Aboard the commercial airliner en route from Tokyo to Hong Kong, Dio’s assassin had already initiated his deadly assignment.
At the stroke of midnight, while most passengers drifted in deep slumber, a stag beetle invisible to ordinary mortals buzzed toward the cockpit at breakneck velocity.
This was the Stand known as [Tower of Gray], a long-distance manipulation type.
Its stat profile registered Destructive Power: E, Speed: A, Range: A, Durability: C, Precision: E, and Growth Potential: E.
Although its destructive power was merely E, its speed sat at the absolute pinnacle even among Rank A Stands, granting this insect the lethality and armor-piercing kinetic punch of a high-caliber bullet.
Moreover, in a tight, crowded aircraft cabin, a miniature Stand like Tower of Gray proved far more agile and swift than any bulky, high-powered humanoid brawler.
The Stand’s master was an old geezer named Gray Fly—though underestimating him on account of his age would be a fatal mistake.
This bastard Gray Fly was rotten to his very core, routinely manufacturing catastrophic mass-casualty transport disasters with his Stand just to loot valuables from the corpses.
Worse, he harbored a sadistic fetish: he loved using Tower of Gray to violently rip human tongues straight out of victims’ mouths.
Countless innocent lives and families had been shattered into ruin by his depraved atrocities.
Representing the Tarot card symbolizing the ‘journey’s end’, Tower of Gray’s singular mission right now was to terminate the Joestars’ crusade once and for all.
“Heheheh~ You foolish Joestars, of all things, you just had to board a plane!
Allow me to bring your little voyage to an abrupt end~~
“Though before that, let’s take out some insurance to guarantee this bird never touches down at its destination.
“Slaughter the pilots, butcher the autopilot systems, and this metal tube plunges out of the sky no matter what!
“For Lord Dio!
Even if I must crash and burn alongside the Joestars, I won’t hesitate for a single second!!”
A psychopath by nature, Gray Fly hadn’t even been brainwashed by one of Dio’s flesh buds; he had been seduced purely by Dio’s dark, charismatic aura, willingly bending the knee to serve this so-called ‘Savior of Villains’.
That was the true terror of Dio: even stripped of vampirism and Stand power, his sheer demonic charisma could command an army of degenerates eager to die for his cause.
Hovering outside the sealed cockpit door, Tower of Gray prepared to phase straight through the bulkhead.
What he never imagined was that while he was plotting to wipe out Horne’s crew, Horne’s crew was already laying an execution trap for him.
In the JoJo universe, destiny functioned like gravity; sooner or later, all things were dragged inevitably toward the ground.
Those who held foresight of destiny could exploit this fundamental law to steer outcomes to their advantage.
Whether bending the trajectory and impact point of fate, or riding its momentum to stack the deck in their favor.
Knowing full well what lay ahead, Horne had deliberately chosen to board this commercial flight and follow fate’s path precisely to exterminate this sadistic psycho Gray Fly once and for all.
This was a lethal ambush unanimously agreed upon by all five crusaders.
Just as Tower of Gray was daydreaming about butchering the Joestar lineage, a swarm of coiled green tendrils burst from the shadows surrounding the cockpit door, skewering and crushing the fragile insect Stand in a blinding sneak attack.
In such a claustrophobic, compartmentalized environment, Tower of Gray wasn’t the only Stand with home-field advantage; Hierophant Green, the master of tactical web-weaving, dominated the space just as thoroughly.
From the very moment they boarded the airliner, Kakyoin had quietly deployed Hierophant Green into an invisible perimeter; now, the insect known as Tower of Gray hung impaled within Hierophant’s lethal web.
In Tarot divination, the reversed Tower signifies the premature end of a voyage, whereas the upright Tower represents the sudden collapse of calamity.
The Stand that had acted as the reversed Tower, ending the journeys of countless victims, now had its own journey terminated, tumbling down in total collapse.
Such was the embodiment of fate: rewritten and inverted through unyielding mortal defiance.
Reclining in his passenger seat, Kakyoin wore an expression of calm, refined serenity.
“Target eliminated.”
The instant Tower of Gray was obliterated, catastrophic biological trauma mirrored back into its user, Gray Fly.
Slumped in his chair, Gray Fly’s body convulsed violently as his tongue ruptured cleanly down the center into two bloody ribbons.
Yet his gruesome demise failed to incite even a ripple of panic among the passengers, for the split-second he expired, a thick blanket quietly dropped over his horrific corpse.
Horne’s Stand delivered a swift finishing snap to the neck for good measure, instantly stashing the dead bastard into his system’s dimensional storage space.
Did the airliner touch down safely in Hong Kong, then?
Not a fucking chance—a spontaneous engine blaze erupted out of nowhere, forcing the pilots to ditch the aircraft straight onto the ocean waves.
Old Joseph’s innate ‘Vehicle Slayer’ passive trait had flared up with absolute vengeance, prompting his immortal catchphrase:
“Hey, hey, hey!
Including this one, that makes three times!
Who else in the history of the world survives three separate plane crashes in one lifetime?!”
Horne leaned back casually and delivered the cold truth:
“Three isn’t even your final ceiling, Joseph.
Wrecking vehicles is etched into your very destiny—even I didn’t expect this bird to crash after we killed the assassin.”
That revelation plunged the other four into grim, petrified silence, Jotaro yanking the brim of his cap down hard.
“Old man…
I’m never stepping foot inside an airplane with you ever again.”
Fortunately, the emergency water ditching went smoothly, and Horne casually dumped Gray Fly’s corpse overboard to feed the sharks.
Having cleared the hurdle of Tower of Gray, Horne and the crusaders were about to confront their next adversary—and their eventual sixth companion.
Inside a lively Hong Kong restaurant, Horne’s group encountered a tall, flamboyant Frenchman.
“Pardon me, could I trouble you for a moment?
“I’m a tourist visiting from France, but these Chinese characters are impossible—I can’t decipher a single word on this menu.
“Could you kind gentlemen lend a hand?”
Clutched in his hand, he presented the menu, politely inquiring with Horne and the others.
Naturally, the one to respond was Horne, whose native tongue was Chinese.
“Oh, sure, leave it to me.
Any dietary restrictions or foods you can’t stomach?
“Since you’re already here, why not join our table and share?
That way, we get to sample a wider spread of dishes together.”
“Oh, truly?
Merci beaucoup!
Thank you!”
The silver-haired, hulking Frenchman managed a heavily accented ‘thank you’ in broken Chinese.
Horne, however, reached out and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.
“If you’re genuinely thankful, let’s take this brawl outside so we don’t trash the owner’s restaurant, you assassin sent by Dio.”
At those words, the Frenchman’s easygoing posture instantly turned ice-cold.
“Exposed already?
No matter.
Since you’re so eager for violence, I, Jean Pierre Polnareff, shall grant your death wish.
“Come along then.
Let us find a suitable arena.”
The group rose in unison, flanking Horne as an imposing frontline.
“Joseph, let the manager know we’re stepping outside for some fresh air.
Have them keep serving the courses.
“By the time the final dish hits the table, we’ll be back to dig in.”
Horne’s casual arrogance echoed legendary warlord Guan Yu decapitating Hua Xiong before his warm wine even cooled.
Moving into a wide clearing near the restaurant, Horne and Polnareff squared off, eyes locked in mutual assessment.
Polnareff summoned his Stand, a rapier-wielding humanoid armored in gleaming silver plate materializing behind him.
“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff!
My Stand is [Silver Chariot], representing the Chariot—the symbol of invasion and absolute triumph!
It seems you, nameless dog, are eager to be the first corpse!”
Polnareff’s outstretched finger and Silver Chariot’s rapier leveled directly at Horne’s forehead.
“Die?
Nobody dies here today, Polnareff.
Not me, and certainly not you.”
Horne met his gaze with brimming confidence; this duel had to be decisively won.
“I am Horne.
My Stand carries no esoteric Tarot meaning—its name is [One-Man Army].”
The Stand tethered to this mortal body materialized behind Horne, its sleek black armor now intricately etched with shimmering golden filigree.