Olbia's passenger port was unusually calm tonight. The harbor, bathed in moonlight, carried an extraordinary aura, with shattered ice and passenger ships cut into a mosaic.
The Assassination Team huddled together in a small fishing boat, unnatural ice encasing them as their gaze, like torches, fixed on the opposite bank.
"This time, I will absolutely not give them another chance," Ghiaccio said, his usual temper gone, replaced by an unusual calmness. The resounding drumbeat announced the final battle; the enemies from the sea had been completely eliminated.
This meant the Assassination Team had no enemies left in terms of long-range combat.
A fierce gust of sea wind suddenly blew, stirring up waves on the calm sea. The Assassination Team's fishing boat, floating on the ice, swayed with the movement of the sea.
Ghiaccio suddenly felt he had learned something.
"How should I put it? I suddenly feel like I'm not cool enough!" Ghiaccio mused.
Ghiaccio felt Johnson was cooler than him. In Ghiaccio's eyes, Johnson was a reliable person, but his abilities were weak, only good for support. But today, his perception was refreshed. He had always prided himself on being the second strongest in the Assassination Team, because no one else would contend for it.
Today, Ghiaccio felt a bit defeated.
"Ghiaccio-senpai!" Pesci shouted loudly, "You're already very cool (cold)!"
Ghiaccio fell silent, then jumped out of the fishing boat, stepping onto the ice. He bent down and put his hand into the floating seawater, instantly forming an ice chain. In the next second, he hooked it onto the railing on the opposite bank.
The next second—
"Crack—"
He deactivated his ability, and using the pull of the continuously shortening frozen chain, he directly pulled the fishing boat!
Risotto was slightly surprised because Ghiaccio had never used this move before. His ability had always been capable of instantly killing enemies, as an ability that could change the environment was quite powerful. However, due to its singular nature, there were few variations in its use.
"Hey," Ghiaccio said, his back to Johnson Joffrey, "I got the inspiration for this move from you."
Ghiaccio's voice was low, carrying his own dignity, with a tone exclusive to men, and a rarely used calm, smiling inflection—
"Johnson, let me call it—[White Album: Reversed Hierophant]. Don't get too arrogant."
Johnson was slightly stunned. He looked at Ghiaccio's back, who was squatting at the bow of the boat, and softly said, "You're the one who should be proud."
The fishing boat came to an abrupt halt two or three meters from the shore. Ghiaccio's operation was precise and perfect.
[White Album: Gently Weeps]
The white, biting cold was accurately released into the air. The airflow instantly compressed to its smallest amplitude, and the molecular vibrations began to slow down—
"Ghiaccio, this guy," Melone whispered with a smile, "has gotten stronger. The old him wouldn't have been able to solely lower the air temperature without affecting his teammates."
At this moment, everyone in the Assassination Team could feel the increase in Ghiaccio's power.
"I've always said that treating battle as a trial is true growth," Risotto said, walking over to Pesci. His tone was gentle yet extremely firm, reaching everyone's ears.
This was a trial.
Pesci trembled. If it were the old him, he would always cry, but now, his will was even firmer. He was so surprised that when he saw the Reversed Hierophant pull Ghiaccio out, the thought of seizing the opportunity created by the Reversed Hierophant actually popped into his mind. The moment this thought appeared, he didn't doubt himself at all.
He didn't doubt himself, his judgment was correct, whether his [Beach Boy] could truly achieve it perfectly.
He had become confident, having personally eliminated the powerful Babyface.
He, Pesci, killed someone!
I killed someone! Big Bro!
"Pesci," Prosciutto said, as if sensing the internal struggle within Pesci, suddenly turning to him, "In this battle, I originally thought I wouldn't be able to intervene, but I can direct you. This was my initial idea, to have you as my right arm."
"But, Pesci," Prosciutto said in a low voice, his gaze filled with affection, then cupped Pesci's face and stroked his green hair, "You've grown, you don't need me anymore."
"No, Big Bro, I still..." Pesci hadn't expected Big Bro to say such a thing suddenly and quickly began to explain.
"No," Prosciutto said lightly, looking at the constantly churning sea, like an unending scroll. He said, "You are already an assassin. You are no longer my subordinate; you are my qualified partner."
Pesci: "!"
I am... a partner? The kind of partner Big Bro Prosciutto often talks about, 'When the words "Kill them" appear in our hearts! Our actions have already been completed!'?
"I understand," Pesci's demeanor suddenly changed. He placed his hand on the back of Prosciutto's hand, pushing him away, and said in a deep, manly voice:
"Big Bro, I'm going to act. You wait for me here."
This time, I will definitely use my Beach Boy to pave the way for the Assassination Team.
The low temperature in the air slowed its flow, and simultaneously, a scorching and serious fighting spirit spread out.
·
Approximately several years ago, Meg Rafferty (born 1965) was still a doctor. Unlike others, including Carlson, who was expelled from the French army from the start and existed as a mercenary, his ability did not originate from the arrow in the BOSS's hand.
His power came from talent.
Different Stand Users have different sources of power; some come from the so-called arrow, while others are born with it.
The arrow originated from an extraterrestrial meteor, perhaps passed down from ancient times. Maybe in ancient times, someone accidentally used the arrow, gaining Stand power, and Stand power can be inherited.
Meg was one such lucky person. He inherited the Stand Ability from some unknown ancestor, awakening it when he was fifteen. Like a certain high school student possessed by an evil spirit, his Stand's initial awakening also began with fear.
Moreover, his power was not an ordinary Stand Ability, but the strongest mental attack type of ability.
Instead of being guided by his grandfather to embark on a journey like a certain high school student possessed by an evil spirit, he began his lonely exploration, becoming isolated and alone.
The only thing accompanying him was the strange mental ravings produced by his Stand's constant influence.
·
"Babyface has been taken care of," Carlson said, his tone somewhat relaxed. He had run across battlefields many times and had seen life and death countless times. His realization was that life was merely like a white goose feather brushing across a teal lake, stirring no ripples.
"My ability is completely countered by Ghiaccio, and you're not suited for group combat," Carlson said calmly. "Squalo and Tiziano have also been taken care of."
With that, he lowered his green eyes and, looking at the deep blue sea, said, "I once trained a special forces unit that always won every battle. The eyes of those guys are exactly like those of the Assassination Team now."
They are death-defying warriors.
When humans are pushed to a dead end, you can truly feel this kind of resolve.
Then he said, "Meg, I have to go."
"Hmm?" Meg looked at him in surprise.
"Did you see clearly?" Carlson said, "I'm not an idiot. These guys are really hard to deal with. We can't win."
"Ghiaccio's ability really counters me. In close combat, Risotto alone is already difficult to deal with. The Assassination Team is a perfect team; they have Reversed Hierophant for long-range crowd control, snipers, fishing rods, and Ghiaccio for mid-range. Not to mention, almost all the remaining members are close-range fighters," Carlson analyzed carefully, drawing on his battlefield experience.
The final conclusion was—there was no chance of victory.
Carlson said somewhat angrily, "I'm just doing a job for money. I was never part of the Bodyguard Team to begin with. Let's do things outside of Italy."
Meg's dark eyes reflected the moonless night. His Stand suddenly appeared beside him. Carlson pulled out his revolver. The robust, robot-like Stand, Old Town Road, didn't just turn a hundred-meter radius into a swamp.
As the Stand continuously evolved, its capabilities also evolved. Old Town Road shed its robotic shell, revealing taut, silver-white muscles, and took a fighting stance.
"My Stand is as strong in close combat as I am," Carlson said, standing behind Meg and looking at his back. "Instead of dealing with a small-timer like me, you might as well save your strength to leave yourself a whole corpse."
He had been discharged from the French army years ago, the reason being his complete lack of conviction.
Conviction was spiritual encouragement given by superiors to subordinates. Carlson often gave others conviction, but he himself had none.
"You and we are different," Meg seemed to be telling a long story. "I've always admired Korne (the infamous BIG). He doesn't talk much. His Stand told him from the day it came into existence that only death could make it appear."
"I believe Stand Users are often lonely, and it is from this loneliness that Stand BY ME was derived. This is my initial understanding of Stands."
The loneliness of a Stand User is too stifling and profound. If they could, perhaps some would trade seventeen years of solitude for fifty days of friendship. This is the loneliness of a Stand User.
"Carlson, do you understand?" Meg turned his head to look at him.
"No, I don't. I only became a Stand User a year ago after being shot by an arrow. I don't understand you natural-born ones."
Meg chuckled softly, then said, "Then you should experience it too."
—[Quantum Black Hole: Darkest Hour]
As soon as Meg finished speaking, a thick, murmuring sound spread out from his Stand. Pilgrims began to awaken, and the dead began to sing—
The entire world began to grow dim, as if an ancient god was gazing upon it.
His Stand, [Quantum Black Hole: Darkest Hour], began to unleash an invisible force, like the old lord of R'lyeh, slumbering at the bottom of the sea, delivering the strongest mental attack to the world.