The Direction of the Last Shot

This long period of elimination has finally come to an end.

Giorno and Mista only felt a flash before their eyes, and Diavolo, who had just been raising his sword high at Polnareff, had already "Flash" seven or eight meters away.

The lights were dim, and the distance between them was not short.

But even so, Giorno could clearly see Diavolo's hideous and twisted face like an evil ghost upstairs:

His expression was ashen and furious, complex beyond description.

"The plan seems to have succeeded."

"Diavolo, it seems you are not as fearless as you claim."

Giorno received the signal of success from Diavolo's expression.

"."

Diavolo clenched his fists, his anger brewing in silence.

But after that farcical farce, this loser's incompetent anger looks as ridiculous as a chimpanzee jumping around in a cage.

Ultimately, he fell victim to the virus.

He squandered Time Erasure balance, leaving him with insufficient funds, and the Epitaph could not be activated in its current overloaded state.

It took him several seconds to replenish his overloaded mental energy and regain his strength.

This undoubtedly put Diavolo in a minor crisis.

However, compared to this so-called crisis, what truly makes him uneasy is himself—

He, Diavolo, the emperor of the underworld, was actually terrified by a name.

Shame, without a doubt a huge, heavy, and indelible shame!

Now, those two brats, especially Giorno who started it all, are looking at me like I'm some ridiculous clown dressed as a monkey!

The thought of this made Diavolo tremble with rage.

He is a very complex person.

They are so cautious that they could be described as "cowardly," yet they also value their dignity as strong individuals.

His ridiculous behavior just now clearly hurt his seemingly nonexistent, but actually quite sensitive, self-esteem.

"Bastard!"

"Do you think you've won?!"

Diavolo stared down at Giorno, his eyes blazing with intense heat.

He had only wanted to grab the arrows and escape before, but now he really wanted to kill everyone present.

Otherwise, that ugly scene would be remembered forever.

It's like a non-mainstream personal signature posted on Tencent QQ Space ten years ago, which will eventually become a shameful memory that makes people want to strangle themselves whenever they think about it.

This immature past must be completely and thoroughly erased.

"King Crimson!"

Diavolo commands his powerful Stand, keeping it close by his side.

Although he couldn't use his Time Erasure for the next few seconds, it didn't mean he was too vulnerable to fight back.

In fact, his chances of winning are still very high:

Putting aside his ability to Time Erasure, King Crimson himself possesses astonishing strength and speed.

The powerful dynamic vision system equipped with Extraordinary Speed allows it to assist Diavolo in capturing the movement of incoming bullets as much as possible.

Although it still couldn't save him from the bullet that could turn, it at least allowed him to protect his vital organs as much as possible in the face of life and death.

Because Mista only has one bullet left.

Diavolo could have used the reload time to escape to a dark place far from the edge of the railing, where the lights couldn't reach, and hide himself among the ruins.

Even the capabilities of Sex Pistols have their limits.

It's good enough if it can make a bullet turn a few corners, but it can't ride a bullet from the first floor to the second floor, and then play hide-and-seek with the target in complete darkness, winding its way among stone pillars and broken walls.

Not to mention that Sex Pistols can't do it, the limited kinetic energy of the bullet itself can't withstand the consumption of such a long journey.

"In the end, success or failure hinges on this last bullet."

"As long as I dodge this one bullet, I will still be the winner!"

Diavolo clearly understood this.

Giorno also realized this.

Seeing that Diavolo was already retreating into the darkness, he quickly shouted to Mista beside him:

"Mista, fire!"

"This may be our only chance!"

"Huh?"

Mista was slightly taken aback.

He had no idea what had just happened.

But Giorno's words, "the only chance," made him quickly feel the heaviness of the atmosphere.

"The only time."

Mista silently recited each word in his mind.

He knew that this last bullet was crucial; it had to hit the target successfully.

So, where should this bullet be aimed?

Where should we attack to ensure success?

Forehead, eyes, throat, or heart?

Damn it, no matter how I think about it, I can't guarantee that this shot will kill the other party!

Let alone killing, with a high-speed, high-power humanoid stand protecting them, even a single shot would be unlikely to cause serious injury.

Mista's mind was racing, and his fingers were slowly moving backward in this mental whirlwind.

Finally, bang!

The bullets whistled through the flames.

Three tiny golden figures, No.1, No.2, and No.3, clung to the bullet, together controlling this small yet ferocious metal beast.

"They're here!"

Diavolo held his breath.

The King Crimson's sharp pupils were fixed on the incoming bullet, rapidly predicting the trajectory of this deadly weapon in the blink of an eye.

In the blink of an eye, the supersonic bullet whistled as it flew up to the second floor.

It flew in front of Diavolo, arcing around the pillars and railings, and slammed straight at Diavolo's head.

"Now!"

The King Crimson unleashed a breathtaking speed.

It suddenly unleashed a swift, lightning-fast hand chop, not to kill, but simply to shield its master's head with its arm before the bullet struck.

Of course, doing this would also injure the King Crimson.

However, injuring its arm is certainly better than shooting Diavolo in the head.

Not to mention, the King Crimson's resilience is far greater than that of a mortal human. The injuries it sustains are proportionally reflected back onto its body, turning serious injuries into minor ones.

Now, with his terrifying speed, the King Crimson is about to block the bullet with his own body.

Just then, as the bullet was about to embed itself in the King Crimson's arm.

"No. 2, No. 3!"

The golden figures clinging to the bullets, including No. 1, the team leader, suddenly let out a sharp, low growl:

"Ready. Serve!"

The three little figures, working in perfect unison, lifted the bullet, causing it to suddenly shift upwards at an incredible angle.

The bullet, like a nimble eagle, suddenly changed from flying horizontally straight to rising vertically.

In just a moment, it flew directly overhead to Diavolo.

"Ready to take position!"

At No.1's decisive command, No.2 and No.3 dispersed to the sides.

No.1, on the other hand, was piloting the bullet upwards.

Once the bullet has reached a certain height, it suddenly steps on top of the bullet and then kicks the bullet at its feet.

Under the influence of that strange Stand ability, the bullet was redirected and instead hurtled downwards.

No. 2 and No. 3, who were already in place, immediately stepped forward to greet them.

Each of them used one foot to catch and pass the ball, quickly adjusting the bullet to the desired direction.

"I see."

"Trying to attack through the gap in my defenses overhead?"

Diavolo sensed the danger as the bullet curved and ascended in front of him.

Seeing the bullet about to turn and fall on his head, he didn't have time to think and could only ask the King Crimson to quickly protect his head under its strong arms.

Then

Whoosh!

The bullet whizzed past Diavolo's ear.

"Hmm?" Diavolo had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

The bullet, carrying the enemy's last hope, seemed to be targeting something far from the very vital points that were perfectly protected.

So, what exactly is it going to attack?

The next instant, Diavolo's hand trembled slightly.

It wasn't because the bullet hit his palm, but because the Bug Arrow he was holding trembled violently upon impact.

"What... arrow?"

"That guy's target was an arrow!"

Diavolo's expression went blank again.

His expressions have never been as varied as they are today, even when he wasn't playing "Tonio".

In this one, time seems to stand still.

Diavolo watched helplessly as the arrow in his hand, the legendary arrow that could grant him immense power, the arrow that gave him his last hope in his desperate situation, vanished just like that.

It broke.

The bullet struck the ancient arrowhead, which contained mysterious power, without mercy.

The arrow shattered into pieces upon impact, scattering golden metal fragments.

Diavolo watched as the fragments swept past him, flew away, fell into the darkness, and embedded themselves in the dust, just like his suddenly shattered hope.

By the time he came to his senses and realized what had happened, it was too late.

The Bug Arrow is gone, and there's no more insect or arrow; all that's left is a broken wooden stick, much like his life, which has no future.

"What! You! Did! Me!!"

A murderous intent surged forth like a tsunami.

Diavolo glared down at Mista, looking like he was about to go mad.

"I did what I was supposed to do."

Mista breathed a long sigh of relief.

He knew that his plan had succeeded:

"You didn't expect that, did you? I already told my little ones:"

"If that shot didn't hit your vitals, then just try a different direction—"

"Shatter your hopes!"

"Asshole."

Diavolo said through gritted teeth:

Do you think you can survive by doing this?

"Let me tell you, you've really angered me this time, Guido Mista!"

"That's not important."

Mista, who had been looking tense, suddenly calmed down.

"The important thing is that I did it."

"Your plot has been completely thwarted, Diavolo!"

The second update will be posted later.