"There is no true fairness in this world. The things you need most are always the most expensive, little cat."
Like a phantom mirage, the owner of the remains appeared with his back to the cat—a figure crowned in thorns. He raised a hand pierced clean through with a hole and pointed somewhere in the distance, leaving behind words that were half warning, half prophecy.
"Never trust the whispers of a devil."
"The third stage at the finish line. That is where you belong."
The cat behind him:
Like a vision from scripture, the specter of the corpse's owner flickered and vanished in an instant.
BOOM—
"Mew mew mew!" The thunderclap and the howling storm it heralded jolted the cat back to reality. She scrambled on her proportionally stubby little legs, desperately searching for shelter.
Just moments ago, the devil had fulfilled its end of the bargain and disappeared.
The spine it had delivered—right as the cat was about to take a bite—had wriggled like a centipede and burrowed straight through her much smaller body, defying every law of physics to fuse with a cat of an entirely different species.
Strangely, her screaming stomach went quiet the instant it merged. The cat who'd been on death's doorstep moments ago surged back to full vitality almost immediately. The cracking in her eyes, the buzzing in her ears—all of it, gone.
Beyond that, the Holy Corpse's spine had triggered a miracle. Quanquan, who'd been stranded in the dead center of the Devil's Palm, was teleported out—flung from the desert to open wilderness over twenty kilometers away, catapulted clean out of the danger zone.
With the storm hammering down, the discomfort of losing her whiskers faded into background noise. She didn't even notice that back where she'd been lying, three patterns had been projected from her spine and etched into the desert sand—clues pointing to the locations of the Corpse's right hand, both ears, and both feet.
"Meow."
Kitty got lucky. She found a small stone cave nearby, just big enough for shelter.
The entrance was a tight squeeze, so she put her feline flexibility to work—her perfectly round body poured through the gap like a blob of liquid, smooth as silk.
The opening was the only tight part. Inside, there was room enough to roll over.
"Meow?" Shaking the water from her fur, she finally had the chance to question the voice in her head.
She definitely hadn't accidentally swallowed any crunchy little gadgets today (Bluetooth earbuds).
The cat looked down at the collar around her neck. Attached to it was a 22nd-century pet tracker that sometimes played her mama's or grandma's voice. But right now, it was silent.
「Due to the influence of the Holy Corpse miracle, Host has acquired 'human-level intelligence' and 'vocal cord evolution.' Host may now attempt human speech.」 But this voice wasn't coming from the collar.
「Achievement unlocked: [The Most Magical Kitty!] — Reward: basic human language pack (equivalent to a 7-year-old child's proficiency, various languages).」
"Mew~ (＾▽＾)"
This reward was enormously important for Quanquan. Before today, she'd been nothing more than an ordinary house cat living in the 22nd century. Female, one year old. Hobbies: eating and sleeping, with the occasional unsanctioned jailbreak through the front door to pick fights with other cats and dogs. Every unfamiliar face got a complimentary beating first.
The name "Quanquan" came from her coloring—almost identical to a panda's markings, black and white in all the same places. But when her mama had first laid eyes on her, all she'd noticed were the black eye circles, and "Quanquan" stuck.
Just yesterday—at least, it felt like yesterday to the cat—her grandma, who never usually took her outside, had walked in carrying the cat carrier. Quanquan's best guess was that grandma had discovered the stolen ball of yarn and was about to ship her off to the punishment house (the vet). So Quanquan deployed her adorable appearance and cunning intellect to execute a flawless escape, planning to come home once grandma cooled down.
...And somehow ended up in this wasteland instead.
"Meow?" The cat directed a question at the voice in her head.
「Dimensional Travel System 2.0, at your service. The System's primary function is to assist the Host in traveling across worlds, primarily those of the two-dimensional variety.」
「Reminder: The pet name 'Quanquan' does not meet the dignity requirements of a System Host. Please select a new name at your earliest convenience. Failure to comply may result in the System exercising its right to convert the Host's name into a censored word in the interest of preserving System dignity.」
"Meow!"
「Host refuses to communicate. System AI auto-generating name. Scanning identity... Taking one character each from the Host's parents' names. Result: 'Yimi.'」
The name registered under Quanquan in the System changed to "Yimi (Quanquan)."
"Meow?" The cat was mildly confused but figured she could live with it. She just couldn't figure out why they'd put a dinner bell in parentheses after "Yimi."
"Meow!" I want to go home!
「No matching request found. Please rephrase your query.」
"Damn... damn...!" The cat resorted to profanity.
She was not a stray.
「Host may complete Tasks and Achievements to accumulate 'Energy' for activating the next journey.」
「'Energy' includes both System-awarded Energy and the Host's own innate Energy. While the Host's safety is ensured, the Host's innate Energy can contribute 0.1% toward the portal. Activate contribution? Note: Do not contribute Energy while in danger.」
「Note 2: Following the version update, Tasks are not mandatory. 'Journey' represents freedom and ease. As a transportation tool, the System will not interfere with the Host's behavior or choices, nor will it provide excessive assistance. If the Host wishes to grow stronger, the Host must rely on personal effort. However, the System will provide convenient items to compensate for innate disadvantages.」
Yimi's ears drooped. She made the same face she'd worn when the Saint's phantom had appeared.
In tandem with the System's introduction, a rough interface unfolded across her retinas, automatically downloading the meaning of each function into her brain.
Really rough. On the left: a gray portal. On the right: a gacha spin wheel. In the corner: a personal info panel, plus Tasks and Achievements. That was it. Not even a storage space.
Opening the spin wheel revealed that it, too, ran on Energy.
There was only one task:
Collect all parts of the Holy Corpse (1/10)
Task Rewards: Portal Energy fully charged, Beginner Combat Suit (imitation), Spatial Ring 2m × 2m, one gacha spin
Note: Only the first task provides physical item rewards. Standard rewards are Energy. The Host may also use reward Energy on the gacha wheel to attempt obtaining items.
「Beginner's bonus: 1× free gacha spin. Would the Host like to use it?」
Yimi ignored the System, curled up in the cave, and fell asleep waiting for the rain to stop.
...
"Stay right there—don't you dare come any closer!"
Less than a kilometer from Yimi's hiding spot, a gold-toothed man sat astride a dark, brooding-looking horse. He barked at the fourteen-year-old blonde girl approaching them.
He wasn't being heartless without reason. The girl's identity was far too sensitive—she was the wife of Steven Steel, the organizer of this transcontinental race.
Yes. This fourteen-year-old girl had a husband past fifty.
After surviving this many assassination attempts, the two of them had more or less figured it out. This supposedly unprecedented race was, at its core, nothing more than a scheme by its biggest investor—the President of the United States, Funny Valentine—to use the racers as pawns to collect the Holy Corpse Parts, only to seize them all at the end.
But the girl shouted at them with desperate urgency: "I heard you two would be passing through this route, so I came on purpose! Mr. Joestar, Mr. Zeppeli! Please help me—you're the only ones I can turn to now. Please, save my husband!"
Though Steven had agreed to the President's plan to use the race for collecting Corpse Parts, he wasn't a bad man. He'd clashed with the President over not wanting anyone killed during the race, and had even deliberately redirected the surveillance balloon meant to monitor Johnny and Gyro.
Then Lucy—who'd recently been teaching herself to lip-read—had used a telescope to "overhear" the President deciding that Steven had become a liability worth eliminating.
Lucy was a girl of action. She hadn't sat around waiting to die. That was exactly why, after pulling a series of covert maneuvers, the President's subordinates had tracked her here.
Tears still glistened at the corners of her eyes. "It was Mountain Tim who told me to find you. And... he's probably not in this world anymore."
Mountain Tim—a Stand user who'd crossed paths with Johnny and the others briefly.
Even so, Gyro kept his head low and muttered to his companion: "What is this girl playing at? Does she think being young earns her our sympathy? Johnny, we have no reason to trust her."
Sensing their distrust, the girl grew more frantic: "I have information about the Corpse's spine! In fact, just moments ago, it was in my hands!"
"What?"
"B-But it was stolen." Her expression stiffened. "Something that looked like a frog took it."
It was something beyond anything she'd ever known. A creature that looked like a cross between a toad and a catfish, nearly twice her height, with a tongue that extended over five meters.
But Lucy also counted herself lucky. Lucky that the detective the President had dispatched had snatched the Corpse Part away first—because otherwise, the one pierced halfway through by that grotesque tongue would have been her.
"A frog? Is it a Stand...?"
"Gyro, look!" Johnny suddenly spotted something, pointing to a patch of ground off to their side.
Not far ahead, three shallow patterns lay etched into the earth, pieced together like fragments of a puzzle. Despite the ferocious rain, the markings in the mud refused to wash away.
"Corpse Part indicators—and there are three of them. The Corpse itself isn't here, so the Stand user who stole it can't have gone far. Gyro?"
Johnny noticed his partner wasn't listening. Gyro was staring at something near the edge of the three patterns, brow furrowed in thought.
Following his gaze, Johnny spotted a set of oddly shaped impressions. As a gifted jockey, he recognized hoofprints instantly—and fresh ones at that.
The problem was that there were only four.
Even scanning the surrounding area, he found exactly four hoofprints. As if a horse had materialized out of thin air and vanished just as quickly. And stranger still—these prints bore no horseshoe marks.