Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do not own either JoJo's Bizarre Adventure or RWBY. All rights belong to their respective owners.

Also important, if you have not read JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo because you are currently waiting for the anime version to come out, spoilers are in this story that directly relates to the ending. Read at your own risk.

It was over.

His body and clothes that had once been caked in blood were free of any signs of the red liquid. Bruises that were once present on every inch of his skin had disappeared from existence. Bones that had been crushed and pulverized to dust were now completely restored.

His eyes looked around and took in everything. The various buildings surrounding the street he stood on, the bright blue sky, and the radiant sun.

And then he looked at his friends.

A man with a diagonal grid patterned hat. A girl with pink hair in the shape of a whirl. The people who had supported him throughout this final battle, the two who had stood by his side throughout their strange and dangerous journey. Two people he had grown to care about like the family he never had.

The only ones left who had survived along with him against the demon.

They were smiling, and they had every right to. They had done what no one thought was possible. They had beaten the man who was practically invincible. The creature so desperate to kill them he went to extraordinary lengths to do so. A man that even he, for a moment, thought would be the end of him, was now suffering through a fate worse than death. After killing so many of their friends, it was fitting that the bastard went through a special type of hell for all of his crimes.

They had lost so many people, but now their departed friends could get their long overdue rest. Their friends would not return, but that did not matter; for the animal responsible was dead and their deaths were now avenged. They had finally defeated the malicious demon that had been so determined to stop them. The man that had hurt so many, whether by himself or through his pawns, would never again be at peace. He would never again take pleasure in profiting from the misery of so many people. He had tried to avoid the inevitable to his very last breath but he had failed. With him dead, everything he had ever lived for, the empire he had meticulously built for years, a life full of power, a legion of loyal soldiers. Everything he had ever worked for was now for nothing.

Because for a man who was neither dead nor alive, wealth and respect did nothing to help him avoid his tortuous fate.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he too smiled. Their journey had come to an end. They had never given up, and now, they could finally stop. They could stop thinking of ways to outsmart their enemies, stop worrying about being pushed into another life and death struggle, and to stop agonizing over where assassins might be waiting to strike.

For they had survived.

And he had just achieved his dream.

It was over. Finally, after so long, it was over.

And he had never been happier in his entire life.

He was about to open his mouth to speak. To tell his friends the same news they had no doubt just realized themselves, but he would repeat none the less. For it all seemed like a nightmare they would never wake up from, and it was still shocking that their ordeal had finally ended. He would have told them how glad he was that they had finally won. How they should all feel victorious. For no matter what they might say, it wasn't just him that had beaten the bastard. They had all played vital roles in his defeat. He might have landed the finishing blow, but without his friends, he would not have survived this battle.

He would have told them that they needed to make sure to get their other friends' bodies back and give them proper burials. This moment of triumph was jubilant, but that did not mean they could pretend their friends hadn't lost their lives to the demon.

Not that any of them could forget.

No doubt they had the same thoughts, so they needed to move quickly and preserve their bodies. He would have told them all of this, and throughout his words, they would still hear it. The voice reminding them they had succeeded, a specter of their friends that would say they were proud of them for finally overcoming that bastard.

The little sound in their heads that would repeat over and over again, like the noise itself could not believe that it was really over.

If he had only had gotten the chance to speak.

But before a single word left his lips, he heard it.

Nothing around him seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing was out of place. Not the buildings or birds that flew in the sky and not a single object he saw looked dangerous at first sight.

Yet his ears could suddenly hear nothing but a menacing screech. The malevolence from the scream devoured the air. He could feel it slowly approaching him with a sadistic grin.

He began to sweat, his hands clutching into fists. His muscles began to tense as he felt his breathing become erratic. He never lost his composure easily, only on rare occasions did he ever his emotions run on their wild course freely.

But the sudden coldness that engulfed him, even though it was still sunny and warm, told him how dangerous the situation he was in truly was.

And for once, he had not a single clue as to what was going on. The screeches only rose in volume with each passing second and they showed no signs of stopping. The malevolence got closer and he could feel it grip his legs. He could not think of any reason why he was suddenly feeling so much dread. He had just beaten a man who held a fearsome power, so why was he so... afraid.

He hated to admit it, but right now he was scared. He attempted to seal away his dread so that he could focus, but it was too strong, too massive to completely vanquish. It was like he was being engulfed by terrifying shadows, and as they expanded and slithered around him, they became all the more frightful.

He looked to his friends, and they were still smiling. Even though the screams silenced every other sound around them, they didn't seem to hear it. Even though the malevolence was only inches away from engulfing them with its feral smile, they didn't notice. Even though his body was shaking more and more, despite his efforts to stop it, they didn't seem to care. Were they still to overjoyed at killing the bastard hunting them like animals to realize what was going on? No, they couldn't be that blind. His friends were just as attentive as him when it came to even the tiniest of details. And seeing him, a man who always had an iron hold on his emotions shaking like a leave from fear should have immediately signaled that something was wrong. So why then did they not react to-.

Suddenly, the screams stopped. They had been replaced by a new noise. One that was so much worse than the shrieks.

Laughter.

It started off low and deep, chilling his already freezing body as his heart began to slam against his ribs. It was a disturbing laugh; each baritone chuckle held so much malice that he could feel it grip his throat. The menacing darkness that emitted from each chuckle embedded itself firmly into his spirit as his breathing came to an abrupt halt.

And the laughter only grew with each second that passed. It became darker, bordering on maniacal, and easily engulfing his thoughts in an immense fear. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it was absolutely horrifying. The only thing he could do was tremble and do nothing. He had just attained power that would make others run away in terror. He had finished a journey no one thought could be completed. He was a man who was closer to achieving his dream than ever before, and should not let anyone dare try to stop him. After everything he had been through, after fighting for so long, he should have been more than ready to face whatever being was laughing.

So why was he still shaking?

Why were the howls of laughter so disturbing to him? Why did he suddenly feel like he was staring into the eyes of something more powerful than any other man he had ever faced? Why did it feel like he was facing off against something otherworldly, something that demanded everyone and everything to show it their respect? Why was that underneath the fear drenching his very soul, there were lingering sparkles of awe and admiration for the being that had suddenly appeared.

And that was when he realized what he was facing.

A monster.

A true, unholy, monster.

The thing he had fought before, the man who had caused him so much pain, was just that, a man. Every person he had fought against had been the lowest scum the world had ever produced, but they were still human. It was only now that he realized what it meant to be a monster. To be a being that with just its existence can bring others to their knees from unrelenting terror. A creature that could channel malice into the air and use it to suffocate those around it. A being that could use the darkness that was born from its core to rip and gut anyone who it deemed unworthy.

A monster that could and would kill anyone that it wanted to. A demented creature that had done so many appalling things; killing him would just be adding to the ever-growing list. To the monster, he was nothing but a speck that was barely noticeable to his great gaze.

And such a being was standing right behind him.

Suddenly, the world around him changed. The sky, once so blue and bright, had turned into a new color. Now he stared up into a neverending world of purple, and in the sky, he could see the lights from distant stars shining down on him. The ground before him had seemed to turn to water, but somehow he was still able to stand on top of the weak surface and not plunge underneath the seemingly bottomless abyss.

And then he saw his friends.

Every single one of the people he had fought with now lay on the water-like ground. People he had lost on his journey, men who had accepted him, men who stood by his side and trusted his decision, even men who decided to walk away from their group were there lying on the floor.

But the thing that made his heart stop was the fact that they were all drowning in blood. The awful liquid poured from a number of holes and gashes on their bodies, mixing with the glittering water they laid on and giving it a disgusting red sheen. Their bodies were cut like meat prepared by a butcher. Limbs sliced and torn so thoroughly he could see their pink muscles that should have been covered by skin. Large chunks of their flesh were scattered on the ground, and the chunks seemed to rot quickly as a foul smell reached his nostrils. Their eyes were gouged out of the sockets and leaving only bleeding holes in their place.

It took everything he had to not let out the bile rising in his throat. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not fall to his knees and stare at the corpses of his friends. For if he did he might never get up again. He took a step back as his shaking grew worse, and the horror twisting and slithering around him only became so much more terrifying. The fear rooted within him grew more powerful with each second, spreading and mangling every part of his body in its vicious grasp. He struggled to even form a cohesive thought, sweat now cascading down his skin like waterfalls. Eyes wide and bulging, his trembling had gotten to the point where he could barely even stand properly.

This shouldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. They had just won, they had finally reached the end of their journey. They had beaten their powerful foe and should have been celebrating right now. Instead, he was forced to stare at their lifeless bodies. His two friends who had gone through hell with him were now dead. The only people who he had left were gone. The ones he would have repaid for all their sacrifices and hard work had they all gotten back to where they were supposed to be were now swimming in their own blood.

And now he would never get the chance to thank them.

Now, his only friends had been killed by a demon far more horrible and menacing than anything he had ever seen before. Now, they had been slaughtered by a monster that was as spiteful as it was powerful. A creature that would take pleasure in seeing those who dared to oppose it descending into despair.

He was left alone to face such a being.

And he was prepared to do just that.

His fear was quickly burned to ashes as rage flared and consumed his soul. He would not let this stand; he would not let this go unpunished. His shaking soon stopped as he clenched his hands into fists. His fury was unforgiving and vengeful, flames that would not stop destroying until he was satisfied. He would not let this demon get away with this. Not when he had finally beaten that psychotic man. Not when it had just killed the only two people left in the world he truly cared for. He did not care how malevolent it was. He did not care what kind of abyss it had risen out of. He did not care if he was facing Satan himself.

For anyone that dared to make him this furious would face a wrath so blazing it would burn the very ground they stood on. He was prepared to unleash a hell unlike any other on the fool that had just made the biggest mistake of their life.

But he never got a chance.

For he blinked, and then he felt pain.

He looked down, and saw a fist had pierced his chest. His blood splattered against the ground; a distorted painting of red soon forming on the water-like floor. Crimson liquid dripped down from the massive fist, radiating such foul malevolence it assaulted every one of his senses. His world became blurry as darkness rose in his eyes. Slowly, the monster removed its hand from his body, and he felt all control of his legs leave him as collapsed to his knees. He raised a trembling hand to his chest to try and stop the rivers of blood leaking from his body. His efforts were in vain for blood still freely gushed from his wound.

When... How?

Agony unlike any he had felt before enveloped his body. He had gone through so much pain on this journey, been forced to suffer at the hands of strange and terrifying abilities, and had gone through torture he sometimes relived in his mind. But no pain he had ever felt set his nerves on fire. No man he had ever face was able to send his body into a roaring torment that caused every muscle inside him to scream. He would be screaming as well, but he was unable to say anything more than muffled gasps.

The darkness continued to twist and crawl in his eyes. The shining stars did little to illuminate his vision as more blood fell onto the floor. He couldn't believe he had been so careless. He couldn't believe he had been so easily defeated, and he could barely understand how. He never even got the chance to use his powers before the monster had already crippled him. He had been treated like a fly being swatted out of the air; easily killed in one precise hit.

He had failed.

He had tried not to focus on the cruel despair swallowing his stomach, but even amongst all his pain, he could still feel it. Could feel it biting away at his very essence, could feel the little hope left in his body rot away as he coughed yet another glob of blood. He had never known such relentless anguish in his life. Any chances of avenging his friends had just been crushed. Any chances of winning had now been effortlessly destroyed underneath the monster's boot.

And now, he was going to die. He knew that there was no escape. No plans to get him out of this hopeless situation. No last minute inspirations that would allow him to snag victory from the monster so close to snapping his throat in two.

No friends to save him when he needed them the most.

He wanted to curse at all the unfairness, to scream to the heavens at why he was forced to go through such a hell. But he knew that would be pointless, both because he could barely even breathe, and because it would not change anything.

It would not change his reality.

And then, as the darkness almost completely engulfed his eyes, and as his heart began to slow down, he heard it.

The monster's footsteps as it walked in front of him.

And then, it spoke.

The voice was so sweet, so inviting that the benevolence from the words wrapped around him like a hug. It was so warm; he thought he was lying beneath the sun on a pleasant summer day. At the same time, the shadows that secreted from each syllable choked at what little life he had left. He could feel the malice created by the demon's mere stance begin to gather around his bleeding from and eagerly await to slice away at the helpless man lying in a pool of his own blood.

And for some reason, lying in between the malevolence and the warmth, those words sounded... Familiar to him.

"MY-."

He could not make out the rest. For his ears had shut down right after the first word. The darkness distorting his eyes had finally completely enveloped his vision, and the last thing he saw was his own blood mixing with the watery floor as his heart stopped beating.

A man's eyes shot open and watched the orange sky above. Golden locks of hair were tied into a braided tail that hung from the back of his neck. Hanging over his forehead, his hair was shaped into three swirls while the rest was neatly styled to his liking. A glossy blue suit with a checkered coat tail clung to his slim yet muscular build; equally blue pants covering his long legs. On his collar were bright red wing shaped emblems. The middle area of his suit had a heart-shaped opening, his broad chest revealed to the world. The gap itself was lined with bright red beads of a variety of shapes as it led to a zipper that extended to the bottom of his suit. Two ladybug emblems were located on both the left and right side of the gap; the bright red color of the emblems made the blue of his suit all the more vibrant and striking. Lime green dress shoes, which were well shined and seemed to gleam from the light, decorated his feet as he let out a small groan.

Giorno Giovana shakily rose his upper body. His eyes moved down to glance at his chest.

There was no large wound, nor a fist sticking out of his body.

Cold sweat was falling down his face and dripping onto the ground below him. He brought his arm up to his face and wiped the sweat off with his sleeve. His heart was slamming against his chest; the rest of his body shaking from a cold that engulfed his every limb. He could feel chilling winds brush against his skin, even though the temperature around him was rather hot.

He looked around and saw he was in a rather tight alley. He was laying on top of a pile of black garbage bags, and only now did he notice the stench filling the air. He ignored the smell as best as he could. He looked at the walls surrounding him and the dumpster leaning against the side of one of the buildings.

Where was he?

He slowly moved his legs off the garbage bags before planting his feet firmly on the ground. He rose to his full height, but the moment he stood up his legs wobbled and he stumbled forward. He almost crashed into the opposite wall, but he used his hands to lean against the wall and hold himself up. His legs continued to wobble, deep gasps escaping his lips as he struggled to stay standing. Every limb felt numb; every movement felt difficult and tired. It felt like he hadn't used his body in years. Like his mind had forgotten how to operate his own limbs.

There were no wounds present on his body. His clothes did not have a single trace of blood or tear. Physically, there was nothing wrong with him. But for some reason, he felt exhausted. He wasn't injured, but a phantom pain was enveloping every inch of his body. It felt like he had just awakened after... After...

Flashes of his blood pooling around him entered into his head. He could feel the malevolence from the monster. He could feel fear lodging itself into his soul. His dread began to twist and engulf his body as he could do nothing but lay on the water-like ground. Shadows embodied with malice surrounded him, the cumulation of a dark hatred that slowly extinguished the last embers of his life. He had never felt such cruelty from any living being before in his life and... and...

An image of his friends dead became engraved itself into his mind. It happened right in front of him, and yet he had done nothing to stop it. He was helpless to save the people he loved.

He was sweating again. He brought his arm up to wipe away at the liquid, but this time his limb was shaking.

It was just a dream. There was no way that was real. He had won, they had won and had finally beaten that bastard Diavolo. He knew that for a fact.

He had finally managed to get feeling back into his legs as he pushed off the wall. Now able to stand, he once again looked around the alley. And he noticed that something seemed...off, about the buildings around him.

But he didn't spend much time on that thought. For he was focused on one thing right now.

Mista and Trish. His friends

They were nowhere in sight. Even though he was just with them after beating that bastard, they had seemingly disappeared in an instant.

No... perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had disappeared.

He knew he hadn't been anywhere near an alley after defeating the leader of Passione. In fact, it was almost noon at the time of his demise, yet now it was far later. Now the skies were tinted bright orange as the sun was now setting. It was clear to him that some time had passed since his fight with that bastard. He tried to remember what exactly happened after he had beaten Diavolo.

But for some reason, he could not. He tried to recall what he had done after killing the psychopath, but he could not remember anything that had happened after that moment. Inside his mind, his memories were clouded, lost in a sea of blank images. It was like a fog had entered his mind, and it made it impossible to see what had happened.

Just how did he get here?

No answers came to him. He let out a breath as he began to process this new information. He had regained his composure, and he would not lose it again. Now with a calm mind, he could easily piece together the situation he was in. He had beaten Diavolo, and now, after an unknown period of time awoke in an alley. He could not remember the exact circumstances as to how he got here. And his friends were nowhere in sight.

He let out another breath as he closed his eyes.

Considering all of this, from the gap in his memory to the strangeness of his circumstances, he could only come up with one answer to what brought him to this tiny alley.

A Stand.

A manifestation of will. The essence of one's very soul. A spirit that could aid a man in battle with its fantastic powers. They came in all shapes and forms, each having a unique ability. He had met dozens of users throughout his journey; when it was only months ago he began to think he was the only Stand User in Italy.

Each User he had encountered were deadly fighters the likes of which he had never seen before. Each were vicious warriors that could kill any man if given the opportunity. Diavolo had selected men with this terrifying power to be his personal pawns. Men who were cruel and did not have any form of conscience.

Men who knew they should kneel to their boss. Their loyalty to their leader, some because of fear and other because of respect, made them hell-bent on bringing down the ones who were trying to end their boss's reign.

Of course, some men had taken a stand against their leader. They wanted to stab their bastard boss right where he was most vulnerable.

Unfortunately, he and his friends had to kill these men as well.

They were all dangerous, and several times he had almost died were it not for either his quick thinking or timely intervention from his friends. A Stand user was someone who should never be underestimated. Because if some poor fool thought they were easy prey, then they would be sleeping in a shallow grave before they knew it.

Which was why his muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed to the mouth of the alley.

It would make sense for a man who was the head of a criminal organization to have one last card should he find himself helpless. One last underling he could call upon should he find himself outmatched against a far stronger opponent. A precaution that should he ever find himself near or already at death's doorstep, he would have one man left to either save or avenge him.

A terrifying trump card that he would use when he had no other options.

It would explain why he couldn't remember how he got to this alley. He could have been brought here by a Stand with the power to alter memory, or perhaps the ability to transport people to wherever the user wanted to in a paralyzed state. The latter would explain why his muscles had felt so stiff before, and both possibilities would offer a reason as to why his friends were nowhere in sight... But there were holes in his theories.

Why he was still alive was one of those holes.

If someone had taken him away from his friends, then why hadn't they killed him as he slept? It was clear that he had been left on top those trash bags for some time, so the supposed Stand user would have had more than enough opportunity to kill him. He was helpless, sleeping, and it would have been incredibly easy to slit his throat. And if there were someone Diavolo had been saving to use, then surely this person would have appeared before their final battle with the boss. That psychopath would never risk exposing himself if he had even one pawn left to use. Diavolo was more than just paranoid. The bastard was always worried someone would find out who he was; it was why he always lurked in the shadows and watched everyone from the darkness. He would never take any risk that may lead anyone to find out his identity.

So there was no way the bastard would ever willingly fight unless he truly did not have any other options.

But still... that did not mean someone wasn't responsible for his sudden lack of memory or his sudden appearance in this alley. It did not mean that he was safe, far from it. He was alone, had no idea where he or his friends were... and the only way to learn more about what happened to him was to get out of this alley.

And there was only one exit. The mouth of the alley was too narrow to make out what was on the other side.

It could have been a trap. There was a very high chance that someone was waiting for him to make his move. Waiting for him to approach the exit and then strike. If there was someone responsible for his situation, then they would not even think about attacking until he fell right into their trap.

Unfortunately, if there was someone out there, he had no plans to play into his enemy's hand.

His blue eyes did not look away from the exit. He knew that when he wanted to, he could be quite intimidating. He had seen the way the sharp lines of his eyes would gain a hard edge. The way his face would tighten and lock away all emotion. He knew that when he wanted to, he looked like a killer. An unfeeling man that would not hesitate to end a life.

For when he got serious, he became a deadly fighter. He had seen how his cold features frightened other people. And If he truly wanted to put the fear of God into his opponents, then he would summon the malice waiting inside his soul. The cruelty he kept in the dark corners of his mind that he reserved for people who succeeded in making him even slightly mad. He would unleash all his cold malevolence on whatever idiot decided it would be a good idea to try and kill him today. He would show this fool what he could do when he turned into a man who did not hold even a shred of mercy. A man that would make the idiots attacking him go through an agony unlike any other.

And after gaining his new powers... There would not be a single trace of them left in this world after he was finished.

He began to walk towards the exit. Hands clenched into his fist as he let out a breath. Footsteps echoed throughout the empty alley; the periodic tapping of his shoes against the concrete was the only thing interrupting the silence around him.

His eyes never left the exit. With each step, he got closer, though he still could not see what was on the other side. There was a bright light shining from the mouth that made it hard to see anything. He was prepared for anything, already reaching inside himself and anticipating the battle he was about to be thrown into. Already planning his actions and developing tactics to deal with his new enemy.

But when he reached the mouth of the alley, he did not see any enemy. When he reached the end, he found the source of the light had come from a streetlight shining down onto the concrete curb he now stood on. His eyes glanced around, trying to see if anything looked out of place. For several moments, he stood on guard, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a user to appear and try and attack him when he least expected it. The moment he thought he was safe would be the moment his enemy would appear. He would not repeat the same mistakes he had made before.

But after a few minutes of waiting, he realized two things. One was there wasn't an enemy. By now after quietly standing on the streets alone, without even calling upon his abilities, the enemy should have attacked him by now. There was no way someone would not strike when it looked like their opponent hadn't even drawn his weapon yet. Also, there wasn't a single person nearby, and if someone had brought him here, they would have picked an area more crowded. Stand Users looked like regular people after all, and if there were a significant amount of them, they could easily blend in and appear to be an average citizen. And then, when their opponent wasn't looking they would run from the shadows of the crowd and strike. It was a basic attack pattern that many of Diavolo's pawns followed. It was effective and concise, a deadly method that had killed many of the bastard's enemies in the past. From his own experiences, striking while maintaining an inconspicuous nature was the preferred method of fighting for a majority of Diavolo's underlings.

But there was also one other thing that almost took away his focus from the possible threat of another Stand user. One thing that made him partially ignore the possibility that someone may try to murder him with horrifying powers most people could not comprehend.

The buildings around him.

The buildings that his eyes slowly glanced back and forth too were not normal. The style, the colors, the structures, everything about the buildings shouted at him that something was not right. The buildings did not have the same feeling as the ones he had grown up with. They did not have the same smell as the ones he saw on a daily basis. Even when he traveled across his country visiting city after city, he still felt that the buildings were familiar to him. Even though he never saw them before, the buildings he saw were still familiar. They awoke an almost nostalgic feeling in his stomach; a lingering sensation that he had visited the city before, even though he knew he hadn't.

But the buildings he saw before him...they did not kindle any feelings whatsoever. The buildings around him felt different from any other buildings he had seen in Italy.

And then there was what was written on the buildings.

One was a tiny store with painted orange bricks. There was a pair of wooden doors leading to the entrance of the store. He could tell even from such a long distance that the doors were old and needed to be repaired. Through the windows, he could see inside the building, and it looked to be some kind of record store. Multicolored casings for the records were on display in wooden rows near the window, though he couldn't quite read the names of the records from where he stood. The lights were off inside the store, which led him to assume it was closed. The words "Can't Stop The Dust" were written in sky blue letters on the face of the building.

Another building was an obsidian black. Long glass windows let him peer inside the building, and it looked like the store was a small cafe. Several small brown tables were scattered on the floor and bright red chairs were stacked in a corner. When he squinted his eyes he could partially make out a counter lined with a variety of samples for snacks inside a glass case. On the roof of the store, the words "Silver's Cafe" was written in bold white letters held up by several metal bars.

Every building he saw had a similar design. Some were bigger, others had different color schemes, and some were far older than the rest and seemed to be deteriorating slightly. But they all had the same architectural core. They all had different names written for any bystander to see for miles away. Names that the people who lived here probably knew by heart.

But the thing that made him raise an eyebrow was that the buildings' names were written in English.

He knew how to speak and read in English. He knew how to speak and read in a variety of languages. From Mandarin to Portuguese, he knew at least thirteen different languages that he could speak fluently. He had thought it would be a good idea to learn as many languages as he could to help him in accomplishing his dream. A man who spoke in several languages was invaluable. He could imagine several situations where language might become a skill needed should he ever achieve his goal.

But it didn't make sense to see English letters and phrases here. Sure, in Italy, there were some places that named their stores with English words. However, an entire street with stores and buildings written in nothing but English without a hint of Italian was more than just strange. And the fact that every building he saw made a voice in his head whisper to him that something was wrong made him highly suspicious of his surroundings.

It was like...he wasn't in Italy anymore.

And with that thought, he felt the tension in his muscles increase. An unsettling worry had begun to envelop his chest. He did not like what was going on, nor did he really understand what was happening. He couldn't possibly have been removed from his home in an instant. He couldn't possibly have been transported to another part of the world within a few hours. That should have been impossible.

But then he remembered how fragile of a word "impossible" was.

After everything he had been through, it would be foolish to dismiss anything as truly "impossible." He was a man who had a power most would consider fantasy. His definition of what was possible had been greatly expanded since he had begun his journey. The things he had seen had been terrifying to battle against, but they were also extraordinary to witness with his own eyes. A tiny part of his mind had always been fascinated with the sheer diversity of every Stand and the powers they wielded. Even when he was fighting for his life he could not stop analyzing every detail of the personification of souls. Every Stand he had ever fought against had been engraved into the very center of his mind. The things most would deem as "impossible" he had encountered and had killed. He had crushed all of the scum who used their "impossible" abilities to hurt him and his friends.

He had learned that "impossible" was just a word. Nothing more, and nothing less.

But even after everything he had experienced, he would be lying if these new events didn't...frighten him slightly.

He continued to look around. He could feel something malicious crawling within him and expand with every second. He could almost see shadows slowly gathering in front of him. Fear had slipped into his body and moved at a deliberately slow pace within his stomach.

He shook his head. He tightened the grip on his emotions. He was acting illogically. There was nothing to be afraid of even if he was in another country. Even if this was the work of some enemy Stand User, it would not matter. There was no enemy nearby, that much he had already confirmed, and all he had to do was find a way to contact Mista and Trish. Then he could get back home easily.

Assuming he could contact them. Assuming they weren't-.

He closed his eyes as he let out another breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he began to clear out any distracting thoughts inside his head.

He needed to focus. He needed to seal away any emotions that would disturb his calm mind otherwise he could not think. Otherwise, he would be unable to come up with a plan. He sucked in a long breath as he began to process his situation.

He was alone in a foreign location. He did not know where he was or how he got here. He had his wallet, his clothing, his emblems, and nothing else worth noting. None of the objects he had would help him get back home. What he needed was more information. But he couldn't risk staying out in the open for long. While he was sure there were no Stand Users nearby, that did not mean he was safe from possible attacks. He needed to delicately gather information about where he was. He needed to draw as little attention to himself as possible. What he needed-

He saw from across the street a man, maybe in his late thirties, walk out of one the stores. He had on a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He rubbed a hand through long black hair that reached his shoulders as in his other hands he held a ring with about twenty different keys.

-Was to ask around for help.

He walked towards the almost barren stretch of road. He looked back at the sky and saw it had gone from orange to a dark bluish hue. Almost purplish.

He did not dwell too long on that observation. He shook his head as he made sure not to loosen his hold on his emotions. He knew that his face was once again back in its neutral mask. Any fear that was still lingering inside him was now extinguished and fading back into nothing.

He stood only a few feet away from the man. The man had yet to notice his presence; the man's eyes still focused on the ring of keys. He heard the man grumble something under his breath, fingers searching for the key he needed. He continued to stand in silence for another minute until he finally decided to speak.

"Excuse me."

His voice did not hold even a hint of a Japanese or Italian accent. He wanted to make sure that his words were understood completely. It took a bit of effort, but he knew the foreign words leaving his lips sounded as if he had spoken the language all his life.

And when the man heard his voice, his reaction was surprising.

The stranger let out a startled yelp and turned around in an instant. In the man's haste to face him whoever was behind him, the ring of keys slipped from his hands and headed right for his face.

Just before they reached him, he casually caught them with one hand.

"O-Oh crap! Sorry, I-I didn't-."

The man was upset that he had almost hit a random person. Now that he got a good look at the man, he could see his skin was rather pale. His eyes were a deep blue, his jaw a bit angular, and his body thin. He could not tell what nationality the man was from, for the man looked like he could either be Asian or American. His English did not a have a hint of any accent, but for all he knew that could have been because he had adapted to the language. Which meant he could not pinpoint exactly where in the world he was based on this man's appearance and speech alone.

"It's fine, sir." His words interrupted the man's stuttering as he stopped talking. His eyes moved towards the keys in his hand before he calmly extended his arm towards the black haired man.

"It was an accident."

The man looked back towards his keys. Cautiously, he took the keys out of his hands as he gave him a smile. It was shaky, making it easy to tell the man was still embarrassed about what had happened.

"Hehe, Sorry again. I've just been a little..."He paused, and he saw the man's blue eyes glance around the empty street. "Tense, lately."

He did not ask why he the man was so obviously worried. Under normal circumstance, he might have tried a more charismatic approach, striking up small talk and gleaning information from their conversation. But he needed to get his information about where he was as quickly as possible. He would still be subtle, but he wouldn't waste time with idle talk. That way he could figure out the fastest way to get back home and find out what happened to his friends.

Another flash from his dream appeared in his mind.

And he promptly pushed it back into his subconscious. The fingers on his right hand twitched slightly.

"It's no problem. Though, I was hoping you could help me out."

"Huh?" The man raised a thin eyebrow. He finally had his full attention now. "Sure, what do you need?"

"I'm afraid I'm a little lost." He made sure to make his smile a tad bashful, rubbing his head to show a nervous tick he did not have. He was careful not to ruffle his golden hair too much. "I fell asleep on my bus, and before I knew it, I slept all the way to the last stop. So if you wouldn't mind telling me where exactly am I?"

"Oh, sure thing." He pointed with his thumb to somewhere down the street. When he squinted his eyes, he could partially see a street sign. "Right now you're on Zech street, which is right on the edge of the commercial district. I'm pretty sure there's another bus coming soon, so if you wait-."

"Actually, I was hoping you could be a bit more specific."

He could see the confusion engulfing the man's expression as he stared at him.

"I'm actually from out of town, and this if my first time in the city." He once again made his lips move into a shy smile. "I'm not really familiar with any of the surroundings, part of the reason why I'm lost. If it wouldn't be to much trouble, do you think you could give me a little more information about this city."

Pretending to be a tourist sounded like the easiest way to get more information. As a tourist, he wasn't expected to know anything about this city. So, he could ask questions that most would know without arousing too much suspicion. Of course, that all depended on the type of person who he was talking too. For all he knew, the man in front of him could be someone who hated tourist with every inch of his being.

Thankfully, it seemed like the man didn't mind the idea that he was a tourist. The black-haired man gave him a wide smile.

"No problem man. You took the time to visit the Kingdom of Vale, and as its citizen, I should at least give you some background."

He should have smiled. He had just found a man who was willing to tell him information about where he was. Someone who could perhaps ask for help on how to get back to his home.

But he didn't smile.

For the moment those words left the mouth, one thing stood out to him. One word that made him his thoughts pause.

Kingdom.

As far as he knew, there were very few kingdoms left in the world. As far as he knew, those kingdoms still existing did not have buildings designed like this.

He could feel cold dread once again slithering inside him, slowly beginning to engulf his stomach. He crushed that feeling before it could continue to grow. He would not lose to his fear again. His iron hold on his emotions would not break a second time.

But why was it that he suddenly felt scared, if only for a moment? Why did he suddenly feel hesitant about asking this man questions?

"Ah, hold on."

The man's words brought him out of his thoughts. From his back pocket, he pulled out... Some sort of device. It was small and silver, Two handles made of metal with something very thin connecting them together. He had never seen anything quite like it before.

"My names Obsidian by the way. Sorry I didn't say so before."

Obsidian pressed something on the back of handles. And in an instant, they expanded. He could see a translucent panel appear in-between the two handles as its length increased. A small yellow diamond was located near the left handle as the panel stopped expanding. The device was now too wide to hold in one hand, so Obsidian had to use both.

He found himself taking a step closer to the device.

"The Best way to learn more about the city is through visual aid."

He placed one finger on the panel.

And then a blue glow emanated from the center.

He once again took another step, making sure to keep his expression neutral.

For what he saw was... Surprising.

The panel was shining with a white light. Several strange icons, like the ones a person might find on a computer, appeared on the device. One icon looked like a tiny magnifying glass, the other a small world, and one icon looked like an envelope. Several more icons were scattered throughout the panel, but he didn't get a proper chance to view them for Obsidian pressed the world icon. In an instant, the other icons disappeared from the panel. The world icon now took up the whole length of the screen.

And then, it to disappeared as an image of a large city was the only thing left on the panel. The images of the building were dyed in a light blue, looking almost translucent. The buildings themselves came in all shapes and sizes, but the tallest one on the screen was a large, needle-like skyscraper.

He found himself unable to look away from the images.

"This is Vale in all its glory. I mean, not all its glory, no way an image on my Scroll could do that. But hopefully, it will provide... me...with..."

Obsidian was trailing off, the man's words had come to an abrupt halt. He wondered why Obsidian had suddenly stopped speaking. The man seemed enthusiastic about giving him an explanation about the city he was in, so why-.

He suddenly realized his face was only mere inches away from the strange device.

He blinked before he took a step back. Obsidian looked at him with a raised brow.

"You okay?" Obsidian asked.

"Fine," was his immediate answer. He then looked towards the strange device. "But...What is that?"

"What's what?"

He pointed a finger at the device in his hands.

"That."

Obsidian gave him a look. It was a perplexed expression. Disbelief slowly entered Obsidian's features, as if he could not comprehend what he had just asked. As if he was a strange creature that had just popped out of existence. Obsidian's eyes stared at him for a short while before they moved back to the device in his hands.

"You mean... My Scroll?"

"Yes."

The disbelief slowly turned to shock.

"You... Don't know what a Scroll is?"

He did not like the way that question was phrased. Obsidian made it sound like not knowing what a "Scroll" is was something equivalent to sacrilege. But why? He had never seen technology this advanced. Something like this he didn't even know existed until just now.

But the way Obsidian spoke...the man made it sound like it was something as common as water.

He chose his next words carefully.

"Is that surprising?"

He was missing something. Something that the man in front of him knew that he did not. Some sort of information that he needed to know if he did not want to stand out in this city.

"It's just... How have you not heard of Scrolls before? They're distributed across the world."

Were they? If that were the case, why hadn't he ever seen or heard of one?

He could feel a little voice inside his head whispering into his ear that this wasn't right. It was same voice that had always aided him through so many intense battles. Something was wrong. He was missing something very important right now. That "Scroll..." it represented some form of bigger problem. He didn't know what, but there was something strange going on right now.

His eyes that had been hardened by countless battles narrowed. He suddenly analyzed everything that had happened to him and tried to see if there was a linking factor connecting them. He could not come up with anything, but instincts that had been created after fighting for his life so many times were now awake. They told him that there was some connection, but what he did not know.

What was he missing?

"Where exactly are you from?"

Obsidians words brought him out of his thoughts.

"Italy." He answered quickly. He went back to his thought, trying to find the factor that-.

"Italy?"

The confusion in Obsidian's words immediately drew his attention.

"Yes, Italy."

He saw the perplexion on Obsidian's face expand. The confusion wrapped itself tightly around his features as he raised both eyebrows.

"What's Italy?"

...What?

He looked right into Obsidian's eyes. Keeping his expression neutral became a bit difficult.

"You've never heard of Italy?"

That was impossible. Everyone had at least heard of Italy. It was one of the most famous countries on the planet. A person would have to live under a rock or separate themselves from the rest of the world to not hear about his home.

The voice in his mind slowly became louder.

Something was wrong.

"Well, no. But, should I?"

"It's rather famous."

He did not want to say anything that might seem offensive. He needed to keep Obsidian talking. This man hadn't even realized that he was holding information that could help him understand the knowledge other people in this city had about his home.

For if he didn't know what Italy was, someone who for all intents and purposes seemed like the standard example of the people who lived here, then there was a chance that others had never heard of his home. If one person, someone who seemed fairly knowledgeable about the world around him if his knowledge about these "Scrolls" were anything to go by didn't know about his home, then there was a chance. A chance others would share his confusion. A chance that no had heard of Italy or any of its cities. He shouldn't even be considering that idea. That ridiculous thought shouldn't even be a possibility. It should be impossible.

But once again, he reminded himself that nothing was impossible in the strange world he lived in.

"Haven't any of your friends told you about it? Even in passing?"

"Can't say they have. Where exactly is it? Is it some city in Mistral or Atlas?"

"I have never heard of those places."

That was the wrong thing to say. Obsidian eyes widened and he took a step back. The man stared at him as if he was some sort of threat. As if he was dangerous and the man shouldn't be anywhere near him.

"Okay dude, you're starting to freak me out. You're not crazy are you?"

How was he crazy for not knowing every country in the world? Something was going on. There was some key piece of information that he did not have that instantly made the man in front of him wary. Important information that Obsidian believed everyone should know and those who didn't in his eyes were crazy.

But what was it?

He needed to continue this conversation. He needed to convince this man that he was perfectly sane and ease his worries. He had to get his answers now. With every second that passed, he could feel new questions forming in his mind; and these questions consumed every one of his thoughts. The frustration he felt from not being able to answer even a single one of them was slowly rising towards his heart.

His expression still had on the same stoic mask. But he could feel it beginning to slip, if only slightly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but something interrupted him.

Someone let out a loud curse. The voice was deep and rough, unpleasant to the ears in every way. Turning his head to the left, he saw that in the middle of the road about a hundred feet away was a man. The darkness that had only grown as the night progressed made it hard to see what he was wearing. Were it not for his earlier curse, he doubted he could even tell what gender the man was. But there was one thing he could make out through the shadows. Something that seemed to gleam from the distant lights of buildings standing tall on the horizon.

A white mask.

The man then ran. He disappeared as he crossed the street and went into an alley.

"Oh shit."

He turned around to see Obsidian looking at the spot the man had once occupied. Terror was enveloping ever inch of his face. Obsian was shaking, eyes glancing in every direction as if expecting something to come out from the darkness. Like he was expecting someone to come out from the shadows and attack him.

"I-I'm sorry, but I-I can't stay here. Get someone else to help you.

"Wait-."

"I ain't dealing with the White Fang!"

He ran. Obsidian was absolutely terrified; he never looked back as he turned a corner and disappeared.

...What was going on?

He let out a breath and closed his eyes. He had only gotten more questions then answers from his conversation.

He focused on the few things he had learned from his conversation with the black haired man. He was in a Kingdom called Vale. There was technology here the likes of which he had never seen before here, even though the man claimed it was distributed worldwide. And apparently, not knowing what "Mistral" or "Atlas" was is something unheard of.

And, the man in the white mask was someone who belonged to a group called "The White Fang." And whoever they were, one thing was certain.

They were dangerous.

He tried to process what all this new information meant. Why was it he had never heard of a Kingdom with such advance technology? How was it that a man had never heard of Italy?

There was something he was missing. Something that bothered him to no ends.

He could once again hear a voice talking into his ear. It told him the same thing, that there was something he wasn't seeing. Something that could be detrimental to getting back home.

Another image of his dream flashed in front of him. This one of his friends lying dead in their own blood.

His right hand twitched. He stared at it for a moment. He did not like how his composure was faltering. Even if it was barely noticeable to most, he did not like how his body refused to listen to him and maintain its stoic front. He did not like how easily fear slithered out of his grasp on his emotions. It was just a dream. Nothing more, nothing less.

That was it. Just a dream.

They couldn't be...

He clenched his twitching hand into a fist. He let out another breath and looked around at the buildings. He needed to gather more information, and perhaps find a place to sleep. It was getting late. While the moon had yet to rise, darkness had already blanketed a large portion of the city. He was thankful he still had his wallet. He should have enough for a night at a hotel.

So he started to walk.

He was not sure how long he walked through the city. All he knew was that no one was out. He had yet to see another person walking down the streets. He had yet to see even a car traveling down the many roads he walked through. He had expected to see at least some people wandering the roads. In cities like these, with crowded buildings that probably held a lot of people, the nightlife was usually far busier.

It didn't take him long to figure out why the streets were so desolate. From Obsidian's reaction to that man with the white mask, he knew what was the cause for so few people being out at night.

Gangs.

Just like back home.

It was nice to see that other places had the same problem. Comforting to know his home wasn't the only place dealing with organized crime and murder.

The only thing missing was some heroin addict collapsing in the middle of the road. Then this place would truly be like his home.

He made sure to stick to the shadows of the buildings. He constantly glanced behind him and to the side to make sure no one was watching or following him. He would not get ambushed by either a Stand user or a "Fang" member.

Even with his powers, he would not lower his guard.

And as he continued to walk through block after block, street after street, he saw something.

He had no idea what exactly it was, but the first thing he noticed about it was the sound it brought. His ears could hear the air being sliced into a thousand pieces as it approached. Before he could even see it, the noise it brought deafened all other sounds around him. It was a mechanical noise. A sound that was more fitting for heavy machinery at a factory. And the noise only grew with each second that passed.

And then he got a better look at it as it flew in the sky.

It was mechanical. That much he could tell from the black plates that made up its body shining from the lights of the city underneath. It was also massive; the sky itself was blocked from his view with just its underbelly. The main body looked similar to that of a fighter jet, only bulkier and with the nose being more rounded. What he could only assume were two enormous engines were connected to the main hull by large, metallic girders. Two lights were shining from its face down onto the streets below. He took several steps back to avoid the lights from hitting him.

And just as quickly as the enormous aircraft had come, it just as quickly flew out of sight.

Leaving him staring at the space it had just occupied.

...Where was he?

The voice in his mind was unleashing a glass-shattering wail. This whole situation he was in was more than just wrong.

Where on earth was he? Where on earth was there such advanced technology that for some reason he had never heard of before? Where on earth was he that such a massive aircraft could nonchalantly fly so low to a city without dozens of people looking at it in awe?

He could feel his lips moving into a tight frown as his eyes narrowed.

What kind of people has never heard of one of the most famous countries on the planet?

Whatever he was missing he knew now it was far closer than he first thought. Whatever key piece of information he needed he knew was now laughing at his incompetence for having yet to figure out the mystery of this place. He knew it something obvious, something he perhaps had yet to properly analyze, but what was it?

He thought back to the name of this place. The Kingdom of Vale. Why had he never heard of such a place before? A place with technology that was supposedly distributed around the world he should have at least heard once in his life.

He placed a hand underneath his chin.

And what exactly were those other places Obsidian had mentioned? Atlas and Mistral, he believed the man has said. Why exactly did he expect him to know what they were? The black haired man had obviously expected those names to mean something important to him, but why?

He glanced to the sky. He saw the stars, the black veil of the night.

But he did not see the moon.

It should have risen by now. Perhaps he was looking in the wrong dir-

And then he felt something.

With his ability, he could sense life around him. It was limited to a small distance, but he could feel the energy from other living things. From small plants to other people, he could feel their life energy suffuse into his own body. His mind could then tell where exactly that energy came from, and even what kind of organism it was.

And the energy he felt right now confused him.

For it was an energy unlike any he had felt before. It was warm, yet at the same time was surprisingly vicious. It was like the energy was trying to chomp at him with teeth it did not have. It was pulsating; he could hear the strong beats of life imbued into every part of itself ring throughout his body. And underneath those powerful pulses, he could also feel something... Fluffy?

Yes, definitely fluffy. Almost like fur.

The energy he felt right now almost seemed like a combination between man and anima-

"Move!"

He was so distracted by the peculiar energy that he had not noticed the owner of said energy was rapidly approaching him from behind. When he felt something grab onto his shoulder with a somewhat painful amount of force, it had brought him back onto the dark streets of the strange city.

And once he was back in reality, he reacted.

Without even turning around to face whoever was behind him, he thrust his elbow backward. He felt his strike hit solid bone as the person behind him let out a shout. He had hit their chest, most likely near their ribs. He then brought the same arm upward at rapid speeds, the back of his fist hitting what felt like a nose.

He heard something hit the floor behind him. Turning around, he saw that he was standing right in front of the mouth of another alley. And he also saw just who had almost collided with him.

It was a man, perhaps the same age as him, perhaps older. It was a bit hard to tell with all the filth covering his body. His clothes had been ripped to shreds, with all the dirt covering them he could not even make out what color his pants or shirt was. Messy brown hair that had been neglected for some time partially covered his black eyes.

The man clutched at his nose with one hand as he could see a bit of blood dripping down from under his fingers. He realized that he had overreacted. He had been incredibly tense due to trying to figure out where he was and what was wrong with this city that his body had moved on its own. He had reacted as if he were under attack, but by the man's appearance, he could tell that he could not have been more wrong. The man on the floor looked exhausted; he looked like he had gone days without rest. The man's back laid against the wall of the alley as he shakily tried to get back up before sliding back down to the floor. The way the man's breaths came out in gasps told him that he was in pain. And not just from the blows the man had just been hit with.

He took a step and knelt down right in front of the man.

"I apologize, let me help-."

He leaned his head back to avoid a right hook.

"Get the hell away from me!" The man shouted.

"I know you're angry, but please don't move. Your hurt and you need help."

He tilted his head to the right to avoid a punch aimed for his nose. Despite his state, he noticed the man could still throw somewhat fast punches.

"You really should stop wasting your energy." His eyes scanned the man's body again and saw that he had several cuts and bruises hiding underneath the rips in his shirt. And underneath his hair, he thought he saw something... Twitching.

"Piss off!" He could see the anger rising within the man's eyes. Perhaps had he not accidentally hit him, he would have obliged the man's request. But since he had struck the man, he felt at least somewhat responsible. Whether this man wanted it or not, he would help him. He would repair the damage he had caused and then leave.

At least he would have.

A bang echoed throughout the alley. And the man's side erupted in blood.

The man screamed just as his body was sent skidding across the dirty concrete ground. He could see tears spilling from the man's eyes as the man continued to howl.

He turned his head to the other side of the alley and saw what had caused this man's pain.

A man in a white mask.

He held a gun that was pointed towards the now screaming man on the ground. The mask he wore was gray and had two sets of separate eyeslits that hid the color and shape of his eyes, but did expose his light brown skin. The mask covered his entire forehead and parts of his cheekbones, curving around his nose which gave it an angular shape. He also had on a sleeveless white vest, a sleeveless black sweater with the hood pulled over his head and black pants. Black fingerless gloves embellished his hands, and his feet wore combat boots with what looked like metal guards attached to the shins.

The gun in his hands looked like a pistol, and from the barrel, smoke rose into the air. It was painted a gray with red streaks that curved around the handle. It was larger than most pistols he had seen, at least twice the size of the man's hand.

When the man in the white mask spoke, he recognized the voice. It was the same gruff and grating noise that he had heard when he was talking to Obsidian.

"Well, how about that?" With the gun still pointed towards the bleeding man, he took a few steps forward. "A human actually helped me catch your sorry ass? Talk about ironic, right, Maroon?"

Maroon did not respond. He continued to shout in pain as he clutched his wound with both hands. Blood now covered every inch of his hands as it began to pool on the dirty floor.

He was still on one knee as his eyes stared at the man in the white mask. He scanned every detail of the man's body. He only appeared to have one weapon, the gun. He was muscular, far more so than him, but aside from that, there was nothing. For aside from his physique and weapon, there was nothing that could even be remotely considered a threat to him. There was nothing that the man had that could hurt him even slightly.

"Alright boys and girls, let's finish this traitor."

Several more men, each in the same outfit and wearing the same mask as the muscular man, entered the alley. In total there was now seven people standing in the alley, each new member standing behind the brawny man in a line.

"What about him, sir?" He heard one of the members ask. He knew instantly they were referring to him. While he could not see their eyes, he could tell behind their mask they were glaring at him. Their muscles tensed as several of them placed their hands on holsters that held a variety of weapons.

He still had yet to move. His stoic expression remained the same. Blue eyes were still narrowed and gave no hints as to what he was thinking. He stared at the group of uniformed men and examined every one of them.

Some were tall and slim, while others were slightly shorter but still fairly tall. Some had pale white skin while others had far darker skin colors. Some of them had the same type of pistol holstered to their legs while others held... Katanas? Or, at the very least, some kind of sword was sheathed to certain members' backs.

He could take them. None of them were any real threats. It would be easy for him to kill each and every one of them should they try something.

But he still remained on one knee on the floor. He still only watched the group talk amongst themselves as the Maroon continued to thrash in pain.

"Oh, right." The bulky man, who seemed to be their leader, pointed a finger at him. He placed his pistol back into the holster by his knee. "Hey, Human! Since you helped us out, I'm gonna give you a once in a lifetime pass. Run along back to your shitty parents and leave this fucker to us." He smiled. The man's expression promised that should he leave, Maroon would suffer. That the injured man on the floor would be given a punishment worse than death the moment he walked out of the alley.

Slowly, he stood up. He glanced from Maroon and back to the group not that far from him.

"Hey, you're not seriously thinking about staying are you?"

He gave no reply. He did not even blink as his eyes stared at the group of men.

"Because, if you are, well, I can guarantee me and my boys from the White Fang won't exactly appreciate your decision."

He remembered the terror he saw on Obsidians face before he fled. The only reason he had yet to move was because he had to consider what that fact meant. If he killed these men, then there would be consequences.

It was obvious these "Fang" people held some sort of power over this city. Just the mere sight of one had sent a grown man fleeing like a child. He had never heard of the "White Fang" before, but then again, there was a lot of things he hadn't know existed before this day.

And while that bothered him, despite his efforts to lock away his emotions, he had more important matters to focus on.

The only reason he did not act was that he did not want anything to hinder his quest to get home. He could see what would happen should he turn these men to corpses. There was no way whoever was in charge of their group would let this stand. They would not let anyone dare even think about rising against their gang. They would hunt down whoever killed their men with ruthless efficiency.

Just like what Passione would do.

There was no one in this entire city who could pose a real threat to him. Not with his powers. And not with his skills. He doubted that should he kill these unfortunate fools, their leader would be unable to find out who exactly had ended them.

But still, killing these people would lead to undesired complications.

If their leader was smart, they would probably lock down any methods of transportation one could use to escape this city. They would make sure that the murderer of their men could not leave the area unless it was in a body bag. That would delay him. And he needed to get back to his home as quickly as possible. He needed to find out what had happened after he had defeated Diavolo. There was a chance that their deaths would go unnoticed by whoever ran their organization. But he considered that possibility very slim. Leaving the bleeding man behind to die would be the smart choice. It was the best option if he wanted to avoid complicating his situation. He did not have to help Maroon; he did not even know the man. Maroon had made the choices that led him to this point.

He turned and looked at Maroon's dirty face.

Tears spilled from his eyes as he stared right into his. Trembling hands no longer held his bleeding wounds and freely allowed his blood to pool along the floor.

The man had given up.

Maroon thought he was going to die. He thought that this would be where his life would end. In a dirty alley most likely tortured before finally succumbing to his pain.

He could see the sorrow engulfing the man's face. He could almost feel the melancholy that gripped at this man's very soul. His sadness was an almost tangible thing. It filled the alley as with each moment it became more cold and bitter. It kept telling Maroon that these walls would be the last thing he would ever see.

Yet his eyes... They held no emotion whatsoever. Despite the sorrow drenching every inch of his face, his eyes were hollow.

The only thing he could see in the man's eyes was a void.

It was the look of the man who thought that life was nothing but hell.

...It was a look he had so long ago. A look he could never forget.

He let out a sigh.

And then turned and began to walk towards the group.

He did not have to turn around to know that Maroon's eyes were now on his back.

"Is he serious?"

"He can't be this stupid."

"Holy shit he's really doing this."

He heard comments like these being whispered or even shouted amongst the group of men. Some were laughing. Others hands were pulling their weapons from their scabbards or holsters.

The bulky leader was one of the men who laughed.

"Are you fucking serious!? Do you have any idea what your about to do?"

He was about fifteen feet away from the group now.

"Do you have a death wish or something?!"

His pace did not change. Ten feet away now.

"Do you really want-."

"Shut. Up. And. Listen."

He stopped walking.

No one made a sound the moment the words left his lips. The bulky man had stopped laughing.

"One chance."

He could feel it. The malice that always waited and always bided its time inside his mind had finally been released. He channeled it into the air. He used it as a weapon to make these fools see just what they were dealing with. Used it to make these idiots understand that he was the one in control now.

He saw one man was now shaking.

"That's all I am giving you. One chance."

He knew these fools could feel the sharpness of his words. He used the commanding edge of his voice to make them see he was in no mood for their jeers. That he was only one step away from making his move.

"One chance to get out of here. Once chance to leave this man alone and never bother him again."

His eyes were cold.

"One chance to live."

Several men took a step back. He allowed his icy hatred to twist his face into a frightening frown. He could see his malevolence taking shape and dragging these fools back into the abyss it was born from.

Truly, his wrath was a cruel, dark creature.

"So go back to whatever filthy excuse you call a mother, go suck on her teat for the rest of the night, and pretend this never happened."

He took a single step forward. They all drew their weapons, pointing them at him with shaky arms.

The bulky man was the only one who didn't.

"That is your only option."

He could see they were sweating. He could see the way his malice gripped at their hearts. But he would not let his animosity strike just yet. Instead, he waited. Waited for the inevitable. Waited for the moment these fools would make the mistake he had seen so many others make in the past.

The perfect opportunity to show them that there was no escape.

The bulky man's lips moved into a sneer. He took a step forward as he drew his weapon again and pointed it right at the center of his head.

There it was.

"And just what the hell makes you think you can take us by yourself?"

He almost smiled.

"Who said I was alone?"

An aura enveloped him.

The air in front of him glimmered.

And a golden fist struck the bulky man's face with enough force to snap his head in the opposite direction.

The sound of bones breaking echoed through the alley.

And then the man fell with a bloody gurgle.

And he could see his malice shredding what was left of these fools' hope.

He grinned. He then looked at what had just killed the bulky man.

His grin fell.

And his mask shattered. Emotionless features now gave way to widened eyes and an open mouth.

What. The. Hell.

Its skin was as yellow as the sun. Its figure like a human yet so different; Toned muscles evident on every inch of its body. Eyes green and helmet-shaped. Its head in the shape of a helmet a soldier would wear into battle. The upper parts of its chest and arms wore armor that was a darker shade of yellow than its skin. Equally yellow shin guards covered its legs. Wings emblems were attached to the back of its shoulders. Light green ladybug brooches similar to his own were scattered along its body.

It floated in the air as it slowly pulled back its fist before crossing its arms in front of its chest.

Golden. That was the only word he could ever come up with to describe what the being before him emitted. An otherworldly glow that shines brighter than any diamond could ever hope to match. A glimmer that suffused itself into every part of its body. A bright aura of yellow that gave him a sense of ease.

Golden was the perfect word to describe this being. For it held a strength no one else could copy. For it made those around it know that it was a higher being come to deliver pain to anyone he had deemed foul enough to deserve such punishment.

It was a golden warrior that had been by his side for so long.

It was his trusted partner. Gold Experience.

But the reason why he was shocked, the reason he felt his breath hitch in his throat... Was because it was gone.

Its most powerful form was gone.

What had happened to the power that had allowed him to beat Diavolo? Why could he not feel even a hint of the unimaginable strength that had given that bastard a fate worse than death?

What the hell happened to its Requiem?

And then he remembered something. Something that had happened after beating Diavolo.

And his mind was set ablaze by a fiery agony.

"GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

He collapsed onto his knees as he gripped his head. Eyes were wide not from shock, but from an unholy torture enveloping his body. He felt like every nerve was suddenly being pierced. Every muscle was suddenly on fire as he continued to scream.

And then he heard them.

"Why are you -?!"

"What the hell-?!"

"How is this poss-?!"

"I'll kill you, you son of a-?!"

"Get away from-!?"

"GIORNO!?"

Voices suddenly screamed inside his mind. Voices that sounded like his friends, but distorted. Voices that radiated so much pain and fear he could feel it enter his body and drench his soul. And these voices only grew with each passing second. They overlapped with one another, making it impossible to tell which voice belonged to who. He could no longer understand what was being said, but that did not matter. For he could still feel the agony blazing through every fiber of his being. It was like being swallowed by pillars of flames that would never be extinguished. They burned his body in ways he never thought possible before. The pain in his head somehow stood out amongst his agony. He felt every thought began to melt from the intense fire. He was sure that should this continue, his very brain would-.

There was the sound of metal breaking.

And he remembered where he was.

He looked up. Gold Experience stood before him. In its hands were the broken pieces of a katana.

And in front of his Stand, was a slim, pale man. The man was shaking, arms holding the handle of his now broken weapon as he took a step back.

The pain faded from his body as he shakily stood back up. Sweat dripped from his face as he took in long breaths.

And when he stopped shaking, his entire focus was back on the fools in front of him.

Cold eyes glared at the cowering men.

"Go."

With that one word, his partner moved.

"MUDA!"

Gold Experience flew through the air. In an instant, it was right in front of the man with the broken sword before it struck him with a right hook to his cheek.

The man was sent flying. His mask cracked as he was sent spiraling through the air. He crashed face first into the wall of the alley, and he could hear the man's skull breaking on impact. Blood leaked from the man's head and painted the wall as his lifeless body slumped to the floor. Gold Experience moved back to him, now standing to his left.

Five men were left.

They did not so much as breathe. All they could do was stand motionless. All they could do was let their terror paralyze every part of their bodies. All they could do was stare at his Stand. He could see the horror on their faces slither and mangle their expressions. They couldn't even think straight right now. Most likely too busy listening to their heart hammering against their ribs to even-.

Wait.

They were staring...at his Stand.

Not near his Stand. Not in the general area of his Stand. No, these men were looking right into Gold Experience's eyes as it floated only inches away from him.

They could see it.

How?

They weren't Stand users. They would have used their Stands by now if they were.

He could hear the echoes of the voices from before. He clutched his head with his hand as pain arose in his mind; it was less than before though, and that allowed him to think. It allowed his mind to replay all the strange events that had happened to him today. All the frustrating information he had learned reappeared right in front of his eyes. He remembered how everything about this city disturbed him slightly. He remembered how nothing about this entire situation made any sense.

Just what the hell happened to him while-

"AHHHHHHHH!"

One of them broke away from the rest, a tall and lanky man with tattoos on his arms. He ran forward, both hands taking his katana out of its scabbard as he raised it high above his head.

He did not move as the man charged forward.

At the base of every animal, there was one thing hard-wired into their bodies. Should they ever find themselves in a dangerous, this instinct would activate in less than second. Should they ever be terrified beyond words, a primal thought would appear in their minds.

It was a choice.

To either run away or fight.

He saw the fear wrapping around the man's body as he shouted his terrified war cry. His grip on the sword practically broke the handle as the man brought it down towards him.

The man had chosen to fight.

Of course, either choice the man had made would have resulted in the same thing.

"Aim for his head."

Gold Experience disappeared from his sight. When it reappeared, it had already shattered the sword with one swift jab just before the katana could even get close to him, pieces of broken metal falling through the air. And just before they could hit the dirty floor, his Stand moved the same arm it used to destroy the sword higher into the air before smashing it down right on the center of the fool's head.

The man's face hit the concrete with an audible boom. The cracks that formed from the impact stretched across the concrete. The man's head bounced off the ground as blood leaked from underneath his cracked mask.

He then fell back to the ground face first. Blood began to pool around his body.

Four left.

They all screamed. One of them fell on his ass as he trembled. The other three pulled out their pistols and started firing. Gunshots echoed throughout the alley, but their screams were even louder than the rapid fire of their weapons. They did not aim for his Stand, but instead at him. He would admit that given the situation, that was the smart move to make.

But still...

Gold Experience moved in front of him in an instant. The bullets bounced off its body without leaving so much as a scratch. Its green eyes looked right at the horrified fools in front of it and its partner.

This was all...

Gold Experience began to walk forward. He followed his Stand, calmly walking behind it as the men continued to fire. The bullets continued to bounce harmlessly off of his Stand's body, but the fools did not stop. He could see the terror thoroughly drenching their souls slip out of their bodies. It permeated throughout the air as their horror killed what was left of their self-control. Tears slipped from behind their mask. They trembled so badly it affected their aim, and some of the bullets missed his Stand entirely. With each step he took their screams grew louder. He wouldn't be surprised if nearby glass began to crack from the volume of their cries.

Absolutely...

They ran out of bullets. And when they did, Gold Experience was already standing in front of them. Its golden form could not have been more menacing to the four cowering fools in front of it. Their terror let them know what his Stand was about to do. The malevolence he had summoned was laughing at them, and with a grin, it told them exactly what would become of them. His hatred that destroyed their will could not have made it clearer as to what was about to happen.

That they were about to die.

"Useless." He muttered.

And then his Stand shouted the last thing these fools would ever hear.

"WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Its scream was more demented than usual.

The one who was trembling on the floor was first. Gold Experience jumped forward as it launched its attack. Its arm was a blur of yellow before its hand landed right on the whimpering idiot's trachea. His Stand then gripped the fool's throat as hard as it could. Bone protruded from the fool's skin the moment Gold Experience grip tightened, blood sprouting from the new holes in the man's neck. Coughing a glob of blood right onto Gold Experience's torso, the man fell onto the ground.

His Stand then moved to its next victims. At speeds no one could follow, it had grabbed two of the fools' heads with both hands before slamming them down onto the concrete. The back of their heads erupted in blood and there was a twin set of short screams.

And by the time the screams faded, Gold Experience moved to the last man standing.

He never got a chance to scream. Before he could open his mouth, before he could even contemplate running, Gold Experience threw a punch, and its fist pierced through the man's gut with ease. He heard the sounds of bones breaking as his partner's fist protruded from the last fool's back.

Confusion enveloped the man's features. He could tell the man was trying to figure out why he couldn't move. The last bits of his mind that still functioned tried desperately to understand why he couldn't even breathe.

The man then looked down and saw his Stand's fist piercing his body.

The last of the Fang gave out a shrill gasp, and then he was quiet.

Gold Experience disappeared from reality. With nothing left to hold the man up, he fell to the ground alongside the other three corpses.

He let out a sigh. He examined the bodies scatter along the alley. He almost expected the corpses to get back up and fight. He remembered all the battles where he and his friends thought they had one only for the enemy to pull out one last trick in an attempt to win.

But these fools weren't like the enemies of his past. He had killed them, and there were no chances of them getting back up.

He walked back towards Maroon. Surprisingly, he did not see any fear on the man's face as he approached him. Instead, there was only disbelief in his eyes. Disbelief that someone had beaten the White Fang so brutally. That the man was still alive and breathing when he had only moments ago imagined every way he could die.

When he was in front of Maroon, he kneeled down as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and held it out in front of Maroon's eyes.

"Please bite down on this."

The man complied without a word. Teeth sank into leather as his aura once again emerged from within his body.

"This is going to hurt a little."

That was a lie.

Gold Experience appeared by his side. Maroon did not even spare a glance at his Stand. Instead, he chose to stare right at his face.

"Bite down as hard as you can."

Gold Experience moved with immense speed. In less than a second, it had removed the bullet sticking out of Maroon's flesh as it used its other arm to grab a stray piece of jagged gravel. When the bullet was removed, his Stand placed the gravel right into the wound the bullet had just come out of.

Maroon let out a muffled scream as tears once again formed in the corner of his eyes.

The piece of gravel glowed a bright a yellow the moment it entered his skin. Its black skin seemed to dissolve and from underneath it came human flesh. The gravel began to morph into new patches of skin that glowed the same yellow color as his aura. The wounded flesh seemed to stitch itself back together. After a moment the wound was gone and the bleeding had stopped completely.

He took his wallet out Maroon's mouth and placed it back in his pocket.

"That should-."

He didn't finish.

For he found himself suddenly being hugged.

"Thank you." Maroon was sniffling into his shoulder. The amount of gratitude in his voice was staggering. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

He kept repeating the same words over and over again. His grip grew tighter as he could feel tears beginning to stain his clothing. The disbelief on his face turned to awe. It was obvious that what he did had struck something inside Maroon. The man was now incredibly thankful not only to the person who had defeated these Fang members, but also because he had stood up for him specifically. Even though it would have been easier to leave, he had stayed. He had fought on Maroon's behalf and risked his very life for a stranger.

It was probably the first time anyone has ever done such a thing for him.

He glanced to the floor. He...was not used to these situations. He could count the number of times he had been hugged on one hand. He could charm any person he met with but a few words. He could inspire confidence in others with rousing speeches. With just a look, he could make men freeze on the spot and regret every decision they had ever made in life.

But hugging?

Hugging was something he wasn't good at.

So, not entirely comfortable but knowing it would be appropriate to return the hug in some way, he slowly raised his right arm.

And then he patted Maroon on the back of the head.

And after a short moment, he gave Maroon another tap to the head.

Eventually, after several more seconds, Maroon let him go. He was relieved, it had been somewhat difficult to not show his growing unease on his composed expression.

"Thank you."

"You do not need to thank me."

He stood up, and as he did so he extended a hand to the still sitting Maroon.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah. Whatever you did just healed my wound."

Healed wasn't the right word for what he did, but he did not see a need to correct the man. Maroon took his hand as he slowly rose to his feet. He noticed that the rings under his eyes were far darker now than before. Gold Experience might have repaired his bullet wound, but it did not take care of his exhaustion. If anything, it probably made the man feel even more tired than before.

And as Maroon stood, he also noticed something moving on his head.

"I thought I was dead."

Something was twitching within his dirty hair. He remembered how he saw the same thing earlier before the fight.

"I really thought..."

His curiosity had gotten the better of him. Once Maroon stood up, he slowly moved his arm towards his head where the source of the twitching was.

"I got worried when you started screaming. But then you killed them in seconds." He heard Maroon let out a few heavy breaths. He could tell the man was struggling to regain his strength.

And as Maroon trailed off to catch his breath, his hand had just grabbed the source of the twitching.

"I can't-OW!"

When he found the source of the twitching, the first thing he noticed was how it felt rather...Soft. He had thought there to be some kind of bug in his hair, so he not expected to find something so fluffy.

And when he pulled out whatever object he had just grasped into the open, he saw exactly what it was.

A wolf ear.

Not some fake ear a cosplayer might wear, but a genuine ear physically attached to his head. It had been hidden by his messy hair, but by pulling it the upper half of it was exposed to the world.

And by pulling the ear, another wolf ear quickly emerged from his hair. Pulling on the ear also apparently caused Maroon great pain. The man took a step away from him as he brought both hands up to his ears.

"Shit that hurt!" Maroon turned to look at him. "What did you do that-?"

Maroon paused, and the man gave him a strange look.

He knew why, of course.

He tried to suppress it, but he felt his confusion expanding inside him and slithering onto his face. He could feel it wrap around his features as his frown got just the tiniest bit deeper. He tried to morph his features back into their usual calm expression, but his confusion was too great to seal away.

And his perplexion was obvious to the man in front of him. A man who was currently giving him a look similar to the one Obsidian gave him before he called him crazy.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." He responded, making sure not to answer too quickly. "I'm just..."

He trailed off, not sure how to ask his question. He picked his next words very carefully. He could not have a repeat of what happened to the last man he tried talking too. There was a chance he could gain some information from Maroon.

"Are you a User?"

Those were the only words he could come up with. Maroon being a Stand user was only explanation he could think that would explain the wolf ears.

"A user?"

Confusion was evident in Maroon's voice.

"Yes. Like me."

"Like you?"

He saw Maroon's confusion grow as the man tried to figure out the meaning of his words, but they seemed lost to him.

Then, something seemed to click in Maroon's mind.

"O-Oh, you mean are my ears a part of a Semblance.

Semblance?

"These ears are just part of who I am. They're what make me a Faunus."

Faunus? Like the God?

"I don't have a Semblance. Heck, I don't even have my Aura unlocked like you do."

What did having your "aura unlocked" mean?

"I'm just a regular Faunus. Not a Huntsman like you."

What the hell was a Huntsman?

"I see."

No, he didn't.

He kept his voice in the same emotionless tone as before. He was able to reclaim control of his features as he placed his stoic mask back into place. His eyes were once again calm and showed nothing.

Even though all he could feel was a rush of confusion and frustration enveloping him from within.

What was wrong with this place? Why was it that people kept spouting terms and names at it like he was supposed to automatically know what they meant? Why could the men he just killed see his Stand? Why could Maroon see Gold Experience if he wasn't even a User?

He resisted the urge to gnash his teeth together.

Once again he thought back to everything that had happened since he woke up. The voice in his mind kept reminding him that he was missing something, and it was something that he should have figured out by now. What was it about this place that bothered him so much? Why did it feel like he knew the answer even though he couldn't put into words?

He looked back towards the corpses of the White Fang. He noticed something he hadn't before in the middle of his fight. The ones who had their mask cracked, as in the ones whose head had slammed to the concrete, had rather animalistic features. Some of them had cat-like eyes while others had teeth that were far sharper than the average human.

Were these people also Faunus? They had animal qualities to them, just like Maroon, but he couldn't assume anything yet. He was surprised he hadn't noticed their features before. He supposed it was thanks to the light shining down into the alley. It wasn't a light from a nearby building. It was far more natural. While It was a little dim, it did fill the alley with a white glow.

He looked up to see what the source was.

And saw it was the moon.

He then stopped breathing.

And suddenly he had answers to a majority to his question.

The reason why he had never heard of Vale before? Why this place had technology he had never seen before? Why everyone sprouted terms as if they were common knowledge everyone should know?

Simple.

It hadn't existed until just now.

He was trembling. Fear swallowed his soul and completely engulfed his body. All he could see were shadows. They surrounded him, slithered into his body and made his dread all the more powerful.

No, that wasn't right. It would be more accurate to say that he hadn't existed in this place until just a few hours ago.

He collapsed to his knees. All sound around him faded to a static like noise as he stared at the ground. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream. An illusion. Maybe a trick by some Stand user to try and make him fall into despair. To engulf every fiber of his being in dread.

Except that the voice in his head was now quiet.

And the reason for that was because he had solved the mystery. He had finally found his answer.

No.

This couldn't... This shouldn't be...

No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no! NO! NO! NO! NO!

"Hey, you okay?!"

He was sweating so badly that a small pool had already formed near his hands. His heart slammed so fiercely against his ribs he thought it might break them. The fear inside his body was now massive; it flooded and strangled every one of his sense as he was helpless to stop it.

"Hey! Crap, what's wrong man?!"

What was wrong?! He would tell you what was wrong!?

He looked up back into the black sky.

The moon was in fucking pieces!

In the sky surrounded by the black shroud of the night, the moon was like a beacon. A broken, shattered, beacon that still continued to do its job despite the damage it had suffered. Chunks of the moon, some big and some small, some wide others short, had been broken off from the celestial sphere. The pieces floated so close to their former body that he could almost see the full shape of the sphere. To him, they looked like broken pieces of a puzzle that desperately needed to be put back together.

"Seriously, what's-?"

"What is the name of this place?"

Maroon stopped talking. He could hear the anger burning in his voice. Flames resided inside each of his words, becoming all the more searing with each syllable that left his lips.

Maroon had yet to answer.

"What is the name of this place!?"

The fury in his voice burned itself into the very air around them.

Maroon looked like he was once again thrust into another hopeless situation. As if he was facing off against death itself.

And by God, he had every right to believe that.

"Va-Vale. This is Va-"

"No. Not the city."

He knew his gaze, despite his wrath, was freezing. Despite the rage burning throughout his body, his eyes were unfeeling. Despite the fury making every muscle in his body shake, he knew his expression was frigid.

Even when he was so angry, he knew his features were cold.

And that right now, those features made him look like an absolute demon.

"I. Mean. The. Planet."

Maroon took a step back. The man could see his anger, and he knew what would happen should he do anything stupid. The terror he saw in his eyes for just a moment satisfied his rage.

"Re...Remnant."

The rage left his body.

And he felt sorrow take its place.

He was hoping he had been mistaken. No, he needed to be mistaken. If he was right then that would mean... That would mean...

That his home was gone.

And that it meant he would never see his friends again.

But he was right... He was in another fucking world.

The sorrow within him clutched at his heart. He could feel it embed itself into every breath he released, every twitch, and especially his thoughts. He could see his friends, all of them. Could see them move farther and farther away from him from each second until finally, they faded into nothing.

Damn it.

After finally beating Diavolo, this happens. Somehow, he had been transported to another world.

Damn it!

Why? Why did this happen? How was it possible? Why the fuck couldn't he remember anything?!

GOD DAMN IT!

He did not know when, but at some point, his body had moved on its own and he was now standing. He looked down at his hands and wondered what was he supposed to do now.

He came up with nothing.

For once he had no idea how to move forward. He had no plan to act out. No way of accomplishing his dream that he had strived so long for.

For the first time, he felt... Lost.

His entire purpose had just died in the span of a few seconds. His very will had just been destroyed, something that he had thought was unbreakable was now in a million fragile pieces. His resolve that had guided him through so many battles had just been extinguished. The fire that had always burned within his soul was no more.

God fucking damn it...

"Hey man... Are you okay?"

He slowly turned his head towards Maroon. He could feel how heavy his eyes were now. He could feel his melancholy sinking itself into every part of his expression.

He tried to put back on his stoic mask, tried to lock away his sadness, but his sorrow shattered every and any attempt to lock it away.

So he looked at Maroon with tired, sorrowful eyes. Not even caring that he looked so pitiful to the man in front of him.

"No."

He hated how quiet his voice was. Hated the remorse that secreted from his lips.

"Do... Do you need help?"

Yes. But he doubted anyone could provide him with the help he needed. There was really nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Nothing...just like he was before. Nothing. Just less than a speck of dirt. Just someone that could do nothing to change the world he lived in. Someone who couldn't change his reality.

Nothing. Just absolutely use-.

Before his eyes, he could see everything.

All the hardships he went through.

All the times when by all means he should have given up but didn't.

All the times where he should have died but kept on getting up.

And then, amidst the flashes of every struggle he had gone through in life, both supernatural and normal...he saw him. The man who inspired him. The man who he had wanted to be. The man who he owed everything to.

For a moment, he could hear a voice. His voice. That smooth and calming tightness that accompanied his every word. That rough and echoing voice that reached to the bottom of his soul.

Do you truly have what it takes?

He would always remember those words. Always.

As if slapped, he felt his eyes widen.

What was he thinking? He couldn't allow his misery to make him act like a fool. He was in an entirely new world. He had no idea how anything here worked.

He needed information.

And this man could provide it for him.

Within him, he picked up the shards of his resolve and began to put them back together. He refused to let this be where his journey would end. He refused to think that after everything he had been through, he would never accomplish the dream because of something as simple as being transported to a new world.

Do you truly have what it takes?

His conviction was made of steel. His determination was a fire that would never be smothered. He would not let despair strangle his heart any longer. Any sorrow left in his body had been crushed underneath the weight of his resolve. Any misery still swallowing his stomach had just been slaughtered by his determination that was ruthless to anything in its path.

He was a man who had finally found people he could call friends.

Like hell he was just going to sit in an alley and wallow in his own sadness.

He would get back to his world at some point. He would find his friends again.

That was a God damn promise.

And right now, he had to take steps to ensure he would not die in this new world.

"Yes. I... I'm sorry for getting so angry at you before."

He did not have the same emotionless expression as before. In its place was a face brimming with worry. He could feel the nervousness pooling in his eyes, and he knew Maroon could see it as clear as day.

He pointed at the corpses behind him.

"It has been... A long day for me. And killing these men has not exactly helped make it any better."

He mustered up every ounce of regret within him and poured it into his expression.

"I did not mean to snap at you. But if you are offering me help... Do you think you can spare some time and answer my questions."

Maroon hesitated.

Hesitation was good. Hesitation meant that the man did not view him as a completely dangerous individual. It meant that he was nervous around him, that much was for certain. But it also meant that he was at least listening to his pleas.

"I..."

"Please. I know you don't owe me anything."

That was a lie. This man owed him, and Maroon knew that fact.

He had to be subtle. He could not be too blunt or crude. He had to use the words that left his lips like finely sharpened knives.

"I know these men have probably been hunting you for who knows how long and you must just want to escape it all."

Men he killed. Men who he saved Maroon from. He saw the man bite his lower lip.

Good, he felt guilty. He could see the hesitation slowly fading from his expression.

Just one more push. One more well-crafted sentence with just the right amount of emotion, and then Maroon would help.

"But I have no one else left to help me... Please."

Yes. Remind him that they were one and the same. That they were brothers.

One does not abandon a brother who just saved their life.

"...Not here."

Those two words were as soft as a whisper. They were barely audible.

But he still heard them none the less.

Perfect.

"Of course. Do you know a place where we can talk?"

"Yeah. But first, I'll need to get some new clothes."

Maroon looked towards the corpses. He seemed to be considering something. And after a moment, his lips moved into a frown

"Do you have any money?"

He did not think that this new world would take Euros.

"No."

"Then we're..."

He saw disgust creeping into his expression.

"We're gonna have to loot these guys."

This was far from the first time he had looted a corpse. It was, however, the first time he had encountered currency quite like this. There didn't seem to be any numbers nor images anywhere on its face. The design was plastic, almost like a credit card but it felt...different. A large "L" with two horizontal crosses was located near the face of each card.

Maroon had called it "Lien."

In total, there wasn't much "Lien" on these thugs. But he said that there was enough for a set of decent clothes.

"Alright. We can go now."

They stood by the mouth of the alley. They had decided to hide the corpses in nearby dumpsters located along the walls of the alley.

"The White Fang will realize something is up once these guys don't check in. If I had to guess, I say I can answer any question you have for about two hours."

"That's fine."

He was the first one to walk out of the alley. He glanced around to make sure there wouldn't be any more men trying to attack them. After a few moments, he decided that there were no more men. There wasn't a single other person walking on the streets, and the buildings surrounding him looked empty. Adding in the fact that the only life energy he could sense was from Maroon, he felt it was safe to say that they were alone.

"It's clear."

Maroon slowly walked out of the alley. He glanced from one building to the next, then to the desolate stretch of road in front of them, and finally to him.

"Okay. Let's go. I know a shop nearby here that sells cheap clothes."

Maroon began to walk along the curb of the road. He was sure to stay a close distance behind Maroon.

He looked up towards the broken moon.

He was not sure how he got here. He was not sure how his Stand had lost its power. He was not even sure how he was going to survive in this new world.

But frankly, the "how" didn't really matter right now.

"GIORNO!"

He could hear the distorted voices from before once again fill his mind.

But this time he felt no doubt, no fear, and certainly no misery engulfing his body.

For right now, it did not matter how or why he was here. It did not matter that he had been taken from his home. It did not matter that his memories were in fractured pieces.

For what mattered right now was that he now needed to adapt if he wanted to survive.

And he would survive.

And then he would find a way home. For it did not matter that he had no idea how this new world worked. He did not care that he had no idea how to return to his home.

Because he was Giorno Giovana.

And whenever he set out to do something, he would do it.

Nothing, not God himself or even the most contemptible of monsters, would stop him from ever accomplishing his goals.

To Be Continued~

Hello, all you wonderful readers out there!

So I have yet again written another new story! You see, a friend recently convinced me to watch RWBY, and I got to say, it's an absolute blast! Seriously, the series is really enjoyable and fun!

And after watching every episode, I slowly began to think of another story idea. I worked on this in between my other main stories, and the more I wrote the more excited I became about it!

And it's my hope that I can do the concept of the most ambitious member of the JoJo's entering the world of RWBY justice. I want this story to feel different than my other JoJo crossover, and I hope that you guys feel the same!

If anyone has any thoughts, suggestions, or predictions as to where this story is going, don't be afraid to say so in the reviews! This is the Black Mage of Phantasm signing off. Peace!