Chapter Text
“Joker!”
Ryuji’s feet slammed on the flagstone sidewalk in a full sprint.
“Hold up, Joker! C’mon!”
Akira ignored him. Ryuji was getting sick of Akira ignoring him! Was ‘Ryuji’ or ‘Chariot’ or whatever too small of a piece of Akira for him to listen?! No, that was stupid, that couldn’t be how that worked—
“Dammit, will you just wait!?”
Akira had never been this fast. With the Thieves, he was the team’s pace-setter, but Ryuji had better form, deeper stamina. Still, Ryuji struggled to keep up with Akira’s dust. This madman-style of running should not be out-pacing Ryuji this badly!
“Joker!”
Ignored again. Ryuji growled and pushed harder. Their marathon continued.
They left behind the skyscrapers surrounding the Grand Heart Plaza. Park benches and public gardens thinned out as the love-and-peace buildings started to look less welcoming, like the neighborhood itself was telling Ryuji ‘you shouldn’t be here.’ He ignored that pressure—Thieves go wherever they want—and pursued Akira until they turned onto a straight road with a fat tower at the end. A shimmery dome dominated this part of the skyline, and at the base, thick brick walls with razor wire faced the road.
Is that… Juvie? Or something?
Akira ran on. He passed a busted gate, flung the front doors open, and charged into a stairwell. Ryuji stayed as close to his black naval captain’s coat as he could. Turning up, turning up, floor three, floor four, floor five. Akira tripped on a step, but he kept running. The gaps between landings stretched like mountains, but Ryuji watched the numbers on each floor climb higher. Floor eight. Floor nine.
On the tenth floor, Akira pulled on the door out of the hallway so hard that it ripped off its hinges. It led into a hallway, faintly glowing blue. Tiny emergency track lights illuminated his ankles and not much else. He passed doors labeled in nonsense, all shut, so he ignored them, pursuing Akira. He didn’t have enough breath left to shout, so he had to jog after, praying that Akira would slow up soon.
What the hell are you up to?
The hallway turned a corner. Ryuji faced an open door leading to a bright room. Akira faced away from him, hunched over, with a ton of computer screens looming over him. One of them was on, flickering.
“Joker… what are you doing?” Ryuji fought to speak through gasps of air. Akira still ignored him.
He dragged his feet down the hall to see for himself. The room was about the size of Leblanc, most of it filled up by the computer screens and a control panel. Akira slapped his hands across the buttons frantically, trying to make the computer do something. On the left side, a sliding metal door took up most of the wall. I swear, if there had been an elevator the whole time—!
A tinny robot voice interrupted Ryuji’s frustration. “Identity verified: Akira Kurusu.”
“Disengage everything! Full release!” Akira ordered, sounding as winded as Ryuji.
“Security authorization required.”
“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on a glass plate on the console—a palm scanner? “I said, disengage!”
“Security authorization required.”
“You identified me! I’m authorized to—”
The computer interrupted. “Identity verification is insufficient authorization.”
Akira groaned, grabbed a fistful of his hair, then released it and hung his head. “Begin authorization!”
“State the species of your first pet.”
Ryuji blinked at the computer. One of those weird password-recovery questions? Why did Akira’s Palace need those?
Instantly, Akira snapped, “Frog! Next!”
“Accepted. State the title of your favorite book.”
“Candide, will you hurry up?!”
“Accepted. State the name of your previous homeroo—”
“Fuchigami!” Akira jammed his hand on the scanner again.
“Accepted. State your fat—”
“Takeshi!”
“Accepted. State you—”
“Chou!”
“Accepted.”
The handprint scanner glowed. Akira mashed his hand on it, like if he pressed harder, it’d scan faster.
“Security authorization granted. Commencing contractual statement.”
Akira curled his hand into a fist and punched the panel. His voice cracked, “Please, give it back!”
Give what back?
The computer-voice plowed ahead, ignoring Ryuji’s thoughts and Akira’s begging. “Do you acknowledge that disabling the orichalcum defense systems could lead to the destruction of Atlantis?”
“Oh, that ship has sailed,” Akira laughed. His voice sounded too much like the nutcase that Maruki had met in prison for Ryuji’s comfort.
“Do you acknowledge that—”
“I do, alright?! I do! Just give it to me!”
“Do you wholly accept that your cowardice will be to blame for any resulting harm?”
Ryuji didn’t like where this was going. “What the hell is this computer’s deal!?”
Akira still wouldn’t look at Ryuji. He repeated, “I do!”
“Do you admit that selfishness is driving your choice to disable the orichalcum defense system?”
“Yes! Yes, now open the fucking—”
A beep and a hiss interrupted Akira. The sliding doors on the wall slowly parted. Ryuji squinted at the growing gap, a light brighter than anything he’d seen in Atlantis shining through—
Akira pushed Ryuji’s side, hard. A curse burst out of him as he stumbled, watching Akira turn sideways to force himself through the doors. He vanished into the glow.
Asshole! Seriously, Ryuji hadn’t believed when Akira ran his mouth about being a rotten villain deep down, but he was doing a pretty good job acting like a dick. And what was that creepy computer, straight-up calling Akira a bad guy for turning something off?
The doors finally parted wide enough for Ryuji to see where Akira had gone. He looked out into a cavern, roof and walls and floor all sloped like the inside of a gigantic ball. Akira was a black dot at the bottom, reaching above his head for something floating in the center of the sphere. Ryuji had trouble picking out the shape of it, but the tiny… thing… started to drift toward Akira’s outstretched hands.
The doors hissed and started to close. Ryuji panicked for a second, then grabbed his mace and wedged it in the gap. The pneumatics coughed, then gave up. Alright, nice!
Then Akira grasped the falling ‘thing.’ The instant he snatched it, the light in the sphere cut out. Only a gray haze remained.
Ryuji took the deepest breath he could. He shouted into the ball, “…Joker, you good?”
Akira said nothing.
“Dammit, talk to me, please…” Ryuji could faintly pick out Akira in the gloom, curled in on himself like a black turtle. He ducked under his mace and skidded down the curved wall of the dome to join Akira. “Here, lemmie help you up—”
“No!”
Akira flipped onto his back, one hand and his feet scrambling to put distance between himself and Ryuji. He panted, he shivered, and he glared at Ryuji… with another Joker mask in his hand, clutched to his chest.
Shit. Ryuji had seen this over and over. Defeated Palace Rulers, still desperate to hold onto their Treasure, even after the Thieves had them totally beat. Now it was Akira’s turn to cling to that last bit of the Holy Grail. What was he supposed to do? Like, this was the moment when Ryuji was supposed to take the Treasure, but for the first time, he really, really didn’t want to.
While Ryuji wrestled with what to do, Akira… closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He mumbled, “Sorry. Just… sorry. I don’t mean to. I know you’re…”
Akira sat down and rubbed the hand gripping the mask, like he could warm up his frozen fingers and loosen his grip. For a second, it looked like it was working, but as soon as Akira looked up, his hand clenched again. He frowned, ashamed.
Ryuji fought the impulse to step closer. “Hey, are you… okay, man?”
“Oh, fine. Thanks for asking.”
His sympathy poofed instantly. “You’re still cracking jokes when things are this bad!?”
Akira’s grip tightened. “Better than the alternative.”
“What, wise-ass or apathy lump? Those ain’t the only two options!”
“You’re trying to do good. I know you are, I promise,” Akira insisted. His body had other ideas, legs trembling and pushing him toward the other side of the ball, away from Ryuji. His boots slipped and he slid back to the bottom. “I know all that, I do, I just don’t—feel it. That’s all. Sorry.”
“What don’t you feel? Like, you can’t let me get close to that thing?” Ryuji pointed. Just pointing made Akira flinch.
“It’s what you’re here for.”
“We’re here for you.”
“This is all that’s left of me.”
That… made no damn sense. Shouldn’t Akira know better? The Treasures weren’t part of the Ruler—or, they were, but not like that. Treasures could be stolen and the Shadow would be totally okay!
What else is going on here? On some level, Ryuji felt like he shouldn’t be seeing this. In all the other sub-Palaces, Akira had tucked his fears and weaknesses into the corners of happier memories, hiding them where he thought no one would look. Atlantis didn’t have any hiding places left. Crawling on the ground to protect a tiny shard of screwed-up power, Akira finally looked like all the other bastards they’d fought all year. No wonder he thought of himself as a terrible person, with every bad feeling he’d ever had on full display.
…Well, so what? I got bad feelings, too.
Ryuji slowly crouched down. He planted his ass on the ground and folded his legs for good measure. He felt Akira’s golden eyes watch him suspiciously.
“Look… we’re sorry too,” Ryuji started. “We’ve been trying to get the Grail away from you, and that meant we treated you like a bad guy, over and over. If we could’ve figured out another way to help you… I mean, we’d do anything to help you. You gotta know that.”
Akira shook his head. “That’s the stupidest part.”
“It’s not stupid of us to help you!”
“Not that. Or… more than that.” Akira exhaled a small, delirious laugh. “I don’t even know why I ran here.”
“You gotta protect your Treasure, right?”
“The security system is stronger than my hands. But I turned it off, because…” He trailed off and shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing left.”
Ryuji gripped his knees. “Say there was something left. What would you wanna do?”
“I don’t know. It’s the end, but… I don’t want it to end here. Or like this.”
That sounded a bit more like Ryuji’s best friend. “Then it doesn’t have to be the end! If you don’t want it to end here, you gotta fight back!”
“I said, I can’t.”
“Why not?!”
“I gave everything to all of you.” He took another breath, shakier this time. “I don’t regret that. Twofold, tenfold, I’d do it all again. But all I have left is this.” His hands trembled as he lifted the mask. “The rest is hollow.”
Was that really it? Ryuji wished he could give back everything Akira had given him. If Ryuji could rip it all out of his heart and put it back where it came from, that’d be worth something, wouldn’t it?! Even if it meant they’d never see each other again…
“Akira, I promise I’m listening. I listened to you then, and I’m listening now. But none of what you’ve said makes you right.”
Akira opened his mouth, but Ryuji held up a hand.
“No, seriously, listen to me this time. You think you’re hollow, but I know you got something left in you, because you ran here! You tore up the streets like a freaking bullet! You have something left you wanna fight for!”
He looked away. “It’s just instinct.”
“An instinct to fight! That’s why you couldn’t just let your fancy computer keep the last Shard safe, right? You didn’t believe it’d be safe unless you fought for it!”
Akira said nothing.
“…So, are you gonna fight?”
Akira still said nothing. But in the back of Ryuji’s head, Futaba spoke: “Check in, Skull! Your signal’s been frozen for a while! Is everything okay?”
Ryuji sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good! Wherever you see me, we’re at the top floor of the tower. Joker had to get the last Shard.”
“That’s what he was running for? Is it okay for him to have that?”
“So long as Chaos doesn’t get his filthy hands on it, we’ll figure the rest out!”
Ryuji pressed his palm to the ground and unwound his legs. Akira recoiled, but Ryuji turned his back on him and shook out his shoulders.
“You guys fight like hell—and I’m going to fight like hell, too!”
From the roof of a gorgeous, desolate tower, Haru looked up at Atlantis’ protective dome. Its dim luminescence mimicked a clear blue sky. Peaceful. Pure.
She had her mask. She had her axe and her launcher. She had a bit of medicine, some from Demon Lord Akira’s lair, some from Morgana’s rapid looting expedition. She had confidence that anything that tried to hurt her would feel the same pain. She had her friends.
On the horizon, Nyarlathotep emerged. His body spread across Atlantis’ skyline like a fungal bloom. His tendrils swelled upward, trembling, blotting out the dome’s dim light. Some dark strands braided together into the same horrible, writhing body they had seen in the Sea of Souls. Distant buildings crumbled beneath his weight.
She took a deep breath. We won’t let you down, Ryuji-kun.
The crown of fanned, gold-tipped worms formed, marking Nyarlathotep’s approximate ‘head.’ Haru touched her mask and watched him approach, second by second.
“Now!”
She moved on Futaba’s command. Astarte, crowned in roses and thorns, burst to life and fired at the encroaching darkness.
On a rooftop nearby, Loki delivered a scattershot strike. His volley pummeled buildings along with vast swaths of Nyarlathotep’s body. She scanned the carnage for any hits against weak spots and followed up with Astarte’s next sniper-sharp kill shot. Some of the tendrils slithered away.
Phase one, artillery. Haru poured her heart into every hit, over and over, until vertigo swelled at the edges of her vision. She fumbled with the lid of a looted flask until she could swallow a mouthful of nectar-sweet medicine, stand tall, and keep going. Tracking the way Nyarlathotep’s creeping limbs retreated and regrouped, she knew Akechi was doing exactly the same thing as her: fight until he couldn’t, then make himself keep going.
Still, the darkness gained ground. Every step they drove him back, he advanced two. Haru responded by calling Astarte again and again. This is fine. This is the plan. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough.
Then she heard Maruki’s voice: “I have line of sight!”
“Go!” Makoto ordered.
Haru took one final shot with her rocket launcher, just for good measure, as ‘phase two’ began. Maruki stepped away from his hiding place by a pedestrian bridge, flanked by Morgana and Makoto nearby for protection. The toll of an ancient bell rang out as the therapist’s staff struck the earth. The light of the green-wood staff encircled the middle of the Crawling Chaos, forcing a cluster of limbs to the ground. Yusuke and Sumire emerged from their vanguard stations and attacked the downed mass. Then, while Nyarlathotep was distracted—
There you are, you worthless cretin.
Nyarlathotep’s tendrils rushed across the city square, their tips pointed like spears. Calling his Persona had given Maruki’s position away. Now on target, the spears instantly shattered the bridge. Falling glass drowned out Maruki’s shout as the tendrils caught him, then tossed him into the air.
“Dr. Maruki!” Haru heard Sumire scream, but she doubted Maruki could hear her. His body had already gone limp, unconscious, as the spears continued their attack with spite and hate. After too long, the spears twisted to fling Maruki’s body to the ground, far from his protectors.
With that petty nuisance eliminated… Face your death, Phantom Thieves.
Heart throbbing, Haru ran. A wrought-iron fire escape wrapped around her skyscraper post—elegant in any other context, maddening in this one—and she started to descend.
The plan was already ruined. Maruki had only managed one binding. The green-wood staff stayed in place, even though the man who had placed it lay motionless on the ground. The tendrils lay half-submerged in a canal. How long would that binding last? Even if it held, the rest of Nyarlathotep was free to attack them!
“Mona, Queen, can you get in there?” Futaba called.
Around the wrong side of the building, Haru heard more crumbling steel and stone. Splashes of water as debris fell in. A pair of powerful hits slammed against Nyarlathotep’s body, one precise and one brutal—Sumire-chan, Akechi-kun, you can do this!
She rounded the corner and could see the battlefield again. Yusuke had devised emergency bridges of ice to get closer to the action. Makoto beat back the advancing tendrils, her fists as powerful as a reactor core. Futaba hovered around the edges, Prometheus shining with brass reinforcements and rainbow light. Then Haru recognized Morgana’s ears poking over some decorative shrubs, poised to pounce for Maruki’s unconscious body.
Could I help?
Haru called Astarte and unleashed a spread of psychokinetic flashes across Nyarlathotep’s form. His skin warped and bubbled. She had to believe that it hurt. Morgana noticed the flashes, leapt out from cover and ran for the unconscious Maruki.
The vicious spears gathered again. Haru barely had time to scream Morgana’s name as they snapped forward, cobra-fast, a concentrated line of malice trying, again, to kill someone Haru loved—
Morgana flinched when he heard Haru’s call. The spearpoints dragged across Morgana’s front and knocked him aside, leaving her feline friend to crumple to the ground. She saw him lift his head, conscious, yet crushed.
He stays down.
“You don’t get to tell us what to do!” Ann shouted, close and loud enough for Haru to hear her voice. She looked to Ann’s post from the old plan and saw her standing at the center of a crater in her tower, windows blown out. Hecate followed up Ann’s defiant cry with a wave of hellfire.
This is not a matter of authority. You simply have no hope to oppose me.
“Our hope shall not be so easily thwarted! Have at you!”
Yusuke’s voice relayed from a distance, but Haru easily found Kamu Susano-o on the field. The storm god’s wild silver hair shook as his arm swung his sword in an aimless arc, as strange and unsettling as Nyarlathotep’s own movements. At his side, Yusuke raised a hand toward Chaos, then clapped both palms in the air—Kamu Susano-o’s convulsions ceased in a sharp line. Streaks of calligraphy ink stained the open air and struck Nyarlathotep’s woven body. The cords of madness spasmed, before Nyarlathotep chuckled.
To take what you see, no matter who it belongs to, and use it as you please… It is very appropriate to call you ‘thieves.’ This will not make you victors.
A telltale rush of support from Futaba welled up inside of Haru, giving her an itch under her skin, energy and strength. The navigator’s voice chimed in after: “Keep at it! I know he’s spongy, but you’re making progress, I promise!”
So was that the new plan? Continual attack? Haru turned away from the fray and ran around the fire escape. Did she have no faster way down!? In the colosseum, Sumire had flipped from one stadium ring to the next, so could she do the same? Haru gripped the railing and tried to remember how Sumire had moved. A kick forward, a twist in the air—
The world inverted, then righted, and Haru’s legs collided with the next level down. Her knees rattled, but she didn’t hurt, and they needed her on the field. They needed her to fight. She gritted her teeth and flipped down again. And again. One more.
When she reached the ground, she found their chosen arena brimming with madness. Unnatural, pockmarked tendrils curled up the sides of buildings. She struggled to comprehend Nyarlathotep’s body alongside the chaotic flow of battle, everyone’s Personas locked in combat on every front. Morgana had kept his head low after that hit, barely conscious and consciously avoiding Nyarlathotep’s attention. Maruki lay too far away for Morgana to reach.
That’s still the plan, isn’t it? They still needed Maruki to restrain Nyarlathotep’s full power. Simple cover fire hadn’t been enough to get Morgana to Maruki’s side. They needed more.
Makoto kicked and scalded a rash of nuclear ash against a reaching tentacle. The hideous thing squirmed away, and for a moment, the plaza looked somewhat clear of Chaos. Makoto glanced Maruki’s way. Her hand touched her pocket.
Then she sprinted.
Nyarlathotep noticed instantly. Tentacles gathered into spear tips and trained on her. Haru called her Persona on reflex, desperate to shield Makoto somehow—
A glacier collided with the side of the spears. They knocked just a few degrees off course and sailed just past Makoto’s ear. She flinched and ducked, but her path remained true and straight.
“Nice hit, Ina—LOOK OUT!”
From Nyarlathotep’s nigh-infinite body, another cluster of tentacles sharpened into spear-tips and launched. Astarte floated beside Haru, at the ready, so she fired a panicked attack of her own. Her shot forced the next strike to miss.
Makoto closed half the distance to Maruki.
I said, he stays down.
Before the echo of Haru’s shot dissipated, Nyarlathotep attacked again. This time it struck the after-image of a cursed blade pierced into the ground. Haru noticed Akechi at the other side of the plaza, gasping for air after a rapid descent from his perch. Makoto ran on.
Nyarlathotep had yet to run out of spears. On such short notice, Haru couldn’t muster up another defense. A firestorm fell on the spears, but for the first time, the attack didn’t slow. They pierced Makoto and knocked her clear across the plaza. She collided with a wall and fell, still.
“Queen’s out! Can someone heal?!”
Their limited revival supplies were rationed thinly. Haru had a single revival bead in her own pocket. Did triage even matter if Nyarlathotep attacked so quickly and fiercely?! She remembered that dreadful hissing noise and the scars left on the earth any time the legendary general from Lavenza’s sub-Palace had attacked. Trying to weigh the lives of her friends had been horrible then, too. While Haru fretted, Nyarlathotep advanced, persistent as nightfall.
You should have expected this outcome. Armed with nothing but your fragile hearts and the echoes of stale legends, you cannot prevail. I am humanity’s Shadow. Try as you might, I will never disappear.
Flames and curses blazed against Nyarlathotep’s skin in response. Haru should keep attacking, but would she just be throwing herself against the problem until it broke her? She skirted around the edge of the battlefield and searched for something useful. Everything was smoke and debris and spreading roots of destruction. Worse than abandoned, Atlantis now looked ruined.
“We need to make an opening!” Sumire called. “If I went in, could someone get to Doc?”
“Who’s closest?” Yusuke asked.
Futaba hummed as she checked positions. “Noir, it’s up to you!”
Haru took a deep breath and touched the little sphere in her pocket. She couldn’t afford to give up hope here. None of them could. “I can do it!”
“Thank you, Noir-senpai! On my signal!”
Haru found Sumire in the fray, jacket dusty and coattails tattered, but she held her head high. Haru crouched low to wait for her signal. To reach Maruki, Haru needed to run across the square, and everyone who had attempted that sprint got shredded.
Sumire moved to the center of the plaza and looked up at Nyarlathotep. Vanadis appeared behind her, the goddess’ veil of stars spreading freely, before Sumire clasped her hand around a ribbon baton. Step by step, she advanced on the horror.
What now, little girl?
Sumire didn’t answer the taunt. She draped her ribbon across her arm, took a breath, and danced.
Haru ran.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sumire’s movements, gorgeous and graceful, her body an instrument of beauty. All around her, Haru noticed the way the aimlessly searching tendrils of Nyarlathotep’s body started to pull toward Sumire… while ignoring Haru. Like a butterfly with predator eyespots, Sumire’s dance announced herself as a powerful threat to be feared. Haru pushed harder, lowered her head, raced for her life—
As soon as she was close enough, Haru slid across the ground to Maruki’s side. She crushed her revival bead against his chest. Maruki startled and groaned, so she grabbed hold of his shoulders.
“Stay low!” she hissed. Maruki’s disoriented eyes struggled to focus, but he nodded and scrambled to a hunched-over stance. Haru ushered him away from the plaza.
Sumire’s dance crashed apart just seconds after Haru reached Maruki. From a dozen angles, Nyarlathotep charged in all at once, piercing spears and bruising force, and Sumire and Vanadis both vanished from sight.
“Violet!” Maruki tried to turn back, but Haru blocked him.
“She’ll be fine! He can’t know you’ve been revived!”
“…Right,” Maruki agreed, and he finally moved away from the main square. For his sake, or for her own curiosity, Haru hesitated a second longer to see the aftermath. In the settling dust, Sumire was still standing… shakily, but standing.
What an irritating firefly you are.
Haru couldn’t watch any longer. She turned away and led Maruki deeper into the backstreets while Futaba’s familiar navigation chattered in her head: encouragement for Sumire, calls for someone to heal her, orders to reorganize, and could someone follow up on that opening, please!? The busy field distracted Nyarlathotep as Haru and Maruki made their escape undetected.
“I have to see him to bind him. Where should I go?” Maruki asked quietly.
“If you can see him, he can see you! We’ll be back where we started!” Akechi snapped.
“But we can’t win if he’s able to fight back! You all only have so much strength!”
Yes, that was the issue, wasn’t it? Haru could feel that tempting despair just at the edge of her awareness. Nyarlathotep filled more and more of the space, his tendrils encircling and shaking the buildings around the edge of the square. It wouldn’t be long before he’d grasp the Thieves themselves. And with Akira and Ryuji still absent…
Ryuji-kun!
The plaza. The tower. The cracks. The enemy with too-thick skin.
“Oracle!” Haru cried. “Will he fall like the Hanged Man?!”
“Fall like the…” Futaba repeated back in confusion, but a gasp from Makoto interrupted.
“Yes! That might work! Oracle, scan the structural integrity of nearby buildings!”
“Sure, if that’ll help!”
“Everyone, clear the main square, quickly!”
Haru nodded. Already done. But she kept her eyes up, noticing how many buildings already suffered damage from Nyarlathotep’s arrival. Which of them could still hold up? Which might come down any second?
Where are you running, you pathetic vermin?
As Nyarlathotep moved into the central square, his body spilled into the side streets. Haru pressed against the walls to avoid their reach. Maruki copied her, even gripping his two remaining binding sticks together so they wouldn’t rattle.
Nowhere you run will be free from me. You already know this.
“If I’m reading Queen’s plan correctly, everyone needs to head… here!”
A tiny green beam, like a laser pointer, pinged out from Prometheus and hit a nearby skyscraper. It had a strange yet pleasingly organic shape, like a vase sculpted from clay. Deep fissures marred its smooth exterior. One more push and it would be all over. Haru swung her axe against a tentacle to clear the path for herself and Maruki.
No… Which of you raised him?!
“Uh oh.” Haru heard Ann’s voice. Haru felt the situation warranted a bit more of a response than that; Nyarlathotep’s voice rarely showed any emotion other than ‘imperiously confident,’ but now, he sounded enraged. More apocalyptic noises echoed throughout Atlantis as Nyarlathotep lashed out.
Where is he?!
Haru saw Morgana and Makoto first. They both looked worse for wear, but alive and alert. She badly wanted to hug Morgana and not let go, but now was absolutely not the time for that! Still, huddling close in greater numbers helped Haru find another drop of calm in the chaos.
“Crow and Panther are almost there!” Futaba reported. “Violet and Fox trailing! We don’t have much time!”
“We need everyone!” Makoto insisted.
“We’re trying!”
“We’ll stay at the ready!” Haru stood back with her hand on her mask. Makoto nodded to her, so they waited—
And Haru realized they were all sitting ducks.
Every crunch and screech of Nyarlathotep’s rage made Haru’s heart jump. She wasn’t standing tall and watching the horizon anymore, she was tiny, and lost in the shadows, and completely unable to move. She had to wait, and hope, and do absolutely nothing.
She tried to focus on her breathing. Inhale for four, exhale for four. But every thundering noise made Haru lose count. Ann rounded the corner, Akechi close behind. Haru barely glanced at them while Makoto pushed Akechi close to Haru and Morgana, and gave some more orders to Ann, to do… something. Ann was nodding a lot. Did that matter? She just kept her hand on her mask. Her fingers twitched. Should she hold her breath instead? She didn’t know. This was her idea and she already doubted it!
You have barely begun to grasp how much suffering I can inflict upon each of you! Your rebellion will only guarantee your unending torment! Now, where is he?!
Futaba dropped from Prometheus, falling into line behind Morgana. Wait, why? Why was navigation ending? What was going to happen? She stood hunched over, fingers manipulating her goggles buttons with a pianist’s speed.
“Incoming,” Futaba stated, just barely heard over the destruction, while Haru glanced up the road. Running at top speed, Sumire and Yusuke closed in, please, please, please, please, please—
“Come in close!” Makoto instructed. “Mona, you first!”
“Mercurius!”
A shower of healing chased down Haru’s spine, but she couldn’t look away from Sumire and Yusuke. They just barely caught Morgana’s magic, but they weren’t close enough, please, please please—
“Doc, now!”
Maruki cupped a hand beside his mouth and shouted: “HEY! Over here, you ugly bowl of tako-wasa!”
Sumire and Yusuke were still three buildings too far, please—!
Nyarlathotep rounded on their position and threw his entire body against the sculpted skyscraper. The building shattered and started to tilt toward them like a felled tree.
Sumire skidded to a stop, Yusuke crashed against Haru’s arm, but she couldn’t be angry, she just wanted everyone close—
Another green laser shot forward from Futaba’s mask, marking a point on the crumbling skyscraper. “Here!”
Haru added her voice to a seven-strong chorus: “PERSONA!”
Astarte’s kill-shot hit the center of Futaba’s target. So did five more colossal strikes and a huge fireball, all driving against the skyscraper at once and reversing the angle of the building’s fall. It tumbled into the square instead of away from it, thousands of tons of force dropping directly onto Nyarlathotep. Haru watched his tentacles flail, struggling to reverse course away from the building as it crushed even more of Chaos’ physical form.
“That oughta do it!” Ann cheered.
Haru badly wanted that to be true. She watched the clouds of dust settle and counted the passing seconds. Even after she got to twenty, she didn’t see any movement from the rubble, all of the hateful tentacles gone still.
Hope started to flutter through her. Could it really be possible? Could Haru actually cheer with Ann, throw off all the fear and stress, and move forward? Igor had said something a bit like this, right? No outcome was impossible? So why should they doubt that they were capable of winning?
You repugnant ants.
The hope died. Slowly, the black appendages began to twist and writhe, pulling themselves back toward a central core.
All of you, ants! I will crush you and leave nothing!
“Should we fall back?” Yusuke suggested, still out of breath.
“I… I don’t know,” Makoto said. Haru saw her take in the same horrible scene as her, that monster full of hatred gradually reassembling himself so it could kill them. “If he hurts Joker’s Shadow—”
“We might not get another chance to retreat,” Morgana added.
That tipped the scale. With a grimace, Makoto ordered, “Everyone, fall back!”
Her friends started off down the side-streets, Futaba pointing out the right turns to take, but Haru hesitated.
Maruki stayed put. He took his mask in his hand and tossed it aloft again. With Kettil Runske at his side, Maruki swung his staff and bound Nyarlathotep with the hardwood staff. The gold band encircled most of Nyarlathotep’s wriggling mass, the green band still somewhere in the distance like an ankle cuff.
“What are you doing?!”
“My job!” Maruki braced himself again, ready for his third staff, but Haru saw Nyarlathotep’s tentacles rise and draw back.
She couldn’t let him stand there and take it. Grabbing hold of his wrist, Haru pulled and forced him to run with the others. Nyarlathotep lunged, but struck glass behind Maruki’s back.
“Noir—”
“Save one staff for when we need it!” Haru begged. “We need to stay together—we need to go!”
Finally, Maruki listened to her.
The world keeps falling apart. It’s always falling apart.
A second binding staff seemed to stop those fucking spear attacks. Sakura projected the path; apparently she had tracked Ryuji following Akira, because she can just do that. But frankly, Goro found all of this so grievously familiar. He’d already seen a monster attempt to raze a place Akira loved to the ground. His disgust didn’t change just because the monster lacked his own face.
These binds are only temporary obstacles! I cannot be contained! I embody all forms imaginable!
Nyarlathotep convulsed in his pursuit. The further they ran, the questing tendrils started to ripple, hideous and revolting shivers running down the lengths of his tangled-up limbs. Goro braced, dreading what new hellish attack they would face. He barely knew where to look, expecting ambush from all sides, and for once having more than one back to worry about.
The first tendril split down the middle like a rotten seed pod. Something new burst out, still fashioned from Nyarlathotep’s swarthy skin, but it bloomed like a carnivorous flytrap. Steaming acid dripped from its petals. Another ripped open to reveal gold-tipped nails, like Azathoth’s talons. A third forged itself into a hateful and familiar blade.
These new weapons took opportunistic swipes at the Thieves. A few missed, a few hit shields—Goro tried to watch for those rays of divine light that Loki could stop, saving a friend from their fate—and a few hit outright. After their demolition counterattack, Nyarlathotep had started to spread his fury more proportionally, aiming for whoever looked weak or was falling behind.
Reality is a cesspool of pain! Advancement is nothing more than delusion! What are you even fighting to protect!?
“There’s nothing in this world worth protecting!”
Goro had his answer to that question. These good-hearted idiots around him, they were worth protecting. A few of them might feel like protecting Goro back. If Akira had his head on straight, he’d know the real Tokyo was worth protecting.
Still, disappointment stayed stuck under Goro’s skin like a splinter, now that he’d seen just how much of an egomaniac Akira could be. Goro had been too wrapped up in self-pity over the shamefully violent common ground between himself and Akira to recognize that Akira had enough common ground with Maruki that it became the fucking foundation of his original, unbroken Palace. In any case, what right did Goro have to feel betrayed, as Shadow Akira whimpered in his broken voice about how badly he wanted his Atlantis? Goro’s rival wanted easy perfection over messy reality?
Perhaps Goro should try and forgive Akira for all of this. Forgive him for defending his heart with delusions of grandeur. Forgive him for abandoning the cultivation of his own fucking garden in favor of high-minded salvation. Maybe he should forgive that masked fragment of Akira that used Goro’s own voice to argue that the only way to atone for what he had done was to stay.
Goro wasn’t very good at forgiving people. But he couldn’t imagine leaving now.
He heard Sakura call: “Coming in hot, Skull! Everything okay!?”
“Yeah, nothing’s changed!”
“We’ll join you at your position and build defenses there!” Makoto added.
“Alright! Just get ready for a shit-load of stairs!”
Goro gritted his teeth. This position would be a fucking tactical death trap, but what choice did they have? If Akira wasn’t willing to budge with the final Shard, then they all had to gather around him.
As they reached the end of Sakura’s navigation, a dour detainment tower, Goro noticed Nyarlathotep’s onslaught of slime-forged weapons and monster parts start to thin. Those rune staffs created anchors, so the further the Thieves ran from his core, the more Chaos had to rearrange his entire body to stretch a few meters closer to his prey. The Thieves could outpace him, past the destroyed gate and security turnstiles, until they found the stairs, ready to ascend one floor at a time.
Something at the top of the tower boomed.
“Shit—woah, okay, we’re under attack here!” Ryuji announced.
“We’re coming! Hold on!” Morgana called.
“What’s happening up there?” Sumire asked.
“I think he’s trying to crack the dome!? I don’t know what that’s gonna do, Joker turned off a lot of shit—”
The next boom drowned out Ryuji’s next words, even inside of Goro’s head.
“—Yep, okay, I see cracks! He’s gonna rip the roof off!”
“Hang in there, Skull!”
The strikes grew louder as the Thieves climbed higher. Every drop of Nyarlathotep’s rage battered against the top of the tower like a typhoon, ignoring the Thieves in favor of his newest target: the Wild Card.
“…Hey, uh… Joker, I know this is a really bad time, but—but d’ya need a Persona?! Cuz we really need you, but if you need something from us first, I can give you—”
Akira’s voice cut in, flat and dull. “I feel him with you. Don’t bother.”
“The hell do you mean, ‘don’t bother?!’ We’re running out of shit to try!”
“Like it or not, it’s the end of the road.”
Goro grit his teeth. Absolutely fucking not!
He heard concrete shatter. Ryuji’s surprised shouts confirmed that pieces of the roof had started to cave in. Goro had to get there before Nyarlathotep did. Be a meat shield between the Grail and the enemy if he had to. Goro climbed higher—racing the other Thieves, racing the apocalypse.
Ruins faced them at the top. Walls had collapsed and left rubble in their path, the dim glow of the distant sky shining through. Goro charged ahead and tried to shove obstacles aside, anxious to proceed but all too aware he would be useless if the others couldn’t follow. The destroyed hall led to a computer bay, reduced to shattered monitors and sparking wires, while a pair of twisted metal doors lay on the ground. Beyond them, debris had started to accumulate at the bottom of a strange half-dome.
Goro recognized Ryuji’s bleached head among the wreckage. He had his shotgun aimed at a crack in the ceiling, blasting the tendrils probing through, shot after shot.
Stop this foolishness. You have nowhere to run and no strength to fight.
“Shuddup, you goddamn heap of noodles! I ain’t giving up!”
Despite himself, Goro smiled behind his mask. Back when Goro had thought of the Thieves as enemies, he had seen Ryuji Sakamoto as loud, stupid, immature, easy to insult, stumbling along in Akira’s wake… but he was also unrepentant. Where Goro had gone to unforgivable extremes to make himself something other than an unwanted bastard, Ryuji refused to be ashamed of who and what he was. Goro shouldn’t have wasted so much time hating someone so admirable.
Goro’s foot bumped a metal bar stuck under the fallen door. He crouched low and tugged free a powerful mace, familiar from both sides of battle: swung against Goro’s enemies and Goro himself. He needs this back.
Tendrils ripped the ceiling further apart. The squirming crown, Nyarlathotep’s ‘head,’ loomed over them. More world-destroying light gathered at the ends of his Grail-tipped feelers. Ryuji’s shotgun ran out of shells, so he threw his entire gun at the encroaching monster with a frustrated yell.
Defiant conviction that nothing should harm Ryuji filled Goro and poured forward through Loki, the trickster’s body rippling with crimson stripes. It manifested an after-image of a sword, buried into the ground before Ryuji’s feet. The boy startled, then ducked behind the blade a second before Chaos’ beams shredded the floor to either side.
“Catch!” Goro shouted. He lobbed Ryuji’s mace his way and dropped into the crater himself, one hand braced behind him to control his fall.
Ryuji caught his favorite blunt instrument. “The hell, man!? You could’ve knocked my head off!” But, Goro heard a teasing lilt in Ryuji’s voice. When he fell into formation beside him, Goro saw a smirk.
The Crawling Chaos wrenched the dome apart as more Thieves arrived at the bottom of the crater. Makoto delivered orders: “Fight back with everything you have! Protect each other, but most importantly, protect Joker!”
Goro glanced at Shadow Akira as the others moved into position. He possessively clutched his Joker mask and ignored the flurry of movement around him, head low and shoulders hunched. As if his pathetic behavior in the submarine hadn’t been bad enough, now he looked desperate and resigned at the same time.
And what could Goro do about that? He had never been a healer, not in the way Akira clearly needed. Their advancement had required them to clash, Akira’s flint against Goro’s steel. If Akira had already refused the spark of rebellion that Ryuji carried, what sparks could Goro create by clashing with Akira again?
He felt helpless. He felt stupid. And he felt angry.
He knew what to do with anger.
Nyarlathotep tore into the building, and Goro tore back. He tried to leave everything else behind, welcome back a familiar bloodlust that had seen him through his worst decisions, but for a better cause this time. He wanted to narrow his world to nothing but pain: inflicted and endured.
Yet, he knew too much. The futility of their fight sank in his stomach as Nyarlathotep attacked with his twisting, changing tentacles: beast-claws and volcanic rock and crystal foci and saw blades… Loki could channel his rage into magic, aim it at a foe, and repeat until the foe fell, but could he keep that up long enough to save Akira? What if the others faltered too? But they were out of options to do anything else.
You cannot comprehend how tiring I find this.
Goro felt tired, too. A burning sensation had started to grow at the bottom of his heart, the deep ache, crying no more. Lashing tendrils struck against his body. He cut at them as they retreated, but he couldn’t tell if he damaged them at all.
Morgana healed them. That was nice of him.
No matter how many times you humans band together and rebel against me, there is no true advancement to be found! Your species remains bent on its own destruction!
The species. Like Goro gave a shit about the species. Goro had seen so much of humanity’s rot first-hand, and even if he’d made it his mission to eradicate every corrupt adult he could get his hands on, he’d be doing nothing more than slicing heads off a hydra. Maybe Nyarlathotep was right, and the human species would always destroy what it created.
Goro saw Ann falter, a glare in her eyes as she struggled to breathe. Sumire crumpled under the weight of another hit. Yusuke dropped to a knee beside her, his masterful hands shaking as he administered a balm of life. Goro barely managed to wedge his sword in between his body and Nyarlathotep’s next blow. His left leg was starting to hurt, even though it only hurt in reality.
Even if the point of humanity is to destroy… I refuse to be the destroyer!
The attacking appendage retreated after a second of struggle. Maybe Goro repelled it? But out of the corners of his dulling vision, he saw other limbs retreating too. Yusuke helped Sumire stand. Ryuji balanced on his mace like a cane. Several glanced at Morgana, but no cure magic came. Had the cat run out?
The crown of Nyarlathotep’s hideous head rippled. A sphere of light gathered, mote by mote, into a hateful and invincible glow.
Acknowledge the truth and despair!
“NO!”
Sakura’s power rang out. The light fired and clashed against the neon barrier, glyphs and code standing strong between the Thieves and the destructive power. But the rays didn’t dissipate. Goro knew Sakura’s ‘final guard’ move well. It bounced the attack back or forced it to glance off. It had never stood up to sustained force before.
He looked Sakura’s way. She stood in the center of their crowd, fragile arms raised to hold up the very sky.
She looked weak. But she didn’t look afraid.
A second later, Sumire raised her arms, too. Her palms touched the barrier. The light rippled around her hands, brighter and brighter. Instantly, the Thieves copied her—Maruki, Makoto, Okumura—and Goro followed, pressing his hands against Sakura’s shield like he could reinforce it with his own will.
All of your resistance is useless! I will crush you, no matter how long it takes!
Goro heard Ann’s voice gasp out, “We won’t—let you!” Inside the bubble, everyone rallied around her tiny words, pushing more of themselves into their hands to try and hold up the world.
Akira remained low and broken at their feet.
…Fine. Let him stay low and broken. Even if Akira had turned his back on everything, lost any will to fight and protect the world… didn’t Akira still have Goro’s glove? Wasn’t it just as much Goro’s responsibility to survive, so that someday, they could decide their duel?
Standing at the edge of absolute exhaustion himself, Goro poured all of his might into Sakura’s shield and refused to yield.
Nyarlathotep had fallen silent. No more taunting declarations, just concentrated power directed against the Thieves’ bubble. A minute later, Sakura’s hands started to tremble. Ryuji’s stance faltered.
Then the entire bubble dropped. Just by an inch, but the weight pushing against them drove it into the floor and forced the Thieves lower. Goro’s weak leg buckled. With a growl of effort, he fashioned a new stance as he heard Morgana cry, “Keep at it! Stay strong!”
For how long, though?
Beside him, Goro noticed Maruki glance down at Akira. Then the therapist took a deep breath.
“Sorry… I want to try something! Hold on!”
He pulled his hands away. Goro’s muscles burned as the entire dome lurched again, more weight on fewer people. He twisted his neck to try and see what the fuck Maruki was doing at a time like this. Would another of his terrible schemes lead to their death by disintegration!?
Goro saw Maruki had dropped to his knees, facing Akira. The Shadow curled around his Treasure, the desperation of a defeated Ruler overtaking his apathy. “Get back!”
Maruki held out empty hands. “I know! I’m sorry! I won’t touch your Treasure! But we need your help!”
“I can’t help!”
“That’s not true! You’re essential—important, please—”
“I can’t!”
“If I can, then you can!” Maruki raised his voice. “You think you can’t, because if you change now, that would mean admitting you were wrong before! The regret of all those missed chances to change, all those mistakes and bad choices, it makes the idea of change too heavy to bear! Akira, I know that terrible choice!”
The ache spread from Goro’s arms and legs to his core, his back. He gritted his teeth and tried to redouble his efforts while Maruki’s words echoed in their tiny, crumbling bubble.
“Changing my mind, especially when I don’t even know if the change is going to fix anything, it’s terrifying! I don’t have the words to say how terrifying it is, but I don’t have to! You know how it feels, don’t you?!”
Slowly, slightly, Akira’s knees pulled away from his chest. He still crouched, so small and defenseless, but he fully faced Maruki.
“What I’m trying to say is, change—even futile, too-late change, even change that scares you—is sure as hell better than staying where you are!”
A tremor passed through the building. Maybe the foundations were starting to shake, and this whole building would fall apart before Nyarlathotep or the Thieves won their stalemate.
Maruki continued, undaunted. “I finally understand what you and your friends were trying to teach me! Rebellion doesn’t need to save the world! The greatest rebellion is as small as a single step forward! Just one step!”
The bubble pushed lower again. Goro took a deep breath and tried to straighten his elbows, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.
“And I promise… you don’t have to take that step alone!”
A lifetime ago—or perhaps two days ago—Goro had faced a piece of Akira that knew Goro’s mind inside and out. That Shadow believed there was another path for them. Even if he had selfishly twisted that path, didn’t he have a point? Even if it was too late to undo his sins, Goro could stage a rebellion against guilt itself.
As long as a human is alive, their life isn’t ruined! I won’t allow us to give up!
Through the noise, through the chaos, through Goro’s burning limbs, through the world falling to pieces—it’s always falling to pieces, isn’t it?—Goro heard Akira’s voice: small, unsure, but finally… hopeful.
“Doc… will you help me bear the weight?”
Maruki responded instantly. “Yes! No matter what, I’m here to help!”
Goro watched them. He saw Akira, crouched on the ground, and Maruki before him…
Akira reached out his hand.
Maruki clasped it.
Then, at last, Akira stood up.