Chapter 12: The Resolve of Jonas Jourdan
The puppets, their dead eyes fixed on the pistol in his hand, threw themselves at him with suicidal abandon. Jonas snapped a leg out in a powerful kick, sending one flying back. At the same time, his finger tightened on the trigger, his aim locked on the travel bag sailing through the air.
But just as he was about to fire, his own left hand—the one still ensnared by Enya's Stand—shot up in front of his face. It moved with a will not his own, striking his right wrist with brutal force.
Jonas gasped, but it was too late. His grip loosened, and the pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor just out of reach. He tried to bend down, to pick it up, but his ensnared arm held him fast. He struggled against the invisible bond, but it was useless.
From the darkness, Enya's shrill, victorious cackle echoed through the room. "Ehehehehehe... Without your gun, how will you light your precious liquor now?! [Justice] is absolute! Victory is inevitable!"
The puppets, momentarily repelled, were already closing in again. Jonas knew he was out of time. He took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes locking onto Enya's position in the gloom. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.
"From the moment I followed you into this hotel, I was prepared to lose my life. In any confrontation, the most important thing is one's resolve! And when it comes to resolve... I, Jonas Jourdan, am second to none!"
At his call, [Invisible Black Monster: Maw] appeared at his side in a flash.
He turned to face the oncoming tide of walking corpses. They were only a step away now, the stench of their decay thick in the air. They shrieked, a chaotic mob of blades and rotting limbs swinging wildly at him.
But Jonas did not dodge. He did not flinch. He stood his ground, letting the weapons descend upon him. His gaze was fixed on a single point: the cleaver held by the male puppet directly in front of him.
He shot his hand out. Maw, moving like a blur, leaped and bounced between the incoming attacks, its impossibly hard body blocking every blow meant for its master.
Jonas's fist connected with the male puppet's wrist. With a sickening CRACK, the bone shattered, and the hand holding the cleaver went limp. Jonas seized the opportunity, snatching the weapon from its grasp.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
But it was enough to elicit another round of mocking laughter from Enya.
"Hee hee hee hee... And what do you plan to do with that? Do you truly believe one measly blade can change your fate? I could stand right in front of you, and you still wouldn't be able to touch me!"
She was right. Bound by [Justice], Jonas was still a prisoner, unable to move from his spot.
Jonas exhaled slowly, a plume of frigid air in the musty room. An abyssal flame ignited in the depths of his eyes. "If this arm is my burden..." he declared, his voice resonating with terrible power, "THEN I WILL SIMPLY CAST IT ASIDE!"
Before Enya's shocked eyes, Jonas gritted his teeth, raised the cleaver high, and without a shred of hesitation, brought it down on his own ensnared left arm.
The sickening sound of blade tearing through flesh and bone filled the room. A spray of crimson erupted, and his severed arm was flung into the air.
In that moment of absolute, stunning horror, Enya could only stare. Jonas Jourdan had chosen to dismember himself to achieve victory. The image was burned into her mind. A chilling, icy dread flooded her body, plunging her heart into a frozen abyss.
The resolve of the man before her... it was on a level she could never hope to comprehend. A man who would sacrifice his own limbs to win... could she truly defeat such a monster?
While she was frozen in shock, the newly freed Jonas bent down and snatched the pistol from the floor. The movement snapped Enya back to reality. She desperately tried to command [Justice], to stop him once more. But it was too late. The battle was already over. The speed of her Stand could never hope to match the speed of a man pulling a trigger.
BANG!
A single, final muzzle flash illuminated the room. The last bullet flew past the walking dead, striking its intended target.
A sharp crack echoed as the bullet pierced the travel bag and shattered the glass bottle within.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. Jonas, Enya—both stared, transfixed, at the punctured bag.
The next instant, a flicker of light appeared from the bag's zipper. The faint glow illuminated Jonas's determined face, and cast Enya's shadow on the wall behind her—a shadow of pure, undiluted despair. She knew, in that moment, that she had lost.
An instant later, the bag erupted in a massive fireball. A wave of intense heat washed over them.
Maw let out a gleeful, triumphant shriek. Like a rabbit released from a cage, it shot across the floor towards Enya's brightly-lit shadow. It was time to feast.
Seeing the creature rushing her, Enya was consumed by a primal, all-encompassing panic. She stumbled backward, a powerful survival instinct screaming at her to run, to get away from this place, away from Jonas, away from his monstrous Stand.
She turned and fled towards the exit corridor, the wounds on her leg screaming in protest with every frantic step. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. She had to endure the pain and run.
But no matter how fast her legs could carry her, she was no match for a creature that could travel through shadows.
Maw dove into the floor, leaping and swimming through the darkness cast by the inferno. In a flash, it was upon her shadow, its bloody maw wide open. A searing pain exploded at the back of Enya's head as Maw tore away the corresponding piece of her shadow. Her scalp was ripped away with it, exposing the stark white of her skull in the firelight.
The agony sent her adrenaline skyrocketing. She didn't dare look back, even as Maw continued to tear piece after piece from her fleeing form. She gasped for air, her lungs burning. And then, she saw it. A sliver of moonlight ahead. The hotel's main entrance!
A wave of ecstatic joy surged through her. Just get to the door! I can escape! I can live!
She risked a glance over her shoulder. Maw was still in hot pursuit. And further back, the one-armed Jonas was clutching his bloody stump, chasing after her.
She whipped her head back around and pushed herself faster.
But then, Jonas saw her speed suddenly decrease, almost as if she were giving up. Just as Maw was about to pounce again, it slammed into a heavy cloak that seemed to materialize from nowhere, enveloping it completely.
Jonas tore the cloak away from his Stand. He looked up. The front door was wide open, moonlight streaming in.
But of Enya the Hag, there was no sign at all.