Makoto sprinted through Kuoh's deserted streets, guided by the blue butterfly that was Elizabeth and the urgent voice of Thanatos—of Ryoji—resonating within his mind.
'Makoto! The Shadow signature just spiked! Off the scale! We need to hurry! Someone is at the epicenter!'
'The Councillor is there too,' Elizabeth's telepathic voice confirmed, a note of unusual tension in her calm tone.
Makoto pushed harder, lungs burning. He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. The abandoned church loomed before him, but it was a scene of chaos. Stone groaned and cracked as the structure visibly bulged, windows exploding outward in a rain of shattered glass.
An unearthly, multi-layered roar shook the very ground, carrying with it waves of psychic despair that made Makoto's teeth ache. He didn't hesitate. He sprinted towards the buckling entrance.
"Yoshitsune!" Makoto's voice cut through the din, clear and commanding. The air shimmered, and the spectral form of the legendary warrior appeared, his white and red ornate armor gleaming faintly in the gloom, his expression grimly determined.
Without a word, Yoshitsune drew his katana. A single, impossibly swift slash, honed by infinite battles in unconscious of Humankind, cleaved the heavy, splintered church doors into kindling. Makoto charged through the opening into the maelstrom.
'I shall buy you time to retrieve the Councillor, Universe,' Yoshitsune's mental voice resonated, filled with unwavering resolve. 'Rely upon my blade!'
Makoto gave a sharp nod, his eyes scanning the collapsing nave. He spotted Azazel—the real Azazel—kneeling amidst the falling debris, his face a mask of utter despair, seemingly oblivious to the colossal, winged horror tearing the church apart above him.
One of the skeletal arms sprouting from the Shadow's gaping maw snapped forward, a spear of bone and malice aimed directly at the paralyzed Fallen Angel's heart.
Yoshitsune moved like lightning. He interposed himself, his katana a blur of silver. SHINK! The blade met the bony appendage in a shower of dark sparks, deflecting the killing blow with a resonant clang that echoed above the chaos.
The arm recoiled, but Yoshitsune didn't pursue; his duty was defense, creating an opening.
"A PERSONA!?" The Shadow's thousand voices shrieked in unison, a sound of pure, incredulous rage. The colossal face contorted in horror and disgust alike.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" The entire mass convulsed, wings lashing out like scythes, smashing pillars supporting the already failing roof. Massive stone blocks began to plummet.
"I am Thou. Thou art I," Yoshitsune declared, his voice calm yet carrying immense authority, his blade held unwaveringly towards the monstrosity.
"From the Universe in thy soul, I am born. I, who crossed countless battlefields! I, whose blade has reaped legions of foes! I am Minamoto no Yoshitsune! I am the Messiah's blade!" The declaration was a challenge, a beacon of defiance against the encroaching shadow.
Azazel blinked, shaking himself as if waking from a trance. He saw the spectral samurai expertly parrying a barrage of clawed attacks from the monstrous arms, his movements a deadly dance amidst the falling rubble.
'Yoshitsune? The Heike general? A… Persona?' The questions flooded his mind, but survival instinct finally overrode his paralysis. He scrambled back just as a huge chunk of masonry crashed down where he'd knelt.
Makoto reached him, grabbing his arm. "Go! Get out!" he yelled over the din, his blue eyes intense. "I'll handle the Shadow!"
Azazel stared at the boy—this unassuming teenager standing amidst cosmic horror. The echo of that fleeting holiness he'd felt in the park resonated again, stronger now, mingled with an undeniable aura of immense, focused power.
"You…" Azazel breathed, awe cutting through his terror. "You really are the Messiah."
Makoto didn't acknowledge the title. He shoved Azazel roughly towards the shattered doorway. "Go!"
Azazel stumbled back, regaining his footing. He saw Makoto turn, already summoning another spectral figure – a figure in white with a golden bow, Robin Hood—to join Yoshitsune's defense.
Azazel made to move towards the fight, to lend his power, but a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.
Elizabeth stood beside him, her blue eyes fixed on the battle, her expression unreadable. "What are you—?" Azazel began.
"You are a hindrance here, Councillor," she stated coolly, her grip surprisingly strong. "Stand back. Let Makoto work."
Azazel wrenched his shoulder free, fury flashing in his golden eyes. "Hindrance? I am a Governor of Grigori! I serve the Divine! I will aid the Messiah! It was Father's wish to meet him!"
He gathered his power, dark wings erupting from his back as he prepared to launch himself into the fray.
Inside the crumbling nave, the battle raged like a scene from a divine nightmare. Yoshitsune was a whirlwind of steel, his katana deflecting bone-shattering blows from the Shadow's arms, each parry ringing like a bell tolling doom.
Robin Hood, perched precariously on a tilting pew, loosed volleys of blazing arrows that peppered the seething mass of wings, causing minor flares of dark energy but little visible damage.
Orpheus Telos strummed his lyre nearby, waves of psychokinetic force slamming into the Shadow's main body, staggering it momentarily.
Jack Frost danced erratically, flinging jagged shards of Bufu ice that shattered harmlessly against the thick, dark feathers or were swatted aside by the flailing limbs.
Thanatos, summoned moments after Makoto entered, dueled the Shadow in the air, his sword clashing against wings hardened like obsidian, his coffin-wings deflecting blasts of concentrated curse energy.
The Shadow roared, a sound that vibrated through stone and bone. Waves of Maeigaon—pure, condensed darkness—pulsed outwards from its core, expanding like poisonous black blossoms.
The blasts tore through the remaining pews, vaporized stone, and filled the air with a suffocating miasma of decay. Makoto stood firm, a bastion against the tide. He raised a hand, chanting. Leviathan, the immense Persona of Judgement, manifested briefly as a shimmering aura around him.
"Repel!" Makoto commanded. The wave of cursed energy slammed into an invisible barrier inches from him, dissipating with a hiss like acid on metal.
He staggered slightly from the impact but held his ground, protecting himself and the space immediately behind him.
One wave, however, slipped past his guard, aimed squarely at the spot where Azazel had been moments before. Makoto saw it. With a grunt of effort, he twisted, throwing himself sideways.
The dark energy grazed his side. Agony, cold and corrosive, lanced through him. He bit back a cry, hitting the debris-strewn floor hard.
"Messiah!" Azazel's shout was raw with alarm. He abandoned his argument with Elizabeth, surging forward, dark energy gathering in his hands. He couldn't just watch!
Elizabeth's hand shot out again, not to grab, but to point. "Azazel! Look!"
Azazel followed her gesture. He saw Makoto push himself up, wounded but resolute. More importantly, he saw the tactical situation. Makoto was issuing sharp commands to his Personas, coordinating their attacks. Yoshitsune harried the Shadow's left flank, drawing multiple arms.
Thanatos engaged it directly in the air, keeping the main maw occupied. Robin Hood and Orpheus Telos concentrated fire on the base of the wings.
Makoto's eyes met Azazel's across the chaos. "Help Yoshitsune!" Makoto yelled, his voice strained but clear. "Keep it pinned! When it curls its wings into a shield—when it feels cornered—get clear! I'll strike then!"
The order cut through Azazel's panic. A target. A role. He nodded sharply, battle focus slamming into place. "Understood!"
Dark energy flared around him as he activated Balance Breaker. Gleaming, obsidian-like armor encased him, stylized wing motifs flaring from the pauldrons.
Down Fall Dragon Spear hummed with amplified power. He launched himself forward, not at the main body, but towards the cluster of arms harrying Yoshitsune.
Azazel moved with the speed and ferocity of a Fallen Angel General. His spear became a blur of dark light, parrying bone claws, deflecting grasping limbs, creating openings that Yoshitsune exploited with deadly precision.
The samurai's katana flashed, severing tendrils, scoring deep rents in the shadow-flesh where the wings met the main body. Azazel's artificial Sacred Gear unleashed torrents of draconic energy, explosions of darkness that staggered the localized limbs.
They were an unlikely, brutal duo—the ancient warrior spirit and the Fallen Angel Governor—driving the Shadow back, forcing it to react defensively.
Sensing the coordinated assault, the Shadow shrieked in fury. As Makoto predicted, it began to retract its flailing arms and curl its multitude of wings inward, forming a massive, spiky, obsidian-black sphere—an impregnable-looking shield.
"Now! Fall back!" Makoto shouted.
Azazel and Yoshitsune disengaged instantly, leaping back towards Makoto's position. But as Azazel turned, a whip-like tendril, thin and fast, shot out from the still-closing sphere. It wasn't aimed to kill; it was aimed to capture.
It wrapped around Azazel's armored neck with viper speed, yanking him off his feet with terrifying force. He gasped, clawing at the constricting darkness, his Balance Breaker armor groaning under the pressure.
Yoshitsune lunged, his katana aimed to sever the tendril. But feathers, thick and hard as steel, sprouted along its length just before the blade struck. CLANG! The katana sparked harmlessly off the armored shadow-flesh. The tendril retracted, dragging the struggling Azazel relentlessly towards the pulsating black sphere.
"Killing you…" the Shadow's voice boomed from within the sphere, filled with perverse glee, "…will complete my birth! Then I shall crush that meddling lapdog of Philemon! FATHER! GUIDE ME THROUGH YOUR DARK BATTLES!"
'Ryoji! Ready?' Makoto's mental call was sharp, focused, cutting through the roar of the Shadow and Azazel's choked struggles.
'When you are!' Thanatos's response was immediate, a grim eagerness underlying the calm.
Makoto didn't hesitate. He pulled the Evoker from his coat. Azazel, still being dragged, saw the movement. His eyes widened in horrified disbelief.
"Messiah?! What are you—?!" The sight of the boy pointing a gun to his own temple defied all comprehension.
Makoto pressed the cold muzzle to his forehead. His eyes, filled with a terrifying mix of determination and sorrow, locked onto the struggling Azazel. "THANATOS!"
The air exploded. Thanatos manifested not as a summon, but as a force of annihilation unleashed. He tore free from Makoto's psyche like a hurricane breaking its chains, a vortex of deathly energy screaming towards the Shadow's shielded form.
His sword, wreathed in soul-reaping flames, slammed into the sphere of wings with a cataclysmic BOOM! that shook the very foundations of Kuoh.
The impact staggered the Shadow. The sphere shuddered. Two massive bone-spears, thicker than tree trunks, shot from seams in the sphere, aimed to impale Thanatos.
The God of Death roared, crossing his coffin-wings before him. CRUNCH! The spears impacted with shattering force, driving Thanatos back but failing to pierce his grim defense.
Seizing the opening, Makoto raised his free hand. Fire, pure and incandescent, hotter than any earthly flame, erupted from his palm.
"AGIDYNE!" The spell struck the sphere dead center, where Thanatos's weapon had impacted. The black feathers charred instantly.
The sphere screamed—a sound of pure, unadulterated agony and rage that wasn't just heard, but felt. It vibrated through the earth, the air, the soul of every supernatural being within miles.
The constricting tendril around Azazel's neck loosened reflexively, and he crashed to the rubble-strewn floor, gasping.