Creating Anime In A Fantasy World

Chapter 250: The Premiere of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure! (Part 12)

The young man stepped from the shadows with a bold grin.

“Judging by that ‘who the hell are you’ look on your face, allow me to introduce myself. The name’s Robert E.O. Speedwagon—professional busybody!”

He turned toward Jonathan with fiery conviction.

“I tailed you all the way from the slums of London because I was worried for you, Mr. Joestar. You’re too much of a soft-hearted fool, and I like that about you. So let me give you a piece of advice: I was born and raised on those dark, lawless streets. I’ve seen more villains than I can count. And I’ve learned to judge people by their very scent. This one here—” his eyes locked onto Dio “—stinks of pure evil. A stench fouler than vomit!”

With a furious snarl, Speedwagon lashed out, kicking over the candlestand by Dio’s side.

“I’ve never laid eyes on someone as vile as him! Don’t let him trick you with tales of hardship! Growing up in a rotten place doesn’t make you rotten. His evil is inborn!”

Then, with a sharp tug, Speedwagon dragged forth a frail, trembling man from behind.

“Recognize this face?”

The moment Dio laid eyes on the man, his composure cracked further.

Jonathan, however, remained calm, his voice steady.

“This man has already testified. He was the one who sold you the poison.”

The walls closed in around Dio—every piece stacked against him. His jaw clenched hard, rage and despair flashing in his eyes.

And then, from the far side of the hall, the heavy doors opened. George Joestar, flanked by a contingent of police officers, stepped forward. His voice was sorrowful as it carried across the room.

“I heard everything… How deeply disappointing. Dio, I poured into you the same love and expectations as I gave my own son.”

“Father, you still need rest.”

At Jonathan’s gentle words, George Joestar sighed and shook his head.

“Forgive me, JoJo. I know… I only wanted to see this for myself. I don’t want my son to be the one who places chains on you. JoJo, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“…Understood.”

Jonathan nodded, then turned back to face Dio.

Rising slowly to his feet, Dio’s voice rang out loud and bitter.

“So it’s over then. Very well, JoJo. At least… let it be you who fastens the handcuffs on me. After all, we have seven years of history together.”

Jonathan’s brows knit. “…I will.”

But Dio’s lips curled into a chilling smile.

“Humans… truly, their power has limits. In my short life, I’ve learned one lesson: the more humans rely on schemes, the more those schemes collapse before the unexpected. If one wishes to transcend, one must go beyond humanity itself.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan demanded, bewildered.

At that instant, Dio whipped out a dagger and the Stone Mask, holding them aloft as madness blazed in his eyes.

“I reject my humanity, JoJo! I will surpass it!”

“The Stone Mask?! How do you—”

“Danger!”

One of the policemen, instincts sharp, shouted a warning.

“Shoot him! Shoot to kill!”

But Dio’s crazed roar drowned them out.

“JoJo—your blood shall be my key!”

The dagger plunged downward—

—but it was not Jonathan who was struck.

“Father!” Jonathan cried out in horror.

George Joestar had thrown himself in front of the blade, taking the mortal wound in his son’s place.

“Ha— hahahahahaha!”

As Jonathan and the officers gasped in shock, Dio’s laughter rose, triumphant and manic. He pressed the bloodied mask onto his face.

Light erupted from it in a dazzling flare.

Gunfire answered—the policemen opened fire in desperation, their bullets tearing Dio’s body and hurling him through the window into the night.

At last, silence fell.

Dio’s mangled body lay still beyond the glass. Jonathan cradled his dying father, whose last words slipped from his lips before his breath finally ceased.

The mansion was filled with grief, yet those outside the screen could not share in the relief.

For the audience knew the truth. They knew the mask’s dreadful power.

“Dio…” one voice whispered, trembling.

“Where’s Dio’s body?”

In that instant—

With Speedwagon’s desperate cry still ringing in the air, it was as though some invisible string had snapped. A suffocating terror flooded the hall, chilling every soul to the bone.

And then Dio moved.

Like a demon risen straight from the depths of hell, he struck. In a single blur of motion, he snuffed out the life of a policeman standing by the window. The corpse fell limp, and Dio—no longer human—stepped slowly, inexorably, into the grand hall.

Across the empire, the same scene unfolded in countless theaters.

“My god—! Dio really used the Stone Mask to become a vampire!”

“It’s over! It’s already midnight—there’s no sun! That means he’s practically invincible now!”

“Is there— is there even a way to defeat a vampire like this?”

“Impossible. Against something that’s basically immortal, ordinary humans don’t stand a chance!”

“Then— it’s hopeless?”

The theater seats trembled with whispers, the weight of dread spreading from viewer to viewer.

On the screen, Dio’s new form radiated an overwhelming presence. The pretense of humanity had been stripped away. What remained was a being utterly alien to mankind—towering, monstrous, and cruel. Every gesture, every breath carried the pressure of absolute superiority.

The audience could no longer cling to their old image of the romantic, noble vampire. This was something else entirely—an inhuman predator poised to unleash carnage upon the helpless.

And on the southern territory, the soldiers of the empire watched from their garrisons, their hardened faces betraying rare unease.

They had suspected as much, of course. But speculation was nothing compared to seeing Dio with their own eyes, shrugging off bullets, rising stronger than ever, his monstrous vitality eclipsing anything they had ever fought.

Even seasoned warriors who had battled magical beasts felt a chill. For what good was a blade against something that could not die?

“This is terrifying,” one soldier muttered. “At first, I thought the movie’s ‘gun’ weapons were shocking enough… but Dio, after taking all that firepower, is still standing without a scratch? That’s beyond belief.”

“Exactly,” another agreed grimly. “Vampires have bodies naturally superior to humans. Their regeneration is so strong, it’s as if they have no limiters at all. A freshly turned vampire could fight on equal terms with a swordsman. That’s absurdly dangerous.”

“And it doesn’t stop there,” a third added, his voice low. “If an ordinary swordsman faces a vampire one-on-one, without some kind of killing weapon? The vampire wins every time. Even if you decapitate it, there’s no guarantee it won’t just regenerate immediately.”

“Not to mention,” another cut in, “their accursed ability to spread. All it takes is one injection of their blood, and a human is turned. The weaker the vampire, the more flawed the transformation, sometimes creating mindless ghouls instead… but even that is terrifying. An army of them would rival the undead legions of old.”

The words sent a chill rippling through the entire unit.

“Imagine it… one vampire spawning unchecked across the empire. How would we ever contain such a nightmare?”

“If we couldn’t destroy the source…” someone whispered, “then it would never end.”

Silence fell. The men swallowed hard, their gazes fixed on the flickering screen.

They were soldiers hardened by war, yet even they could not shake the creeping terror crawling into their bones.