The Mask Shatters
Chapter 17
"Oh…. Now what's this…?"
Author's Note
I'll just be straight to the point: I got a new job recently as does one of the editors, which is taking up more time than usual for the both of us and I do apologize. You'll be happy to know that, as of me writing this, Chapter 18 is in full production and should see a release by early next month!
As for right now, just enjoy this transition chapter!
Arthur's breathing was labored beyond ready repair, his eyes wide and nearly constricted as he looked over his new foe. He tried to stand, seeing something shine brilliantly in the hands of this new threat, standing idle in the dim light of the battered, vandalized station.
He stammered to his feet, attempting to ready himself into his combat stance, but as he stood up, he swiftly lost his balance and fell short with a loud huff, falling back to his hands and knees as he released his weapon onto the smattered tile floor.
It slid and skidded only a few feet away, leaving a breathless Arthur to look up at this newcomer as they clicked their tongue, twirling what looked like a blade as they stood silently in place, beholding the scene around him.
A shattered and shredded tile floor, bullet holes in the walls all around, a vandalized security desk with a smoking, sparking computer resting atop the wooden counter, dark, burnt patches that extended outwards from where Arthur's Persona had stood not moments prior, and splotches of what looked like inhuman blood where the enemies had faced Arthur down and failed.
He hummed, resting a shoulder on the wall as he looked over the scene. Like the canonical main male protagonist of most JRPGs from the early 2000's, he was garbed within an attire which all but practically screamed of carefully-controlled elusive mystery: Something that was, in all due bluntness, best defined by not only the azure-tinted hoodie which dared to compliment its namesake with the hood currently pulled over his head, but also by the equally cerulean facewraping that brazenly chose to cover his nose and mouth. A pair of bright, sharp yellow eyes landed on Arthur, startling the young man. They looked almost angry, however, the tone of the man's whistle spoke instead of mild amusement with what had just transpired.
Arthur huffed, attempting once more to stand.
"Do…do you… do you want some too?!" Arthur gasped, hunching over as he stood up to face the man - his eyes reminding him of Kaneshiro's. "I… I got more than plenty for y-you!"
The man's eyes softened, crossing his arms as he looked Arthur up and down. The blade he elegantly spun in his hands stopping just short of his knee. And with one swift motion, he planted it into the tile below, chuckling lowly as he took in the threat.
"How cute." The man said, placing his free hand over the other one, clasped tightly over the hilt. His accent was drippingly obvious. "But yer arm is bleeding - a deep gash that'll spell more than exhaustion if ya don't take care of it." He noted.
Arthur paused, lifting his unarmored arm up to view. Sure enough, there indeed was a wet, bloody gash that ran the length. One of Nekomatas must have gotten a hold of him in the fighting, and he had apparently not noticed until now. "Guh!" Arthur gasped, stumbling backwards as he took it in. "W-what the… How-how did…!" He stammered, eliciting further amusement from the yellow-eyed Scot.
"Keheheh… How charmin'." The man chuckled, watching as Arthur scrambled to apply pressure on the deep gash.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Arthur cried out, suddenly finding the energy to panic. "I'm bleeding, man, I'm fucking bleeding!" He added, smearing the blood up and down his arm in his horror-stricken frenzy.
The Scot only watched as Arthur panicked to try and stop his gushing limb, but as the seconds dragged on into a full minute, he eventually sighed - the amusement of the situation fading as he beheld what he thought to be a capable warrior scrambling and babbling in place like a babe free from the tit.
And it was this display that both amused and disgusted him, but no less he watched. Anticipating a calm mind to prevail when instead all he received was a panicked one.
With a soft sigh, he pushed himself off the wall, a lone hand reaching into his pocket as he put forth a single step.
Arthur, already frightened and exhausted, jumped back in warning, hands before him in an effort to shove away this mystery man. The Scot stopped in place, hefting his blade - a hooked sword that bedazzled brilliantly in the dim light of the security station - over his shoulder as he watched the young man, anticipating an attack.
Instead, all he received was the weary, frightened words of a man both completely out of his element, and completely lucid of the danger he now found himself in.
"S-stay back!" Arthur shouted aloud, his lips trembling not with fear, but with exhaustion. And when these words passed his lips, he quickly found it difficult to remain afoot. The sheer exertion it took to even simply speak took its toll on young Arthur, whose mind was beginning to shut down from the events that had played out not even ten minutes ago.
He staggered in place a moment, daring to try to speak further, but instead all that came out was a stutter of a whisper. More like a moan of weariness than that of an actual word of warning creased his lips.
His vision darkened, and the Scot seemed to have seen fit to approach once more. But Arthur's steadily blurring vision couldn't comprehend it any further.
He fell, his sight obscuring into a blurred abyss, with the echoes of the alarm and the footfalls of this perceived threat advancing quietly and slowly.
The last thing that passed through his ear drums, nothing more than a silent murmur of disappointment.
"Hmph… Seems I was wrong…"
A cold chill reigned.
Crossing Arthur's lips as his eyes opened, greeted by the ever familiar blue-hue that this room seemed to be painted with.
His own breath - white clumps of telltale life escaping his body - reminded him when he wanted to forget.
The familiar feeling of the dresswear he would don when he found himself in this plane told him what he wanted to go unsaid.
And the familiar, grotesque chuckle of a man that should not exist echoed in his ears when he wanted to be deaf.
But his wants are requited not.
Not when he knew now that he was to be involved in something both greater than himself, and beyond otherworldly.
Something he fought hard to disbelieve in since it all began…
He sat up, darting his eyes in the direction of the Velvet Room's proprietor. His exhaustion seemingly faded with his return to the unreal. There, Igor sat, fingers tapping away on his desk. He looked almost amused, as if he knew what Arthur was going to say. But whether it be the sadist's grin that never left his lips, or the bulging, bloodshot eyes, Arthur could've never truly looked at him and wondered what was going on in his mind.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, slowly sliding off the operating table as he did so. "So we meet again." He grunted out as he stood to his feet.
"Yes. We do indeed." Igor said, clasping his fingers together as he watched the young American approach. He remained silent thereafter, however, and as the seconds dragged onto a near full minute of staring, Arthur, with an arched brow, cocked his head and looked around. But, in truth, they were alone as they always had been.
"What…?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms in confusion. But Igor simply chuckled in response to this question, lowering his hands to his desk and resuming his rhythmic tapping that seemed to be a trademark exclusive to him.
"I am simply surprised, is all. It is not easy to take me off guard, and I should congratulate you on that regard as well…" Igor admitted, before suddenly cocking his head in return, gesturing to Arthur with an open hand before stating "Tell me: How do you feel?"
"Surprised, huh…?" Arthur uncrossed his arms, knowing full well what Igor was referring to. "Heh… I guess I got it all out of my system for now." He added, before stretching his arms outwards with a loud, pleasured grunt accompanying it. "As for how I feel… Well, I feel - not well rested - but like I just woke from a nap… I feel great."
Igor snickered once more, speeding up his rhythm in what seemed to be amusement more than idleness. Looking Arthur up and down, he could confirm Arthur's comparison just by how he was standing.
He stood slightly more relaxed than any other time he had paid a visit to The Velvet Room. He was calm, something Igor didn't expect from the young man considering his prior outbursts when faced with the demoralizing nature of the unknown and the unforeseen.
But, most importantly, he was ready.
Ready for what was to come.
"Your Salvation is coming along nicely." Igor commented, causing Arthur to scrunch up his brow at the mention of "Salvation" again. "The start was slow, but the pace was steady and controlled." Igor clasped his hands together, sitting up straight in his chair as he grinned at the young American. "Oh yes, I believe you will amount to great success."
Arthur took another step forward, recrossing his arms in a defensive gesture this time as he looked at the bizarre old man incredulously.
"I'm not gonna keep up this charade of pretending to understand, because I do not. Tell me what this 'Salvation' is." Arthur asked of Igor, to which Igor simply waved him off with a shake of his head.
"You will learn in due time." Igor responded, his attitude quickly darkening, and with good reason. "But our time here is very brief, and soon you will be discovered in the waking world of Tokyo. We must be swift."
"Discovered…?"
Igor ignored him further, rising in his seat and extending a congratulatory hand outwards towards Arthur. "You have discovered the Phantom Thieves' identity, and even more - yet much later than anticipated - you have awakened to a power that has lain dormant within you..."
"Huh…?" Arthur hummed, crossing his arms as he listened. Silently, he noted Igor's reluctance to discuss the meaning behind salvation but left it alone. He knew well at this point that if Igor refused to speak on it, he wouldn't be able to convince him.
Instead, he scratched his head, finding the coming realization at the forefront of his mind.
"You…You mean, 'Shiro'?" Arthur asked, unsure.
"Indeed." Igor nodded. "I congratulate you. You fought your beliefs of science over reality, mind over matter, and came to the proper conclusion." Igor said. "However, your task is far from completion."
Arthur nodded quietly, allowing Igor to continue on his cryptic, but interesting, lecture.
"You have encountered a man of grievous sin." Igor announced, before tilting his head to the side in curiosity. "Do you know of whom I speak?"
Arthur didn't hesitate. "Kaneshiro, am I correct?"
"Indeed." Igor said, lowering himself back down in his seat as he spoke. "This man is guilty of a plethora of crimes and evil. The most grievous of sin being that of Gluttony. Do you know of what I mean?"
Arthur shrugged this time. "I-I can't say I know what you mean for sure…"
Igor snickered quietly. "He lines his pockets with cash and coin, ever scrounging for more and more to satiate his unending desire to possess what he does not truly earn. In the process, uncaring of whom he hurts, of whom he kills, of whom he ruins…" Igor stated matter-of-factly. "That." He rose a finger to Arthur. "Is what he is guilty of."
"Oh…." Arthur rose a hand to his chin, realizing exactly what it was that Igor was saying. "I get it… I see…" He shook his head idly, finding disgust in the analogy Igor had presented. However, it made sense to him. Gluttony being a grievous sin from the Bible, belonging to those who are never satiated. Arthur usually only ever associated it with the desire to eat, however. But Kaneshiro was definitely a gluttonous pig, his slop being the yen that so many people in Tokyo worked hard for day in and day out.
Arthur huffed, looking up at Igor, almost deadpanning at the old man. "So, let me guess: You want me to change his heart. Like the Phantom Thieves… Is this correct?"
"Your mind works fast." Igor commented without a second's delay. "I think that is one thing we have in common."
"Maybe." Arthur pointed at him with a sly smirk, finding it amusing that Igor was comparing one-another's intellect. "However, I don't even know how I got to that place to begin with…"
"The Metaverse-Nav can indeed be a confusing tool for beginners, but it is also a most useful tool." Igor said, speaking as if this was common knowledge for everyone. "An essential tool for an aspiring thief."
Arthur watched Igor closely, confused as to what he was saying.
"The… Metaverse-Na-" Arthur tried to question Igor, unsure exactly as to what he was referring to, but quickly found it hard to even be able to stand. His balance had suddenly and swiftly failed him, with his own cold, white-strewn breath seemingly going dry just at the same time "Agh!" He cried out, the all-too familiar feeling worming its way back into his mind.
Igor sighed. It is time for Arthur to leave.
"Time is up." Igor said, shaking his head in disappointment. "You have been discovered in the waking world, and very soon you will awaken. How unfortunate for me…"
"It…It's… Not… My choice!" Arthur struggled, doing his best to rise back up and fight the feeling of awakening. But it was to no avail. He collapsed onto his knees, grunting aloud while Igor shook his head..
"I never said it was." Igor raised his hand, to which Arthur watched through one strained eye. He knew what was about to happen, what Igor was about to do. He grunted in exasperation, the action of leaving The Velvet Room never being an easy one. "The Bank is the key… Your phone, the tool. Find your way back in, and locate the heart of all that is Gluttonous…"
"We will speak again…." Igor snapped his fingers, lulling the young Arthur back to sleep. "..Very soon…"
Arthur collapsed to the cold, hard floor with a heavy thud, leaving Igor alone in his Velvet Room.
As he watched the still, sleeping body of Arthur evaporate to the waking world, he couldn't help but huff and cross his arms at his chest. Concerned by the new development that he himself had witnessed.
"So…" He hummed, turning his gaze floorwards. His evil grin unceasing. "The thorn in my side has returned…"
At first, it felt as though he was standing on air.
Floating, more like.
There was nothing at his feet.
Nothing around him.
Just a pitch blackness that seemed both familiar and startling to the young American.
A feeling of unease washed over him, a fully conscious child in an abyss that enveloped and swallowed his every fiber.
Then, suddenly, he felt a touch on his arm.
It was light.
And it was warm.
A stark contrast to the hypothermic cold he was feeling.
He felt as it gripped his arm, tugging at him ever so gently.
Was it concern?
Or was it leading him somewhere?
Arthur wasn't sure.
In this abyss, where visits and exits of the Velvet Room was a common sight, he could never be sure of anything.
The warm grip left him, but soon rediscovered on his shoulder.
Then, another. On the opposite.
Tighter and warmer than before.
Arthur felt a tangle in his gut.
A knot that played out whenever his xenophobia played it's ghastly tune.
He wasn't sure what was going on, and he wasn't sure if he liked it.
He couldn't see a thing, felt nothing but cold and warmth mixed together.
And, somewhere, a tender presence made itself known to him.
It tugged on him, shaking him back and forth with a light, cautious hand.
And from the abyss came a voice.
One that seemed familiar, but also strange and foreign.
"Wi-"
"Huh…?" Arthur hummed, darting his gaze around.
The voice was silent from there, and moments later, from silence it arose again.
"Wi- Wak- p…!"
"What….?" Arthur groaned again, unsure of what the voice was saying. It sounded concerned, and soft. Like a kitten's first pur.
"Com- What… doi- Oh…."
Arthur twisted and turned, trying to spot the presence in this pitch blackness.
But no matter how many times he pivoted on his feet, he could not locate or identify the owner of this quiet voice.
"I don't know where or who you are!" Arthur finally called out, his voice betraying mild frustration.
"Oh…!" The voice responded, as if it had heard him. "Wak- p…"
At the edge of the abyss, a light bloomed from nothing.
A bright, winding light that expanded slowly across the edge, inching gradually towards himself, he quickly realized.
But he didn't fight it.
The light was familiar.
Just as the abyss was.
It was on the precipice of enveloping him, overtaking the dark and the dreary.
Overtaking the silence and the confusion.
Arthur sighed.
He knew right then and there, upon gazing through the mirror that it was , that he was simply asleep.
And that none of this would matter upon reentry into the waking world…
He was dreaming, he surmised.
Just silently, dreaming.
He felt the light wash over him, blinding him and returning to him a feeling of warmth and security that seemed just as foreign as the voice did itself.
His eyes fluttered, and opened slowly…
Revealing, above him, with his shoulders cradled in thin, slender arms, a young concerned, auburn-haired girl.
It was Haru Okumura.
Post-Chapter Author's Note
Edited by Frozen Foe and Kabuto S. Inferno.