April 23rd, 2012, Gremory's Training Ground, Midday.
The midday sun hung high over the Gremory estate, casting deep, sharp shadows across the meticulously maintained training grounds.
The air, still carrying a faint, acrid scent of burnt vegetation from Cendrillon's earlier exuberance, was now filled with the distant, rhythmic sounds of concentrated effort. Makoto Yuki stood at the edge of the main lawn, his gray eyes distant, watching the scene without truly seeing it.
The constant, low-grade hum of maintaining multiple powerful Personas across the vast estate was a persistent pressure against his mind, a testament to the immense power he wielded and the toll it exacted.
The quiet rustle of a pristine maid's uniform approached from behind. "Lord Yuki," Grayfia Lucifuge's voice was, as always, a model of calm efficiency, yet it carried a note of genuine inquiry. "May I ask what you are thinking about? I notice a certain... preoccupation in your eyes."
Makoto didn't turn immediately, his gaze still fixed on some unseen point in the middle distance. After a moment, he sighed softly. "I've been thinking lately. I don't understand why Nyarlathotep is being so cautious. He has all the firepower he needs. He could act more directly, but he chooses these convoluted schemes."
His voice was flat, analytical, but beneath the surface, there was a thread of frustration. A direct enemy was one thing; a shadow that manipulated from the wings was another.
Grayfia moved to stand beside him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "What do you mean? Do you believe he is holding back?"
Makoto finally shook his head, as if to dispel his own thoughts. "Nothing. I'm just being paranoid. Overthinking things." It was a dismissal, but not a convincing one.
'We already know Nyarlathotep is plotting something, Makoto,' Messiah's voice chimed in his mind, a gentle, steadying presence amidst the psychic noise of the other active Personas.
'You are just worrying for nothing. Stopping Shadow Azazel was a significant victory. You are doing great; do not underestimate yourself or the progress you and your confidants are making.'
A soft, almost imperceptible smile touched Makoto's lips. 'Thanks,' he replied internally. The reassurance, while simple, was enough to ground him momentarily. He turned to Grayfia.
"Let's go back to the others."
"Of course, Lord Yuki," she replied with a slight nod, falling into step beside him as they moved from the quiet periphery toward the heart of the day's training.
April 23rd, 2012, with Irumi, Afternoon.
On the far side of the estate, the air crackled with a different kind of energy.
Ito Irumi, the vibrant Red Dragon Empress, stood with her feet planted firmly, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her face was flushed with exertion and concentration, sweat plastering strands of her hair to her forehead.
Across from her, the cybernetic form of Fafnir loomed, its single organic eye gleaming, while Kohryu observed from a slight distance, his long whiskers twitching in amusement.
"Okay... okay, I think I've got it this time!" Irumi declared, her voice brimming with a mixture of determination and excitement. She took a deep, steadying breath, her body tensing.
"Rhythm: Uno! Due!" she shouted, the words a focused command.
She brought her hands together in a powerful, precise clap. Then, fueled by the immense power coursing through her, she performed two more, rapid, consecutive claps. Each impact was not merely a sound but a physical event.
{BOOST!} {BOOST!} {BOOST!}
The voice of Ddraig echoed from the Sacred Gear on her arm, layering power upon power. The sound of her final, boosted clap detonated in the air. A visible shockwave of concussive force erupted from her palms, roaring outwards in a semicircle.
The ground trembled, and the very air seemed to shake and warp, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.
Acting on a pre-arranged signal, Fafnir immediately brought its massive steel claw down, intending to smother the explosion and contain the damage.
However, just before impact, its descent was halted. A persistent, heavy thrumming filled the air directly around Irumi—a wall of solidified sound, resonating with the deep, rhythmic beat of powerful drums. The sonic barrier visibly shimmered, absorbing the impact of Fafnir's claw and holding it at bay for a crucial second.
"I DID IT!" Irumi screamed, her voice ecstatic and raw. The effort finally caught up with her, and her legs gave way, sending her collapsing onto the grass, panting heavily, a triumphant, exhausted grin spread across her face.
The sound barrier dissipated as quickly as it had formed, and Fafnir's halted claw now fell unimpeded. Irumi yelped and scrambled backward as the shadow of the metal limb fell over her.
"Fafnir, stop!" Kohryu's voice was a whip-crack of authority. The yellow dragon lashed out to firmly push the cyber-dragon's arm away.
"IIiiit huuurts, Huanglong," Fafnir screeched in its metallic voice, retracting its claw and nursing it with its other hand as if the sonic vibration had stung.
'I must congratulate you, partner!' Ddraig's voice boomed in Irumi's mind, filled with unmistakable pride and surprise. 'No one has ever used the Boosted Gear as a resonance amplifier—a speaker, for lack of a better term. I admit, it is unorthodox, but highly effective!'
The strategy was a stroke of genius. By stacking multiple boosts and then releasing them all through a focused physical action—the clap—Irumi had transformed sonic vibration into a devastating area-of-effect attack.
Furthermore, the lingering draconic aura from the Sacred Gear had naturally stabilized around her, creating a temporary, personal sound barrier as a secondary, defensive benefit.
"Magician, how are you feeling?" Kohryu asked, gliding closer, his expression one of measured approval.
"Better than ever!" Irumi gasped out between breaths, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes shone with a fierce, proud light. "I did it, Master! It even blocked Fafnir's claw, right? Did you see?"
"That barrrrier was tougher than expecteeeed," Fafnir creaked in agreement, still shaking its metallic hand.
The Red Dragon Empress let her head fall back onto the soft grass, a wave of utter exhaustion and satisfaction washing over her. She closed her eyes, savoring the victory.
This moment of respite was short-lived. "What are you doing, Magician?" Kohryu's voice was laced with a sly smirk. "Get up. Now that you have grasped the fundamentals, we can finally begin your serious training."
Irumi's face, which had been flushed with triumph, instantly paled. Her eyes snapped open. "What? Wait, wait, wait, Master! You can't be serious!"
Kohryu loomed over her, his whiskers twitching. "What is the problem? Are you giving up so soon after a single success?"
The challenge in his tone was unmistakable. Irumi's momentary fear was replaced by a flicker of her innate stubbornness. "No..." she replied, her voice quieter but firm.
"Well said," Kohryu intoned, his expression shifting to one of genuine, if stern, approval. "Now stand up. We haven't finished yet with honing your basics. True power lies not in a single flashy technique, but in the relentless perfection of the fundamentals." He gestured for her to rise.
"Again."
From his vantage point, having returned with Grayfia, Makoto watched the interaction. The sheer force of Irumi's sonic blast had been impressive, but it was her unwavering spirit that held his attention.
'The Magician is demonstrating remarkable growth,' Messiah observed internally, his voice a calm counterpoint to the vibrant chaos of Irumi's training. 'She never gives up. No matter how many times she is knocked down, she always finds the strength to get back on her feet. Her willpower is truly commendable.'
'Compared to two days ago, certainly,' Makoto agreed mentally. His physical gaze was on Irumi, now shakily rising to her feet under Kohryu's instruction, but his mind's eye was looking elsewhere, his focus turning inward once more.
The success of one confidant was a light in the gloom, but it did not fully dispel the shadows gathering at the edges of his consciousness.
'What are you thinking about, Makoto?' Messiah asked, sensing the shift in his other self's mood.
'Nothing,' Makoto replied, the word a practiced deflection. 'I'm just tired, I guess.'
It was more truth than he usually admitted. The strain was a constant, low thrum in the background of his mind.
'Summoning and maintaining so many Personas simultaneously is putting a significant strain on your mind, Makoto,' Messiah said, his tone tender yet concerned. 'I am the only one who has remained consistently manifested with you. Having eleven other Personas actively engaged in reality is not a trivial feat, even for you— you are demanding much from the Sea of your Soul. You must consider pacing yourself. Pushing too hard, too fast, will only lead to a break.'
Makoto didn't respond. He simply watched as Irumi prepared for another round, her body squaring up against the immense challenge before her.
He understood Messiah's warning, but in a game against an enemy like Nyarlathotep, caution often felt like a luxury they couldn't afford.