The air in the cavernous, cathedral-like chamber where the Great Seal was contained hung heavy with the scent of aged stone and the faint, metallic tang of eternity—if only eternity had a scent.
Stained glass windows, fractured and dim, casted prismatic shards of light across the floor, their colors muted as if time itself held its breath there.
At the heart of the sanctuary stood Makoto's petrified form, a statue frozen mid-stride, his face serene yet etched with the weight of a sacrifice older than memory. Dust motes drifted lazily in the pallid light, settling on the grooves of his stone jacket, his lifeless fingers, the hollows of his unseeing eyes.
Elizabeth's boots clicked softly against the marble as she approached, the sound swallowed by the silence.
Her platinum hair gleamed like moonlight caught in silk, framing a face of porcelain resolve. Her golden eyes, bright against the gloom, lingered on the statue with a mix of reverence and aching familiarity. The blue of her stewardess-style dress, trimmed with black-lined circles and gold accents, seemed to pulse faintly, as though woven from the heart of a glacier.
She reached out, gloved fingers trembling imperceptibly, and brushed them against the cold curve of Makoto's cheek.
"It's time to wake up, Makoto," Elizabeth said, and soon the whole place began to tremble as the statue slowly started to gain life.
The chamber shuddered. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the walls as cracks spiderwebbed across Makoto's stone skin, glowing faintly gold.
The petrification splintered away in flakes, revealing flesh beneath—pale at first, then blooming with warmth. His chest heaved suddenly, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat as color flooded back into his eyes, transforming dull marble into vivid blue.
He staggered, muscles seizing after eons of stillness, and Elizabeth caught him, her grip steadying.
"Easy," she murmured, her hand pressing gently between his shoulder blades. "We have all the time you need."
Makoto's first breath was a shuddering thing, his throat raw as if lined with ash. He coughed, the sound echoing too loudly in the hollow space, and managed a weak smile. "Liz…" he rasped, the nickname a fragile thread of sound.
Her answering smile was radiant, though her eyes glistened. "I missed you," she said simply, as if those three words could span the chasm of years.
He straightened slowly, joints protesting, and she stepped back, though not far, her presence a lighthouse in the dim.
When he reached for his SEES uniform, she handed it to him without a word, the fabric crisp and familiar, smelling faintly of old battles and Aigis's meticulous care. His Evoker, cold and sleek, fit into his palm like a forgotten piece of his soul.
'...'
Makoto's thoughts stopped as he looked at his weapon. He took a deep breath slowly, his lungs readjusting to being... alive.
"Do you know what comes next?" he asked, thumb tracing the grooves of his MP3 player, a relic of his former life: paused, interrupted by the cruelty of reality.
Elizabeth's smile turned sly as she flipped open her compendium, its pages glowing with arcane script. "Master Igor sends his regards," she said, her tone dancing between solemnity and delight. "And a challenge. The path ahead… well, it's one only you can tread."
Makoto rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Starting to sound like him, Liz."
"A high compliment!" She snapped the book shut with a thud, her golden eyes narrowing playfully. "Now focus. The Universe within you it's the key. Think of the tarots. The Hermit's lantern in the dark…"
He closed his eyes. Nyx's voice echoed in his mind, ancient and starlit: it requires great courage to look at oneself honestly, and forge one's own path...
The Evoker rose to his temple, cold against his skin.
"Mercurius!"
The air split with a sound like shattering glass. Above him, the Persona materialized in a whirl of sapphire light, a divine figure clad in flowing robes, wings of iridescent feathers unfurling like dawn breaking storm clouds.
In its hands, the Caduceus staff glowed, its twin serpents twisting around a shaft of pure gold. Makoto loaded a black cartridge into the Evoker, the click reverberating like a heartbeat.
Elizabeth stepped closer, her boots brushing his, her breath a warm whisper. "Don't leave me behind, dear guest."
The trigger pulled.
Mercurius's staff spun faster, carving a helix of light that warped the air itself. The chamber dissolved—stone, dust, memory—into a vortex of cerulean energy.
Elizabeth's soft chuckle rang bright and wild as the light swallowed them, her hand gripping Makoto's sleeve like an anchor.
03/31/2012, Kuoh Town, Night.
Makoto's eyelids fluttered open, the world swimming into focus like ink bleeding through water. Cold concrete pressed into his back, its unyielding bite seeping through his jacket.
He laid there for a moment, disoriented, the aftertaste of Mercurius's failed Theurgy—The Wanderer—still crackling on his tongue, a metallic tang.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright, palms scraping against grit, and scanned the dim expanse of the warehouse he found himself in.
Sunlight slanted through fractured skylights, carving dusty shafts of gold that caught motes of rust swirling in the air. The place reeked of decay: oil-stained floors, corroded metal, and the sour musk of abandonment.
"Elizabeth?" His voice echoed hollowly, swallowed by the cavernous space. Only silence answered, thick and suffocating.
'She'll find me' he told himself, though his pulse quickened. 'She always does.'
He fumbled for his earphones, fingers trembling faintly as he jammed them into place. The opening chords of Deep Breath Deep Breath thrummed in his ears, the bassline steadying him like a heartbeat.
He moved cautiously, shoes crunching over debris—shattered glass, twisted nails, the skeletal remains of machinery. Darkness pooled in the corners, dense and watchful.
'Universe.'
A voice sliced through the music, sharp as a blade, in his mind. Orpheus Telos's tone was melodic yet urgent, strings humming beneath his words. Makoto froze, one hand hovering near his Evoker.
'Orpheus? You can... speak to me?' Makoto asked, thinking his question aloud inside his mind, as thus communicating with his Persona.
'The Sea of Souls here is fractured, not even formed. Its absence grants us clarity and more freedom of action and the Universe Arcana avoids us from losing ourselves.'
The Persona's presence unfurled in his mind like a scroll, ancient and luminous. 'There is a presence outside. Malevolent. Not Shadow, but not even human.'
Makoto's breath hitched. He scanned the warehouse again, eyes narrowing. The rusted shelves loomed like sentinels, their jagged edges clawing at peeling walls.
A draft whistled through a broken window, carrying the faintest whisper of laughter, cold, mocking.
'Where?' He inched toward a collapsed stack of crates, the music's rhythm syncing with his steps.
'Close, just outside this building. Be cautious.' Orpheus's voice tightened.
Above, a metal beam groaned. Makoto tilted his head, squinting into the gloom. For a heartbeat, he swore he saw movement, a flicker of something solid in the shadows, there and gone.
His grip tightened on the Evoker.
Makoto's fingers flexed at his empty side, the absence of his blade prickling like a phantom limb.
'I'd love to,' he replied inwardly, gaze sweeping the warehouse's sagging ceiling beams and buckling walls.
'But Liz forgot to give me my sword. And I'd prefer not to bring the whole place down on us if I summon you.'
Orpheus Telos's laughter resonated like plucked harp strings, soft, discordant and rhythmic, yet wise.
'The Universe bends to your will, Makoto. Need and blade are one.' A pause, then quieter, as if sharing a secret, Orpheus Telos added: 'Remember your life Makoto.'
Makoto hesitated, then closed his eyes. The Arcana's power hummed in his veins, a constellation unfurling behind his eyelids. He envisioned the Deus Xiphos, its white hilt, the blade's edge shimmering like fractured starlight, and pulled.
Cold metal materialized in his grip, its weight familiar. He opened his eyes. The sword glimmered faintly, as though drawn from Heaven itself.
'Handy.' he thought, tightening his hold. The warehouse creaked in protest, but held.
Outside, the alley stank of rotting garbage and stagnant puddles, the air thick enough to chew.
Crumbling brick walls pressed close, plastered with peeling concert posters and graffiti that reminded him achingly of Tatsumi Port Island's grime.
For a heartbeat, he was sixteen again, stepping into shadows to meet Shinjiro's wary glare for the first time.
"What a pleasant surprise."
The voice slithered into his ears, honey-sweet and venomous. Makoto turned slowly.
She loomed at the alley's dead end, her form a grotesque tapestry of beauty and horror.
A woman's torso rose from a scorpion's segmented body, her skin the sickly white of a cave-dwelling creature.
Six spindly arms clawed the air, each tipped with talons like rusted scalpels. Where legs should be, a serpent's tail coiled, its scales iridescent under the flickering streetlamp.
Her face was all wrong, too symmetrical, lips blood-red and split by a forked tongue, eyes lidless and glowing sulfur-yellow.
"A prey wanders into my lair," she purred, the snake tail lashing behind her. "And such a tender morsel..."
Makoto didn't flinch. His breath steadied, the Deus Xiphos held loosely at his side. 'Calm,' he told himself. 'Breathe. Wait.'
The creature lunged without warning, her tail striking like a whip. The serpent's maw on her tail snapped where his ribs had been, but he'd already sidestepped, movements fluid, almost bored.
"Cat got your tongue?" she hissed, talons raking the air.
He tilted his head, meeting her gaze. "Just waiting," he said, voice flat. "You're slower than I expected."
The scorpion woman's arms blurred as she struck, twin spears whistling through the air like serpents.
Makoto danced backward, the Deus Xiphos always in his hands. Steel clanged against steel, sparks erupting like fireflies in the alley's gloom.
Her tail lashed, the serpent's maw snapping at his ankles, but he pivoted, fluid, unhurried, letting the blade's edge kiss the shafts of her spears. They splintered like dry bone.
"Stop moving!" she shrieked, sulfur eyes wild. Her breaths came ragged, claws trembling. "Let me feast!"
Makoto's sword halted an inch from her throat. The blade hummed faintly, its holy aura searing the stale air. "I don't want to kill you," he said, voice flat, unwavering.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. The sword's light reflected in her lidless gaze, and she recoiled as if scalded.
"H-Holy Sword...?" she stammered, voice cracking. Her tail curled protectively around her torso, scales rattling. "Y-you're an exorcist—!?"
"No?" He lowered the blade. "I'm looking for a friend. A woman, white hair, blue dress. Have you seen her?"
"N-no! Never!" She scrambled backward, claws scraping grooves into the asphalt. "I swear on, on Lucifer's throne!"
Makoto nodded, sheathing the Deus Xiphos. The alley seemed to exhale. "Don't attack anyone else," he said, turning away.
Her whimper followed him as he walked, swallowed by the tinny rhythm of Deep Breath Deep Breath flooding his ears.
'Alive.' The word pulsed in Viser's skull like a drumbeat. She staggered into the warehouse, bile rising in her throat.
Her talons clutched at her chest, where the sword's aura still burned phantom holes. 'That blade...' she retched, acid splattering the concrete. 'One glance and my blood turned to ice. What kind of human spares a devil like me?'
Her legs buckled, and she collapsed into the shadows, consciousness slipping like sand through fingers.
'Makoto. The attendant is near,' Orpheus Telos warned.
Makoto froze mid-step. The sidewalk ahead shimmered, air warping like heat haze. A door materialized, tall, ornate, its surface lacquered midnight blue.
The door swung open. Elizabeth stepped out, her platinum hair glowing like a beacon in the grimy street.
Her blue velvet dress rustled as she spun, arms spread. "Found you!" she trilled, golden eyes crinkling with delight.
Makoto blinked. "How is the Velvet Room here? I thought—"
"A new iteration!" She twirled, gesturing grandly at the doorway. "No longer bound to dreams or elevators. This one is yours, physically yours, anchored by the Universe Arcana!"
Inside, the Velvet Room unfolded like the usual dreamy place, but more opulent. Gone was the sterile elevator; in its place sprawled a speakeasy of impossible geometry.
Velvet curtains cascaded from a ceiling painted with swirling nebulae. A mahogany bar gleamed under chandeliers of crystallized light, bottles of whatever kinds of liquids Elizabeth brought glowing softly on shelves. A spiral staircase wound upward, its brass railings entwined with gilded vines.
"I finally have the Velvet Club!" Elizabeth declared, walking past a grand piano where a shadowy figure played a sonata only Makoto could hear.
"We have all that we need! Music! And—" she flung open a door to reveal a bathroom lined with marble and steam. "hydrotherapy!"
Makoto stared, exhaustion weighing his bones like lead. "Is there... a bedroom?"
Elizabeth pouted. "You slept for two years, Makoto!"
"I wasn't sleeping. I was holding back the apocalypse." He trudged upstairs, each step heavier than the last.
The upper level was quieter, bathed in the warm glow of gaslight sconces. Three doors lined the hallway. He opened the first.
"I don't require sleep," Elizabeth said, peering over his shoulder, "but the other rooms include everything a guest could nee—"
Makoto collapsed face-first into the bed. The last thing he heard was her sigh, before sleep dragged him under, a tide as deep and dark as the Sea of Souls itself.
04/01/2012, Kuoh Town, Morning.
Makoto stirred, the soft embrace of the navy silk sheets reluctantly releasing him as he woke.
The room was bathed in a muted, predawn glow, the faint scent of cedar and something faintly floral—lavender, perhaps—lingering in the air.
He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and took a moment to survey the space. It felt familiar, yet undeniably grander, like a dreamlike upgrade of his old room at the Iwatodai Dorm.
To the left, three towering white wardrobes stood like sentinels, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly in the dim light. Their stark whiteness contrasted sharply with the deep blue walls, which seemed to shift subtly in hue as the light changed, like the surface of a tranquil ocean.
On the right, a stately walnut desk commanded attention, its surface smooth and uncluttered save for a sleek, modern lamp and a small, humming fridge tucked neatly beneath.
The desk faced a wide window, its view currently hidden behind heavy velvet curtains that pooled luxuriously on the floor.
Makoto swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet sinking into the plush carpet. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—7:00 a.m.—its numerals glowing a soft, unobtrusive green.
He took a deep breath, the air cool and crisp, and stood, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. Crossing the room, he reached for the curtains, his fingers brushing against the rich fabric. With a gentle tug, he pulled them aside, and the room flooded with the golden light of morning.
However, he gasped at what he saw outside.
"Elizabeth, why is Tartarus outside the Velvet Room?" Makoto asked in a discomforted tone, calling for the attendant.
He then opened the window and looked up, seeing the top of the Tower of Demise under a shining full moon. 'It's bright as day but the moon is still up,' thought Makoto before exiting the room and searching for Elizabeth.
"Good morning, Makoto. I see you've noticed the Velvet Room is at the new base of Tartarus," said nonchalantly Elizabeth, who was sitting on a chair in front of the bar's counter.
"Yeah, why's that?" asked Makoto while exploring the bar.
"This Velvet Room is strongly linked to you, so it has moved inside the Universe Arcana," explained Elizabeth, looking at the boy who was inspecting the small kitchen behind the counter.
"So we are inside the Universe Arcana?" Makoto asked with a satisfied look after seeing the furniture of cooking tools the bar had.
"Yes, we are," Elizabeth said, then stood up and headed toward the back door near the stairs.
"This door leads to Tartarus. Don't worry; there are no shadows in there," said Elizabeth as she watched Makoto boiling some water in a pot.
"What are you doing?" she asked, giggling.
"I'm preparing some miso soup for breakfast. Want some?" he asked without looking away from the pot.
"I'm obliged," said the woman with a smile, sitting back on the counter.
As the two of them had breakfast, Makoto heard Elizabeth's voice resounding in his head.
I am Thou. Thou art I. The bond thou hast nurtured hath finally matured. The innermost power of the Fool arcana hath been freed once again. Thee now hast the might of the ultimate form of the Fool within the infinite expanse of the Universe.
"Liz? What happened?" asked Makoto, confused.
"Oh, it seems that being in a new world makes your old bonds not as useful as they should be. Luckily, our bond is already strong enough," answered the attendant with a look of satisfaction.
"I think I understand... So all my bonds are to be replaced?" said the Messiah with a bit of sorrow in his voice.
"Replaced is not the right word, Makoto. Those are irreplaceable, and their power is still in you. You just need new ones—and after all, not all your bonds are useless here," explained Elizabeth as she finished the soup.
"It was delicious. You have my thanks, Makoto." Before she could say anything else, Makoto stopped her.
"What do you mean by not every bond is useless?" he asked.
"Death is still within yourself."
At the exact same moment Makoto heard this, he ran toward the door leading to Tartarus, opening it and going inside. Only one name resounded in his mind:
Ryoji.