Ethan Cross stood in the dimly lit medical wing of Empire State University, his crimson eyes scanning the rows of blood bags neatly stored in the refrigerated unit. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, a stark contrast to the chaos that had become his life since awakening in this world. He carefully selected a few blood bags, tucking them into a small, insulated cooler he had borrowed from the lab.
"Better safe than sorry," he muttered to himself, his voice low. He didn't know what awaited him in the next universe, but he wasn't about to risk running out of blood. The Crimson Code had been ominously silent since issuing the quest to enter the Path of the Unknown, and Ethan wasn't taking any chances.
He felt like a salaryman—do a good job, get rewarded with more work. The universe really had a twisted sense of humor.
Next, he packed a few essentials into a worn leather satchel: a multi-tool, a compact first-aid kit, a few pieces of clothing, a notebook and his mini cooler. He hesitated for a moment, then added a small vial of holy water he had acquired during his encounter with Blade. It was a long shot, but he figured it might come in handy if he ran into any particularly nasty supernatural threats.
As he zipped up the satchel, Ethan's mind raced. He needed to avoid drawing suspicion. If he disappeared without a trace, someone might come looking for him—and he couldn't risk exposing the Crimson Code or his vampiric nature. He had already taken steps to cover his tracks, using his blood manipulation to alter the results of a recent blood test. The doctor had diagnosed him with anemia, prescribing rest and a few days off. It was the perfect excuse.
He sent a quick text to his professors and classmates, letting them know he'd be taking a short break to recover. The responses were sympathetic, and Ethan felt a pang of guilt. He had grown fond of this world, despite its dangers. But the Crimson Code had other plans for him, and he had no choice but to follow.
That night, Ethan sat cross-legged on the floor of his dorm room, the cooler and satchel by his side. The Crimson Code had given him no instructions on how to prepare for the transition, so he had decided to meditate, focusing on his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The system had been eerily quiet, but he could feel its presence in the back of his mind, a cold, mechanical weight waiting to act.
Suddenly, the air around him seemed to shift. The room grew colder, and a faint hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Ethan's eyes snapped open as a swirling vortex of energy materialized before him, its crimson hues matching the glow of his own eyes.
"Here we go," he muttered, gripping the cooler and satchel tightly. "Please don't let it be a world where everything's on fire. Again."
The vortex pulled him in, and the world around him dissolved into a blur of light and sound. He felt weightless, disoriented, as if he were being stretched and compressed at the same time. Then, with a sudden jolt, he was thrown into a new world.
Ethan landed hard on uneven ground, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. He groaned, pushing himself up and brushing dirt from his clothes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the sky above was a dull gray, heavy with clouds.
He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a vast, desolate landscape—rolling hills stretched out in every direction, dotted with sparse trees and patches of grass. There was no sign of civilization, no roads or buildings, just endless wilderness.
"Great," Ethan muttered, slinging the satchel over his shoulder and hoisting the cooler. "Just great. The one time I don't pack a map, I get dropped into the prehistoric countryside."
He spent the next few days wandering the landscape, using his enhanced senses to track down animals and water. After all, where there's water, there's civilization. He hunted small animals with his blood manipulation, careful not to draw attention to himself. The isolation was unnerving, but it gave him time to think. He wondered how much time was passing in the Marvel Universe, and whether anyone would notice his absence.
Each night, he would find a safe place to rest, sharpening his control over his powers. He experimented with manipulating his blood, forming hardened constructs, and even heating it to a near-boiling temperature. But the loneliness gnawed at him. The unfamiliar world reminded him of how truly alone he was in this multiversal journey.
On the third day, Ethan's blood sense and sharp hearing and picked up the sound of voices in the distance. He followed the sound, moving cautiously through the trees until he came upon a clearing. There, he saw two men engaged in what appeared to be a training session.
One was a tall, muscular man with a kind face and a determined expression. He wore a simple white shirt and trousers, and his movements were precise and powerful. The other was an older man with a flamboyant hat and a confident demeanor. He was demonstrating a strange technique, his hands glowing with a golden energy that seemed to ripple through the air.
Ethan watched from the shadows, intrigued. The older man's energy felt familiar, yet alien—a force that resonated with something deep within him. He was about to step forward when the older man suddenly turned, his sharp eyes locking onto Ethan's hiding spot.
"Who's there?" the man called, his voice firm but not hostile.
Ethan hesitated, then stepped into the clearing, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean no harm," he said. "I'm... lost. And very, very tired of walking."
The younger man—Jonathan Joestar—stepped forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Are you hurt? Do you need help?"
Ethan shook his head. "Just... trying to find my way. Also, if you have a map, I would not be opposed to borrowing it.
The older man—Will A. Zeppeli—studied Ethan with a keen eye. "You're no ordinary traveler," he said. "There's something... different about you."
Ethan forced a smile. "You could say that. I've been told I have a very unique aura."
Zeppeli's gaze lingered on Ethan's clothing—a modern leather jacket, dark jeans, and sturdy boots. "And your attire... it's unlike anything I've seen. Where exactly are you from?"
Ethan glanced down at his clothes, realizing how out of place they must look in this 19th-century setting. "Uh... let's just say I'm from very far away. Fashion-forward, you know?"
Jonathan tilted his head, clearly puzzled. "It's... unusual, but practical, I suppose. The material looks quite durable."
Zeppeli raised an eyebrow. "Practical, yes. But hardly appropriate for blending in. You'll stick out like a sore thumb in any town."
Ethan shrugged. "Story of my life."
Over the next few days, Ethan stayed with Zeppeli and Jonathan, observing their training and learning about the Ripple. He was careful not to reveal too much about himself, but he couldn't help but be drawn to their camaraderie and sense of purpose.
One evening, as they sat around a campfire, Zeppeli began to explain the history of the Ripple and its connection to the Stone Mask. "The mask is a relic of ancient evil," he said, his voice grave. "It grants immense power, but at a terrible cost. Dio Brando, a man consumed by ambition, used it to become a vampire. Now, he seeks to dominate the world."
Ethan's blood ran cold. "Dio Brando? Guess we forgot to introduce ourselves," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He turned to Jonathan, offering a lopsided grin. "Ethan Cross, professional trouble magnet."
Jonathan blinked before nodding. "Jonathan Joestar. And this is my mentor, Will A. Zeppeli."
Zeppeli studied Ethan with a knowing smirk. "A pleasure, Mr. Cross. Though I suspect your arrival here is no mere coincidence."
Ethan chuckled dryly. "Yeah, the universe has a habit of dropping me into the deep end." His gaze flicked back to Jonathan. "Now, you were saying something about Dio Brando? As in, the guy who looks like he walked straight off a heavy metal album cover?"
Jonathan's expression darkened before shifting to confusion "Yes. He was once my brother, but now… he's something else entirely. What is this heavy metal?"
Ethan's mind raced. Dio Brando. The Stone Mask. The Ripple. It all clicked into place. He wasn't just in another world—he was in the JoJo's Bizarre Adventure universe.
"I'm in JoJo," he muttered under his breath. "Huh. I expected more posing."
Zeppeli raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
Ethan shook his head, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Just... thinking out loud."
Ethan stared into the flickering flames of the campfire, his thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities. He was in the JoJo universe, and Dio Brando was out there, waiting. The Crimson Code had brought him here for a reason, and Ethan knew he couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Ethan made a silent vow. He would survive this world, no matter what it took. And if Dio stood in his way, he would be ready.
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