Jean Pierre Polnareff.
[Stand: Silver Chariot], Close-Range Humanoid Type.
Stat profile: Destructive Power: C, Speed: A, Range: C, Durability: B, Precision: B, Growth Potential: C.
Its agility and thrusting velocity ranked among the absolute elite even within the prestigious Rank A Speed bracket.
Meanwhile, Horne’s [One-Man Army] sat at Speed: B—a noticeable and dangerous disparity.
Sure enough, the first to launch an offensive was the blindingly swift Silver Chariot.
A silver blur flashed across the dirt, the needle-sharp rapier lunging straight for Horne’s throat.
CLANG!
A crisp, resounding metallic ring echoed out; an attack intended to execute him on the spot was effortlessly deflected.
Horne had shifted seamlessly into his [Army into One] armored form.
“Polnareff, just as your Silver Chariot boasts blistering speed, my One-Man Army possesses unique gifts of its own.
“Namely, fusing directly with my flesh to forge an impregnable suit of heavy armor.
If nothing else, my Stand’s defense is unmatched.
“If you’ve got the balls, try breaching my armor with your fastest thrusts!
Show me what you’ve got, Polnareff!!”
With a roar, Horne charged straight at Polnareff; Speed B naturally lagged behind Silver Chariot’s blinding Speed A.
But from the opening second, Horne had zero intention of dueling Silver Chariot—his target, from start to finish, was Polnareff’s vulnerable mortal body!!
The kinetic burst of Speed B was more than enough to close the gap between two close-quarters Stand users in a heartbeat.
Realizing Horne’s deadly intent, Polnareff was forced to snap Silver Chariot back into defensive guard at maximum velocity.
CLANG!
History repeated itself: Silver Chariot’s rapier struck true, yet failed entirely to pierce Horne’s [Army into One] shell.
Shattering the defense of Army into One demanded Destructive Power and Speed both at Rank A; Silver Chariot possessed the speed, but its Destructive Power hovered at a meager C.
Breaching Horne’s unyielding armor was a physical impossibility.
Yet Polnareff was no amateur; witnessing Horne integrate his Stand onto his flesh inspired him to deploy a similar countermeasure.
While he couldn’t physically bio-fuse, overlapping his Stand’s phantom frame directly over his physical body was entirely viable.
By superimposing Silver Chariot over his silhouette, Polnareff was effectively enveloped in phantom silver armor.
Unlike Army into One, this phantom shroud remained invisible to non-Stand users and offered zero protection against mundane physical ballistics.
But for parrying Stand-based assaults from Horne, it worked like a charm.
Relying on the overlaid Stand to forcefully puppet his limbs, Polnareff ducked beneath Horne’s crushing fist in the nick of time.
(That was close!
While this restricts Silver Chariot’s peak mobility, it’s a hell of a lot better than getting chased down like a dog!)
This tactic dragged Silver Chariot’s effective speed down to Rank B, but it ensured Polnareff was no longer an easy sitting duck.
Still, Polnareff’s fundamental dilemma remained unsolved: all the master-class fencing in the world couldn’t scratch Horne’s armor.
He danced across the perimeter, desperately probing for structural weak points in Horne’s defenses.
Unfortunately for him, Army into One was a unified spiritual fusion—it harbored no such thing as an exposed chink or weak seam.
Its defensive rating was uniform across every square inch; even the translucent ocular visor held the exact same hardness as the reinforced chestplate.
Unless your Stand wielded both Rank A Power and Rank A Speed, cracking Army into One was pure fantasy.
Conversely, taking down Polnareff was no cakewalk for Horne either, given that he too relied on close-range brawling.
When it came to fencing pedigree, tactical footwork, and years of blade mastery, Polnareff outclassed Horne by light-years.
Realizing that grinding down an endless stalemate was a waste of time, Horne deliberately dismissed his armored form.
“Polnareff, let’s settle this with a quick-draw duel—just like classic Western gunslingers, one single clash to decide victory.”
“Very well.
Both of us standing within lethal range—let us see whose Stand draws faster.”
Polnareff had exhausted his options; seizing this opening was his only viable path to eliminating his foe.
A silver coin was flicked high into the air; the seconds it spent hanging in the sky felt agonizingly stretched, demanding absolute, unblinking focus.
In that frozen instant, neither man saw anything except his opponent’s eyes—the moment that coin struck the earth, fate would be sealed.
PING!
Both warriors manifested their Stands simultaneously!
Unsurprisingly, Silver Chariot was faster—especially having discarded its heavy armor plates to redline its speed to an absolute extreme!!
Speed B matching against Speed A was a brutal disadvantage; Horne had zero chance of landing the first blow!
Yet would Horne ever propose such a lethal gamble without calculating every parameter?
He understood every strength and weakness to perfection; from the very start, he never banked on outspeeding Silver Chariot.
His true target was never Polnareff’s body—it was Silver Chariot itself!!
Silver Chariot moved like lightning, an entity One-Man Army could never catch in a chase.
But who said anything about chasing it?
If you can’t run it down, bait it into impaling itself upon you!!
*(I can’t reveal my trump cards here—no colony Stand units, no demon regeneration, no Ripple energy.
I must claim victory with the bare minimum hand.
*Silver Chariot is blindingly fast, but in a gunslinger duel like this, its trajectory is locked into a straight frontal line.
And to secure a clean, instantaneous kill, Polnareff will inevitably aim straight between my eyes!!)
Horne compressed his mental focus past its redline, allowing his perception to finally lock onto the high-speed phantom of Silver Chariot.
While Jotaro held back in friendly sparring, Polnareff was pouring every ounce of murderous intent into this single thrust.
(A straight line is the shortest distance—and the easiest trajectory to intercept!!!)
[One-Man Army] materialized directly before Horne, driving its armored left fist into the oncoming lunge.
Silver Chariot’s rapier impaled deep into One-Man Army’s left forearm, the lacerating damage immediately mirroring onto Horne’s physical arm.
“GOT YOU, YOU BASTARD!!!
[ONE-MAN ARMY]!!!”
“ORA!
TAKE THIS!
DIE!
DIE!
DIE!
DIE!
DIE!…”
Unloading Rank B Destructive Power, One-Man Army’s fists hammered relentlessly into Silver Chariot, which had stripped its armor and left its durability completely compromised.
Following a brutal barrage of kinetic impacts, Polnareff collapsed unconscious into the dirt, thoroughly retired.
As expected, Polnareff had also been enslaved by one of Dio’s parasitic flesh buds.
Practice makes perfect: Star Platinum excised the cerebral parasite with surgical precision, while Old Joseph vaporized the thrashing tendril with a swift Overdrive.
In terms of medical aid, Joseph used the Ripple—putting on a show of treating Horne’s arm, while genuinely mending Polnareff’s battered body.
After days of disciplined breathing, Joseph’s Ripple mastery had rebounded nicely; while not quite at his youthful peak, it far outclassed the stagnant state of his slacker years.
Revitalized by the soothing Ripple current, Polnareff blinked awake moments later.
He was greeted by the terrifying sight of massive, muscular men grinning down at him.
“Polnareff, the surgery was an absolute success.
You are a lovely young lady now.”
“WHAT?!”
Polnareff sprang to his feet in sheer terror, frantically feeling between his legs; finding his package intact, he exhaled a massive, trembling sigh of relief.
Horne and the surrounding crusaders burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Yo, Polpol.
Head feeling clear now?”
Horne grinned ear to ear.
“Thanks to you guys, I’m finally free from Dio’s vile grip.
Truly…
merci.”
Polnareff felt as though he had just awakened from an endless, suffocating nightmare.
Horne patted his shoulder warmly.
“Come on.
Let’s get back and eat.”
Returning to the dining table, the dishes had just finished arriving, steaming hot and aromatic.
Yet having already tasted Horne’s god-tier Ripple Cuisine, the consensus review was simple:
“Delicious, sure…
but nowhere near as mind-blowing as Ripple Cuisine.”