Creating Anime In A Fantasy World

Chapter 245: The Premiere of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure! (Part 7)

Jonathan’s fury blazed across the screen, and the audience’s emotions rose with him.

In that instant, viewers everywhere were pumping their fists in the air, their anger burning hotter than ever. If only they could leap into the story themselves—they would happily pummel Dio to the ground with their own hands.

Jonathan burst through the grand doors of the Joestar mansion, his roar shaking the hall.

“DIO!!!”

Dio looked up from his seat. With his usual arrogance and composure, he rose slowly, smirk curling across his face.

“JoJo… so quick to shout my name. Do you ever stop to think before you speak?”

Jonathan ignored him. His fists clenched tight as he charged forward.

“Dio! I will never forgive you! Not for picking fights with me—I can endure your scorn, your cruelty, whatever you throw at me. But for this…!”

“Ah. So you’ve heard what your precious Erina went through.” Dio’s grin deepened, mocking. “And what then? You think your fists will avenge her honor?”

“Damn you! I will never allow you to insult her again!”

“Hmph. You look pathetic, JoJo. Driven mad with jealousy, reduced to such a sorry state.”

With a scoff, Dio braced himself. As Jonathan closed in, Dio’s elbow shot forward like a spear—slamming into Jonathan’s face. Bone crunched. Blood spattered.

“Fool. Do you want me to leave you looking like you did after that boxing match? Broken and humiliated?”

Jonathan staggered back, reeling. His body screamed with pain, his strength nearly gone.

But in his mind echoed Erina’s tears… and the shadow of Dio looming over everything he cherished.

From that thought alone, strength surged anew in his chest. He forced himself upright, fists trembling, but unyielding.

Seeing this, Dio stripped off his coat with deliberate calm.

“Very well. Then I’ll crush you fair and square. And when I do, you’ll understand. In fighting, in life—you can never defeat me! I’ll carve it into your very flesh!”

Jonathan did not listen. His only answer was another furious charge, fist raised high.

The two collided once more. And once more, Dio’s counter sent Jonathan flying, sprawled in disgrace.

“Ha! Yes~ this feels good!” Dio’s grin stretched wide—

—but it faltered.

Because Jonathan’s hand clamped down on his face.

“Wha—?!”

Crack!

Jonathan slammed his forehead into Dio’s nose with brutal force. Blood sprayed.

And then Jonathan’s fists followed—relentless, merciless. Blow after blow rained down.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“Dio!! I won’t stop until I beat you to tears!!”

Jonathan’s fury erupted in a storm of punches, his knuckles smashing against Dio’s face again and again.

At last, Dio’s pride cracked. Tears streaked his bruised, battered face as he roared, wild with rage and disbelief.

“JoJo! You dare—! How dare you do this to me?!”

With shaking hands, Dio drew a hidden dagger, the blade flashing as he prepared to strike—

But just then, George Joestar himself appeared, his stern voice cutting through the madness.

“Enough!!”

Both boys froze at once. The duel ended under their patriarch’s glare.

None of them noticed. On the wall behind them, the strange stone mask—spattered with Dio’s blood—quivered. Its shape shifted subtly, ominously.

The next day, Jonathan glimpsed Erina from afar, but shame held him back. He could not bring himself to approach her.

And when he returned home, tragedy struck anew. His beloved dog, Danny… had been thrown into the furnace and burned alive.

Grief and rage consumed him—but Jonathan did not collapse. He turned his sorrow into resolve. From that day forth, he swore to become a true gentleman, a man of iron will.

Dio, meanwhile, licked his wounds and learned another lesson. He would no longer allow himself to lose control so easily. Next time, he would be patient, cunning, restrained.

Thus, the spiral of fate entwining the two boys began in earnest.

. . .

The film’s first act drew to a close.

And nearly every viewer shared a single, burning thought:

Why didn’t Jonathan just kill Dio already?

Dio’s actions had already shattered any line a decent person could forgive. In reality, a man like him wouldn’t have lasted a day. Someone would have beaten him to death, grass growing two meters high over his grave—and spat on it each time they passed by.

Of course, many in the audience had noticed something beyond the fists and fury—those strange stone masks that had stolen the frame twice now.

The design was far too ominous to be mere decoration. Even the most casual viewer could tell: this bizarre prop carried a weight of destiny.

“I can’t even imagine where the story’s going next… but honestly, if Jonathan had just killed Dio right there, everything would be solved.”

“Hah. If Dio really died, I think the movie would’ve ended on the spot. It’s obvious he’s more than just a side character—he’s the cornerstone of this whole story.”

“Still, as much as I loathe him… I can’t deny Dio’s got a strange kind of presence. Like, he’s magnetic, even when you want to strangle him.”

“Yeah, but Jonathan’s the opposite. Not as skilled, maybe, but his kindness, his sense of justice—it makes you want to root for him. I think he’ll grow into something great.”

“Exactly. Two polar opposites—fire and water, light and shadow. They’re bound to clash again, and when they do, it’s going to be even more explosive.”

“Now that’s what I’m waiting for.”

“…Right.”

The theater buzzed with heated discussions. Even those from the East and West realms—who had never once stepped into a cinema before—were beginning to understand the power of the medium.

The room was alive, every eye glued to the screen, hungry for what came next.

Meanwhile, at the Southern Frontier Garrison—

The soldiers had just watched Jonathan and Dio’s “brawl.” To men trained in real combat, it looked less like a duel of destiny and more like a sloppy street fight between hot-headed boys.

They couldn’t help but smirk. After all, both Captain Brando and Sergeant Jocen were renowned as a Sword Soul. Knowing that men of such caliber were acting out such a clumsy exchange struck them as absurdly funny.

Yet once the laughter faded, they, too, sank into the drama. Their anger at Dio was genuine, matching the audiences seated in velvet theaters leagues away.

And at the Southern Territory Grand Duke’s estate—

“It seems the next heir still has much tempering to undergo,” Arcueid remarked with an amused smile.

Constantine nearly choked on his own breath, dabbing sweat from his brow.

“True Ancestor, please—this is but fiction. Brando, arrogant though he may be, would never stoop to the kind of cruelty Dio displayed on screen.”

“Heh. Perhaps I misspoke,” Arcueid replied, though her playful eyes suggested she hadn’t retracted the thought entirely.

On the other side of the room, Constantine’s own irritation was building. The fight scene they’d just witnessed had been far too messy, too undisciplined. Yes, it was only a performance… but still, it grated against his instincts.

“When he returns, I’ll see to it personally—his training will be far stricter than before!”

At those words, Daphne shrank in her chair, shivering. As the duke’s daughter, she knew all too well the weight carried by her father’s promise of “training.” It wasn’t something one emerged from unscathed.