"Time has been erased!"
The world fractured.
Everything around Jon turned blood-red and crumbled like glass into a void of nothingness. Motion froze. Sound vanished. Only Jon moved freely in this halted world, his thoughts sharp, his intent unwavering.
Redbeard stood suspended, mid-action, gun aimed straight at Jon, firing a volley of bullets.
Jon watched it all unfold.He sidestepped effortlessly, dodging each bullet as if dancing through fate itself. Then he charged.
Halfway there, he stopped and hawked a thick wad of phlegm—right into Redbeard's eyes.
That'll do it.
His vision ruined, Redbeard would never see what came next.
Jon didn't bleed, and he wasn't about to smear blood on anyone's face either. That move was cursed.
Old Man DIO tried that on Jotaro and got folded. The World shattered like plastic. Not even ashes remained of him by the end of the fight.
Diavolo tried it too—look how he ended up: eternally dying, forever trapped in death's loop.
Suddenly, something odd caught his eye.
The bullets Redbeard had fired… weren't bullets anymore.
They'd transformed—into tiny, blood-red cherry tomatoes, each one grotesquely grinning like miniature demons.
They hit the ground and burst, turning into a splatter of red that writhed like a dancing pool of flesh.
Jon's expression tensed. "A Stand attack—or no, more likely... Nen."
There was no doubt: Redbeard was a Nen user.
If Jon had tried to defend with Stone Free, he might've triggered a hidden effect and dropped dead on the spot.
These… Pearl Jam lookalikes weren't just for show.
But it didn't matter now.
Jon stepped silently behind Redbeard.
King Crimson's arm pulled back, ready to strike.
"Time shall resume."
To everyone else, Jon was still standing near the other prisoners. There was no trace of motion, no sign of escape. They only remembered Redbeard firing his pistol.
Then, without warning—
CRACK.
A massive red hand punched clean through Redbeard's back, ripping through his chest like a spear.
"A righteous Donut," Jon whispered.
"The first of many."
"Huuh? Where'd the brat go?" Redbeard muttered.
Then the pain hit.
A choking gasp escaped his lips, followed by a splatter of blood.
His blurry, phlegm-smeared vision tilted downward.
From the corner of his eye, he saw it.
A hand—Jon's hand—protruding from his kidney.
"W-What the hell... is that growing out of me?"
Before the shock could fully register, another wave of agony surged through his body. Redbeard coughed up blood again and crumpled.
As Jon withdrew his hand, a spray of blood and organs followed, painting the deck in violent crimson.
Only now did the others see Jon clearly, standing behind their captain, hand dripping with warm blood, his face calm—almost solemn.
This was Jon's first time using King Crimson, and it felt incredible.
Powerful. Precise. Absolute.
As expected of a Boss's Stand.
But… there was also disgust.
This was Jon's first time killing someone with his own hands.
Jackman didn't count—he drowned. Quiet, clean. No blood, no gore.
But this?
Redbeard's intestines lay steaming on the deck. His death had weight.And Jon felt it—twisting in his gut like nausea.
Still… he couldn't deny the thrill.
Redbeard had seemed untouchable. A beast. A monster.
And yet…He was so weak.
The entire ship fell silent.
The crew stared, dumbfounded.
They remembered the captain taunting the warship.
They remembered him shooting at a boy.
Then… nothing.
Now, that boy stood calmly over the lifeless corpse of Captain Redbeard.
A sense of unreality hung in the air.
"Who am I?""What just happened?"
Panic crept into their bones.
The Redbeard Pirates were the most confused of all.
They'd expected the usual: boss shows off, morale boost, prisoners break.
A cute boy got shot. Shame about that—he was kinda pretty.
"Could've been mine…" one pirate muttered.
"Good thing it wasn't the one I liked," his friend replied under his breath.
The ship had no women. They died quickly at sea, or were kept for the captain's pleasure—then died anyway. The crew had long since turned to each other. Nine out of ten of them were gay.
But now?
The boss—their best fighter—was dead.
And not just dead—obliterated in a single blink.
No one saw how. No one even saw when.
Fear swept through the ranks like wildfire.
Retreat whispered in their minds.
What chance did they have?
For a moment, no one moved.The deck was dead silent.
The pirates stood frozen, still trying to process what they had just witnessed.
Jon didn't notice.He didn't need to. The pressure in the air was rising fast.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—someone among them still had a shred of tactical sense.
"Kill him!" the vice-captain barked, snapping the crew out of their daze."If we don't take him down, we're all dead!"
Guns were raised in unison.Hundreds of muzzles locked onto Jon.
"FIRE!!"
A wave of bullets tore through the air like a roaring tide, a lethal storm impossible to dodge.The sky darkened with metal death.
But Jon remained calm.
He took a breath, lifted his hand, and spoke the words:
"KING CRIMSON."
Time shattered.Reality split.
The prisoners watching were stunned, slack-jawed.They hadn't accounted for this—not this power.Jon's abilities were far beyond anything they'd imagined.
In that erased moment, Jon walked calmly through the storm of bullets, weaving past the deadly metal rain with absolute clarity. Epitaph had already shown him everything.
He strode into the heart of the enemy formation.
"String Extension Fist—ORA!"
Stone Free's fist flew forward, stretching across the deck like a launched tether, and smashed directly into the vice-captain's face.The crack of bone rang out, and the man dropped instantly.
The other hand swung sideways, scattering pirates like bowling pins.
Then—time resumed.
To everyone else, the bullets seemed to hit... nothing.Instead, one of their own collapsed in front of Jon, riddled with friendly fire.
They never saw Jon reposition, never saw the strike.They only saw the aftermath.
But Jon had planned it all.Epitaph had shown him everything.That pirate's fall wasn't luck—it was calculated. A perfect human shield.
Now, only a few stray bullets remained.Stone Free raised its arms.
"ORA ORA ORA!"
The remaining bullets were deflected mid-air, ricocheting off the hardened strands of Jon's Stand.From the outside, it looked like the bullets had just dropped from the sky for no reason.
All eyes remained on Jon—the devil child who erased time.And that gave the prisoners their window.
Chains were broken.Ropes were cut.The prisoners began to riot.
Chaos erupted.
The pirates were overwhelmed by fear.How do you fight someone who glitches reality?
Some fired blindly. Others simply screamed.
A few chose a quicker escape—they jumped into the sea.
Jon moved like a ghost among them.His fists danced.Blood sprayed.Every motion deliberate, every kill precise.
The deck was a war zone.And Jon?He walked through it like a king surveying his battlefield.
Then—a crash.
Someone landed hard on the deck, splinters flying from the impact.
Jon stopped mid-step.
His expression sharpened.His instincts flared.
He turned, fists raised, to meet whoever had just arrived.