Leaving behind mediocrity and stepping into greatness—that starts today.
From this moment on, Jon wasn't just another contender lost in the shuffle of the Heavens Arena. No… fate had handed him a legacy, a bloodline that transcended human boundaries. The bloodline of the Pillar Men.
These ancient beings weren't like the flawed vampires of old. Vampires combusted in sunlight—weak, brittle, pathetic. Pillar Men, however, merely turned to stone in the sun's presence, not destroyed, but dormant. And when they reawakened, they became the apex predators of life itself.
They consume life through their very cells—liquefying and absorbing organic matter into pure energy. Every drop of blood becomes fuel, every organism a feast.
To possess the bloodline of a Pillar Man was to be given a second life—a hidden trump card.
Jon knew the lore. If he acquired the Red Stone of Aja and the Stone Mask, he could ascend to the state of the Ultimate Life Form. A creature that could manipulate its own biology at will, evolve in real time, and survive under any condition. Not even time or space could suppress that existence.
It was power without equal.
If not for the Earth's hidden will rejecting such a monstrosity… if not for Joseph Joestar's cosmic-level plot armor… if not for Kars being too much of an ancient fossil to understand modern physics… JoJo's Part 2 would've ended the entire series. There would've been no Stardust Crusaders, no DIO resurgence—only an eternal Kars drifting in silence.
And in fact, even by the time Part 6 rolled around—before the great universal reset—Kars was still alive, floating through the cold void of space like some eternal satellite. A reminder of what could not be killed.
The Pillar Men can't be killed by ordinary means. Decapitate them? They regenerate. Blow off a limb? They rebuild it. As long as the brain isn't obliterated completely, they rise again. Like nightmares that never fade.
And yet… Jon wasn't ready to activate that power.
Not yet.
For all its allure, the Pillar Man bloodline came with a critical flaw—sunlight. Once awakened, the user would be cursed to the shadows like a gutter rat, never again able to openly bask in the daylight. Jon had just begun exploring the vast, vibrant world of Hunter x Hunter, and he had no interest in wandering it as a creature of the night.
Even worse, Pillar Men couldn't use Ripple energy. Once the bloodline was triggered, his Ripple—a power he'd painstakingly cultivated—would be rendered null. That was a dealbreaker.
No. Jon decided to remain human. For now.
The path to evolution still lingered at the edge of his grasp—just one Red Stone away.
After that fateful draw that gave him access to the Pillar Man's genes, Jon tried to sleep. He failed.
The idea of becoming the Ultimate Life Form, of reaching a new zenith, churned in his mind like a raging sea. His body may have rested, but his thoughts were ablaze.
"Jon, just learning Ten? You're this excited over the basics?" Wilhelm asked the next morning, raising an unimpressed brow.
Jon didn't answer. He couldn't sleep, not after acquiring such an incredible ability. His heart was still pounding. But thanks to Ripple and Nen flowing through him, he managed to stay awake and follow Wilhelm's training regimen—barely.
Wilhelm's training was nothing short of sadistic. Day in, day out, it boiled down to a single brutal cycle:
Beatdown. Training. Beatdown. Repeat.
Even with Lover's Body accelerating his recovery, Jon was knocked out more times than he could count. No wonder Wilhelm had no other students left—his "disciples" either quit or mysteriously disappeared.
Wilhelm claimed it was to sharpen instinct. "You need to dodge my fist just by looking," he explained.
But that was easier said than done.
The problem? Wilhelm practiced Shingen-ryu—a martial art passed down from Chairman Netero himself. That meant no aura fluctuation, no warning signs. Just a punch. Silent. Swift. Cruel.
Sure, Wilhelm wasn't as fast as Netero, but his punches? Terrifying.
And he banned me from using Stone Free.
Can't even see his fists. How do you dodge what you can't perceive?
And now? He was dragging an old tire with Wilhelm sitting on it, whip in hand, looking like a sadistic charioteer. Jon had become a human-powered vehicle, running from Heavens Arena's city center to the distant suburbs—a journey that would've taken an hour by car.
Jon the Human-Powered Vehicle™. Available now at your local pain dealership.
"FASTER! Are you a turtle?!" Wilhelm barked, snapping the whip.
Jon kept Ten active, absorbing the strike—but pain wasn't so easily blocked. It lanced through him, raw and electric.
"Maintaining Ten requires inner calm!" Wilhelm shouted.
Jon flinched, lost his concentration—and was punished with another lash.
And his eyes? They glowed gold with intensity. It was clear now why Wilhelm was the only one left in the Shingen-ryu line.
If Jon didn't have Ripple for stamina recovery and Pearl Jam hidden in his bento box healing his body every night, He'd have quit too.
After some experiments, Jon made a major discovery: his Nen naturally leaned toward Enhancement.
When summoning King Crimson, it still leaned Enhancement, but with Stone Free, it drifted toward Manipulation. This meant his Nen amplified each Stand's traits differently.
This opened new doors.
Infusing Stone Free's threads with Nen significantly boosted their strength. They could now support the weight of a small car. Spider-Man cosplay? Fully unlocked. He could now swing through the city, and the threads could even perform utility functions similar to Hermit Purple.
Ripple and Nen amplified each other. His strength was surging. His Ripple-charged punches now rivaled peak Jonathan Joestar.
And this was all before Wilhelm had taught him any real techniques.
Time was ticking.
In Heavens Arena, non-Floor Masters had to fight once every three months to keep their spot. Jon wasn't done milking the free resources on the 200th floor—so he signed up for another fight.
When he returned to the front desk, the receptionist greeted him with news.
"Mr. Jon, your next opponent has been confirmed. His name is Cirio, also known as The Fire Elf."
Jon paused.
Cirio. Thirty-two years old. Height: 1.79 meters. Face covered in flame tattoos. A record of three wins, zero losses.
A rising star. Some even whispered that he was Floor Master material.
Jon had only fought once above the 200th floor—his debut against Sadaso—but that single match had already made him famous.
Now? The crowd was buzzing.
Dark Horse vs. Dark Horse.
Fire Elf vs. Strange Fist Master. Who Will Burn Out First?!
Jon sighed at the ridiculous promotional banner on his phone.
Still, Cirio's reputation wasn't unwarranted. On the 200th floor, where the average contestant was nearly fifty, Cirio stood out as a young upstart. Tickets for their match sold out in five hours.
Cirio may be thirty-two, but compared to the average age on the 200th floor—which is around forty-seven—he was still considered fairly young. A real prodigy.
Jon did his research.
With a nickname like Fire Elf, Cirio was almost certainly a Transmuter or Emitter—most likely the fire-wielding kind.
Bad news: Jon's threads weren't fireproof.
And he didn't plan on using King Crimson unless absolutely necessary. Exposing Time Erasure to the world would just attract... problems. Lots of them. Especially from guys like Chrollo.
If only he had Magician's Red. Now that would've been poetic justice.
I'd show him what real fire looked like.
Still… Jon had no idea what Cirio's actual power level was. He'd find out in the ring.
Meanwhile, Cirio was reviewing Jon's fight footage, analyzing every movement, every stance, preparing his own countermeasures.
Jon, on the other hand?
He slumped onto his sofa, muscles aching, body screaming from Wilhelm's latest "lesson." He grabbed the remote and flicked through the massive LCD screen, settling on local Hunter x Hunter television.
The Hunter x Hunter world had surprisingly good television—probably thanks to all the supernatural inspiration. Nen-enhanced reality shows, ghost-hunting series featuring real ghosts, survival shows in Greed Island-style danger zones…
Even if it wasn't Jon's Modern world's programming, it was entertaining enough.
As he watched, a Pearl Jam-enhanced fruit flew into his bucket of fried chicken. He took a bite—succulent, greasy, heavenly.
"Ahhh~ So good…"
Jon washed it down with a sip of cold cola and sighed in pure bliss
He briefly considered studying Cirio's battle footage, but gave up after five minutes. It was boring. Predictable. Sloppy.
Why waste time studying my opponent when I could just beat him up live on stage??
Let Cirio prepare. Let him plan.
Jon would see him in the ring—and crush him in real time.
Let the fire come. Jon would be the one left standing in the smoke.