Lee Sin's Bizzare Adventure - Chapter 34
Diavolo was furious.
Anyone would be upset if a “fortune-teller” suddenly proclaimed they would face a deadly calamity within three days.
What truly enraged Diavolo was that, despite not wanting to admit it, he found himself somewhat believing Scolippi’s talk about “fate.”
Diavolo had always believed in fate.
Years ago, when he was merely a serial killer, he encountered an Egyptian fortune-teller named Enya the Hag. She had given him a prophecy:
“You will become a king hidden in the shadows. Light and dark, the surface and the depths, as long as this secret exists, the deaths of others will bring you happiness… your glory will never fade.”
This prophecy had come true.
Diavolo meticulously concealed his true identity, following the path fate had set for him, enjoying endless glory in the shadows.
But now…
According to this mysterious Stand user, it seemed he had become fate’s abandoned child.
“Impossible… absolutely impossible…”
Diavolo hissed through gritted teeth:
“I don’t believe you… you must be spewing nonsense, trying to mess with my mind!”
“Does it matter?” Scolippi sighed softly. “We are all merely slaves to fate.”
“Whether you resist or disbelieve, it makes no difference.”
“Instead of deceiving yourself, accept your fate peacefully, touch ‘Rolling Stones,’ and let it bring you a painless death.”
Although Scolippi was forced to face away from him, Diavolo could almost imagine his expression—one of pity for the condemned.
“Bastard!”
“How could my fate, Diavolo’s fate, be decided by a mere stone…”
He clenched his teeth, ordering King Crimson to lift Scolippi and then hurl him to the ground in anger.
Finally, Diavolo stepped on Scolippi’s neck:
“Stone of fate, huh?”
“Then tell me… since you believe in the stone’s prophecy so much, did it tell you…”
“Will you die today?”
“Of course.” Scolippi hummed softly.
Even as his neck was being crushed, his face bleeding from the ground’s friction, he remained calm, as serene as a dead man.
Scolippi didn’t even struggle, just spoke matter-of-factly:
“Around eight this morning, ‘Rolling Stones’ changed… it carved out my death form!”
“I know not only that I will die but also how I will die—”
“I will be shot through the heart and die from blood loss.”
“…….”
Faced with someone who accepted death so calmly and already considered himself dead, Diavolo was at a loss for words.
Scolippi continued:
“I knew I was destined to die, but I refused ‘Rolling Stones’ painless death.”
“Because at that time, ‘Rolling Stones,’ in addition to carving my death form, also sensed another person—your fate.”
“I thought…”
“There must be something linking our fates.”
“So I didn’t immediately go to die; instead, I followed ‘Rolling Stones’ to find you, the man sentenced to death alongside me.”
“But… I didn’t expect our ‘link’ to be like this.”
He chuckled bitterly, then muttered mystically:
“If I hadn’t come to find you, maybe I wouldn’t die.”
“But with my personality, I definitely would come.”
“Haha… fate, this is fate!”
“Enough… enough!”
Diavolo couldn’t listen anymore.
The shackle named ‘fate’ made him feel suffocated:
“I don’t believe it…”
“Isn’t there any way to change fate?!”
“Right… hahaha…”
He suddenly laughed maliciously:
“Scolippi, didn’t you say ‘Rolling Stones’ predictions are always accurate?”
“It predicted you would be shot through the heart, right?”
“Hahaha…”
Diavolo crouched down, grabbing Scolippi’s neck:
“Fate says you die by a bullet, but… suffocation, blunt force, impalement, crushing, cutting veins, skinning…”
“I can think of a hundred ways to kill you!”
“Come on…”
“Summon your ‘Rolling Stones,’ have it predict again, see how I’ll do it!”
“…….”
Enduring the pressure on his neck, Scolippi struggled to say:
“Don’t bother.”
“No matter what you do, I will die as ‘Rolling Stones’ predicts—by a bullet.”
“Wrong answer.”
Diavolo sneered coldly:
“Seems your ‘Rolling Stones’ isn’t as accurate as you claim.”
He prepared to increase the force, intending to strangle Scolippi to death.
But then…
“Stop!”
“Don’t move!”
Two voices shouted from the alley entrance.
Two armed young policemen had arrived.
They had rushed over, responding to a call about the taxi driver’s murder.
From their perspective, Diavolo was pressing a helpless citizen to the ground, strangling him with murderous force.
“Stop it now!”
The two young policemen, guns drawn, nervously aimed at Diavolo:
“Pink-haired guy…”
“Get off that man!”
“Police? Damn…” Diavolo didn’t turn: “Did my shouting earlier attract them?”
“Hey!”
The young policemen shouted again:
“Stop, or we’ll shoot!”
“Wait…”
One policeman suddenly realized:
“Pink hair… this guy… this guy is the maniac who killed the taxi driver!”
“Shoot!”
Realizing they were facing a psychopathic killer, the young policeman lost control and pulled the trigger.
In the smoke, bullets fired.
The gunfire startled his colleague, who also fired reflexively.
Bang bang!
At this short distance of three to four meters, the bullets shot straight at Diavolo’s back.
“Damn!”
Diavolo hadn’t expected the rookie cops to fire so rashly.
As the superior of these policemen’s superiors’ protectors, he wanted to get them fired for such severe misconduct.
But with bullets about to hit his back, Diavolo had no time to think:
“King Crimson!”
He instinctively activated his time erasure.
Diavolo’s body became a void outside the timeline, and the bullets passed harmlessly through him.
Then, still in the time erasure state, where everyone moved unconsciously, he calmly walked deeper into the dark alley.
When the time erasure ended, Diavolo had vanished from the policemen’s sight.
“Ah?”
“Where, where did he go?!”
The young policemen turned pale: “How… how?”
“The pink-haired man is gone!”
“Then… where did our bullets go?”
The answer was obvious:
The bullets had passed through Diavolo’s body, striking Scolippi instead.
Scolippi’s heart was pierced from behind, blood gushing out like a fountain—he was doomed.
“Heh.”
“This mundane weapon can’t hurt me? I should thank you for handling this…”
Far away, Diavolo felt a small, instinctive pride, then…
“Wait?!”
Diavolo abruptly stopped, struggling to turn around:
“He… he…”
“He was shot to death?!”
In the blood pool, Scolippi, with his last breath, raised his head.
His dimming eyes clearly conveyed:
“See, this is fate.”
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