Two figures lay hidden in the shadows.
One—a hulking young Wolfkin demi-human, muscles twitching under a tight vest, canine teeth exposed in a faint snarl.
The other—shorter, plump, with twin pistols gripped tightly in both hands.
"Tch. Annoying ability," the gunman muttered, tone low and venomous. "Turning inanimate objects into living shields against my Six-Sense Seizer. Think that's all I've got? Fool."
"Can I go now?" growled the demi-human, gripping part of a twisted car frame. His muscles pulsed in anticipation.
"Don't get cocky," the gunman warned. "He's dangerous. And don't let any weird crap near you—he turns things into bombs. One shot. That's all we get. Mr. Reasoning and Miss Catfish are already gone. We fail here, it's over."
The Wolfkin bared his fangs in a feral grin. "Relax, boss. Let me go wild. I'll keep that spiky-haired freak busy. You bag him."
"Tch. Don't suck up. You just want to taste him, don't you? Fine—but only an arm. He's Prince Tserriednich's personal collection piece, not dinner."
The Wolfkin gave a deep laugh. At that instant—
Bang!
A shot rang out—almost the same moment the beast surged forward.
Joey's eyes snapped to the threat.
Both incoming. One bullet. One berserker.
His hand flicked—a coin shimmered mid-air, shifting into a hummingbird, intercepting the bullet.
Killer Queen stood ready. One arm raised, its iconic Sheer Heart Attack hurled like a projectile at the charging beast.
Fast. Heavy. Explosive. Perfect.
Joey's standard opener.
The Wolfkin didn't flinch. He hurled the metal frame straight at the bomb.
Boom!
It detonated mid-air, shaking the street—but the Wolfkin kept coming, teeth bared, feet pounding pavement.
He's fast. Too fast for his size.
Within five meters.
Too late for ranged tactics.
Killer Queen's body shimmered, coated in a thin blue aura—Joey's nen, transferred and focused.
Though the Stand wasn't purely nen-based, Joey's experiments had taught him it still benefited from aura reinforcement.
Flow. Focus. Hardening.
The Stand's fist glowed with energy.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
The alley rang with Joey's voice and the rhythmic bursts of nen bullets firing from behind.
The Wolfkin hadn't expected a close-quarters showdown. His eyes narrowed in glee.
Joey wasn't running.
He was meeting him head-on.
The beast's fists surged forward, aura blazing.
They collided.
Flesh on aura. Muscle on will.
But Joey's eye caught something else—
A bullet. Concealed in the chaos.
Fired from behind the Wolfkin.
Straight at Joey's head.
Too fast.
Joey's chest ports flared open, expelling nen with a hiss.
A small serpent erupted from his ribs, intercepting the shot.
Got it—
But—
Thud!
Pain bloomed in his gut.
The Wolfkin's kick had landed—on Killer Queen's abdomen.
But instead of being knocked back, Killer Queen twisted—
Fist became claw.
Grabbed the beast's wrist.
At the same time—Joey's nen bullet struck flesh.
No explosion. No effect.
Just enough to stall.
The Wolfkin laughed. "Nice trick—"
He grabbed Killer Queen's arm.
Joey's eyes narrowed.
You made a mistake.
Boom!
Between their hands—an embedded nen round detonated.
They flew apart, limbs scorched but intact.
Killer Queen's right hand flexed—fist, thumb down.
Click.
The Wolfkin's body twisted.
Cracked.
Disintegrated into white dust mid-pounce.
"You touched me. That's all I needed."
Killer Queen's true strength wasn't in brute force.
It was in lethal contact.
The bomb wasn't attached via punches.
But by grip.
The handshake had sealed his fate.
Joey watched the ashes drift.
Worth it.
A wounded right arm in exchange for removing a berserker?
He'd take that trade.
Especially since his hearing was gone. Vision was next.
Trying to fight at range while blind and deaf would've been suicide.
Up close—he could control the variables.
He stepped forward, confident.
Two months of training. Physical strength tenfold.
Killer Queen's punch packs tens of tons of force.
Enough to stagger most tanks.
And the trigger—was always that touch.
That's why he hadn't used the first bomb on the Wolfkin's gear.
He'd saved it—for the beast himself.
Close combat was always a gamble.
But with Killer Queen, it was a loaded deck.
He turned, sprinting toward the shadows—the same direction the Wolfkin had come from.
The real threat—the gunman.
The angle of the bullets. The direction.
He was right behind the Wolfkin.
Joey burst forward, eyes scanning the shadows—
Black.
Total black.
The world vanished. No light. No shapes.
His vision was gone.
He halted, breath sharp.
"Killer Queen—defensive posture."
The Stand reappeared, arms raised. But its sight wasn't linked to his. Joey couldn't know what Killer Queen saw—if anything.
Was it blind too?
Maybe.
Nen had enhanced the Stand's senses—but that didn't mean it was immune to nen-based abilities.
Time to test.
Joey reached into his pocket, pulling a coin.
He handed it silently to Killer Queen.
The Stand didn't accept it.
Confirmed.
It couldn't see either.
Joey recalled it instantly.
If Killer Queen was also affected, then that proved it:
The curse wasn't targeting abilities—
It was targeting the user themselves.
Killer Queen could still feel Joey's injuries. That rule hadn't changed.
But now—
Joey had neither sight nor sound.
Two senses lost.
He had to think.
First bullet hit me. I lost hearing.
Second bullet… I didn't notice. I thought it missed.
But it didn't. I'm blind. That means—
The gunman didn't need to hit again.
His curse had already begun.
One shot. Six senses. Stripped away over time?
If so, the power was monstrous. And it must've come with a steep price.
There had to be a limit. A loophole. A trigger.
But what?
And how long until my next sense vanishes?