Familiar with the road, Giorno replaced Misda's broken entrails.

Misda managed to survive.

This dying man, who had been bleeding and unable to move a minute before, was now jumping up from the ground alive.

"Giving life to the dead, bringing life and hope."

"Even the stand-in ability is very different from that man's evil."

Jotaro on the side became more and more emotional.

Of course, he didn't rush to find out Giorno's identity and background again, nor did he hold on to it because of his prejudice.

After all, bloodline doesn't determine a person.

If you can be sure that Giorno's spirit shines like gold, then why bother with his origins.

Jotaro put the matter of Giorno's father behind him for the time being.

Giorno, on the other hand, stiffened his stump and began to drive the golden experience to perform skin grafting surgery on his traumatized self.

The blackened, dead skin was torn alive, and the new flesh quickly filled the wound under the shadow of the fist.

The process was of course extremely painful.

But Giorno was able to resist such a sharp pain while chatting with Jotaro on the side in a cold sweat:

"Mr. Jotaro."

"Did you find any traces of a middle-aged man with pink hair when you came?"

This is Giorno's primary concern.

Diablo had just been poisoned, and Jotaro Kujo, who he was most worried about, was already on the scene.

There is no doubt that now is the perfect time to kill Diablo and solve the problem once and for all.

"Pink-haired middle-aged man..."

But Jotaro gave a disappointing answer:

"I did meet outside the Colosseum."

"It's a pity I couldn't stop the man from escaping."

He was just too worried about Polunarev's safety, so he didn't think about tracking down Diablo after he disappeared, but walked into the Colosseum to check the situation as soon as possible.

In this way, Diablo has plenty of time to escape.

"Is that so..."

Giorno frowned:

This is obviously very bad news.

Diablo is not an easy opponent.

The Crimson King's abilities are uncanny, and he himself is as discreet, secretive, and deadly as a poisonous snake.

If he is allowed to run away like this, I am afraid that there will be endless troubles.

But now that Diablo is gone, Giorno doesn't have much to worry about:

"I can't help it..."

"It's been a few minutes, and Diablo may have run away."

"He's cautious by nature, and if he is given plenty of time to prepare, I'm afraid it won't be useful to let Apaki's melancholy blues strike."

"In this way, if we want to find Diablo's whereabouts, we have to find another way."

Giorno was talking to himself, his expression was very solemn.

The golden experience was still slowly replacing the burnt skin on his body, and the blood-drenched and shocking images made the current atmosphere even more heavy.

"I'm sorry."

Jotaro's voice carried a rare touch of guilt.

Of course, this guilt is not because of Giorno, who has not known him for a long time, but because of Porunarev.

Jotaro regretted that he hadn't noticed Porunarev's situation earlier, and that he hadn't been able to keep the demon who had hurt Porunarev so far.

Now that Diablo is gone, he doesn't know when he will be able to avenge his best friend.

As soon as he thought of this, Jotaro's clenched fists trembled slightly:

"It doesn't matter, Jotaro."

Once again, Polunarev uttered such words of consolation.

He was keenly aware that Jotaro had fallen into a state of depression that was difficult to extricate himself from after witnessing the tragic situation of his broken hands and feet.

This is not what Polunarev wants to see.

This is not what Jotaro Kujo, this unwavering man should be.

"There's no need to blame myself for what happened to me."

"I'm a warrior, just a pair of legs... It doesn't affect my will. ”

Polunarev tried to make a free appearance.

But, alas...

Even if Polunarev tried his best to be the undiscouraged optimist of the past, the cheerful team comedian, he could no longer play that feeling.

After all, ten years have passed.

How Polunarev lived during these ten years, only he knows.

The lost legs and feet can never be recovered, and the pain of the past decade is equally indelible.

Now he is no longer the young swordsman who will show off his gorgeous sword skills in battle, nor is he the optimistic young man who is trapped in the bottom of the sea and still has the heart to make a joke about his "underwear".

Polunarev has turned into a mature and steady middle-aged uncle, in a heart-wrenching way.

“.......”

Jotaro didn't say anything more to blame himself.

But the atmosphere of the scene is still becoming more and more dead in silence.

The two looked at each other quietly, their eyes filled with indescribable complex emotions.

"That..."

Again, Giorno interjected "not at the right time".

He had completed his emergency treatment with great difficulty, and the terrible wounds on his body were all gone.

Although the huge consumption of mental power made him almost empty, with the support of a healthy body, Giorno's pale face was also regaining its ruddy color little by little.

"Mr. Jotaro."

Giorno sat down on the ground and slowly exhaled to regain his strength:

"If you may, please bring Mr. Polunarev to me as well."

"Huh?"

Jotaro's body shuddered.

He heard something from Giorno's words: "Could it be that Polunarev's wounds..."

"I can cure it."

Giorno nodded solemnly.

"Is it okay to be old or old wounds?"

Porunarev's voice stuttered suddenly.

It was clear that he didn't care as much about the lost legs as he had just said.

"Okay."

Giorno chuckled softly.

That smile is as warm as the sun that can revive all things:

"As long as the head is still there, it's okay to lack anything."

.................................................

Outside the Colosseum.

Under the manhole cover, among the sewage.

A pair of piercing eyes suddenly opened from the darkness.

"Ahem, ahem, ahem..."

Diablo woke up from a brief coma and spit out a mouthful of feces from the thick red sauce:

"Head... Head... It hurts. ”

He clutched his head, which was almost cracking, and it took a long time for him to come to his senses:

"Sewers..."

"Y-How did I-why am I here?"

The poison in the previous one was so strong that Diablo even had his own memories disordered.

He couldn't even remember how he got out of the Colosseum, or why he was soaking in the dung heap of this sewer as soon as he woke up.

Rats and cockroaches crawled together, stinking foul liquid soaking half of their bodies.

It's a pitiful mess.

Diablo suddenly felt humiliated, but quickly came to his senses:

Either way, it's okay if the person doesn't die.

He managed to escape to safety before he was completely unconscious, and he managed to save his life.

"It's so uncomfortable..."

Diablo is still basking in that strong stamina.

It took him a long time to stand up against the wall of the sewer.

It is said that the sewer is the conscience of a city, and the conscience of Rome is really good.

At the very least, the sewer was as wide as a river, big enough for Diablo to hide, stop, and move safely underground.

"Gotta, get out of here."

"It's still not safe enough."

Diablo was acutely aware of his situation.

He began to move down the sewers to farther and safer places.

But as he walked, he felt that his life was safe, and he suddenly felt sad again:

"Damn..."

"Where do I go?"

"What's the use of surviving.... The arrow was destroyed and I had lost my chance to turn the tables. ”

"Li Qing, Giorno, Bugarati... Plus that damn Jotaro Kujo. ”

"It's just that now I can't fight against so many strong enemies!"

Diablo suddenly finds his future bleak.

His life is just like he is now, and he has fallen into a dark and foul stinking sewer, and no matter how hard he tries to move forward, all he will step on is.

"Strength... Strength..."

"Damn, where do I go to find power?!"

Thinking of a fate that seemed irreversible, Diablo was almost insane with repression.

He just walked aimlessly down the sewers, thinking, like a lifeless walking corpse.

"After falling into such a field, can I really change my fate?"

"Eventually, I'll be like Rolling Stone..."

"Die in an 'undescribeable tragedy,' right?"

Diablo thought so desperately.

He didn't know where he was in the sewers, but he just happened to be under a manhole cover.

The manhole cover is just an ordinary manhole cover with a small ventilation hole on it.

The light on the ground poured down from the vents, condensing into a straight beam in the dim sewers in front of a desperate Diablo.

The beam was small and faint, but sacred and bright.

It suddenly appeared in front of Diablo, like a miracle from heaven, like...

A golden arrow.

"Arrows..."

"By the way, it's an arrow!"

Diablo's eyes suddenly lit up.

He suddenly remembered that his life was actually closely related to arrows.

It was precisely because of the arrows dug up in Egypt that Diablo was able to rely on his invincible stand-in ability and the means of mass-producing stand-in messengers to care about bringing profits to fight for such a huge family business.

Later, when the arrow was destroyed, his life was ruined with it.

But...

"There is not just one arrow!"

Diablo's heart was beating.

This long-lost excitement made him suddenly feel like a new life when he was on a desperate road:

"My arrows were destroyed with Polpo, the worm arrows were just destroyed by bullets, but in addition to these two, there should be four more arrows in the world."

"I don't know the whereabouts of the other three, but Jotaro Kujo, that guy said on the phone..."

"There's an arrow, right now..."

An unfamiliar place name on the other side of the world came to Diablo's mind like a lifesaver:

"Duwang Town!"

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