High above the clouds, a giant dragon soared through the sky, with Dawn riding on its back and rubbing the goose bumps on his arms.
"This is way too cold. It's like I'm being attacked by White Album every second."
Dawn patted Metal Dragon's head, signaling for it to descend. Just then, a huge white object emerged from the clouds below.
Metal Dragon let out a low growl and looked down. The sparks in its throat flickered; it would only take a word from Dawn to unleash a scorching pillar of flame.
"It's a plane. No wonder it's so cold—we're flying a bit too high."
Dawn muttered to himself and signaled Metal Dragon to find somewhere to land.
As he looked at the ocean below, memories of watching the show seemed to flash through his mind.
"If I remember right, after Bucciarati's team betrayed the Boss, they went to Sardinia to investigate the Boss's true identity.
"At Marco Polo Airport, they ran into a really troublesome opponent."
Dawn seized on the spark of inspiration and let his imagination run wild.
"I think it was a Requiem-type Stand. Its name was... what was that Notorious Big called?"
"Now I remember. Notorious Big. Its ability was to attack fast-moving objects, and the faster the target moved, the faster it went."
"I wonder how it would compare to my Dragon Tamer... Wait, Dragon Tamer?"
Dawn's eyes suddenly lit up, and he forgot all about the cold.
Notorious Big had an immortal body in the original story, along with an incredibly powerful stat sheet: three infinite stats and two A's.
Dragon Tamer's ability, on the other hand, was to turn anything into a dragon. It couldn't work on Stands that were mental energy, but if he could get around that limitation, his Dragon Tamer might evolve in a certain sense.
Dragon Tamer + Notorious Big?
If he pulled it off, soloing Italy would be just around the corner.
The question was how to do it. Dawn rubbed his chin, signaled for Metal Dragon to land, and decided to think it through carefully.
Airplane, cockpit.
"Hey, is that thing above us gone?"
"Looks like it. Weird—what kind of thing would show up on radar as a long shape?"
"Don't overthink it. It was probably some kind of military aircraft that happened to cross our flight path. What, do you think it was aliens?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Meanwhile, Bucciarati's team arrived at the location the Boss had arranged, with Trish in tow. They had completed their mission successfully, and everyone looked forward to the future with hope.
"I'll take Trish to the top of the tower to meet the Boss. Giorno, you all wait here."
Bucciarati straightened his clothes and told the team to wait patiently. He and Trish entered the elevator and pressed the button.
As soon as Trish entered the elevator, she crumpled to the floor and curled up in a corner, trembling. Pressing a fist to her chest, she spoke anxiously. "On the way here, I was kidnapped by gangsters and attacked by assassins. Mr. Dawn, who probably knew what was going on, suddenly disappeared too. I'm a little afraid of meeting my father, whom I've never seen before..."
Bucciarati reassured her. "He'll probably send you abroad. Maybe he'll even have you get plastic surgery so no one will recognize you. Then you can live happily in another country."
"Is that so?"
Trish gathered her courage and stood up, but still reached out and took hold of Bucciarati. The two stood in silence as the elevator neared the top.
"Trish?"
Bucciarati suddenly felt her hand slip from his. He turned his head, his eyes widening as his pupils contracted in shock.
He instinctively caught the severed hand before it hit the floor. Trish, who had been talking with him moments earlier, had vanished without a trace.
All that remained was a slender hand, still warm to the touch.
"Damn it!!!"
Bucciarati growled and clenched the severed hand tightly. How could a Stand attack happen so close to the Boss? There was only one answer.
It had all been a lie. There was no escort mission. The Boss had only wanted to kill his own daughter with his own hands!
Bucciarati, whose parents had divorced when he was young and who had longed for a family more than anything, felt all his respect and fear for the Boss vanish.
He slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were filled with resolve and killing intent.
Bucciarati had been hesitant about Giorno's vision of stamping out drugs and cleansing the organization. After all, it meant making an enemy of the entire Italian underworld.
But now, there wasn't the slightest trace of doubt left in his heart.
"Boss, you shouldn't have done this."
"After you die, I'll tell Trish that her father never existed in the first place."
"Sticky Fingers!"
He punched open a zipper into another dimension in the elevator. Looking at the dark figure inside the elevator shaft, Bucciarati gently tossed out the tracker Giorno had given him.
The tracker stuck to the Boss's clothing. Using a zipper, Bucciarati got ahead of him and waited on the first floor, hiding behind a thick stone pillar.
Footsteps descended the stairs, then stopped not far from the pillar. Though he couldn't see Bucciarati, the Boss's voice came as if he'd foreseen everything.
"Bucciarati, don't come out."
The Boss continued, "I saw your death. Leave now, and none of this will happen. Otherwise, you'll die."
Bucciarati didn't answer. His Stand, Sticky Fingers, suddenly launched an attack, punching at the Boss.
Worried that his face would be exposed, Diavolo chose to temporarily abandon Trish and hide in the darkness.
After successfully driving the Boss back, Bucciarati immediately picked Trish up and moved out of the range of any possible attack.
"Why did you betray me? Tell me your reason."
Diavolo's low voice came from the darkness, tinged with curiosity.
Bucciarati didn't answer. He simply took out his communicator and prepared to contact Giorno outside.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Bucciarati."
In a daze, Bucciarati suddenly sensed something was wrong. He hadn't even pressed the call button, yet the phone already showed that the call had connected.
Before he could think, he felt a chill in his abdomen. Looking down, he saw a thick red arm had pierced through his belly from behind.
Then came the crushing pain, surging in like a tide.
Pfft—
Bucciarati spat out a mouthful of blood. The Boss's hollow voice reached his ears. "This is my ability, King Crimson. It can erase the process and leave only the result."
Bucciarati swallowed the blood in his mouth. His powerful spirit drove him to counterattack, and he slammed an elbow into the Boss's face.
Another moment of disorientation—and the attack missed. Bucciarati realized he was controlling his Stand, repeatedly punching at empty air.
During erased time, everyone moved along their original paths. The Boss was the sole exception.
The demonic figure appeared behind Bucciarati once more, murmuring, "No one will threaten my eternal throne."
A hand chop came down. Bucciarati's upper body took a devastating blow, nearly cleaved in two from shoulder to abdomen. He seemed to lose all his strength and crashed to the ground.
The light in Bucciarati's eyes slowly faded. His consciousness blurred, and the world before him gradually sank into darkness.
"Golden Experience!"
Giorno smashed through the iron door with a punch. Sensing that the team had arrived, Diavolo flashed away and disappeared.
Three minutes earlier.
Airport, restaurant.
Dawn ended his call with Polnareff, got up, and headed to the restroom. He took out a cigarette and prepared to light it.
Suddenly, a large amount of ash fell onto the floor. Dawn's eyes widened slightly. The cigarette between his fingers had already burned halfway down.
Smoke was also drifting across the ceiling above him.
"Time was erased."
Dawn slowly uttered the words. He already understood what had happened, and immediately took out his phone to call Giorno.
"Giorno, it's me..."
Seeing Bucciarati lying on the ground, Giorno immediately began treating him.
"Damn it, we were still too late!"
Giorno angrily pounded the floor, leaving a web of cracks across it.
After receiving Dawn's warning, Giorno had rushed to rescue Bucciarati.
But the team members' doubts had delayed him. Anxious, he'd even stumbled and fallen.
He had arrived only a few seconds too late, but that was enough to miss the best chance to save him.
"Giorno, hurry and take Trish away from here."
Giorno suddenly heard Bucciarati's voice.
He glimpsed a translucent figure gradually merging with Bucciarati's body. Then the dead Bucciarati opened his eyes once more.
But Bucciarati's heart did not beat again.
The powerful vitality bestowed by Golden Experience kept tugging at the dead man's soul, granting him the ability to walk among the living for a short while.
Just as Rolling Stone had foretold, Bucciarati had still died during this journey.
Before you continue