"Impossible! I am the Immortal Dio!" He screamed, though his screams broke into strained gurgles as his body ruptured.
"I am Dio!"
Then darkness.
In just moments, the only sensation that registered was the agonising pain. A few hours passed and the sun rose, before he felt death begin to beckon his name. His fall had come so quickly that he struggled to come to terms with it.
It was a bittersweet feeling when the once familiar warmth of the sun became a heat that threatened to disintegrate his body. He knew he had lost due to his arrogance- lost to a high schooler who had only just discovered his Stand's power. Pitiful.
As his body began to succumb to the sun's disintegrating rays, his final thoughts were filled with intense paranoia. What was left of his mind couldn't seem to accept his loss, and was unsure of what that meant for him.
Dio was arrogant, but that didn't deny his intelligence, his reasoning. He knew this was the battle that would either set him on the path to attaining heaven, or being defeated as simply another name in the history of the Joestar bloodline. That is why prior to the battle he had been experimenting with a failsafe of sorts, to ensure something of his could be preserved in the event of his physical death. His certainty in this method was rather low, but at the height of his anxious caution he employed everything he thought would ensure at the very least his survival and by extension, the possibility of victory.
That is what brought him to his current state. He couldn't exactly pinpoint where he was, but he was sure he had been captured somehow by the most recent object of his obsession, the very thing that has allowed him to 'live' after death. Although, living may be more than can be said about his situation. He was trapped in a room of sorts that looked as if he was surrounded on all sides by crimson glass, but the glass that looked only 5 meters away, seemed to stretch on endlessly in each direction. After turning to ashes under the sun, he was simply there. He didn't wake up or open his eyes, it was more of a seamless transition.
Wherever he was, he wasn't fully physical. He could move, but had no hands or legs and he could see without eyes. There were no sounds, no smells, nothing he could touch, not even the ground as the blood-hued floor was always just out of reach. Every wall seemed to taunt him as they shifted in unison, blinding light streaming through the glassy surroundings, illuminating all of the nothing he had left. All he could do was hope something good would come out of this.
Time passed and he'd long abandoned his plots of revenge. In this glass prison, he couldn't eat, sleep, or do anything for that matter - which already made his situation ten times worse than when he'd been trapped at the bottom of the ocean for a hundred years. Curse you for this, Jotaro Kujo! He thought, but his mind had grown weary of the notion. His 'failsafe' was riddled with flaws and occasionally he found himself wondering if dying would have been better.
Each second stretched into an agonising eternity, making his life after death less than desirable. Now that he'd gone and gotten himself killed, he was only left with the small hope of Pucci somehow managing to rescue him.
Dio found that as years passed, trapped in his bubble of solitude, his thoughts had been reduced to a mess of unintelligible babbles and the rational side of him observed his degrading state with contempt, but was too busy praying for death to care. His failsafe had failed him and he had lost the will to live, but was forced to in a crimson cell of his own making.
In real time, almost a quarter of a century had passed, but isolated from everything conceivable, Dio may as well have spent 1000 years alone with his thoughts. His mind had been consumed by madness. There was nothing he could do to halt his own thoughts, so he let them run wild and lost his sanity in the process.
Soon though, his agony came to an end, as all things do, and he felt a change. He had lost any shred of the hope of rescue after only his first year in solitude, yet instinctively he knew the time had drawn near.
He was in a different place, a dark place. Around him was an endless void. The flow of time had rapidly accelerated and his perception of the space around him became hazy, but he could tell somehow, that something big was coming to fruition.
As hope began to reappear, his shattered mind began to recollect itself, despite suffering a fate far worse than his death to get here. Now after what seemed like 1000 years to him, he could somehow tell that everything he had done in caution, would not be in vain.
He felt exuberant after experiencing his first sensation in years.
This is it! This is my final victory Jojo! I will be reborn, because I am destined to become the king of this w-
Dio's thoughts were cut short as he felt a sharp tug on his very soul. Instead of making his way toward what he could now see was a universe rapidly forming around him, he could feel himself being speedily dragged far away from it. An ethereal hand had slipped through a dimensional crack, formed as the old universe rapidly withered away, and gripped Dio like a vice, dragging his soul through to another dimension. He felt the hand close around him as he was whizzed out of his dimension and with a sharp pop-
***
Dio came to his senses, as the world around him shifted into colour. His vision was blurry at first, his mind a tempest of turmoil as his still splintered thoughts were pieced together.
His body was wracked with lassitude, even the slightest movement was like wading through mud. Despite this, he slowly rose to his feet. Or at least he tried to, but his legs only shifted awkwardly and he let out a weak groan.
There were mutters around him and the sound of a man barking orders before two people were at his side and lifted him by his arms. When his feet found purchase, they released him and his legs buckled slightly, but he managed to stay upright.
He groaned and forced apart heavy eyelids once more. Each blink was as arduous as the first in his struggle to capture his surroundings. Slowly, his vision finally came into focus.
The first thing he noticed was that he was naked, which he may have noticed earlier if his body wasn't as numb as it was. The second thing he noticed were the dozen dark robed cultists lying prostrate in a large circle around him, with their heads lowered in reverence.
The stone tablet he was standing on was covered in ritualistic runes, and symbols engraved into a complex summoning circle with candles lit at each tip of a 12 pointed star. What the hell is this? Did Pucci bring me here?
Two of the twelve cultists were at his feet- presumably the two who had helped him up.
Dio opened his mouth to speak but quickly lost control of it, his tongue refused to obey him and instead opted to flop around like a fish out of water as his jaw hung loosely to one side. He almost lost his balance after shifting his focus from his legs to his mouth, but fortunately he succeeded in keeping his feet under him. He shut his mouth and decided to keep quiet until he could figure out what was happening. He didn't know what he would have said if he could speak properly but he was elated to finally be free from his glassy cell.
A moment later, a thirteenth cultist appeared carrying a golden chalice filled with blood and knelt before Dio, the chalice raised above his head. His expression held a slight hint of surprise upon seeing Dio, but it vanished behind his smile.
The man noticed Dio's struggle and snapped his fingers before two cultists jumped up to get Dio a heavily decorated throne. He slumped into the bejeweled, golden chair as the last of his strength waned and gradually made himself comfortable.
"I welcome you into the land of the living, Lord Malvros! Please drink this chalice as a symbol of our goodwill!" He exclaimed.
Malvros? Me? Dio studied the man. It was his first human interaction in years and he was a completely different person from the man he was before. Well almost human; his pale face and slightly sunken cheeks, a body that looked partially malnourished, yet somehow still exuded an aura of supernatural strength, Dio could tell this man wasn't a human. But not quite a vampire either...
Not the kind that Dio recognised at least.
This isn't Pucci's doing. A conclusion Dio had come to as soon as he could actually feel his legs. It was instinctive. He could tell the atmosphere tasted different, electrified. As if the air itself was filled with boundless energy, in a way that no man could replicate. It was as if his entire life had been spent indoors. Am i even on earth right now?
Dio finally dipped his index finger inside the chalice and savoured the euphoric taste as the blood was slowly absorbed through his pores. His body shook from the sensation and his mind was overcome with pleasure after feeding for the first time in years.
The blood itself didn't taste remarkably good, but the years he'd spent in the absence of all sensation made even breathing air feel amazing, although he didn't need to do so. He noticed how all of the cultists around him were doing the same, which combined with their appearance, elevated his suspicion that they were some other kind of vampire unlike the ones he had known until now.
"He doesn't even need to use his fangs. As expected of our lord!" Dio heard one mutter, but only scoffed as he continued to enjoy his meal.
This is the greatest high! I can already feel a small portion of my strength returning just from this small chalice.
Dio hadn't realised how starved his body had been until he started drinking. However he was only left unsatisfied when all the blood in the chalice disappeared in seconds.
As the cultists stared at him expectantly, Dio slowly sat up in his throne. He gathered himself and cleared his throat before attempting to speak again.
"Who are you?" He demanded. His voice came out as smooth as gravel, but at the very least the words were clear.
The thirteenth cultist once more stepped forth with vigour. "I am but a humble servant, my lord. I express my deepest apologies we are unable to provide you any more blood, it took a far larger amount than estimated to finally bring you back my lord. Your body seems different to the one we had prepared, and we can only assume this change is the reason why. Was this an ability of yours my lord?"
"Where am I?" Dio said, ignoring the question.
"You are in the central continent, my lord, we are currently in the land of the Solarchate Empire."
"I'm... Alive?" Dio muttered.
The cultist smiled lightly. "We used to be in the thousands, but ever since we started searching for a way to resurrect you, we've been hunted to the ends of Solmyr. We are all that's left of The Crimson Order and we are at your service, Lord Malvros."
Dio sat back and gazed at his subjects, who bowed their heads as his eyes passed over them signifying their submission.
"Your name," Dio said. "Tell me your name."
The cultist's smile twisted in glee and his eyes radiated joy. He bowed, "My name is Lazarus my lord, but you can call me as you wish!"
Dio looked at Lazarus and nodded contentedly, his lips twitching towards a smile.
His smile immediately faltered upon observing his surroundings. He was in a cave of sorts that had been poorly refurbished. Rags were strewn across a far end of the cave, that seemed to be where the vampires slept. There were a few human corpses that were withered and rotting on the other end of the cave, his nose shriveled at the putrid stench of blood, sweat and sex mixed into something foul.
How disgraceful. To think that vampires in this world live like animals. Dio thought, but then his eyes caught a large altar near the center of the cave, with a portrait of a man that looked almost identical to him, resting on top. He trudged over to it and the thirteenth cultist rushed to help him.
Twelve lit candles rested on the altar on a twelve pointed star, similar to the one Dio had woken up in, with the portrait in the middle.
Hail the Almighty Vampire God, Malvros. Dio read, and as his suspicions fell into place, he couldn't help but chuckle. Fools. He thought. Whoever this Malvros is I hope he's rolling in his grave at the sight of this.
"My lord?"
"Yes? Speak."
"It is not my wish to rush you my lord, but we must make haste. There is no doubt that the werewolves and vampire hunters have noticed the fluctuations caused by the Dominial energy used to resurrect you. We have to leave at once, in your current state they could prove difficult for you."
Dominial energy? Werewolves? Dio hesitantly nodded and the man stood up, relieved. I died but could i really still be on earth? I don't recognise anything he's saying, how much could have changed? The 13th cultist quickly scurried away and gathered the rest of the cultists as they hurried outside to make quick preparations.
Despite the dull pain of his stiff and weakened body, Dio couldn't help but laugh as soon as the cultists had left earshot. Just hearing his own voice again felt invigorating. However the moment the final cultist left and the cave fell silent, a crippling anxiety crept into his chest.
"I've been summoned somewhere new. A fresh start. Somewhere that will learn to bend the knee to the Almighty Dio. I'm not sure how much has changed on earth, or wherever it is I've ended up, but I've cheated death on numerous occasions and that only proves that the universe has been working in my favour."
Dio relished the feeling of his untold luck, he had somehow been resurrected in place of someone else. Malvros. Dio assumed he was a rather powerful figure, it wouldn't hurt to carry his name around, at least in the presence of those vampire cultists. The Joestars were a thing of the past! There was a fresh world ready for his domination. A weak smile graced his lips, but didn't quite reach his eyes.
Dio took notice of a large mirror next to the altar and remembered he was naked. He looked at himself. His eyes looked lifeless, as if he was staring at a dead body. The knot in his chest grew tighter.
The time spent trapped in that red-glass prison, however long it was, has clearly done something to me. I...
"I feel lonely."
He cursed the very words as they left his mouth, but unfortunately he couldn't scratch out the gut twisting feeling. This desperate need for any form of external stimulus was an appetence born from the years he was deprived of it. Especially from another person. Any other person. Being trapped with nothing but his thoughts had made him come to hate them. He had become his own worst company and he despised that in and of itself.
He distracted himself by inspecting his body, which was an intriguing case to say the least.
His body looked almost the same as the one he had before his death, except the star that used to remain near the nape of his neck had moved in between his shoulder blades. It stretched from one to the other and ended just above the small of his back. The vampire cultist from earlier had mentioned that his body now, differed from the one they had prepared for him and he could only assume this change had come about after becoming a vessel for his soul.
It didn't seem impossibly far fetched, as his vampiric physique allowed an extraordinary level of control over his body's cells but that also begged the question of how his vampire physique was carried over to this world.
Even so it didn't give him the ability to veritably shapeshift at will, much less subconsciously. If what they said was true, then this was quite strange.
The main issue as of now though is that my body has been severely weakened, it's likely just because I have yet to consume much blood.
His six-foot-five frame paired with his atrophied muscles made him look emaciated, though he was actually feeling quite hungry so it wouldn't be inaccurate to assume so.
Those vampires from earlier... where did they go? Dio thought.
He focused and called upon one of his stands, The Passion. In his previous life, stands were physical manifestations of a person's spirit, in simple terms. Most people tended to be without stands, but there were ways to awaken one. The unanimous fact regarding all stand users was that a strange force of fate made them naturally inclined to cross paths.
Dio was a peculiar case as he possessed two stands. This was unique to him as Dio's stand power was awakened after he possessed the body of his adoptive brother Jonathan Joestar. He awakened his own stand, The World and Jonathan's stand, The Passion, allowing him to use two stands at once. Combined with his vampire physique this made him nigh unstoppable. And yet... To be killed by a Joestar. No matter. That is all in the past.
Dio pulled back from his thoughts and realised he was struggling to summon his stand. He felt a sharp numbing sensation coming from his back, but he ignored it as ethereal purple thorned vines finally leapt from his hands and he pressed his palm to the mirror.
He rarely used this stand in his past life, but it was able to divine information and transmit it on a surface. He focused on the face of the vampire cultist who had offered him the chalice, Lazarus, with a subtle yet expectant smile.
The image in the mirror swirled and shifted, then warped to the setting of a dark forest. A tree with bare branches and ashen bark was slick with thick red blood streaming from a gnarled branch where the vampire cultist he sought hung lifeless.