Chapter Seventeen: Antinomy
Shock. Revulsion. Pity. Loathing. These were all emotional responses that pulsed in the thoughts and senses of they who once were called the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. And another one, that expressed each of those emotions as part of itself, but yet exceeded them all. The impression of seeing the shrouded stranger bear so exact a resemblance to Akira Kurusu, however distorted, submitted even the most outspoken to baffled silence. Beneath the wind and the waves at this baleful strand, the only sound was breath, restless and confounded.
Despite the dreadful mix of sensations festering in each of Akira's friends, nobody could bring themselves to look away. One of them in particular, Makoto Niijima, could very acutely feel the nausea clutching her insides. For her, this was not merely a horrendous sight; it was a discreet, but sinister nod to the possibilities she feared true. This place was indeed linked to her boyfriend; and this being was the irrefutable proof unless similar mockeries of the others were to join. She could not begin to think of the design and purpose, but a more immediate calling guided her movements. She sensed danger.
As soon as Makoto made towards Akira, the gangrenous imitation looked up and fixed them both with an expression-less slant of the head. Despite the detail of its appearance, the very human nuances of its core make, its presence felt particularly animalistic, like a feral stray defending its bounty. She could not move, and neither could the young man, who stood closest to it.
An unpleasant sound emerged from 'Akira'. It was long, and quiet, so quiet, almost to the point of being imperceptible. But they all heard it, and felt a tremulous chill bite at their spines. It sounded as if it was borne from the bottom of corrupted lungs, rising up a wart-infested throat and coming out barely open lips as a faint, salival and bloody snarl. Its lips. Even when deathly discoloured, they looked so much like Akira's – those lips that produced his beautiful voice, those lips she loved to kiss and nibble on, those lips that knew her deep all over. The distorted reprisal of his lips were shaped into something like a grimace, slowly looking more like a smile – one meant only to show teeth.
Pale, yellowed teeth.
Makoto's breath went right out of her as Akira jumped backwards, barely eluding his double. The stranger did not seem to need momentum to attack. It threw itself at the owner of its design, right arm curving inward into a slash with a rotten claw, missing only by millimetres, falling and rising a cloud of sand on impact. Makoto and the rest stepped back, instinctively seeking each other's proximity. Akira went into fighting stance, ready to meet his bizarre reflection, when it got back up.
And it wasted no time. Its shroud did not quite fall from its shoulders from its crude offensive. Clinging to only one side, the eight were unpleasantly afforded a better view of his physicality, the destroyed, black veins running across its arms and legs, maimed genitals. If Akira found himself, in any way, perturbed by its appearance, he did not show it. Not even as it glared at him, opening and closing its jaw like a rodent; the sound of its teeth as they rattle together was crude, and louder than it should logically be.
It threw itself forward once more, slashing at Akira, who deflected the attack with the strike of an elbow, then moving in for a clean, unobstructed punch to the creature's jaw. A kick to the side of the knee to stagger. A knee strike with the other leg to tenderise the mid-section. And finally, a punch straight to the solar plexus at full force with the momentum of his hip turning. Yet the double barely seemed to feel any pain from the blow, as it took hold of Akira's retreating arm, keeping him in proximity, ripe open for a claw with its other hand at Akira's head. Horror spread throughout Makoto's being as she saw, how the creature attempted to jab its finger deep into his eye.
She rushed forward, with Ryuji just behind, to fight this creature. Summoning Queen in all but attire, she delivered an unforgiving kick at the stranger's midsection, also to no avail. Alas, it deflected its attention to her, leaving it open for Ryuji to lock both of its arms. Makoto needed not be told what to do next. With a long, furious war cry, she unleashed a flurry of fists all over the stranger's face and stomach until she ran out of breath.
Panting heavily, she looked at 'Akira', Head down and limp. No longer a threat.
… If only for a second. Its head slingshot back against Ryuji's face, knocking him down, and then turning to Makoto. The young woman could not look away at seeing the stranger's face, a cross between Akira and a rabid beast, funnelling all of its violent intent against her.
"It's not him" She repeated to herself inward, time and time again. "He would never do this to me." She prepared to meet its pounce and make full use of her prowess in Aikido.
But it was not to be. Akira, back on his feet, intercepted his double as it reached Makoto, like a bird of prey swooping in for the kill. The viciousness of his tackle was quite a sight, as was the sheer fury he unleashed upon the distorted stranger, not any different to what Makoto did before, but there was one thing that made a world of contrast. There was hatred in Akira – hatred towards this thing that threatened his friends, and stared at him with his own face as he did so. Every spiteful blow sunk the young man's knees one bit deeper into the sand. He felt each tiny speck of a grain clinging to the fabric of his clothes. And soon, the smell of sea, of the soil they left behind and the air atop the hill filled his nostrils.
It was intoxicating in a peculiar way. Not as some alien fragrance that held his senses captive, but as some familiar thing he had left somewhere behind him, forgotten.
At the end of his assault, Akira still straddled his – now almost motionless – double. Panting. Snarling. In the midst of it all, Ryuji was helped by the rest, who nursed his broken nose as best they could. Surely Akira would try healing him soon, but the present moment still needed to pass.
A brief while later, Makoto laid her hand on his shoulder, and felt the body beneath the coat shaking,
"Akira." She lifted the mask off his face to look at his eye, and felt great relief to find it unharmed. "Come."
"Yeah…" He sounded ashamed. As he climbed up from his double's unconscious body, the only look he deemed it worthwhile was to make sure it would not get back up anytime soon. His eyes were hidden by the shadow of his hair, but the loathing in his glare seethed clearly from his being.
His hand in hers, Makoto took Akira to their friends, all looking at him with concern, still shaken by everything transpired in the last harrowing minutes. She knew she could try and say something to reassure him, but whatever smiling response he would give her would only be a well-meaning lie. It was no time for words, only patience.
"Are you alright?" Akira asked Ryuji as soon as he was within earshot.
His oldest friend seemed hesitant to even look at him. No doubt, Makoto thought, Ryuji's experience when confronting 'Akira' was no different to her own. Regardless of all the glaring differences, neither could shake off the feeling that they legitimately were attacked by one they deeply care for. And as a consequence, they were forced to defend themselves. Makoto could count herself lucky that she emerged unscathed, but Ryuji had a cascade of blood coming out of his nostrils a moment ago.
"I'm good, I guess. I'll feel way better when we're out of here." He stood back up and met Akira's face, eye to eye. "Your zombie clone hits like a truck, though." And there it was, a hint of humour to lighten the atmosphere. Ryuji knew first-hand how terribly damaging a schism can be. He would not let something like it occur again, especially not now.
Akira said nothing, but he did at least return the smile.
"Getting out of here. That does sound pretty good." Futaba thought out loud.
"The question is how. With all that's going on, it seems like it's going to be even harder now." Haru said.
"Not necessarily." Akira's words turned all eyes to him instantly. "Our plan hasn't changed. This was just a distraction…"
"Are you kidding me?" Morgana scoffed.
"… A scary distraction." Akira conceded with a little humour. "Regardless, this distraction still gives food for thought. There's no denying it now…" The tone of his voice darkened.
His friends hung on what he would say next. Makoto and Yusuke exchanged an uneasy gaze, feeling his words before he spoke them.
"This place really does exist because of me. I can't exactly prove it, but that thing back there is a strong hint. It's like a jigsaw puzzle."
"Dude, a puzzle?" Ryuji did not notice his nose was still leaking,
"Yes, a puzzle. We can get out of here, as long as we can put the big picture together. The distraction back there was no accident at all…"
"There was an intent behind it." Makoto thought out loud.
"Then, we need to find how to work against that intent." Haru added.
"And without running into any more trouble. It took the three of you to put that guy down." Ann said.
"We will need both the creativity to subvert whatever is happening, and the strength to defend ourselves should we encounter another threat." Yusuke mused.
"I bet Prometheus would come in handy right now. It'd be so much easier if we could summon our Personas." Futaba finished the thought.
"Heh." Ryuji chuckled, still leaking. "Your Persona is so broken it would have made a speedrun out of this. You're not wrong, though. I bet Seiten Taisei could be hell of a scout here. How about yours, cat? What cool stuff could you do with Mercurius if you had him right now?"
They were right, Akira thought. Their Personas were mostly suited for combat, but if they put imagination into it, they could surely come up with ways to find an exit. As he looked at each of them, discussing further, Akira thought himself lucky for having them as friends. They were committed and smart, brave and patient, deeply loving of one another… including himself. They were not only now bringing their best to the table; they did it every day, whatever may come, even when putting together an intervention for him disguised as an assuming dinner.
Akira felt guilty for even thinking of keeping them out of the loop.
Guilt. An old feeling making an unwanted return. It was like an oily substance coating his heart, making it brittle, ripe for rupture at his own hands. But no love was a debt, be it amongst family, friends, lovers. They were clearly no exception. Whatever guilt he felt was no match for this pack. Akira found it amusing that they called him Joker, for they were all aces – each and every single one of them.
From where he stood, it was so easy to blink once and see them in their Phantom Thieves alter egos. So easy to feel the fiery, luminous aura that radiated off them when they faced and conquered hundreds of Shadows in the Metaverse. So easy, he could almost hear the sound of their masks breaking to unveil their true selves, their Personas.
But he did.
Behind him, the air shifted electric. A run of cold sweat traced a line down his back as he turned his head. And he cursed to himself from what he saw. His double was back on its feet, glaring straight at them with eyes so clear and vivid; so mismatched to the rest of its face, mangled beyond recognition. At its back, a black silhouette flickered into being, standing tall from the embers of a fiery cloud.
"Ch-ch-ch…" The decayed double struggled to articulate.
A terrible dread travelled from one to another.
"Ch-ch-ch-ch…" The being continued to flash its teeth, like a rodent still, but the sounds it produced sounded less and less animalistic.
It tried to speak.
"Ch… Ch…"
Akira shook his head in disbelief. The more it uttered, the more its voice mirrored Akira's. The snarl turned to human grunt. And finally, the spoken word dawned fretfully on the situation.
"Chernobog."
In a burst of dark, blue flame, the silhouette materialised fully. Akira was well acquainted with the name Chernobog. It belonged to a Persona he remembered from the sea of his soul. But the image he saw before him now was very different. Instead of the death-knight from Slavic myth he knew, this incarnation looked more beast than human. It towered bipedal over them, clad in a long black coat with tattered sleeves, at the end of which he saw long, crude claws. Two rabid wolves' heads sprung out from the collar of its coat, and above them, a third – the closest thing to human about this God of Darkness – wrapped blind in dark cloth, with a silver dagger sunken in its skull.
'Akira' took one step closer. So did Chernobog. That was as far as the dark God replicated the stranger's movements. Akira thought to react too late. One blink later, Chernobog left three bloodied lines diagonally across the young man's chest.
He did not know if his friends, if Makoto were reaching forward. There was no time to look behind.
"Get back!" He commanded. His instinct to fight prevailed over the pain of his wound and the disturbing notion of what Chernobog truly was. If only to keep the thought at bay, the only word in his brain was 'defence'. Despite not having the luxury of time, the sole desperate necessity was enough to summon another Persona, a protector for him and his friends.
Zaou-Gongen burst forward from the ether, blocking Chernobog's second swipe with a golden vajra. Though he prevented what would otherwise have been a grisly coup de grace, a frightening difference in strength became quickly evident from how suddenly Akira felt the strain in his own arm. Zaou-Gongen counterattacked with a powerful punch to the side, to little effect. As the Protector went for a second punch, Chernobog caught its fist with an open palm, tightening the points of its claws into the space between the knuckles. Akira felt his Persona's strength quickly ebbing away, and thus his own to follow. Chernobog drew in closer, prepared to let his wolves turn Zaou-Gongen's resistance into its own demise. But the chains around the Protector's limbs awoke in fury, lashing at the dark God's limbs and heads like wild serpents. This gave the optimal opening. With his hands free, Zaou-Gongen landed a devastating backfist directly on the hilt of the silver dagger, sinking it grotesquely deeper.
Chernobog felt that.
And by all logic, so should Akira's double.
However, what respite Akira and Zaou-Gongen gained was short-lived. In the blink of an eye, Chernobog recovered and overpowered Zaou-Gongen. In the immediate aftermath of the Protector's defeat, Akira fell to the ground, ripe for Chernobog's claw.
There was nothing in Akira's head as he saw the beastly, black hand approaching to end his life.
Then, it was a silver flash what ignited thought back in his mind. But those words did not reach his tongue. A blade had pierced through Chernobog's hand, violently halting his murderous intent. Akira followed the tip of the sword with his eyes, across its length and to the hand that wielded it. A familiar and powerful figure had joined the fray: a transformed Goddess of fertility, the one who ventured into the land of the dead, the slayer and the lover.
Anat.
He could feel his heart about to break through his chest as he looked further behind. And he saw her.
Makoto advanced, clad in dark leather, spikes, white gloves, and a black scarf dancing in the wind. Beneath the steel mask, the red of her eyes sparked with wrath.
"Leave him alone." Queen's voice was pure venom.
Anticipating the beastly assailant would not simply heed her command, Anat pushed the blade in deeper through his hand. Though Chernobog seemed impervious to pain, it still put enough distance between he and Akira. And now, for the first time in the long encounter, the double almost looked as if it hesitated; but its eyes were not on Akira and Makoto only. It was looking past them: shadows grew tall on the sand.
Skull, Panther, Mona, Fox, Oracle, Noir. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts marched forward in full glory. One by one, their Personas rose back from the depths of their psyches. One by one, they each took position at the sides of Joker and Queen.
"Took us some sweet time, huh?" Skull said to Joker as he helped the latter back up.
"Let's call it dramatic timing." Their leader responded with confidence despite his injuries. The nagging questions and the pressing concerns were dwarfed at seeing his friends in full capability standing by him. It was such powerful sight it could bring the back to life, he thought. "Oracle, what can you tell me?"
The hacker extraordinaire was whisked up by Prometheus. From inside her Persona, she hovered around Chernobog while keeping a sensible distance. Seiten Taisei and Hecate advanced to keep the dark God at bay, while Mercurius healed Joker's wounds. Astarte and Kamu Susano-O took Chernobog's back, effectively surrounding the enemy.
"Not much, Joker. It's not a Shadow, that much I can tell." Oracle informed.
"Alright. Queen, how are you holding up?" Joker turned to his second-in-command.
"He still has fight left in him, Joker." There was strain in her voice. "We need to take him down quick."
"Heard loud and clear. Noir, Fox, immobilise him!"
"On it, Joker!" They said in unison.
Anat released her blade from Chernobog's hand and immediately leapt back to regain some breathing room. No later she did so, Astarte began her psychic assault to keep the pressure. They could not know whether he was vulnerable to Noir's attack, but Kamu Susano-O joined in by slashing a blizzard on the beast's lower section for good measure, creating an icy prison for its legs. Little by little, Chernobog and 'Akira' gave visible signs of being worn down, the summoner being the first to kneel.
But having felt the adversary's offence first-hand, Joker knew the perils of taking chances.
"Panther, Mona – charge up. Release on my signal. Fire first, wind second. Oracle, keep them buffed!"
A vortex of wind and fire began turning, gaining speed around Hecate and Mercurius while Prometheus' light kept their strength building.
"Skull, Queen. Let's go to town."
"Aye, aye!" Queen nodded resolute.
"Let's mess him up!" Skull flashed a vicious grin.
Seiten Taisei, Anat and Zaou-Gongen began their attack. Each rushed by Chernobog landing a quick but powerful blow, dashing away just in time to avoid his reach as he flailed. They felt by the resistance on impact that Chernobog still stood strong; they were but chipping away at him. However, that was enough for what Joker had in mind. He was only waiting for the right moment, and he knew it by the very instant his attempts at counterattacking slowed down.
"All clear out! Panther, Mona, NOW!"
Anat, Seiten Taisei, Kamu Susano-O and Astarte all leapt away, leaving the target the only thing in sight for the coup de grace. Hecate released the infernal flame she amassed, quickly enveloping Chernobog whole. An instant later, Mercurius shot a vortex of wind in a specific angle and velocity, nurturing the fire, triggering the explosion. A column of black smoke elevated from the remnants of the blast radius as waves of sand blew by. There was a measure of shared uncertainty in the while it took for the smoke to dissipate. Was this attack enough to put Chernobog down? Even if Joker kept his doubts to himself for his comrades' sake, he was confident that the stark change of temperature from Panther and Mona's joint attack against Fox' crystalline bulwark must have crippled Chernobog.
And, as the air began to clear, the sight eased their pulses. Chernobog knelt defeated on the sound, heads down and out; thick shards of ice were imbedded everywhere beneath its midsection. A metres away, the stranger that wore Akira's features was sprawled out on the ground, but still conscious. It made no difference. Despite its groans and grunts, it was powerless to stand back up.
They won.
"Are you alright?" Akira asked his friends.
"I'll… I'll get back to you on that one." Makoto panted exhausted.
"Man. It's a good thing we got our mojo back! Yo, anyone else is hungry as hell?" Ryuji let himself fall, hind first onto the sand.
"Hey, is no one wondering why we suddenly got our Personas back?" Morgana, head bobbling, was the first to openly address the big question. "But yeah. Food would be nice… Sushi, I've earned it, Joker."
"I'll treat us all when we get back." Haru smiled through the sweat on her face. "Can we rest a little before we search for the way back?"
"Yeah. Let's do that." Akira looked at all of his friends with great relief. But he quickly noticed Futaba was not in the sand with them. She still hovered above inside of Prometheus.
"Oracle?" He tasted something bitter in his palate.
"G-guys…" Futaba sounded as if she hung on the verge of a panic attack.
A hissing sound. The stirring of sand. Akira grinded his teeth as he straightened up. He turned around and looked at where his double lay defeated.
They had won indeed. And it took a lot out of them to achieve that victory.
But that was only one adversary.
Seven more heads emerged from under the sand. All bearing Akira's own likeness, each with respective grotesque imperfections, each tiptoeing the fine line between man and beast. Each with murder in cataract-plagued eyes. But as they clawed their way out into the surface, one thing was very clear. They were not about to take the same time their fallen one had.
Dark, blue clouds came into vision behind each of them. Dark silhouettes appeared, quickly taking full form.
With a burst of azure flame, they materialised fully before the exhausted Phantom Thieves.
"No…" Makoto let out despite herself.
"Dude… is this for real?" Ryuji could not conceal his distress.
"Can we even take them all on?" Ann's voice shook.
The sound of his friends' voices called out to him, but Akira could not turn to them. Boundless rage sent sharp pain in the shadow of each heartbeat. And one word took dominance above the rest.
Akira's word was borne as a low, almost primitive-sounding grunt. Each syllable granted clarity onto the uttering, shedding light on the full extent of its meaning. Punishment. Damnation. Vengeance. These were all crude approximations to the word.
"SATANAEL!"
