May 6th, 2012, Dragon Mountains, Past Midnight.
The Dimensional Gap gnawed at them.
Like the ravenous, formless maw of a cosmic beast where light and logic dissolved into screaming static, the void pressed against their fragile bubble of reality.
Arthur's barrier—just a fragile dome really—buckled under the onslaught, its surface rippling like water struck by stones.
Bikou stumbled, his staff sparking futilely against the encroaching dark, the golden wood's light guttering like a candle in a hurricane.
"Weren't we supposed to be out by now, Arthur!?" he shouted, his voice fraying at the edges, the usual bravado stripped away by the primal terror of the void.
"Silence!" Arthur snarled, teeth bared in a feral grimace that contrasted violently with his usual knightly poise. Sweat dripped down his temples, tracing paths through the grime of battle, as he channeled every shred of will into the holy sword.
Vali's fist slammed against the trembling barrier, the impact sending ripples across its surface. "Focus. Kuroka, how is Makoto?"
The nekoshou's ears flattened against her skull, her tails lashing with agitation. Her Senjutsu flickered around her like a dying candle, struggling to penetrate the void's interference.
"His soul's... gone, nyaah." The words came out choked, reluctant. "Not dead. Just... unreachable. Like it's buried under a mountain of debris. I can sense something, but it's too far, too deep—"
Her claws dug into her palms, drawing thin lines of blood. The pain helped her focus, helped her push back against the rising tide of despair.
Le Fay's magic circles spiraled around her, crimson runes flickering as she chanted in a language older than human memory. Her voice cracked with strain, but she did not stop.
"I've got a thread! A weak point in the Gap's fabric. It is here!" She jabbed a finger toward a spot where the darkness seemed thinner, the static less intense.
The void convulsed. The barrier screamed.
"Arthur, cut it. Now." Vali's voice was a blade of absolute certainty, carved from the weight of his bloodline and the desperation of the moment.
Arthur hesitated, Excalibur trembling in his grip.
"Vali, if the Gap isn't thin enough here, the backlash will—"
"We die either way! I will help you with Divine Dividing." Vali's eyes blazed. The Lucifer bloodline within him scraped at his restraint, demanding release, demanding action. "Do it!"
Arthur roared and plunged Excalibur Ruler into the rippling air.
For a heartbeat, the Gap held its breath.
{DIVIDE!}
Albion's declaration echoed through the void, and blinding light enveloped the Vali Team as Le Fay's magic circle activated in perfect synchronization.
The world fractured, folded, and reformed.
***
Kuroka's breath hung in frozen clouds as she staggered upright, her boots crunching against snow that glittered like crushed diamonds under a bruised sky.
The cold hit her immediately. Her tails bristled against the gale, the fur standing on end as if trying to trap what little warmth remained.
"Nyaah... Leader?!" Her voice fractured against the emptiness, swallowed by the howling gale before it could travel more than a few feet.
No answer came, only the creak of ancient, lonely pines bowing under their icy burdens, their branches heavy with centuries of accumulated frost.
A shudder wracked her frame. "Stupid... freezing... place. I hate cold." She muttered the words like a mantra, conjuring a flickering orb of ki between her palms. The warmth was meager, but it was something.
Then a gasp. Raw, ragged, human.
Makoto lurched to his knees nearby, snow clinging to his hair like a shroud, his face pale as the frost around him. His hands pressed against his temples, and his breath came in short, sharp bursts that fogged the air.
Inside his mind, the Personas' voices crashed against each other like waves in a storm.
'Finally!' the Sun God quiped, his golden presence flaring with renewed warmth. 'I was drafting eulogies! To my own sanity, being stuck with you lot in that void!'
"Where...?" Makoto rasped, clutching his head as if trying to hold it together. The mountain's cold was nothing compared to the void still clawing at his synapses, still trying to drag him back into that endless darkness.
"You are alive, apparently." Kuroka's ears flattened further, her voice sharp with the kind of anger that comes from fear.
He staggered to his feet, breath evening out, shoulders squaring. "Ophis. She's in danger. We must find her."
'The Star is close,' Messiah interjected, his voice a silver thread in the mental storm, calm amid the chaos. 'But veiled. Like he is beneath a suffocating cloak. Something hides him from us.'
Makoto didn't wait. He plunged into the blizzard, boots sinking deep into the fresh powder, leaving a trail that the wind would erase within minutes. "We need to move. Follow me, Kuroka."
"Wait, nyaah! You don't even know where—!" Kuroka hissed, but he was already disappearing into the white, his silhouette swallowed by the swirling snow.
She swore then sprinted after him, her tails streaming behind her like battle standards. The mountain's growl followed, a reminder that here, stillness was death.
"Where are we even going!?" she snapped, hurrying to catch up with him. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale sharp as broken glass. Looking ahead, she saw nothing but snow and jagged rocks thrusting up from the white like broken teeth.
"I know where Vali is. Just stay close," Makoto replied, his voice steady despite the cold.
'Messiah, do you have any idea if Vali is with Ophis and the others?' Makoto asked internally, but Messiah's answer was negative.
The wind howled, whipping snow into spirals that caught in Kuroka's lashes, blurring her vision. She sneezed violently her tails puffing into bristled brushes as the cold invaded every exposed inch of skin.
"Nyaah, achoo! Stupid... freezing... mountain." She grumbled, rubbing her nose with a mittened hand that did little to warm it.
Her breath curled into ghostly plumes, and she cupped her palms, blowing into them like a child coaxing life into dying embers.
Makoto watched her sidelong, and a flicker of amusement softened his usual stoicism. Without a word, he raised a hand.
'Izanagi.'
The Creator God answered immediately, understanding without explanation. Golden light spiraled from Makoto's fingertips: threads of divine intent weaving into fabric. A cape materialized: thick, winter-white wool embroidered with golden threads that caught the faint light and held it like captured sunshine.
It was similar to Izanagi's own mantle—simple in design, profound in its warmth.
He tossed it to her.
Kuroka fumbled the catch, nearly dropping it in the snow, then clutched it to her chest. The cold retreated from her skin immediately, as if the fabric itself rejected the mountain's chill. Her eyes widened.
"Where'd you pull this from, nyaah? Pocket dimension? Some kind of artifact?" Her tone was teasing, but her eyes gleamed with genuine wonder.
Makoto shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Ehm... magic."
'Technically correct, hee hoo!' Jack Frost chirped, his voice a tinkling chime in Makoto's mind, bright as icicles in sunlight.
"Oh, right. Magic." Kuroka drawled, rolling her eyes as she fastened the cloak around her shoulders. The gold embroidery glowed faintly against the white fur of her tails, pulsing with a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. "Real specific, Yuki. What's next? Summoning a hot spring with a snap?"
"Maybe." The corner of his mouth quirked.
She snorted, falling into step beside him as they continued their climb. "I am serious. How did you do it?"
"I don't know... I just did it." Makoto's reply was honest, almost apologetic. He didn't understand the mechanics, not really. Once, summoning a Persona's power had required a minimum of chant, focus, effort, a ritual as much as an act of will.
Now, it was instinct. The Universe Arcana thrummed in the depths of his being, seamless and vast, binding him to his Personas in ways he had never fathomed when he was part of SEES.
Kuroka shook her head in surrender, her smirk softening into something almost fond. "Real helpful, nyaah."
'We are almost there, Makoto. The barrier is growing stronger,' Messiah informed, pulling his focus back to the present.
Makoto nodded, his expression hardening once more.
The valley's walls rose like jagged teeth around them, the narrow pass choked with snow that glittered faintly under a slit of bruised sky. Wind screamed through the corridor. Minutes ago, they had traded jabs about hot springs and magic. Now, the mountain's throat tightened around them, cold and cruel.
The nature became more and more hostile as they approached the safe haven of the Dragon Apples' Grove.
Kuroka's hand snapped out, nails biting into Makoto's arm. "Yuki, stop," she hissed, pupils thinning to slits.
Her ears pivoted forward, twitching at a sound deeper than the gale, a rumble like grinding tectonic plates, like the earth itself shifting.
Makoto froze, breath fogging the air. "What's—"
"We are not alone, nyaah. And they are not friends." Her voice dropped to a whisper, tail bristling as every instinct screamed danger.
The warning came too late.
A giant shadow appeared at the valley's end—thick and oily, its figure hidden by the storm—before parting with a roar that shook snow from the peaks in cascading avalanches.
Tannin emerged.
Fifteen meters of primal beast, the former Dragon King loomed with wings spread wide, bat-like membranes stretched taut, their rigid tips scraping the canyon walls, carving grooves into the ancient stone.
Dark purple scales armored his frame, their hue stormcloud-deep, interrupted only by the beige underbelly that pulsed with each thunderous breath. His triangular head lowered, yellow horns glinting like sickles against the grey sky, while eyes the color of molten lava locked onto them. Serrated fangs gleamed as his maw split into a snarl, tendrils of smoke curling from his nostrils.
Kuroka stumbled back, the cloak's golden embroidery dulled under his shadow. "T-that's the Dragon King Tannin..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
Makoto's hand drifted to his side, where the evoker waited.
Above, Tannin's armored pauldrons shifted as he took a step forward. His talons, longer than Makoto's torso, carved furrows into the permafrost, while the loincloth's metallic adornments clattered like funeral bells, like the tolling of a death knell.
"Intruders," Tannin growled, the word a landslide, an avalanche, a mountain speaking. "You who dared to desecrate the Dragon Apples' Grove. I will not let you escape."
The mountain held its breath.
Lighthearted banter died in Kuroka's throat. Here, there was only the dragon, the storm, and the terrible understanding of what stood before them.
One of the most prominent devils in the current government. Despite being a reincarnated one, despite his origins, he had risen to power through strength and cunning. If she was recognized, if he somehow knew her face, her crimes... she was done for.
Inside Makoto's mind, the Personas' voices clashed like warring storms, each one demanding attention, each one offering a different solution.
'Uniiiverse!' Fafnir's screech reverberated through the mental space, metallic and jagged, as if his words were torn from a furnace. 'Let me play with hiiim!'
'Silence, lizard,' Odin boomed. 'Your chaos risks all. A Shadow wields the Spear nearby, we cannot afford your... indulgences. Or your mad desire for action.'
Loki materialized upside-down above Odin's shoulder, his grin slicing through the tension like a razor. 'Aw, Dindin. Scared our dear shiny and metallic friend might be sealed? Worried the Spear might find a new target?'
'Enough.' Kohryu intoned, his serpentine form coiling with pragmatic calm. 'This dragon is no Shadow. Let Fafnir distract him. We have greater prey to hunt.'
Makoto exhaled, the decision crystallizing in his mind like ice forming on a winter pond. 'Fafnir. No killing. No permanent destruction. And... control the chaos. Please.'
'Fiiine,' Fafnir whined, though his excitement bled through in static-laced giggles, in sparks of electricity that danced across Makoto's synapses. 'I'll be gentle. For a given value of gentle.'
"Kuroka." Makoto's voice was low, barely audible over the wind. His eyes never left Tannin's smoldering gaze. "When I say so, run."
"Wha—"
Tannin's roar drowned her protest. The Devil Dragon lunged, wings churning the air into a blizzard, talons carving gouges into the stone as he closed the distance with terrifying speed.
"Now."
Makoto's hand flashed—the evoker pressed to his temple—and the trigger was pulled.
Reality fractured in a burst of bright light, gears and circuitry spiraling into existence as Fafnir erupted from Makoto's mind and soul.
The cybernetic dragon's steel-plated form rivaled Tannin's colossal frame—each plate gleaming with reflected fire, each joint hissing with hydraulic pressure. His crimson optics blazed and plasma vents flared along his spine, casting the valley in an unholy glow.
"Hiiigh drag-on!" Fafnir crooned, his voice a symphony of grinding steel and digitized malice, of ancient rage channeled through modern mechanisms. "Let's daaance!"
Kuroka staggered back, pupils dilated to thin slits, her tails lashing in shock. "Nyaah, what the hell is that!?"
Tannin skidded to a halt, wings flaring wide as he took in the mechanized abomination before him. Yet beneath the shock, a hint of recognition flickered in his eyes.
"Fafnir?"
Makoto seized Kuroka's wrist. "Move."
They sprinted, boots skidding on ice, as the valley erupted behind them. Fafnir wasted no time.
He lunged, claws meeting claws, steel screeching against scale. His laughter echoed, a deranged melody punctuated by the thunderclap of colliding titans.
Kuroka risked a glance back. Tannin's tail smashed into a peak, sending avalanches cascading down the slopes, while Fafnir's breath scorched the sky, melting centuries of accumulated snow in seconds.
"You—you just summoned that!?" she gasped, her legs burning as she pushed herself faster.
"Later. We have to rescue Ophis." Makoto's voice was calm as he wove through falling debris, his feet finding purchase where there seemed to be none.
**
Makoto felt the bond with Vali growing stronger with each step. Messiah guided him, a compass pointing toward the Star.
"Yuki, there is a barrier in front of us!" Kuroka shouted, skidding to a halt just before she collided with an invisible wall.
Makoto stopped, his hand reaching out to touch... something. A physical, thick wall of fog solid yet soft, like a very dense non-Newtonian liquid that yielded to pressure but refused to let him pass. It prevented them from seeing through, from seeing what lay beyond: the crevice containing the Dragon Apples' Grove, and the battle that raged within.
"What is this?" he asked, pressing his palm against the strange substance.
"D-dimension Lost?" Kuroka's voice was small, surprised. Her eyes widened as recognition dawned. "What is the Hero Faction doing here...?"
"Yuki, you said Shalba Beelzebub is a Shadow. That is what you call it, right?" Makoto nodded. "I felt a similar feeling last time I saw Cao Cao. Different from my previous encounters with him—wrong in the same way."
Makoto's jaw tightened.
'Another Shadow?' Lucifer's voice was ice.
'That means our hypothesis was wrong,' Kohryu said, his tone grim. 'We are already at four: Shadow Izanami, Shadow Azazel, Shadow Shalba... and now Shadow Cao Cao. Nyarlathotep's reach is spreading faster than we anticipated.'
'Are you telling me he can make as many Shadow Selves as he wants?' Apollo asked, startled.
'Unlikely. There must be a limit or perhaps we are wrong about when the Crawling Chaos arrived in this world,' Yoshitsune observed. 'He may have been building his forces for longer than we assumed.'
'Philemon was not very precise on that matter, now that I think about it,' Makoto admitted.
'We will discuss this later with the Attendant and Death,' Messiah declared. 'For now, we have a new Shadow to eliminate.'
"Kuroka, do you know how to get through this barrier?" Makoto asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
She puffed out her chest. "Youjutsu is perfect for this type of scenario, nyaah." A smirk curved her lips as she raised her hands, purple mist beginning to coil around her fingers, mixing with the fog of Dimension Lost, seeking its weaknesses, its edges, its seams.
Makoto watched, ready, as the nekoshou worked her magic, and the barrier began to thin.