung an arm over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I remember you. You're... uh... sorry, I've forgotten again."

Abbacchio almost rolled his eyes, but seeing Dawn wiggling his eyebrows at him, he finally smiled knowingly.

"Mr. Dawn."

Dawn let go of Abbacchio, straightened his uniform for him, and patted him on the shoulder.

"I promised to protect everyone. How could I break my word? Do you feel better now?"

Abbacchio nodded solemnly. After being reborn back in the small Italian town, he still couldn't stop worrying about his companions, so he'd come back to check on them.

"Seeing that everyone's still alive puts my mind at ease."

Abbacchio turned to leave, but Dawn called him back, and they exchanged contact information.

Abbacchio drove away.

Dawn handed Bucciarati the contact information and said, "This guy seems like a good fit. Find a way to get him into the organization."

Bucciarati took it in silence and tucked it away. He couldn't help wondering why this man had earned Dawn's attention.

"Naples happens to need a police chief. I'll have Giorno arrange it."

Back at their lodgings, Dawn rested alone.

The abilities he'd gotten from the snaps of his fingers over the last few days had all been disappointing, so he hadn't kept any of them.

Dawn wondered to himself what he should do next.

Thinking back on the world of JOJO, it seemed this world wasn't simple at all. All sorts of strange beings were everywhere.

Muscle God Hermes.

He'd once taken a liking to a mortal and had a friendly match with Rohan Kishibe.

The alley in Morioh where anyone who turned around was doomed to die—even Stand Users who broke the rules couldn't escape their fate.

Mikitaro Hasekura, who claimed to be an alien and was 216 years old.

And countless parallel universes.

These things fascinated Dawn. Now that he'd surpassed humanity and had an endless lifespan, he could explore to his heart's content.

"Tomorrow, I'll visit Jotaro with Polnareff. I wonder if Jolyne Cujoh has been born yet."

He turned off the light and went to bed. Before long, Dawn drifted off to sleep.

Late at night.

Diavolo gazed idly at the stars. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he saw one of them flicker.

Diavolo rubbed his eyes and looked again. Everything seemed normal.

A voice rang out from the depths of his soul.

[Hypothetical Universe cooldown complete]

[Enter?]

At this, Diavolo gently nudged Dawn.

Dawn turned over irritably and mumbled in his sleep.

"Yeah, yeah, stop bothering me."

[Entry confirmed]

[Drawing Hypothetical Universe...]

[Draw complete]

[This Hypothetical Universe is...]

[What If: Jotaro Alone]

[Loading Hypothetical Universe...]

[Loading complete]

[Good luck]

After finishing his work for the day, Father Pucci changed into his pajamas and lay down on the soft bed at home, ready to rest.

The full moon hung high outside. Its bright, pure light illuminated the courtyard and fell through the window onto Father Pucci's desk.

A thick notebook lay on the desk. Several large handwritten characters were scrawled across its cover.

How to Defeat a God

Father Pucci tossed and turned, unable to sleep. At last, he sat up, went to the desk, and began leafing through the notebook.

After a while, Father Pucci sighed, closed the book, and went to the window to get some air.

"Dio... When will I be able to avenge you?"

Father Pucci murmured to himself. He returned to the desk, opened a drawer, and carefully took out a Stand disc.

Stand: Life Weaver.

The Stand had come from one of Pucci's doctors. It had the unusual ability to use a target's DNA to cultivate clones.

The clones could be freely edited, from their sex and appearance to their memories and even their little behavioral quirks.

Pucci had found it very interesting, so afterward he'd taken the ability for his own use, just in case.

Clink~

It seemed to come from the basement: the sound of a glass container knocking against something, followed by the faintest hint of footsteps.

Father Pucci came to his senses, quickly put on his shoes, hid the disc, and cautiously opened the wooden door before heading toward the basement.

"White Snake."

Father Pucci summoned his Stand and slowly pushed the door open, peering through the narrow gap to see what was happening in the basement.

"King Crimson!"

The sound of space shattering rang out. Father Pucci's mind reeled. When he could finally make sense of what he was seeing, his pupils contracted sharply.

At some point, the wooden door had been pushed all the way open. A dark figure stood quietly in the darkness not far away, its face impossible to make out.

"When did you—?!"

Pucci panted as questions flooded his mind.

Why had the door opened by itself? Who was this man? When had he been attacked?

Pucci lit the candle on the wall. In its flickering, yellow light, he could just make out the dark figure's body and lower face.

The figure was built like a tower, and its sharp canine teeth were especially conspicuous. In the dim surroundings, it exerted an overwhelming pressure on Pucci.

"Why are you in my basement?"

Father Pucci's heart pounded. To calm himself, he quickly cleared his mind of distractions and silently began counting prime numbers.

Hoo... hoo...

The figure let out the snore of someone fast asleep. Father Pucci's eyes widened. This man was actually sleeping in his basement!

As a man of the cloth, Pucci was usually even-tempered and didn't get angry without reason.

But now, he felt a deep humiliation rising within him, and it infuriated him.

"God says you are guilty."