It had happened in an instant, without warning the world spun out of control around him. Time itself seemed accelerate, faster and faster with each passing moment. Mountains crumbled, oceans dried up, everything around him turned to dust.

Why was he unaffected, was it some sort of divine protection? No, it was nothing so extravagant. He possessed a power unmatched by those around him, one which allowed him to pass through the destruction of the universe unharmed.

Time spiralled around him in a maelstrom of devastation, planets, galaxies, everything died. This had to be the work of some unknown enemy, but he had no way of knowing who. There, floating in the void at the end of the universe, Giorno Giovanna screamed in desperation. One chance, that was all he needed. If there was anything akin to a higher power, save him from this nightmare.

And then, in a flash of immaculate, blinding light, the vast emptiness of space was no more. From the darkness a new universe was birthed around him, incalculable shimmering lights filling the sky. Under his feet, new land appeared, the dawn of an entire world playing out around him. Molten lava turned to stone, life burst forth across the baron crust. Great beasts humans had only imaged walked around him, but they too passed into history.

The acceleration of time did not stop, the universe threatening to be broken down and rebuilt a second time. He wouldn't allow it; he hadn't stolen the king's throne just to be defeated by an enemy he couldn't even see. Raising his hands up, his body glowed with an intense gold aura.

Bursting from his body, a humanoid, almost mechanical figure appeared behind. 'Standing' next to its wielder, this ethereal figure mimicked Giorno's motions. His eyes flared with determination, and with three simple words he opposed the universe itself.

"Gold Experience Requiem!"

The name of his ability, his power that had granted him his dream. He resisted the unknown strength that pulled the universe endlessly towards destruction, and the king's word was law. Time slowed around him, returning to the way it was before. His Requiem was a supreme power, not even the will of the gods could defy its command.

He alone allowed this world to exist, without him it would have decayed like his own. Whoever was responsible for the destruction of his world would pay for their crimes. He wandered the world, but in the end he found nothing. There was no grand villain, no one to take out his anger on. Had the enemy continued to travel through time, leaving Giorno behind in this universe?

For what purpose then had he saved this world? What good was his heroic deed if it meant stranding him in this alien place? He was completely, totally alone in this world. His friends, his life, and his dream were all shattered. And it had only taken an instant, what a monstrous enemy.

The only thing he had left were the clothes on his back, and the power within his soul. But he continued to walk the earth, hoping to one day find an escape. But he could find no exit, no way to return to his home. While his face appeared stoic, almost statuesque, the pain inside of his heart threatened to break him. The loneliness of being separated from his friends, the lack of a clear destination in his life… it took everything inside of him to continue to walk forward.

There were times he tried to settle down, to adjust to life in this place. But they felt like distant memories now, having never lasted long. How many years, how many years had he aimlessly traveled across this familiar yet foreign world.

Almost lifelessly, he shuffled through a small hamlet on the water. This place resembled his Italy, but none of his comrades were here. There was no Passione, his gang. No Mista, or Bruno, not a single familiar face. He ended up in a back alley, drawn by the sound of some commotion.

His back against a wall, a young boy was flanked by half a dozen older teens, all armed with makeshift weapons. He clutched a bag to his chest, the contents appearing to be several valuable looking pieces of Jewelry. Without a second thought he approached them, placing his hand on the metal pipe in the nearest teen's hand.

"I suggest you leave." His cold eyes glared through the street punk, but he didn't back down. All of them turned to face him, smirking violently. "Fine, don't say I didn't warn you."

Drawing out a power he hadn't relied on in a long time, His face strained as a flash of golden light covered his hand. The pipe in his grip transformed, turning into a massive serpent. The snake wrapped around the teen's arm, its fangs sinking deep into his neck. With a terrified shout the others fled the scene, leaving Giorno and the young boy alone with the convulsing body of the punk.

"Hey gramps, who… what are you?" looking up at him with aw, the boy's mouth hung agape at the actions of Giorno.

"Me? I'm a Gang- I'm nobody, forget you saw any of this." turning away, Giorno slowly walked back down the alley the way he came.

A thunderous bang echoed around him, a sudden agony sending a shock wave across his body. Reaching down to his chest, his hand felt the warm sticky sensation of fresh blood. Falling to one knee, he looked over his shoulder to see the downed delinquent, not quite dead from the snake's venom wielding a handgun.

Had his powered waned from disuse? Normally such a wound would have been easy for him to repair, but he couldn't draw out any more power. What a foolish ending, was this really happening? He hadn't achieved his goals, he hadn't even seen a single sign of the enemy he searched for.

Staring down at his blood soaked hands, the aging skin on them reminded him of how long he had been walking forward. Perhaps now it was finally time to rest, time to finally give in to the will of fate. Laying his wearing head against the cold cobblestone below him, Giorno closed his eyes as a soft breeze blew through his grayed hair.

Giorno Giovanna died with but a single regret, the regret that he was unable to fulfill his final mission. If he had just one more chance, if he could redo things… things could have turned out differently. But humans didn't get second chances at life, he knew that. Even his Requiem couldn't undo his own death, to do so would take no less than a miracle.

But he was a hero to this world, having prevented its premature destruction at the hands of a mysterious enemy. Even if the population didn't recognize him as such, even if he was unaware of it himself, the world recognized his deeds. And for the man who saved the world… his rest would be short lived.

Outside of time and space, existing as nothing more than a mere concept waited the throne of heroes. Those whose deeds shaped the world had their souls recorded on it, able to be called forth by the spirit of the world itself in times of need. Heroic Spirits, those men and women who extemporized humanity, Giorno had inadvertently found himself within such a system.

Written in said record was one vital piece of information, one that would allow him to get the second chance he so desired. A hero with unfinished business, called forth by a third party accessing the system to fight for their wish. Giorno Giovanna awakened from his eternal rest in a black void, a seemingly endless amount of information flowing into his mind.

A battle royale between seven teams, consisting of one Heroic Spirit and one magic user who summoned them. And before he had time to process the fact that magic existed at all he began to feel the pull of his own summons. If he could survive this battle, this war, he would be granted a single wish. His final chance, his redemption awaited, he had no choice but to take it.

A man in a red blazer stood before an intricate circle of arcane symbols. Holding an ornate ruby topped walking stick out before him, a strange energy filled the room. Unnatural wind rushed around him, but the man remained firmly in place. This man was a Magus, one of the seven percipient in the event known as the Holy Grail War. He would summon a Heroic Spirit to serve as a 'Servant' and take the role of their Master, providing them with the magical energy needed to remain materialized in the world.

He had known his entire life that this day was coming, and prepared perfectly for it. His selection of catalyst was flawless, he would no doubt summon the most powerful hero, the original hero. Everything about his spell was set to summon said hero, Gilgamesh, the world's oldest heroic legend. The mana in his body surged, and he began his incantation.

"Hear me, and answer my call! Silver, iron, and stone of the foundation, in the name of my great ancestor, the Archmagus Schweinorg!"

Within the Greater Grail system, a hero that should have been there was absent. Gilgamesh, the king of heroes was nowhere to be found. Instead, another soul was prepared for summoning. There was no saying what caused this to transpire, the complex system of the Grail War far too intricate to truly understand.

"Let the descending winds be like a wall, let the gates in all directions be shut. Let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve. Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again."

The magical energy permeating the room swirled to the center of the circle, concentrating in one place. The room shuddered, the air itself seeming to vibrate with power.

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, Protector of the Balance!"

With a blast of explosive wind, a golden light filled the circle, and where once there was nothing now stood a man. His blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail with his bangs curled into three swirls swayed in the magical winds. Standing still, as if he were carved out of marble, Giorno Giovanna appeared in the summoning circle in the place of the Magi's intended Servant. Why he had been chosen over Gilgamesh wasn't something he was aware of, and he didn't care to question it. This was his chance, granted to him by whatever twisted fate he had, and he wouldn't squander it wondering why it was given to him.

Raising his right hand up, he took hold of the edge of the heart shaped opening of his flamboyant purple jacket embroidered with a pattern of butterflies and flowers, tugging it to the side. Lowering his right hand straight down, he twisted his upper body to the side and spread his legs wide. Locking eyes with the man before him, the bizarre servant spoke.

"I ask you, are you my Master?"

The Man, presumably his Master, stood in silence. An electric shock ran through his brain, as if staring at this strange young man before him had caused his higher mental functions to cease completely. He wasn't entirely sure, but he had a bad feeling that this man was not the famed Babylonian king, unless the people of that time had invented modern high fashion. Finally, after what felt like an entirety, he managed to respond.

"I am the Magus, Tokiomi Tohsaka. I have summoned you to fight with me in this ritual, I am humbled by your acceptance of my call." He was a Magus, setbacks were to be expected. He wouldn't let this ruin his plans, it wasn't like he had failed to summon any Servant after all. While his dreams of easy victory slowly faded from his mind, he wasn't about to throw in the towel.

All the information racing through Giorno's mind threatened to overwhelm his senses. The rush of knowledge, both about this world and about himself was like nothing he could have imagined. New concepts such as Magi, Heroic Spirits and the Holy Grail War flooded into his mind. In that sea of information he realized something fundamental had changed about him, not summoned at the age he was at death, time had reversed for his body, giving him the form he held in his prime during his teens.

His gray hair was golden blonde once more, and not a single line of age showed on his seventeen year old face. The strength flowing through his body was familiar yet strange all the same, it had been so long since he'd felt it to this level.

His power, his 'Stand', no longer existed, not in the same form at least. Heroic Spirits powers and abilities when summoned as Servant were altered to fit in their temporary vessels. The proof of their heroic deeds, their Noble Phantasm, his 'Stand' now existed as a conceptual armament within his body. The Servant system likely had no other way of interpreting his abilities, though considering his class he had to be thankful they hadn't taken an even more twisted shape.

Seven Servants, each with a different 'Class' that denoted their abilities and served as a mask of their true identity. He wasn't sure how he had ended up in it, but his instincts told him his class was 'Archer.' Disregarding that he possessed no bow, his powers could presumably be linked to 'projectiles' of some nature, so it wasn't completely far off from reality.

But that didn't matter to him, the only thing he cared about was victory. He would claim the grail at all costs, and achieve his dream. Giorno Giovanna would return to his world, and his steel resolve wouldn't waver until he held that wish granting grail in his two hands.