"What are you doing?" Fugo stared at them with wide eyes.
Giorno helped Bucciarati sit down on a chair in the plaza and used clean water to wash his eyes.
"Why is Trish here? Where's the Boss? Don't tell me you guys fought!!" Fugo roared.
Abbacchio grabbed Giorno by the collar and demanded, "Weren't you in the car, kid?"
"Why did you come out from inside! Explain yourself clearly!"
"What exactly is going on?" Narancia asked, staring at the radar screen in surprise.
"BOSS wants to kill Trish," Giorno said calmly.
Abbacchio, Fugo, and Narancia all widened their eyes, mouths agape in surprise, uttering surprised onomatopoeic sounds. Giorno pulled Abbacchio's hand away and continued to look into Bucciarati's eyes.
"Uh..."
"What are you talking about?!" Fugo suddenly shouted, "What does it have to do with us if BOSS wants to kill his own daughter?! My order was just to deliver her to BOSS!"
"What are you all being..."
"Silence, Fugo!" Bucciarati said loudly, "My words... I absolutely cannot tolerate this!"
"I cannot forgive myself for being a subordinate of someone who builds profit on the suffering of others, who maintains their own happiness by taking from others. And I certainly cannot allow myself to stand by idly in this matter."
Bucciarati's words left Fugo speechless. After a long moment, he said with some despondency, "Can you really bear for our dreams to be shattered here, and then for your subordinates and you to be hunted by the organization to the ends of the earth, just like the Assassination Team?!"
"Huh?! Bucciarati!" Fugo demanded loudly, "All for this little girl we have no connection with, whom we've known for less than two hours?!"
"This is my business," Bucciarati said slowly, closing his eyes. "I have always believed I am doing the right thing, and that is just me."
"Fugo, Abbacchio, Narancia," Bucciarati's tone was as gentle as ever, but also as stubborn as ever. "This is my own affair. Whether it's going against BOSS or helping Trish, it truly has nothing to do with you."
"There it goes again! There it goes again!" Fugo roared, "You say that every time! Do you think we'll still follow you?"
"I refuse! Go be your righteous fool! This time, none of us will follow you!" Fugo said loudly, then turned his back to Bucciarati.
"I didn't intend for you to follow..."
"No, Bucciarati, we can try to fight. Narancia..."
Before Giorno could finish, Abbacchio grabbed his shoulder. "What's wrong with you again, kid? Did you instigate Bucciarati?!"
This was the biggest difference between Giorno and Bucciarati. Bucciarati always possessed a strong, gentle empathy for the pain of others. He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous, something that could lead to death, so he didn't want his subordinates to follow.
Giorno, on the other hand, wouldn't. He would say, 'Everyone come and work with me, and when I achieve my dream, everyone will benefit.'
"Abbacchio! Let go of Giorno!" Bucciarati stood up. "My mind is made up. The path I'm taking is rough and painful. You all go back to Naples. I'm going to take Trish to her mother now."
With that, he fumbled in the direction of the car. Narancia wanted to help him, but Fugo glared at him.
Trish had no choice but to run over and pull Bucciarati. Giorno looked at Abbacchio, Fugo, and Narancia, sighed, and said to Bucciarati, "If it's just the three of us, perhaps we could try to ally with the Assassination Team."
At these words, Abbacchio and the other two were once again shocked.
"What are you talking about, kid?" Abbacchio said in surprise, "You're an Assassination Team spy, aren't you? I knew it!"
————
Diavolo watched them completely leave the clock tower. At the same time, Fugo and the others caught up. As the distance increased, Spice Girl's softening exceeded its range, and the wall returned to its original state.
But Diavolo would not pursue them further. On one hand, there were too many people, and his face would be exposed to everyone's gaze. On the other hand, it was because his arm was injured.
This was the greatest injury he had sustained to date.
Black blood gushed down his smooth severed limb. As Trish left, an immense Clash of pain assaulted his brain.
But what was even more unbearable was not this, it was Bucciarati's betrayal.
According to the guidance of the Book of Fate, Heaven's Whisper, shouldn't Bucciarati have listened to my orders to kill off the entire Assassination Team, and then bring Trish to me?
Why is it like this?
Could it be that I was deceived?
Impossible!
Up until now, Heaven's Whisper has never made a mistake, and no one has dared to deceive me, Diavolo.
Fate cannot be reversed!
After his battle with Risotto, Diavolo learned a lesson: he had completely severed ties with the past. He regretted that if he had killed Trish's mother the moment he saw her, she wouldn't have been saved by Illuso.
And he wouldn't have had to fight Risotto and expose his abilities through Melone's intel, all because he went back to finish the job.
Diavolo truly was unlucky.
This time, he was absolutely determined to kill Trish; he could not let this bloodline bond block his path. So, he didn't even hesitate as he did in the original story but acted directly. Yet, he never expected Giorno to hide inside Trish's chest using his zipper, and instead, use his Stand to sever his arm.
Damn it!
Diavolo leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the ground.
Should I just run away?
A thought flashed through Diavolo's mind.
What a joke!!
I am the Emperor! I am the Emperor of the entire organization, and I have countless subordinates. I absolutely cannot give up like this. Will everything I've worked for be in vain?
Moreover, Trish's mother is already in a vegetative state, so even Trish couldn't find me, not even with that kind of familial bond.
The disgraced Emperor, Diavolo, clutched his left arm, from which black blood flowed, his heart filled with conflict, mainly due to his confidence in his ability. His ability was too strong—
King Crimson, Time Erasure.
If I can even control time, how can I lose so easily?
He simply bandaged his wound, reverted to Torbio's body, wrapped himself in a black robe, and wandered through the alleys of Cagliari back to the dilapidated small hotel where he lived.
He quickly pulled out his computer; he needed guidance once again. He didn't believe that fate would always Stand against him.
He felt that he must have done something wrong, otherwise, fate would certainly not be twisted.
He wanted to contact the person from Heaven's Whisper again and ask him for another prophecy.