Nighttime.
Outside, the wind howled, tree branches whipping against the glass with sharp cracks.
Locke stood by Dio's bed, his shadow stretched long by the moonlight.
"Wake up, son!" he said, shaking him. "You're on Seraphiel duty."
"?!"
Dio shot upright, his eyes narrowing in the dark. "Dad, is there another crisis?!"
"You bet," Locke said, his face grim. "A huge one!"
"Who is it?!"
The boy instantly summoned The World, the golden Stand scanning the room like it was ready for war.
"It's the new sorghum I planted in the test field," Locke said, clutching his chest in mock agony. "This wind tonight…"
Dio and The World froze mid-motion on the bed.
"…Huh?"
"Those are drought-resistant test seedlings! If this wind snaps them—"
Thud!
Dio flopped back onto his pillow, yanking the blanket over his head. "Not my thing. I'm sleeping."
"Dio…"
"Snoooore…"
"You're forcing my hand, kid," Locke said, his voice taking on a mischievous lilt. "Forgive me, my foolish son."
"Huh? What're you—"
Dio's vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, he was lying in the nursery's small bed.
Seraphiel was curled up beside him, her tiny hand clutching a strand of his blond hair.
"You old—"
Dio started to snap, but stopped short as Seraphiel sleepily snuggled closer. Lowering his voice to a gritted whisper, he hissed, "Is this how you use Star Platinum?!"
From the hallway, Locke's fading hum drifted back, blending with the howling wind outside, dripping with 'fatherly love': "Sleep, sleep, my dear little baby…"
"…"
"Fine."
Muttering, Dio adjusted his position to let Seraphiel nestle into the crook of his arm. The World materialized by the bed, standing guard like a knight, blocking the tree shadows dancing across the window.
---
The wild wind battered the sorghum seedlings in the field, bending them every which way.
Locke frowned up at the dark, heavy sky.
"This wind's not right," he muttered to himself.
It was spring, after all—where was a storm like this coming from?
El Niño, probably.
Shaking his head, Locke focused on his sorghum. Stepping through the muddy field, he crouched to inspect the wind-ravaged seedlings.
The tender green stalks were toppled, some even uprooted, tangled in the dirt.
"Gonna have to replant," he sighed, righting a seedling.
"Hm?"
Locke blinked, noticing his breath had formed an unnaturally thick white fog.
It was early spring—temps shouldn't be this low.
Standing, he scanned the field and realized a thin veil of mist had crept over the entire area.
This wasn't right.
A windy night like this… where was fog coming from?!
He straightened abruptly, heart sinking as he saw the whole test field swallowed by milky-white fog.
The outlines of the field paths had vanished, and the ground beneath his feet felt wet and slick, giving off a faint, fishy stench with every squelching step.
The wind, the birds, even the distant rumble of the windmill—all gone, silenced.
Instinct kicked in. Locke stepped back, calling out, "Star Platinum!"
The purple Stand materialized, muscles taut, fists ready.
And in that moment—
A bone-chilling click echoed from the depths of the fog.
"ROAR!"
A hoarse, distorted bellow erupted from the mist!
Locke's pupils shrank as the fog churned, a massive black shadow charging toward him at terrifying speed!
It was… a dog?
No—wrong!
Its silhouette flickered in the fog, its form warped, joints bending at angles no human could comprehend, each movement accompanied by the sickening crack of misaligned bones.
No hesitation—Locke acted instantly!
"Star Platinum!"
"The World!"
In the gray-white frozen world, he charged forward, Star Platinum's fists unleashing a storm of punches!
When facing the unknown, beat it to a pulp first!
"Ora ora ora ora ora!"
Buzz!
Time resumed.
A terrifying shockwave blasted outward, scattering the surrounding fog!
The monster, reduced to a pulpy mess by the onslaught, began rapidly reforming, finally revealing its true form.
Jaws crisscrossed like jagged sawblades.
Its skin shimmered with eerie fluorescent spots. Its eyes—no, not eyes, but twisted, writhing black voids.
One glance, and Locke's brain stung, as if invisible spikes were stabbing his nerves.
"What the hell is this thing?"
Whatever. Beat it again.
Star Platinum's fists powered up for another round, but before they could swing—
"Hui du da song chuan!"
A clear, melodious female voice rang in his ear.
Backwards speech?
Locke froze, but before he could process it—
Buzz!
Space warped!
In the next second, his vision spun, and he felt yanked from his spot by an unseen force!
When he steadied himself, he was surrounded by darkness.
Damp brick walls, a narrow alley, a faint streetlight in the distance—he'd been teleported to a pitch-black backstreet.
"Phew—made it just in time," a bright, girlish voice said from his side.
Turning, Locke saw a black-haired girl with a high ponytail, catching her breath with her hands on her knees.
Her navy-blue satin performance outfit gleamed like pearls in the dim light, its fitted design accentuating her youthful curves. Her leather jacket hung open, rising and falling with her quick breaths, revealing the elegant arc of her silk-clad chest.
"You okay, farmer guy?" she asked, straightening up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Moonlight grazed her porcelain face, her emerald eyes sparkling.
But…
Locke wasn't falling for it.
"Okay?" he said, narrowing his eyes as Star Platinum loomed behind him. "I'm doing pretty bad right now. Care to explain, lady…"
"Why you brought me here?"
The girl blinked, her thick lashes fluttering. "You're not scared?" She tilted her head, studying him like he was some rare species. "You just saw magic! And a magical creature!"
"Answer my question first," Locke said, his voice low. "My family's back at the farm."
"Oh, is that what you're worried about?"
"…"
"Ah!" Realizing his expression, she waved her hands frantically. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean it like that! Don't worry—the hound only tracks marked targets. Like, say—"
Her voice cut off.
Following her gaze, Locke saw it—
Fog, seeping slowly from the cracks in the cobblestone street.
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