Blood On The Throne
The mansion swallowed him whole.
John Joestar moved cautiously, his boots crunching broken glass and dust beneath his feet. The once-grand hallways were draped in shadows, the air thick with the stench of decay and something fouler — the coppery tang of blood.
Every step forward felt like descending deeper into a nightmare.
The walls, once adorned with tapestries and paintings, now wept black mold. Chandeliers hung at odd angles, swaying gently in a phantom breeze. Somewhere deeper inside, John heard it — the faint sound of something wet being... consumed.
His blood boiled.
He pressed forward.
No fear. Only rage.
The first vampire lunged at him, snarling — and was immediately pulverized.
"Weather Report!!"
John roared, and his Stand materialized in a flash of blinding light.
The Stand manifested behind him, mist swirling around its fists.
John didn't even break stride.
"ORAORAORAORAORA!"
Weather Report's fists blurred into a barrage, each punch wreathed in the radiant energy of the sun.
The Hamon-infused stand barrage smashed into the vampire like a tidal wave of righteous fury, vaporizing it into ash before it even hit the ground.Another, and another — they came at him in droves, but Weather Report, infused with the breath of life itself, battered them into oblivion with every strike.
He didn't slow down.John whirled a Steel Ball in his hand, the sphere humming as it absorbed and amplified the kinetic force.With a snap of his wrist, he hurled it — WHUMMM — the Steel Ball tore through six vampires in a line, their bodies bursting into dust and bone.On the rebound, the Ball shot back toward him, absorbing even more energy from the impact — and on the second hit, it exploded through a massive zombie beast, atomizing it into cinders.
Another wave came shambling toward him — dozens of zombies, their rotting hands reaching out.John narrowed his eyes. His fingers spun rapidly — Nail Bullets!
Spinning faster than the eye could see, the nails launched forward, tearing through the horde like hot knives through butter.Each impact released a compressed wave of Spin energy, severing limbs and punching through rib cages.It was a massacre — a hurricane of steel, sunlight, and fury.
John barely registered the shrieks and roars of the monsters as he tore through them, his breathing steady, deep — the perfect Hamon rhythm.
He was unstoppable.
Still, no matter how many he destroyed, they kept coming, dragged by the will of their master deeper into the mansion's heart.John fought like a man possessed — a spinning steel demon, cutting a path of sunlight and death through the darkness.
Weather Report unleashed a devastating barrage, fists moving too fast for the eye to follow. Each punch cracked with the sizzling energy of Hamon, channeled expertly through the Stand's strikes.
The vampires disintegrated before they could even shriek.
Another came, then another. Zombies crawled from behind broken furniture, their bodies stitched together grotesquely. The mansion seemed alive with them — a hive of monsters stirred by his presence.
John didn't care.
He didn't stop.
His anger roared in his veins louder than the chaos around him.
Wave after wave, they fell before him. Weather Report's fists glowed golden with Hamon energy, vaporizing the vampires and tearing apart the zombies with shocking efficiency.
John barely thought — he only felt.
Every time his fist connected, he saw Holly's smiling face flash before his eyes. Every blow was for the family that had been broken. Every monster he destroyed was another debt paid in blood.
The mansion trembled under the violence.
And still, he pressed forward, toward the heart of the darkness.
-<<>o<>>-
The grand central hall was massive.
Once a ballroom, now it was a cathedral of death. Moonlight pierced through the shattered roof, casting ghostly beams onto a grotesque sight:
At the far end, on a throne made of twisted metal and bones, sat a figure.
Massive. Radiant. Monstrous.
Dio.
He was everything his father had told him about and more. Blonde hair cascading like a lion's mane. Eyes that gleamed with the arrogance of the devil. Muscles so dense they seemed to warp the very air around him.
He sat lazily, as if the world itself were beneath his notice.
In his hands — or rather, erupting from his fingertips — were writhing tentacles, buried deep into the body of the woman John had failed to save.
She was little more than a husk now, her skin drawn tight against her bones, her eyes wide and lifeless. A desiccated corpse.
John's heart cracked.
He had been too late.
Again.
Dio looked up lazily, as if just now noticing John's presence. His voice was smooth, powerful, dripping with disdain.
"Who dares disturb my sanctuary?" Dio asked, his voice carrying effortlessly across the vast room.
"Dio!"
"Oh? You're approaching me? Instead of running away, you're coming right to me?"
"I can't beat the shit out of you without getting closer."
He stepped forward, fists clenched so tightly that blood dripped from between his knuckles.
Dio's eyes narrowed, curious.
"You know me, child," he said. "Yet I do not know you. How curious."
John didn't care for Dio's games.
He roared, the sound tearing from his throat raw and full of pain.
"I'll kill you!" John shouted, his voice shaking the dust from the rafters.
Dio smiled indulgently, as if humoring a particularly foolish puppy.
"You? A mere boy? Do you even understand who you challenge?"
" My name is John Joestar, you decrepit corpse."
"A Joestar? Then you must know who's body this is, I have already killed your ancestor, Jonathan Joestar. Do you think you're stronger than him?"
John kept moving.
He moved forward, step by furious step.
But then —Something was wrong.
He realized with a creeping horror that he wasn't getting any closer.
No matter how fast he moved, how far he lunged, the distance between them never changed. The throne remained impossibly far, Dio's smirking face untouched.
John stumbled to a halt, confusion and fear twisting his guts.
"What...?"
Dio chuckled — a low, rumbling sound full of malice.
"You feel it, don't you?" he said. "The futility. The helplessness. You are already within my domain, little Joestar."
And in that moment, John understood.
The World.
Dio had already unlocked it.
The power to stop time itself — and move, unnoticed, within the frozen world.
John remembered the old story — Polnareff climbing stairs only to find himself back at the bottom, Joseph Joestar's defeat, Jotaro's desperate battle.
He wasn't just outmatched. He was outclassed.
If Dio could manipulate time at will, then every move John made was meaningless. Not unless he pulled out abilities to manipulate or nullify time too.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
He clenched his fists tighter.
He couldn't win.
Not yet.
If he fought now, he would die here. Meaninglessly. His death would accomplish nothing — except feed Dio's arrogance further.
And then, in that frozen moment of despair, his mind flickered back—
[Flashback - Air Suplena Island, months ago]
The sun shone bright overhead, the sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and old stone.
John sat on the crumbling stone steps of an ancient training ground, catching his breath after another brutal Ripple sparring session with his father.
Joseph Joestar, older now but still spry, leaned casually against a sun-bleached column, a mischievous smile playing across his face.
"John," Joseph said, his voice low and knowing, "there's one more lesson you need to learn. The most important Joestar family technique."
John wiped the sweat from his forehead, confused. "Another Ripple move?"
Joseph laughed, that old mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"No, no, kiddo. This isn't Ripple. It's something far older. Something passed down through generations."
He leaned forward, as if sharing a sacred secret.
"The Joestar Secret Technique."
John blinked. "What secret technique?"
Joseph grinned wider. "When the enemy is too strong... when you know you're hopelessly outmatched... you must do the one thing Joestars have mastered better than anyone else."
John leaned in, intrigued.
Joseph straightened up proudly, hands on his hips.
"You run away."
John gawked, then burst out laughing. "Wait, what? You're serious?!"
Joseph smirked. "Damn right I'm serious. You think I fought every battle head-on? Half the time, knowing when to run saved my life. And in the end... it's about living to fight another day."
He ruffled John's hair, much to his son's fake protests.
"Remember this, John. Living and getting stronger is better than dying for pride. Pride can wait."
John, still laughing, mockingly saluted. "Got it, old man. I'll cherish the sacred art of running away."
Joseph chuckled. "Don't knock it till you need it, kid."
[Back to the Mansion]
John's eyes refocused.
He took a slow breath, the memory grounding him.
Dio was watching him with bemused arrogance, one foot lazily draped over the other, as if already envisioning John's death.
John straightened.
He wasn't smiling — but there was a fierce glint in his eye.
"You're right, Dio," John said, voice steady. "I'm outmatched."
Dio raised an eyebrow, curious.
John pointed dramatically at him.
"But even so... I have one last move! The Joestar Secret Technique! Passed down from father to son!"
Dio's smirk faltered slightly, confused. "Joestar Secret Technique...? Jonathan never—"
He didn't get to finish.
John turned on his heel and sprinted away at full speed.
"WAAAAAAGHHHHH!" John shouted as he tore through the crumbling halls like a bullet, his scarf whipping behind him.
Dio sat there, momentarily stunned.
Then his face twisted into a snarl. "You dare mock me—?!"
John didn't look back.
Running was not shameful.
It was survival.
It was legacy.
And it would give him the time he needed to come back and win.
-<<>o<>>-
The mansion seemed to roar in outrage as John sprinted back through the halls, vampires and zombies lurching toward him from every doorway.
But he didn't fight this time.
He dodged, leapt, evaded.
Weather Report cloaked him in mist, blinding the undead, confusing them as he barreled through the crumbling corridors. The clouds it emitted desperately hiding him from Dio's sight. Outside, the sun had risen, if could make it out, Dio wouldn't chase him.
Behind him, he could hear Dio's laughter — cold and cruel, echoing like a funeral bell.
"You cannot escape destiny, Joestar!" Dio's voice thundered after him.
John gritted his teeth, refusing to look back.
He wouldn't die here.
Not today.
He exploded out of the front doors just as the sun broke fully over the horizon, the light scattering the pursuing monsters into ash.
Breathing heavily, John stumbled into the overgrown lawn, every part of his body screaming in protest.
He turned, staring at the mansion one last time.
It loomed there, dark and patient, like a wound on the face of the world.
And somewhere inside, Dio waited.
Watching.
Planning.
Hungering.
John wiped the blood from his mouth.
He wasn't strong enough yet.
But he would be.
He swore it.
No matter what it took, no matter how much blood he had to shed, no matter how many monsters he had to kill—
He would come back.
And next time, he wouldn't run.
Next time, he would kill Dio.
Suddenly, the system appeared.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Quest Complete: Investigate the Abandoned MansionStatus: SUCCESS.
Rewards:
Spin Mastery increased to 50%.
Hamon Mastery increased to 50%.
New Ability Unlocked:→ Hermit Purple (Variant): A manifestation of John's Hamon and Stand potential.→ Ability: Spiritual perception, enhanced environmental manipulation, and bioelectric vines infused with Spin and Hamon.
John stared at the flickering golden text in front of him, chest heaving from exhaustion — and from something else.
Hope.
-<<>o<>>-
Author's Note:
Stone me daddy. Reminder: This is a bonus chapter for the review someone just posted. I will keep posting 1 bonus chapter for every review we get until we manage to get a rating.
Please stone me. Uwu.