The Phantom Thieves.

As the scalpel made its fateful descent, it punctured the mask with a subdued crack, a sound faint yet foreboding.

From this breach, a flood of pitch-dark shadows began to seep forth, expanding slowly at first, then with a sudden violence, the mask shattered.

In the aftermath of this explosion, the essence of Tartuffe emerged, a manifestation of voracious darkness, unfurling tendrils and arms crafted from the night itself. These shadows caressed Ren with an almost tender gentleness as a fog began to cloud Ren's mind.

"You have neglected my counsel of late, forsaking the boon of my companionship. Dost thou not recall? I am thou, and thou art I." intoned Tartuffe's voice, a presence neither wholly male nor female, echoing within the caverns of Ren's mind as reality faded to black.

"We are joined in the grand spectacle of life, yet I find myself dismayed by thy performance. Permit me, then, to instruct thee in the art of true theatrics."

— — —

As Makoto and Ryuji stirred from their unconscious state, the relief among the Thieves was palpable. They quickly turned their attention to Ren, intending to extend their healing to him as well. However, the sight that met their eyes froze them in place. Ren was enveloped in a miasma of shadows, a spectacle that drew a collective gasp.

"Ren!" Their voices meshed in a chorus of alarm and fear.

Before their astonished gaze, Ren's form rose, not with the stiffness of someone injured but with an elegance draped in a shroud of dense, inky darkness.

Responding to their cries with a grace that seemed out of place in the dire moment, Ren's body pivoted towards them. His bright golden eyes shone with a playful joy as he looked at them. What followed was a bow, not just any bow, but one that carried the weight of centuries, refined and practiced, echoing the manners of a bygone era.

"An audience! How lovely. Given that concealment is now beyond our means, it would only be fitting to regale you with my performance." Tartuffe proclaimed, his voice a mixture of mirth and solemnity, as he straightened from his bow.

Then, just as suddenly as he had spoken, a pair of familiar black wings sprouted from his back, that of Arsene's. With a flap of the wings, Tartuffe was launched backward, turning mid-air as he focused on the gigantic robot.

For a fleeting moment, bewilderment painted the faces of the Phantom Thieves as they witnessed this perplexing transformation. Yet, their hesitation was brief; with a shared resolve, they surged forward towards Ren.

Tartuffe, exhibiting a grace that belied the darkness enveloping him, arrived at the robot with a winged flourish, positioning himself precisely where the machine's weapons would typically emerge. As if on cue, the robot brandished its guns, aiming with deadly intent at Ren.

In an unexpected action, Ren's hand morphed, turning into a paw that resembled that of Cerberus, which pierced through the robot's weak spot to its very core. A surge of electricity cascaded into the machine, causing the gun in front of him to malfunction.

With his arm now deep into the circuits of the robot, Tartuffe focused as a strange dark mist began emitting from it. 

Once the rest of the phantom thieves had arrived closer to the robot, he took his arm out of it and jumped off.

Landing with the poise of a seasoned actor, he offered another bow, theatrically deep. In the wake of his gesture, the shadows ensnaring Ren's form dissipated, a dramatic conclusion to an unsettling performance.

As the mask appeared back again on Ren's face, a massive wave of pain and discomfort coursed through him, which was almost unbearable. Causing him to fall to the ground, gasping for air in an attempt to quell the overwhelming discomfort.

Shiho was the first one to react to the change. She called forth Circe and began bathing Ren in a healing light trying to cure the pain she saw on his face.

Noticing the group was distracted by Ren's sudden change, Makoto quickly took over the position of leader. Even though she was also worried and had countless questions in her mind, she knew that now was not the time to get distracted.

"Focus on the robot! Siren can take care of Joker. Whatever he did seemed to have damaged it, so just aim towards the weakness near the guns." Makoto commanded, observing the robot's reactivation with a strategic eye.

At her beckoning, the Thieves regrouped, their resolve hardened as the machine before them shuddered back to life. The robot finally managed to exit the hole it had formed, and after taking a few wobbly steps, it fell to the ground once again. In a twist no one saw coming, the door on its face swung open, unleashing a sinister fog that seemed to crawl through the air.

From within the opening, Kaneshiro jumped out, his landing marred by desperation and devoid of the grace his wings might have offered. Followed closely by a few gigantic bars of gold that crashed loudly onto the floor. The bars of gold glowed brightly with an ethereal light, indicating that they were Kaneshiro's treasure.

After Kaneshiro had landed on the floor, he quickly began scrambling away from the robot, his face filled with dread. As he looked back and forth, it was as if the Phantom Thieves didn't exist, his eyes focusing solely on the robot behind him with fear as he tried to escape.

"Skull!" Makoto shouted, commanding Ryuji to take action. 

The moment he heard the command, Ryuji unleashed Captain Kidd, who sailed through the air to cut off Kaneshiro's retreat in a heartbeat.

Cornered and overwhelmed, Kaneshiro collapsed, his cries filling the air.

"I surrender, I surrender! Just don't make me go back in there!"

Still keeping her guard up in case Kaneshiro was trying to trick them, Makoto approached him after calling forth Johanna and motioning for the group to surround him.

After a few seconds, Kaneshiro seemed to snap out of his fear. Looking around in confusion before letting out a dejected sigh.

"I guess this is it, isn't it?" he chuckled, surrendering with raised hands. "Damn it, if only I had stayed in my Piggytron." he mused.

"From now on, you are going to be spending the rest of your days where you belong. Somewhere you can make amends for the rest of your life." Makoto said defiantly, the roar of Johanna's engine punctuating her declaration.

Kaneshiro's laughter, bitter and resigned, filled the air.

"Jail, huh? I guess that's what I get. I got played from the very beginning." he admitted, his mood shifting from amusement to indignation. "But that's not fair; I'm the victim here! My whole life, I've been used, and just when I was about to get what I have been working for this whole."

Ryuji couldn't hide his outrage. 

"You think you're the victim here?" he exclaimed, disbelief and anger lacing his words.

Ann's fury was palpable as she followed.

"How many people have you taken advantage of? How many girls have been forced into working for you? How many have lost their future because of you?" she demanded, her voice rising with each question.

Faced with the raw truth of his actions, Kaneshiro's defiance crumbled. 

"You're right... I'm nothing but trash. But what does it matter? The moment you take my treasure, I'll change. So why bother regretting anything now?"

Seeing the angered expressions of the Phantom Thieves, Kaneshiro let out one last chuckle.

"You all are such a waste. I bet you don't even know how valuable your power is. You could be selling your services for so much money that you could live in so much more luxury than me."

Makoto, her patience worn thin by his provocations, leveled her pistol at him, her voice a mix of inquiry and threat.

"The Black Mask, what do you know of them?" she demanded, striving to sound menacing.

"Oh, so you all already know of him?" Kaneshiro asked as a smile formed on his face. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. You are nothing compared to him. If he ever crosses your path, that will be the end of your stupid group." 

His body began to glow as he prepared to vanish, yet before he did, he let out one final laugh.

"I'll see you all in hell."

His final words, a chilling farewell, echoed ominously as he vanished from sight, leaving behind a silence that was quickly shattered by the onset of the palace's collapse.

The urgency of their predicament was underscored by the sight of Shiho cradling Ren's weakened form, his discomfort evident in every tremor that shook his body. Makoto's gaze then shifted to Mona, momentarily distracted by the lure of treasure, until a stern call from Makoto redirected his focus to their escape.

"Erm- sorry, it's hard to hold myself back whenever I am in front of a treasure." Morgana confessed sheepishly.

Makoto noticed that they would probably not have enough time to escape through the massive amount of stairs and elevators, but after she looked at the whole the Piggytron had created she noticed a few rays of light escaping from it.

Rushing close, she looked through the few gaps in the floor the massive explosion had created as an idea formed in her mind. Commanding the rest of the group, they all launched a barrage of attacks at the cracks until a sizeable gap was formed, leading to the exterior.

While Ryuji and Makoto were attacking the floor, Ann had loaded the treasure into Morgana, who had turned into a bus in preparation for their escape. And after quickly loading the rest of the Thieves into the cat-bus. Mona took a leap of faith down the hole they had created. Being in freefall for a few moments before they felt the world around them twist.

— — — 

In the bustling heart of Shinjuku, a young fortune teller was nestled among the chaos, her cards spread before her, forecasting the unseen. As she flipped each card, her usual calm demeanor was replaced with growing unease. 

The Reversed Tower, The Moon, The Reversed Emperor, The Devil, and The Reversed Judgement laid bare before her. Each card was steeped in ominous significance, yet their exact message eluded her grasp.

Before she could ponder the cards' warnings, the world around her shifted dramatically. The vibrant billboards that dotted the skyline of Tokyo bled into a uniform crimson, arresting the attention of everyone in sight. The busy thrum of city life came to a standstill, the air thick with anticipation.

As the crowds made their way through the busy streets of Tokyo, their attention was caught by the sudden change of all the billboards. Every single one of the hundreds of billboards turned a crimson hue.

"Dear people of Tokyo," echoed a voice, warped and carrying through every speaker, drawing the gaze of hundreds, if not thousands. The busy streets of Tokyo, usually filled with thousands of moving pieces, paused for a moment.

The voice continued, its message clear and chilling. 

"For far too long, we have seen people suffer both at the hands of criminals and under the hands of the law. We have waited patiently, but today, that changes…"

Within the serene confines of a well-appointed meeting room, a woman with striking crimson hair sat, her elegance undisturbed by the chaos unfurling outside. Clad in a long white coat over her dark attire, she sipped her tea with an air of calm detachment until the urgent entrance of a man disrupted the peace.

"Miss Kirijo, something's happening in the news," he announced, a note of urgency in his voice.

As she placed her drink on the glass table, the crimson-haired woman took a few moments to look at the moon, which bathed Tatsumi Port Island in a silver light. Her gaze lingered on the full moon for a few seconds before the woman accepted the tablet he offered, which played a video on a loop.

"The corruption in the world weighs heavily in our hearts. So we have decided that as our first act, we will clear the filth that is corrupting the youth." proclaimed the voice, its intent as sharp as a blade.

Elsewhere, in a dimly lit office of a government building, a silver-haired prosecutor stared at a daunting pile of discarded cases on her desk. Each file represented a battle fought and lost, not in the courtroom, but in the corridors of power where her efforts were systematically undermined. 

She recognized this pattern as an obstacle intentionally placed by the Director to halt her advancement, a familiar plight in her predominantly male profession. The worst part was the constant carrot the director dangled in front of her, with his constant promises of a promotion.

Yet, she remained undeterred. To her, the game was rigged from the start, so the only way to succeed was to cheat—to do whatever was necessary. As she contemplated the dismissed cases, a resolve hardened within her. She vowed to keep her next case under wraps, progressing in silence until presenting it once she had all the evidence she needed, leaving the Director with no choice but to acknowledge her.

"I should head home soon… Makoto is going to start to worry again." She muttered to herself, opening the news app on her phone before leaving, only to be met with video playing.

"In the streets of Shibuya lies a plague that is slowly draining the hope of the future of Japan. Blackmailing them into what amounts to slavery, forcing girls into selling their bodies and men into becoming their cash cows." the disembodied voice declared, its message a beacon for the lost and a challenge to the oppressors.

Basking under the same moon, a young woman wearing a velvety blue outfit wandered through the city. Her quest had been long and fruitless; many years had passed since she had begun her path, yet so far, she didn't have much to show for it. Her golden eyes, however, let out a strange glimmer of hope as she watched the commotion in the distance.

"This is our announcement to the world. We are the Phantom Thieves, and we have the power to take down those who see themselves as untouchable. This is only the beginning." the voice promised, a vow of upheaval and justice.

Deep within the heart of Tokyo, the video's grave implications found their way to a secluded office, where anxiety and strategy collided. 

"Sir, what do you think? It's playing all over Tokyo right now." a concerned worker inquired.

The response was dismissive yet tinged with underlying concern. 

"What do I think? This is clearly just another group of hackers looking for attention. They'll be forgotten in a few weeks," the man retorted. "We haven't kept any records online, so they shouldn't be able to find anything actually incriminating. We need to keep our focus on the elections."

However, a pause betrayed his apprehension. 

"Send our team to try to find out who it was, in case they try anything funny again. I don't want them causing a mess during my campaign," he added, the threat of disruption looming large over his political aspirations.

The video's relentless loop, echoing through the heart of Tokyo for nearly an hour, left an indelible mark on the city's psyche before it finally vanished from the screens. Yet, the disappearance of the footage did little to quell the waves it had stirred. In that brief window, a new name had woven itself into the fabric of Japan's collective consciousness.

The Phantom Thieves.