The instant the blaze erupted, Fugo and Narancia both truly believed they were going to die.
Unprecedented despair engulfed their hearts as memories of their lives flashed before their eyes.
They remembered their childhoods, their lives, and Bucciarati, the man who had changed their lives.
They had practically gone through the entire dying process already. The next step was to collect their death certificates.
But just like toilet paper passed beneath a stall partition by a fellow sufferer when your legs had gone numb from squatting, fate's favor always arrived unexpectedly at the height of despair:
Because of one tiny manhole, they had survived.
"Fate is on our side!"
Having narrowly escaped death, Fugo and Narancia were beside themselves with excitement.
Their faces were pressed together in the cramped manhole, their expressions comical, but their eyes shone brightly.
Because the scales of victory had completely tipped in their favor:
"Aerosmith!"
Having just launched a round of attacks, Aerosmith swiftly adjusted its flight posture in midair. The next moment, it would once again aim its guns at Giorno's body.
"Purple Haze!"
The terrifying purple humanoid instantly appeared five meters in front of Fugo.
As Fugo and Narancia climbed out of the manhole together, it pounced viciously toward Giorno as well.
The situation had returned to how it was at the beginning, with the two of them outnumbering one, but now their advantage was far more overwhelming.
After all, setting aside the serious shoulder wound caused by the bullet, Giorno had already spent more than half his strength setting up that grand trap.
Sweat covered his forehead, and a faint stabbing pain throbbed through his brain.
Facing Fugo and Narancia's savage counterattack, he had no time even to catch his breath or hesitate before turning and fleeing desperately.
"Still trying to run?"