02/02/???? Thursday; ????
[Where my pain was forgiven. My dear… I will bring you back.]
Somewhere far beyond reality, a young man lay on a dark, uneven floor.
His body was covered in deep cuts; blood dripped in slow lines, pooling beneath him like spilled ink.
The black outfit he wore — a heavy coat with gold details along the hood and chest — was torn in several places.
The vest strapped to his torso by golden buckles swayed gently with his weak breaths.
Despite his deplorable state, his face remained serene, as if he were merely asleep.
It would be easy to believe that… if not for the wounds telling another story.
Then, something soft broke through the silence: a melody.
Simple. Warm. Familiar enough to stir his nearly still heart.
Ayato didn't open his eyes — but the world inside his mind lit up.
The fog surrounding him retreated and gave way to the silhouette of a woman.
Her presence radiated the warmth of a home lost long ago. He didn't need to see her face; the delicate outline, the gentle way she approached… it was all unmistakable.
She smiled. Not a sharp, defined smile, but a gesture Ayato felt before he saw it.
A hand extended toward him — elegant, soft, as though inviting him back to life.
The figure's voice echoed, sweet as the melody itself.
"It's not over yet, Ayato. Come back… go on… your war isn't over."
Ayato stared at the luminous figure in pure bewilderment.
Before he could raise his hand to touch her, the world gave way. The floor simply… vanished.
His body plummeted into the void.
The air sliced his skin like cold blades, the wind forcing out a scream that never came. The darkness around him seemed to swallow everything — even his thoughts.
And then—
He woke up.
Air rushed into his lungs in a single, desperate gasp. His body reacted before his mind, convulsing like someone surfacing from a nightmare far too deep.
A tall, white ceiling stared back at him.
Cold metal structures, exposed wires, crooked hanging lights.
A laboratory… but scarred. Impact holes, soot, cracks as if the place had been bombed.
Ayato tried to move — and a sharp jolt pierced his back. His face tightened.
"Ow… what happened?" His own voice came out hoarse, heavy, as if dragged through weeks of exhaustion.
He turned his head to the side — and the world erupted.
Curved bursts of magical light shot across the laboratory. Waves of energy exploded against walls, sending out colorful sparks. Screams, gunshots, metallic echoes… all fused into a cacophony of war.
A blast of air hit him, forcing his eyes shut.
A massive shadow landed just a few meters away.
It was a tall, slender figure — but far from grotesque; it carried an almost theatrical flair, like someone who had leapt straight out of a futuristic stage.
The black leather jacket moved with fluidity, its long tail fluttering in the wind. The vibrant yellow lining reflected every flash from the incoming shots.
His sneakers and gloves followed the same palette — black and yellow — as if part of a signature style.
The face, however, was the pinnacle: a silver skull, cold and gleaming, with red eyes glowing like beacons in the darkness.
A cap rested beneath the hood, and red headphones hung around the metallic neck.
Where the right forearm should have been, there was an electric cannon. A laser sight projected a red dot to assist the aim.
The Persona — gliding on a flying skiff, balancing like a surfer in the midst of a storm.
On the creature's shoulder, perched like a marksman in battle position, was a young man.
He lifted his head upon noticing Ayato.
He held a military bolt-action rifle firmly, while a gleaming saber rested in his other hand.
His eyes widened when he saw Ayato's condition.
"Lord ////! Are you alright?!" he shouted, his voice tearing through the smoke and the noise of battle.
Ayato lowered his gaze to his own hands.
The fingerless gloves — black, with golden tips reminiscent of improvised knuckle dusters — were soaked.
The blood wasn't his. The metallic smell revealed that before he even had time to think.
He flexed his fingers, cracking the joints, then brought one hand to his chin and the other to the back of his head, twisting until a sharp pop ran through his body like a violent awakening.
When he lowered his gaze, he noticed something lying near the mark where he had collapsed: a black raven mask, edged in gold, gleaming beneath the flickering lights of the ruined lab.
Ayato walked toward it, massaging his shoulder with his free hand.
"I'm good! What's the status of the others?!" he yelled without even glancing at the man perched on the slender figure's shoulder.
The answer came quickly, but trembling — hesitation heavy in his voice:
"Most of the squad is with Joker, Mona, and Spade! The rest are with Violet and Crow!"
Ayato crouched. His fingers touched the mask carefully, as if holding an essential piece of himself.
He lifted it, observed it for a moment… then placed it over his face with a firm motion. The hood slid down afterward, covering his head, and a murderous shadow crossed his gaze.
He turned toward the creature and its rider.
"Hand me my weapons!"
Without hesitation, the young man raised the saber and rifle, throwing them both toward Ayato.
Ayato raised his hand at the perfect moment. The saber slapped into his palm and spun between his fingers — fluid, almost danced — before being sheathed at his waist.
As soon as it slid into the scabbard, it vanished like smoke.
The rifle came next. Ayato caught its weight naturally and pulled the bolt back, checking the ammunition.
Four rounds.
From inside his coat, he pulled out two cartridges and loaded them into the chamber with surgical precision. He shut the mechanism with a metallic snap.
The rifle went to his back, and he drew a pistol from inside the coat. He pulled the slide, feeling the familiar vibration of a loaded weapon.
"Separate Crow from Violet! I'll take care of her!"
The figure nodded without question.
He tapped the back of the creature's head, and the silver skull let out an electric roar before the flying skiff surged forward abruptly, slicing through the air like a missile.
Ayato lifted his gaze toward the destroyed ceiling of the laboratory.
Amid loose cables and twisted metal, a few beams still remained intact — sturdy enough to hold his weight.
He quickly gauged the distance, calculating the trajectory in his mind.
He adjusted the pistol in his left hand and discreetly pulled back the sleeve of his outfit.
There, strapped to his wrist, a black leather bracelet revealed the blue amulet at its center. It remained intact even after all the fighting.
A small relief flickered in his eyes.
"Great. Let's do this."
He took a deep breath, feeling the burnt air crackle in his lungs, and ran.
Each step echoed across the metal floor until, with a firm push, he launched himself from the edge and dropped.
The wind roared around his body. Ayato didn't falter.
His left arm contracted.
A grunt escaped through his clenched teeth — and from inside his sleeve, black tips emerged.
Then, massive black tentacles with glowing blue lines burst outward, serpentine and alive, as if they were extensions of Ayato himself.
The tentacles shot upward and seized one of the beams, wrapping tightly around the metal. As they tensed, Ayato's body was pulled into an arc.
He swung.
Like a swift shadow, he crossed above the laboratory.
Below, chaos unfolded in near choreography: Personas appearing and fading in colorful flashes, blows ricocheting across the floor, shouts of command and pain blending together.
Ayato glanced downward — and his body stiffened.
Among the fighters, a figure with long purple hair spun a massive dual scythe with flawless precision.
Even from that distance, he didn't need to see her face.
He knew who she was. That girl.
His stomach tightened. Ayato tore his gaze away and yanked his body with force, releasing the tentacle and hurling himself to the opposite side of the laboratory.
There, Crow and Violet were facing several Personas — familiar summons, like distorted shadows of someone they wished they could ignore.
Until the roar of a skiff cut through the air.
Crow turned just in time to see the massive hand of the Persona coming toward him.
The impact hit his stomach with brutal force.
His scream echoed before his body was thrown across the room.
"Crow-senpai!" Violet shouted, eyes wide with panic.
But before she could run to him, something strange happened: the Personas withdrew. All of them.
At once, as if following some silent command.
Violet was left alone.
Confusion spread across her face. It made no sense. She was the enemy. There was no reason to spare her.
Then… a chill ran up her spine.
When she looked down, an enormous shadow loomed over her own.
She reacted instantly — leaping into an acrobatic flip, her red hair trailing behind in a vibrant arc.
The figure landed where she stood a second earlier, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Violet lifted her hand. A lever-action rifle materialized with an energetic snap, and she aimed immediately toward the dust.
The cloud began to settle.
And then she saw him.
The black outfit with golden details.The firm, predatory posture.The raven mask shadowed by the hood.
The sharp, murderous gaze — hidden, yet impossible to ignore.
Ayato.
The air grew heavy between them.
Violet's face hardened, frustration clear in her expression.
"Ayato-senpai…"
Ayato stared at Violet with a gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul.
Without looking away, he reached for his waist. The saber appeared in his palm in a golden flash, as if the blade had only been waiting to be called.
He unsheathed it, the metallic sound slicing the air between them.
There was a fragment of hesitation within him, too small to be seen, yet large enough to unsettle.
Part of him didn't want to fight Violet.
But the goal… the purpose… the paradise promised by that god… none of it allowed weakness.
His dark coat swayed with his movement.
"Enough, Violet. You can't keep ignoring your pain."
Her response came quickly, sharp as a blade.
"No — you're the one who can't ignore it!" Violet stepped forward, her eyes trembling with anger and fear at once.
Ayato merely shook his head. A cold tone overtook his voice.
"Everyone I killed… it was all in his name. This is my last chance for you…"
With the same hand holding the pistol, he loosened his grip for a moment and, in a short, precise motion, pulled the slide. A dry click echoed.
The pistol aimed at her again.
"Accept this reality… and you and all your friends will be happy forever. In his name…"
Violet bit her own lip until she tasted metal.
"You leave me no choice…"
Ayato's eyes closed for a brief second.
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
The shot came before the flash.
The bullet struck the lever-action's lever with surgical precision.
The impact knocked the weapon out of her hands, and Violet let out a pained gasp as the shock jolted through her fingers.
When she lifted her gaze — she only saw Ayato already rushing forward.
Bloodlust marked his movements. The saber rose in a precise arc.
Violet reacted purely on instinct. She extended her hand, and a silver sword materialized in her palm.
The guard was adorned with a metallic rose, gleaming even beneath the laboratory's smoke.
With skill, she spun her body and unleashed an upward strike that locked against Ayato's blade, producing a sharp clang of metal against metal.
The impact pushed them apart by a few steps.
Ayato crossed his arms in a calculated stance — saber in one hand, pistol in the other — both aimed at Violet.
Violet spun her sword between her fingers, steady, breathing slowly to keep her mind focused.
Her gaze met his without wavering, even with the weight of the moment bearing down on her shoulders.
There was no turning back now.
Violet dashed forward with decisive speed.
She pivoted on her heel, her body tracing an elegant arc, and the blade carved a wide horizontal slash that cut through the air like lightning.
Ayato raised his saber at the exact moment. Steel met steel with a vibrant crack.
Before Violet could retreat, Ayato's foot shot upward in a precise motion and struck her face.
The impact reverberated through her skull; her mask cracked diagonally, and she staggered back several steps, her nose throbbing.
She barely had time to breathe before she saw Ayato coming again — fast, relentless.
He drove the saber into the floor beside them and grabbed Violet by the neck. The pressure forced the air from her lungs in a trapped gasp.
A punch followed.
The golden tips of his glove pierced her cheeks, tearing the skin.
Blood dripped hot down her chin, splattering onto the metal floor.
Ayato didn't hesitate — another punch, and another.
Each impact dimmed her vision further, her dizzy mind teetering at the edge.
But she couldn't give in.
With a muffled roar, Violet tightened her grip on her sword and shoved the blade into his body.
The tip pierced Ayato's abdomen with almost no resistance, and he grunted, arching his back.
His grip on Violet's neck stopped.
Ayato staggered a step backward — then delivered a precise kick to her stomach, throwing her across the room.
Even as she was hurled away, Violet didn't let go of her sword. She tore it out of his body in the motion, blood spraying in a wide arc.
When she looked up, she saw something that made her stomach twist.
The wound… was closing. The skin knitted itself back together, slow but steady, and the blood barely even seeped out.
She ran her thumb across the blade to clean the excess.
"Joker-senpai was right — your Persona makes you way too strong."
Ayato twirled the pistol on his finger and aimed again. Without warning, he began firing.
The shots ricocheted off Violet's sword as she advanced, spinning her weapon in her hand — each bullet deflected with a sharp metallic clang.
Each step brought the silver blade closer to his body.
She struck.
Ayato ripped the saber from the floor and raised the blade in time, lifting the weapon to defend himself.
Their weapons collided, sparks exploding between them as their faces drew close enough for Violet to see the green glow of Ayato's eyes beneath the raven mask.
She pushed with all her strength, teeth clenched. The sword trembled against his saber, trying to break through his guard.
Ayato held his stance firm, but the strain was visible — a slight tremor ran through him.
Raw strength had never been his strong suit.
Finally, the deadlock snapped.
The two leapt apart abruptly, and then the real duel began.
Consecutive strikes filled the air with a rhythm impossible to follow.
Violet's silver blade carved fluid lines, answered by the cold precision of Ayato's saber.
Each clash produced more sparks, more shouts, more metallic echoes that blended with the chaos of the laboratory.
Their speed increased.
Their movements blurred with intensity.
They attacked and defended, attacked and defended — trapped in a lethal dance where any mistake would mean the end.
And neither of them intended make one.
Violet narrowed her eyes, her chest heaving as she searched nonstop for any opening in Ayato's rhythm.
He advanced with surgical precision, the saber tracing a diagonal arc that gleamed under the surrounding light.
She decided to act the instant he began the movement.
Violet stepped forward, threw her weight ahead, and with a guttural scream, snapped her head backward.
The dry impact echoed like the crack of shattering glass.
Her forehead collided with Ayato's face with enough force to draw a rough grunt from him, his body faltering for a second.
But that was all she needed.
Violet reached for her mask; the metal glimmered and dissolved into a golden shower. Her red eyes gleamed, pulsing with power.
"Let's go, Ell—!"
The phrase died in her throat.
Time seemed to stretch.
Ayato's gaze met hers in a frozen instant, and his cold expression left no room for doubt. The handgun was already raised toward her.
Violet's eyes widened. "Oh no…"
Ayato pulled the trigger.
The shots echoed like thunder.
Four bullets tore through the air and lodged themselves in her chest and abdomen before the pain could even reach her.
The hot wave hit her seconds later, ripping a desperate scream from her as her sword slipped from her fingers.
She collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as she tried to stop the blood spilling out. The world around her wavered, blurred, as if sinking into darkness.
The dry click of the empty pistol echoed as the cylinder emptied.
Ayato didn't hesitate. He stored the saber — which dissolved like smoke — and pulled out a new magazine. The cold sound of metal locking into place resounded like a sentence.
"You know there's no point in trying to leave me alive."
His tone was disappointed… or maybe just too resolute for anything else to remain.
Violet coughed, the metallic taste rising in her throat. Every breath was a blade piercing her chest. Even so, she lifted her eyes, searching for any trace of the boy she knew.
"Please… listen to me…" She choked on blood. "The doctor is using you… Ayato-senpai…"
He shook his head slowly, as one rejecting an inconvenient truth.
"I'm sorry… But this decision is mine. I'm going to help him bring all dreams into reality."
The pistol rose to align with her forehead.
Violet felt her stomach twist. Tears began to fall before she even noticed.
Her body trembled — not from the pain, but from the fear of dying at the hands of someone she tried to save.
She closed her eyes.
Ayato looked at Violet kneeling, her body shaking, her hands still pressing against the open wounds.
Something tightened in his chest — a sharp, suffocating discomfort.
He didn't want to kill her. Not after everything they had faced side by side.
Killing strangers… he had already crossed that line. But a friend?
That hurt in a different way.
The tip of the pistol trembled.
His eyes lowered slowly, and his arm began to sink.
The trigger grew lighter beneath his finger.
Then, the air vibrated.
A voice tore through the laboratory like a blade.
"AYATOOOOOO!!!"
The scream carried enough fury to freeze Ayato in place. He turned toward the sound and saw three figures plummeting from above, descending toward him.
Time stretched again.
One of the attackers had an unfamiliar silhouette, but the weapon drew attention: a grotesque sword with a serrated blade, descending like hungry teeth.
The second figure he recognized instantly — flowing purple hair, a dual scythe in hand.
But her eyes… they begged for none of that to be happening.
And in the middle of those two…
Ayato felt his stomach drop.
At the center, diving straight toward him, was the boy in a gray overcoat, red gloves, and a white domino mask, the black contours around his eyes resembling dark wings.
He stared at Ayato with incandescent fury, a silent promise that every atrocity would be repaid.
Joker.
Ayato brought his hand to his own mask. It shattered into light, evaporating.
His green eyes glowed intensely — almost feverishly.
Behind him, the air distorted as an armored figure rose, imposing: black armor adorned with golden filigree, like a knight torn out of a painting.
The military rifle was pulled from its back. He raised it, aiming directly at the descending Joker.
Rage boiled in his chest.
One single thought dominated his mind: stop Joker.
"PERSONA!!!"
His roar echoed — powerful, desperate.
And then, the sound of the shot… didn't come.
Only silence.
Dreamlike silence.
When Ayato opened his eyes, the room was dark.
His body shot upright, heart hammering in his chest. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
Everything… all of that had only been a dream.
PERSONA 5 THE FALL OF THE PHANTOM THIEVES
COMING SOON