...??/??/?? The illusion...
The sky was completely overcast, a dark veil without stars. Rain poured down heavily, striking the cold concrete and the leaves of trees that trembled under the cutting wind.
Minato lay on his back on the ground, his body soaked and aching. Each breath brought a sharp stab to his chest. He tried to move — but his legs wouldn't respond.
It wasn't just the pain. Something was holding them down.
He forced his head to turn… and saw.
The weight on his legs came from a body. Yukari.
She was sprawled on top of him, her pale face illuminated by the sickly green light of the Dark Hour.
Rain ran through the strands of hair stuck to her forehead, mixed with silent tears.
Even injured, she was breathing… with difficulty.
The water mingled with the red that seeped between their bodies.
Minato narrowed his eyes. The scene around him was a battlefield.
His companions — the members of S.E.E.S. — lay scattered around, unmoving, their bodies bearing deep cuts as if they'd been struck by a heavy weapon.
The rain washed the blood away, but the metallic scent still clung to the air. The sound of the world had dulled, swallowed by pain and the crushing weight of defeat.
Yukari moved her arm with effort, her trembling hand reaching toward him.
"I'm sorry…" her voice was faint, breaking with tears. "But he's too strong…"
Minato stretched his hand toward her, his fingers shaking.
"Yukari…"
Their fingertips almost touched, as if that simple gesture could push away the terror. A silent comfort in the middle of the chaos.
But before they could reach each other, a sharp noise cut through the darkness — a cry of pain. The sound reverberated across the place.
Minato turned his head, his heart sinking as he saw Akihiko hurled out of the mist like a ragdoll.
Akihiko's body hit the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop, leaving a trail of blood behind.
He tried to push himself up with trembling hands, but could barely keep his arms steady. His teeth clenched, the taste of iron filling his mouth. Then, without warning, he spat blood onto the ground.
His body had already gone past its limit.
"Son of a bitch…" he muttered, coughing as he glared into the fog. "I can't… land a hit on him…"
Heavy footsteps began to echo. Rhythmic, dragging… like someone carrying something immense.
A figure emerged from the mist.
With every step, the rain seemed to avoid him. The darkness around receded before a presence wrapped in a white aura. His face remained hidden, as if the fog still wanted to shield it from the eyes of the living.
Behind the figure loomed the gates of Tartarus — massive, ominous, leading into the tower.
But one thing was clear.
In the figure's hands was a war axe — heavy, deadly — glinting under the green light of the Dark Hour. Minato recognized that weapon instantly. The gleam, the shape, the presence.
Shinjiro's axe.
His heart stopped for a moment.
"Ara… Aragaki?"
The dense mist made it hard to see, but Minato strained his eyes, searching for familiar faces amid the devastated scene.
A silhouette leaning against a lamppost caught his attention — Mitsuru. Her torn uniform and the deep gash across her chest made the severity of her condition clear, but… she was still breathing.
Farther ahead, in a heap trembling under the rain, Junpei, Ken, and Koromaru lay unconscious, their battered bodies almost indistinguishable from the dark puddle surrounding them.
Slumped against the trunk of a tree, Fuuka remained motionless, though she didn't seem as badly hurt as the others. Still, her silence was unsettling.
Minato clenched his teeth. He counted in his head, realizing three members of S.E.E.S. were missing.
He turned his eyes back to the mist. The figure was still closing in on Akihiko with heavy steps, as if the rain meant nothing.
Akihiko, trembling, managed to kneel. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes still burned with fury.
"WHY?! YOU WERE ON OUR SIDE!" his voice tore through the storm, thick with rage and pain.
The response came in the form of a brutal strike. A precise kick to the side of Akihiko's head sent him sprawling.
He tried to get up in time, arms crossing above his face in a desperate attempt to defend himself — but the blade was already raised, ready to descend.
A clang of metal interrupted the motion.
The figure's arm had been caught. The hand holding it trembled, but didn't let go.
Aigis.
Her shoulders were torn, wires spilling from the joints. Dented and open parts of her body revealed the machinery within. But still… she stood there.
"Please…" her voice came as a distorted whisper. "listen to us… Don't let him control you…"
Minato tried to rise, desperation flooding his face. But Yukari was still on his legs. He couldn't move.
And even if he could… his body no longer obeyed.
"AIGIS, GET OUT OF THERE!" he shouted, his hand instinctively reaching out, even knowing it would never reach her.
The figure let out a muffled noise, almost a growl, and spun violently.
The sudden move yanked Aigis along — her metallic body was hurled through the air before crashing to the ground with a harsh thud.
She let out a pained sound. The metallic echo mingled with the rain and the distant thunder. Her trembling eyes rose to meet the figure, who now faced her again, the axe raised high.
She understood.
He wasn't going to stop.
"AIGIS!" — Minato shouted again, his hand still outstretched, his heart crushed by helplessness.
The sound of the impact split the air.
When the axe came down, aimed at Aigis's head, everything went black.
Minato gasped, his eyes wide. His body froze for an instant, but… there was no pain. No sound. No scent of rain or blood.
He looked at himself — his hands, his arms. The wounds, the scratches… all gone. Was it all just a vision?
He found himself lying in his bed, the sheets half tangled around his body. The air in the room was silent, almost oppressive.
...12/09/2009 Saturday, Dark Hour...
Slowly, he sat up, bringing both hands to his face. His fingers slid over skin still warm and damp with sweat. His heart pounded in his chest.
It was just a dream… he told himself, but his gaze was drawn to the window.
The sky, tinged with a sickly green and an eerie glow… that unnatural light could mean only one thing.
The Dark Hour.
A chill ran down his spine. Before he could stand, a voice—low, calm, and laced with something enigmatic—spoke right beside the bed.
"I see you've woken up well."
Minato turned sharply.
His eyes landed on a small figure seated casually in the desk chair—now turned toward the bed, as if he had been waiting there all along.
The greenish light highlighted the boy's face: serene, shadowed, familiar.
The boy watched him with the same calm expression as always, but tonight there was something deeper, something hidden, behind that subtle smile.
"Pharos…?" Minato frowned, his gaze clouded with confusion. "What happened?"
The boy stood. His light steps made almost no sound against the floor.
He approached the bed and stopped right in front of Minato. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, closing the distance so much that Minato could almost feel his breath.
Pharos's eyes seemed to pierce into his own.
"You blacked out when you heard about the Devil's Herald," he whispered, his tone enigmatic. "Looks like the truth is rather painful, isn't it?"
The words hit deep. Almost instinctively, Minato turned his head away, avoiding that penetrating gaze.
A sharp pain—memories resonating. The ringing in his ears. The tightening in his chest. The despair.
He pressed his fingers against his temples. The discomfort wasn't just physical—it felt as though his very fate was exacting a toll.
But… why did I have that dream…? he wondered, searching for any thread of meaning. Was it just that…? Or… a premonition?
Pharos stepped back slightly, still wearing his smile. Even with the added space, the weight of the moment didn't lessen.
"Two days ago, you faced something worthy of a Challenge," he said lightly. "Congratulations on defeating it."
Still feeling the heaviness in his limbs as if he had truly fought that vision, Minato pulled the blanket from his body. His legs swung over the side of the bed, and he took a deep breath.
Pharos took a single step back, giving him room.
"Thanks… I guess," Minato said, hesitation in his voice.
His eyes returned to Pharos, holding a question he couldn't ignore. "But… why are you here? There's still a month before the next full moon."
Pharos tilted his head slightly, as if pondering.
"Is there a problem?" he replied serenely. "I felt I needed to make sure you were all right… after learning the truth."
Minato pinched the bridge of his nose as he rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the lingering remnants of that vision.
His breathing was still uneven, as if the dream had left an invisible scar.
"Why did I see that…?" he murmured, brow furrowing. "It was Shinjiro's axe… but that figure… was it really him?"
The images still danced in his mind—hazy, warped. The memory of the axe coming down on Aigis was so vivid it made his stomach turn.
He lifted his gaze to Pharos, who remained there, watching him with that same ever-enigmatic air.
"But what truth is this?" Minato asked, his voice edged with suspicion. "I get that the Challenges are the Shadow Arcana… but… why did I have that dream?"
The silence that followed was almost suffocating. No sound but the faint tick-tock of the broken clock on the wall came between them.
Pharos held Minato's gaze, but something seemed different. His eyes wandered for a moment, shifting to the side as if catching sight of something invisible.
"I don't know…" he replied, with a faint hesitation.
Minato leaned forward slightly, surprised. "You don't know?"
Pharos shook his head slowly. "As you face her challenges… fragments of me return. But they're only pieces. Like pages drifting back into a torn book."
He walked over to Minato's bed, his footsteps light and almost silent against the carpet. Sitting down beside him, he then lay back, staring up at the ceiling with the ease of someone who belonged in that space.
"It's like… each of her challenges reignites something in me. Something that was asleep. And that's what brings me back to this room," he murmured, almost to himself.
Minato turned his head toward him. "And who exactly is… she?"
Pharos remained silent, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point above.
He slowly extended his arm upward, as if reaching for something unreachable hidden in the shadows above.
And then, before Pharos's eyes, the reality of the room began to distort.
Slowly, shapes emerged—not real, but etched into memory. A figure rose before him, clad in a long black overcoat trimmed with blood-red details.
The fabric completely concealed its silhouette, including its face, which was covered by a grotesque mask—a hybrid of a metallic skull and a sprung bear trap, biting down over the features entirely.
Its arms, clad in white gloves that reached to the elbows, hung heavily at its sides. Long, thin legs ended in golden tips, sharpened like blades.
At its waist, a brown leather belt held an ornate scabbard, where a massive katana rested—its blade serrated near the hilt like the teeth of a cruel saw.
But what dominated the vision were the chains attached to the creature's shoulders. They stretched backward, linked to the lids of blue coffins with silver details, floating in a semicircle formation—like the silent orbit of death itself.
The creature growled.
Not with words, but with an animalistic sound, muffled by the mask, brimming with restrained fury. Then, in a sudden movement, it hunched in on itself… and screamed.
A tortured scream, like steel twisting under immense pressure.
The mask split open, revealing… nothing. Nothing but the deep darkness lurking beneath the cloth, as if even its face had been devoured by the void.
Pharos blinked a few times.
The image of the creature before him dissipated in the air, like mist carried away by the wind.
He raised his eyes back to the ceiling of the room, his thoughts still trapped in the vision he had just seen.
His hand slowly rested on the mattress, hesitant, almost trembling, as if the touch could materialize something that still escaped his understanding.
Deep inside, he knew.
He knew what that presence was.
"Who is she?" Pharos murmured, his eyes fixed on the void.
He slowly turned his head and looked at Minato. Pharos' blue eyes met his — and in that instant, the room seemed to fill with doubt. An oppressive silence hung in the air, almost suffocating.
Then he sat once more at the edge of the bed, that same mysterious expression returning to his face. His lips curved into an indecipherable smile.
"Your journey… until the end."
Minato felt a shiver climb his spine. A cutting chill, as if something invisible had touched the back of his neck.
His eyes turned to the window — and outside, the greenish glow of the Dark Hour still bathed the sleeping city, like a spectral veil covering everything.
Something was coming.
And it wouldn't take long.
It was at that moment that the bell of Tartarus began to toll.
A deep, resonant chime that vibrated in the chest.
The somber beat of the tower echoed through the air, marking the end of the Dark Hour.
Pharos stood up calmly, his gaze fixed on the window. His steps were so soft they barely made a sound on the floor. He stopped before the glass, staring at the sky's murky, unreal shades.
"Well… I suppose our time is running out," he said, his voice still laced with mystery.
Minato stood up abruptly. The sheet slipped from his shoulders, and he reached out instinctively, as if to stop the moment from slipping away.
"Wait! I didn't get to ask something!"
Pharos arched his eyebrows slightly. For a moment, he seemed truly surprised by the urgency in Minato's voice.
The boy's eyes narrowed. That figure… that white aura… Whatever it was, it wasn't a Shadow. And the way it defeated everyone left no doubt.
"Who… was the one I saw in my dream?" Minato asked, his voice wavering but steady.
Pharos turned.
He spread his arms, as if preparing to embrace him — an embrace that would never come.
The smile was still there, but his eyes… there was something in them. A different spark. A hidden shadow.
"It is one of the greatest challenges she will place before you… not just for you… but also for your companions. All of you will come to know your truth."
The bell of Tartarus rang again, repeating its sound in an increasingly rapid cycle. The green light of the Dark Hour began to fade, as if the world were waking from a nightmare.
Pharos looked down at his own feet.
And began to vanish.
"Until the next time we meet before the full moon, Minato," he said, his voice fading with him. "Good night… and good luck."
And then, he was gone completely.
The light in the room shifted. The sky beyond the window returned to its usual pre-dawn hue, the timid glow of stars scattered between thin clouds.
Minato remained there, standing, staring at the spot where Pharos had been. The words still pounded in his mind.
Slowly, his gaze moved to the door of the room.
There, hanging from the hook, was his S.E.E.S. suit jacket — resting on the hanger like a silent reminder of what was to come.
He stared at it for a long moment. His chest tightened.
If that figure truly existed…
How long would they have before it appeared?
He turned back to the window, his eyes lost in the dark sky.
"Could it be… that figure be the Herald?"
TO BE CONTINUED...