By nightfall, the city was a ruin of sparks and shadows. Exhaustion pressed against every muscle. Yet they moved, relentless.
Vital Mirage shifted with Jovian like one entity. Every strike carried intention. Every block radiated control.
Lucien struck from impossible angles, Midnight Sontana cutting through the enemy's defenses. Alaric held the center, Golden Cavalier absorbing blow after blow. Iggy created chaos, opening gaps in the enemy's formation.
The new Stand user stepped forward. Their energy was sharp, unpredictable, more dangerous than anything they had faced before.
"…This isn't over," Jovian said. Vital Mirage pulsed, as if agreeing.
The battlefield had changed. New threats, new possibilities, and new rules.
1966 wasn't done with them yet. And neither were the enemies.