Healing

With practiced ease, Giorno replaced all of Mista's damaged internal organs.

Mista survived.

This person, who was bleeding from all seven orifices and unable to move just a minute ago, is now jumping up and down on the ground.

"To breathe life into inanimate objects, bringing life and hope."

"Even if it's a Stand ability, it's completely different from that man's evil."

Jotaro to the side, became increasingly emotional.

Of course, he didn't rush to find out Giorno's identity or background, nor did he hold a prejudice against him or dwell on it.

After all, bloodline does not determine a person's worth.

Since it's certain that Giorno's spirit shines like gold, why dwell on his origins?

Jotaro temporarily put Giorno's father's matter out of his mind.

Giorno, on the other hand, with his crippled body, began to use Gold Experience to perform skin grafts on his traumatized self.

The charred, dead skin was ripped off alive, and fresh flesh quickly filled the wound under the shadow of the fist.

The process was, of course, extremely painful.

But Giorno managed to endure the excruciating pain while chatting with Jotaro, his forehead covered in cold sweat:

"Mr. Jotaro."

"Did you spot any trace of a middle-aged man with pink hair when you came here?"

This is Giorno's biggest concern.

Diavolo has just been poisoned, and Jotaro Kujo, whom he is most worried about, is already on the scene.

Without a doubt, now is the best time to kill Diavolo and solve the problem once and for all.

"A middle-aged man with pink hair."

But Jotaro gave a disappointing answer:

"I did indeed encounter them outside the Colosseum."

"Unfortunately, I couldn't stop that man from escaping."

He was so worried about Polnareff's safety that he didn't think about tracking Diavolo after he disappeared. Instead, he went into the Colosseum to check the situation.

This gave Diavolo ample time to escape.

Is that so?

Giorno frowned:

This is obviously very bad news.

Diavolo is no easy opponent.

The King Crimson's abilities are elusive and unpredictable; he himself is as cautious, secretive, and deadly as a venomous snake.

If we let him get away like this, there will likely be endless trouble in the future.

But now that Diavolo has disappeared, Giorno's worries are useless:

There's no other way.

"Several minutes have passed; Diavolo may have already run far away."

"He is cautious by nature. If given enough time to prepare, even Abbacchio's Moody Blues might not be of any use."

"In that case, we'll have to find another way to locate Diavolo."

Giorno muttered to himself, his expression quite serious.

The Gold Experience was still slowly replacing his charred skin, and the bloody and shocking scene made the atmosphere even more somber.

"Feel sorry."

Jotaro's voice carried a rare hint of guilt.

Of course, this guilt was not because of Giorno, whom he had only recently met, but because of Polnareff.

Jotaro was filled with regret, regretting that he hadn't noticed Polnareff's predicament sooner, and regretting that he hadn't been able to stop the demon who had hurt Polnareff so badly.

Now that Diavolo has vanished, he doesn't know when he will be able to avenge his best friend.

Thinking of this, Jotaro's clenched Riot Games trembled slightly.

"It's okay, Jotaro."

Polnareff offered these words of comfort once again.

He keenly sensed that Jotaro had fallen into a state of deep depression after witnessing the horrific sight of his severed limbs.

This is not Polnareff wanted to see.

This is not how Jotaro Kujo, this unwavering man, should be.

"There's no need to blame myself for what happened to me."

"I am a soldier, and a pair of legs cannot affect my will."

Polnareff tried his best to appear nonchalant.

However, it's a pity.

Even though Polnareff tried his best to be the same optimistic, never-give-up guy he used to be, the comedic star of the group, he could never recreate that feeling.

Ten years have passed after all.

Only Polnareff himself knows how he spent those ten years.

The lost legs can never be found again, and the pain of the past decade is equally indelible.

He is no longer the green swordsman who would show off his fancy sword skills in battle, nor the optimistic young man who would still make jokes about "underwear" even when he was stuck at the bottom of the sea.

Polnareff has become a mature and steady middle-aged man, in a heartbreaking way.

"."

Jotaro didn't say anything more about blaming himself.

But the atmosphere at the scene grew increasingly deathly silent.

The two gazed at each other silently, their eyes filled with complex emotions that were difficult to express.

"That."

Once again, Giorno interrupted at an inopportune moment.

He had managed to complete his emergency treatment, and all the gruesome wounds on his body had disappeared.

Although the immense mental strain left him nearly exhausted, the support of a healthy body gradually restored the rosy color to Giorno's pale complexion.

"Mr. Jotaro."

Giorno slumped to the ground, slowly exhaling to recover his strength:

"If possible, please bring Mr. Polnareff to me as well."

"Um?"

Jotaro's body trembled.

He gleaned something from Giorno's words. "Could it be Polnareff's injury?"

"I can cure it."

Giorno nodded solemnly.

"Old wounds are fine too?"

Polnareff's voice suddenly stammered.

Clearly, he wasn't as indifferent to his lost legs as he had just claimed.

"Alright."

Giorno chuckled softly.

That smile was as warm as the sun that can revive all things:

"As long as the head is still there, it doesn't matter if any part is missing."

Outside the Colosseum.

Beneath the manhole cover, in the sewage.

A pair of sharp eyes suddenly opened from the darkness.

"Cough cough cough cough."

Diavolo awoke from his brief coma, vomiting up a mouthful of thick, oily, and greasy excrement.

"My head hurts so much."

He clutched his head, which felt like it was about to split open, and it took him a long time to regain his senses.

"Sewer"

"How... how did I get here?"

The poisons he had previously ingested had such a strong aftereffect that Diavolo's memories were becoming disordered.

He couldn't even remember how he escaped from the arena, nor did he know why he found himself soaking in a pile of excrement in the sewers the moment he opened his eyes.

Rats and cockroaches scurried around, half of their bodies submerged in a foul-smelling, filthy liquid.

It was truly a pitiful and pathetic sight.

Diavolo felt a sudden wave of humiliation, but quickly regained his senses:

Anyway, as long as the person isn't dead, that's all that matters.

He managed to escape to safety before completely losing consciousness, thus narrowly escaping death.

"It feels so bad."

Diavolo was still reeling from the intense aftereffects.

After struggling for a long time, he managed to stand up by supporting himself against the wall of the sewer.

It's often said that a city's sewers are its conscience, and Rome certainly has a very good conscience.

At least, the sewer was wide enough, like a small river, for Diavolo to hide, stop, and move safely underground.

"We need to get out of here quickly."

"This kind of place is still not safe enough."

Diavolo aware of his situation.

He began moving along the sewers to a more distant and safer place.

But as he walked, feeling that his safety was assured, he was suddenly overcome with grief again:

"Damn it."

Where should I go?

"What's the use of surviving? The Bug Arrow have been completely destroyed. I've lost my chance to turn the tide."

"Li Qing, Giorno, Bucciarati, and that Jotaro Kujo."

"I am simply no match for so many powerful enemies right now!"

Diavolo suddenly found his future bleak.

He had already fallen into a dark, foul-smelling sewer, and no matter how hard he tried to move forward, he would only step on shit.

The world is so vast, yet there is nowhere to find refuge.

"Power. Power"

"Damn it, where am I supposed to find power?!"

Thinking of that seemingly irreversible fate, Diavolo was driven to the brink of madness by suppressed emotions.

He wandered aimlessly through the sewers, lost in thought, like a lifeless zombie.

"Having fallen into such a predicament, is there really any way for me to change my fate?"

"In the end, I will do as Rolling Stones predicted."

"Die in an 'indescribable horror'?"

Diavolo thought this with such despair.

He had no idea where he was in the sewer; he just happened to be under a manhole cover.

The manhole cover was just an ordinary manhole cover with a small vent hole on it.

The lights from the ground shone down from the vents, forming a straight beam of light in the dim sewer before the despairing Diavolo.

The beam of light was small and weak, yet sacred and radiant.

It appeared suddenly before Diavolo, like a divine miracle bestowed from heaven.

A long, golden arrow.

"Arrow"

"That's right, it's an arrow!"

Diavolo's eyes suddenly lit up.

He suddenly realized that his life was actually closely related to arrows.

It was because he found the arrow in Egypt that Diavolo was later Italy build such a huge empire in Italy by virtue of his invincible Stand ability and his method of mass-producing Stand User.

Later, when the arrow was destroyed, his life was destroyed along with it.

But

"There wasn't just one arrow!"

Diavolo's heart was pounding.

This long-lost surge of emotion gave him a sudden sense of rebirth after he had driven himself to despair:

"My arrow was destroyed along with Polpo, and the Bug Arrow was just destroyed by a bullet, but besides these two, there should be four other arrows in the world."

"I don't know the whereabouts of the other three yet, but Jotaro Kujo, that guy mentioned it on the phone."

"There is an arrow, right now."

A strange place name on the other side of the world surfaced in Diavolo's mind like a lifeline:

"Morioh!"