"Idiot! I saw through your little trick at a glance! Reinforcements or not, I can handle you two all by himself!" Captain Donovan let out a brash, arrogant laugh and snapped a kick into Joseph's head, sending him flying.
He landed in a strange, triumphant pose, then didn't even bother to look back. "Well? Why aren't you attacking? Stunned by my heroic bearing? Fine—I'll allow you to surrender to a great German soldier."
Ray Chu stared at him with dead, flat eyes. "Moron. Look at your feet."
"Hm?" Donovan glanced down. "This is… booze. Tequila!" A wet trail was spreading from beneath his boots, snaking all the way to where Joseph had landed.
"That's right! The tequila I was gonna use to 'treat' you Nazi scum!" Joseph lay on his side, both hands tucked behind his head like he was sunbathing. "In that split second, I splashed it all out without you noticing."
"Tch! It's just alcohol—don't tell me you think you can hurt me with that!" Something felt off, but a German soldier's pride wouldn't let him back down.
Joseph dipped three fingers into the spilled tequila and gave him a mysterious grin. "Not much liquid, sure—but it's enough. Take this! [HAMON TEQUILA OVERDRIVE]!"
In the next instant, the tequila on the ground seemed to come alive—whipping up into thin, waterlike blades that shot straight into Donovan's lower body. He was completely unprepared; every hit landed.
He clutched himself and screamed like a pig being slaughtered.
Even Ray Chu and Joseph felt their guts tighten. It was almost too painful to watch.
"Ugh… ughhh…" Donovan writhed on the ground like a worm.
Joseph planted a foot on his head, eyes gone cold. "Tell me what you know about Speedwagon. And tell me what you're doing here."
"Guh—!" Donovan forced the words out through the agony. "I'm a soldier! Don't even think about making me talk!" But the thought of what he'd become—even if someone somehow saved him—made a single tear of despair leak from the corner of his eye.
"What terrifying willpower!" Joseph was genuinely rattled. He wasn't sure he could stay that stubborn after taking a hit like that.
"Hand him to me," Ray Chu said.
At Joseph's puzzled look, Ray Chu gave a faint smile. "I have a technique. I can make him spill everything."
Joseph watched Ray Chu tap a single point on Donovan's body.
Donovan's eyes went unfocused, like he'd fallen into a fog—then he started talking. No resistance. More effective than any truth serum.
"So Grandpa Speedwagon really is in this base… along with the unearthed Pillar Men." Joseph's face hardened. He looked at Ray Chu. "That was insane, Ray. Are all martial artists like you?"
Ray Chu shook his head. "No. Right now, I'm the only one who can do it. It's a rough application of the human magnetic field—one result of exploring the body's latent potential. In China, it's called 'acupoint striking.'"
"Amazing." Joseph's eyes gleamed. "Grandma Erina told me Hamon came from ancient times, I wonder if it came from China? If I ever get the chance, I'm definitely visiting that ancient country."
Ray Chu, of course, wasn't about to explain he'd learned it in another world. Still… if this world's China had Hamon, who knew what other strange arts it might hold?
As they spoke, the two of them entered the Nazi base, buried twenty meters underground. Strangely, considering the commotion outside, there was no way the enemy should've had zero reaction.
Yet even after they got in, they didn't meet a single obstruction.
"Careful—there's blood in the air!" Joseph suddenly pressed himself to the wall in an unnatural pose, nose twitching as he sniffed.
"One, two, three, four, five…" he counted under his breath. "About twenty people's worth. Going by what that SS captain said, the Nazis in this base are basically all dead."
Joseph's face darkened. Grandpa Speedwagon was in here too. Whatever had happened, Speedwagon was in danger—already, or any second now.
He was about to sprint deeper when Ray Chu grabbed him. "Wait. He's here!"
The next instant, Joseph saw something unbelievable.
The wall ahead softened like melting wax. From it stepped a naked man—well over two hundred centimeters tall.
His body was flawless, like a Greek statue: perfect lines of muscle packed with strength and hard masculinity. His face looked ancient—cold, stern. Two strange black horns rose from his forehead, making it unmistakable: this wasn't human.
Sensing them, his gaze swept over the corridor.
Joseph's blood seemed to congeal. Like prey caught in a predator's stare, he couldn't even make himself move.
"JoJo! It's you, JoJo! Run! You can't beat a Pillar Man!" A voice shouted from a vent overhead.
"Grandpa Speedwagon!" Joseph looked up, shocked and relieved.
Speedwagon was there—badly injured—pinned in place by a Nazi officer inside the ventilation duct.
But the moment Speedwagon spoke, the Pillar Man—Santana—noticed him.
"Found you… primitive man." Santana's voice was strange and halting, like someone who'd only just learned speech.
Then he moved.
Too fast.
He lifted both hands—and the air screamed as it tore.
"Watch out!"
"Grandpa Speedwagon!"
Joseph threw himself in front of Speedwagon.
Blood burst from his chest. In that razor-thin instant, he'd wedged his body between Speedwagon and the killing blow.
Santana's weapon was, unbelievably, his own middle and index fingers—four fingers in total—stretching out over ten meters and spearing straight through Joseph.
"Hm?" Santana made a small, surprised sound. He'd discovered he couldn't assimilate this man's body.
The Pillar Men possessed the power to assimilate any living thing. Vampires were nothing more than "bread" they produced for feeding—while humans were merely prey.
On the food chain, humans sat two full tiers below the Pillar Men. And when Santana absorbed a human body, it wasn't even for nourishment—it was for learning. For amusement.
"It's Hamon!" Speedwagon realized at once. "JoJo! Because your body has Hamon, Santana can't assimilate you! Use Hamon Breathing—break free!"
"Tch."
With Santana's absurd intellect, he understood it instantly—and his reaction was even faster than Joseph's.
Shk!
His fingers swept sideways like blades—sharp as sabers—shearing through Joseph's hardened muscles with ease. Four gashes tore open, deep enough to show bone, and faintly, the organs beneath.
The next moment, blood sprayed in a wild burst, splattering the floor as Joseph's body was flung high into the air.
---
T/N: hmmm its probably from those tibetan monks that batman trained with
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