[AAA City Female Ghost has joined the livestream.]
[Let Night City Burn has joined the livestream.]
[Wordsmith of the Great Yan has joined the livestream.]
A cascade of join notifications rolled across the stream. Anthony scanned them with a glance, then turned the camera to face DIO.
[AAA City Female Ghost: Just got here — what's going on?]
"I have a feeling things are about to get interesting," Anthony said, perfectly calm. "Figured I'd go live and get it on record."
[AAA City Female Ghost: Any commentary?]
"Short version," Anthony replied, after a brief pause to collect his thoughts, "Mr. Jonathan has returned to his own body, and right now he and DIO are engaged in a very spirited fight over who gets to hold the steering wheel."
"Whoever wins that argument is the rightful driver. Given current conditions, that's roughly where the math points."
[Let Night City Burn: Will Mr. Jonathan win?]
[AAA City Female Ghost: That seems... difficult.]
Carmen mentally reviewed the JoJo records Anthony had sent over, turned the situation over for a moment, and typed:
[AAA City Female Ghost: The Ripple is a hard counter to vampires, yes — but Jonathan's current state is genuinely terrible. Taking on DIO like this is going to be a problem, isn't it?]
[Wordsmith of the Great Yan: That sounds incredibly dangerous.]
"Who said anything about winning?"
Anthony spoke quietly into the uncertainty, and the others went still for a beat.
"He's going to lose," Anthony continued, his voice unhurried. "So naturally, the whole plan is built around losing."
He kept his gaze fixed on DIO as he spoke. Silver light continued flowing in an unbroken current along the arc of the fishing rod.
On DIO's face, a bead of cold sweat traced a line down his cheek — but in the next instant, his expression hardened into something cold and resolute.
The situation was bizarre, no question. But one thing was perfectly clear:
He could not allow this Ripple to keep running rampant through his body.
If he let that happen — if he simply stood there and watched it spread — the consequences would be catastrophic.
"Jonathan Joestar…" DIO muttered under his breath, straining to grind down the Ripple. Through the searing pain, he managed to slow its advance — but only slightly.
The Ripple refused to be contained. It kept expanding. Relentless.
This isn't working. I need another approach.
He kept the stalemate going by sheer force of will while his mind raced through every option.
Ten minutes ground by in that deadlock. The Ripple had crept up to DIO's thighs. Cold sweat born of pain and tension ran openly down his face. DIO barely dared to move — any shift in focus risked accelerating the spread.
And then — he felt it. The Ripple energy coursing through him began to weaken.
In truth, maintaining this standoff was costing Jonathan everything he had. His soul form wasn't built for sustained output. He had twenty minutes, total.
"Your reserves are running low, JOJO…"
DIO felt the shift and his expression moved. Forcing down the pain, he made a move to reclaim control of his own breathing.
But the Ripple roared back — a hundredfold, a thousandfold — hammering into him with renewed ferocity. Even so, DIO's face broke into something that looked almost like relief.
"Just as I thought — you're running on fumes, JOJO. This is nothing but a dying man's last thrash!"
"If I can just weather this one surge—"
He set his jaw and drove every ounce of resistance toward his lungs, trying to choke the Ripple at its source.
And then his expression snagged.
Within his body's awareness, every thread of that surging counterattack seemed to deflate at once — collapsing downward in a single instant.
And then it converged. In his legs.
A feint?!
In that moment, DIO finally understood what Jonathan had been after all along.
Besides him, Anthony narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the rod.
Then yanked it upward — hard.
"NOW!"
In that instant, Jonathan completed the concentration of the Ripple. DIO's eyes went wide as he felt a force gathering at his waist — and then, like the stroke of a blade, it detonated outward.
DIO stared at the blood erupting from his own midsection. A torrent poured from his mouth. The next moment, his lower half separated cleanly from his upper half, and did not stop bleeding.
Every last thread of Ripple energy had been poured into that single strike. Only now, in the aftermath, did DIO feel his own breathing return to him. He wheezed like a broken bellows, jerked his head around — and saw something that would be burned into the back of his eyes for the rest of his immortal life.
The lower half of the body that had once belonged to Jonathan Joestar was standing upright.
Standing. Completely upright.
The bisection point was a clean, smooth cut. Two legs. A pair of hips. Just standing there, looking back at him.
Heels together. Back straight. Parade rest.
Like a fully functional human being — from the waist down.
Apparently satisfied that DIO was incapacitated and in no condition to pursue, it made its decision.
It ran.
In the most literal, physical, biomechanical sense of the word, it ran.
Two legs, one backside, hauling ass for the exit at full sprint. The sheer audacity of it left DIO frozen for a full few seconds.
In all his years — across every atrocity, every triumph, every bizarre encounter — he had never seen anything like this.
Not once.
By the time those legs had sprinted out the front gate and vanished entirely from his field of vision, DIO could only throw his head back and roar:
"JONATHAN JOESTAR!!!"
Nearby, Anthony silently redirected the livestream camera to follow the legs.
How to put this…
Watching two legs just… sprint away… there was a certain low-grade surrealism to it that was hard to put into words.
Though, thank god DIO hadn't gotten his hands on a Stand yet at this point in the timeline. If he had, this whole plan would've fallen apart at the seams…
Anthony glanced back at DIO, exhaled, and drifted after Jonathan.
No dealing with DIO today. The injuries would slow him down — buy them some development time — but for DIO, recovery was only ever a matter of when, not if.
And so: out of the grim castle they went. Around the conspicuous main streets. Carried by two remarkably capable legs — still fueled by the last dregs of Ripple energy that had survived the transfer — across the landscape, all the way out onto the vast, open desert of Egypt.
When the last of the Soul Force Anthony had channeled finally burned out, the legs ground to a halt, standing rigid in the golden sand. Jonathan's soul peeled free from the vessel and floated above it, looking down at his own lower half.
Before Anthony could even open his mouth, a notification from the group chat cut him off.
[Support Mission · Preparations Before Resurrection (Stage One): COMPLETE.]
[Participating Members: Founder of the Golden Spirit, Lord of the White Holy Throne.]
[Mission Reward Received: 2,000 Points!]
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