Fear, the unknown, the past... constantly pursued Diavolo. A body with two souls would not be defeated; this could not be changed.
People can change the future, but they cannot change fate, just as he could change the fact of being pulled into the mirror, because his fate would not end here.
Fate cannot be changed, because changing fate itself is fate.
Diavolo did not take pleasure in killing. In the matter of killing Illuso, he felt no sympathy or joy, and even a little regret. He did not achieve his goal, which was to get intelligence on the source of the Assassination Team from his mouth.
The ability of the 'mirror man' was too powerful; not dealing with it sooner would be quite unfavorable to him.
Diavolo stepped over Illuso's corpse, his black mesh cape and long pink hair fluttering behind him, his leather shoes making crisp sounds with each step.
He looked down at Aufure, thinking, 'It's about time, you should die.'
With that, he raised his hand, and King Crimson, with a ferocious expression, reappeared beside him. The instant he waved his hand, a beam of light suddenly shone into his eyes.
Diavolo, having been in darkness for a long time, was temporarily unable to accept such intense, blinding light and instinctively covered his eyes.
"mirror... man..."
A trembling voice reached Diavolo's ears. The blinding light came from the mirror he had thrown by the pillow when he first approached the hospital bed.
What?!
Diavolo watched in disbelief as the gray Stand suddenly appeared in the mirror, pulling Trish's mother—the woman representing his past, still unconscious—into the mirror.
That woman, both familiar and strange to him, slowly shattered into pieces like a broken gray mirror, completely reaching a reality he could not access.
That false yet real mirrored domain.
Diavolo instinctively looked at Illuso. He stretched out one hand, his hopeless eyes completely sightless. He acted purely on instinct, because only one thing occupied his mind: he couldn't die in vain.
He couldn't let his comrades die as miserably as he had.
This is my resolve, BOSS. I need to make you see clearly too.
This was the last time. Illuso lay in a pool of blood, breathing like a withered fish, his shattered internal organs spilling out. Yet, he still managed to activate his Stand with sheer willpower, sending Trish's mother into the mirror world.
"I told you... BO... BOSS... victory belongs to our Assassination Team. Glory always accompanies the assassins..."
Diavolo watched the scene before him in shock. His Stand Ability, Epitaph, was not passively activated.
"I'm returning that phrase to you: when you think you've won, that's actually when you've lost."
Light shone into Diavolo's angry eyes. Evil and fury gleamed deep within his green, triangular pupils.
It was not surprising for a dying person to unleash Stand power.
Let me use Epitaph to see where Aufure will land, then kill her within the deleted time.
No! If someone sees, then I will be exposed.
Damn it! Diavolo clenched his fists in anger!
He took several deep breaths, knowing that excessive anger was useless. After telling himself to calm down, he observed Illuso's reaction, then saw his outstretched hands fall and his completely sightless eyes close.
He knew the mirror man had disappeared.
------
Illuso's Stand, with its last vestiges of power, sent Aufure into the compact mirror held by a Nurse waiting for the elevator near the elevator door. Many other people were also waiting for the elevator there.
It was as if something in the Nurse's compact mirror was fleeing towards her. She instinctively looked up, behind her, not knowing where the person in the mirror was, but the person in the mirror was indeed rushing towards her—
"Ahhh!!" Fear swept over her. She shrieked and threw the mirror to the ground—
"Bang!!"
With a sound like an explosion of smoke, an unconscious woman suddenly appeared before everyone.
"What's going on?"
"Did she just appear?"
"How terrifying?!"
"Make way, the doctor is here."
Doctors, family members, and patients surrounded the woman who had appeared out of nowhere. Finally, after the doctors and Nurses examined her, they confirmed that she was the patient from room 401.
Diavolo's eyes widened in anger. It was over, everything was over. He hid in a dark corner, watching them take Aufure away.
He punched the wall, and before anyone noticed, he disappeared into the darkness again.
—
"Click!"
The examination room lights went out, and a Nurse with a deathly pale face, looking utterly dejected, pushed an old man in a wheelchair out.
"Sir, I hope you won't do this again next time," the brown-haired Nurse said helplessly. "Do you know how much trouble faking an illness causes us?"
The old man drooled, repeatedly asking, "My son, is he coming?"
The Nurse sighed deeply and said, "No, sir."
"No?" The elderly man's skin was a bit darker than average, making him look Latinx, but his posture was ramrod straight, indicating he must have been a soldier before retirement.
"Impossible, Cano next door is sick, and his son will come back."
The Nurse didn't know how to respond, but she roughly understood why the old man kept faking illness. She wasn't Cioccolata; any slightly more normal person would gently advise the old man, not to mention that she herself became a Nurse out of love.
"If you just stay in the retirement home, your son will naturally come when he has time."
"I haven't seen him in over ten years. I shouldn't have put him in Prison to repent, I shouldn't have…" The old man was repeating his usual, mantra-like words, and the Nurse couldn't take it anymore, shaking her head.
"You shouldn't have waited two years to look for him, until he escaped Prison. You've said this three times today."
"Let me take you for a walk," the Nurse said. "Don't fake illness again next time, it's really scary." The Nurse pushed him through the hospital corridor.
"Clatter, clatter—"
The sound of a gurney came from afar, and the Nurse quickly made way. A group of doctors pushed a man covered by a white sheet, completely covered. He was probably beyond saving; his blood had soaked through the blanket.
What severe injuries, the Nurse thought, shaking her head in lament, then looked down at the old man who always faked illness.
She found him staring blankly at the body of the man being pushed past. The Nurse felt puzzled again, then looked back at the body being pushed into the morgue. After a moment of thought, she looked at the old patient again—
His face was covered in tears, and he mumbled like a child, "That's my son, he's dead."
—
There have been too many things to do since school started these past two days, so I apologize for the late update. I hope everyone can understand, but there will still be three chapters daily.