The air in Shido’s Palace, a sprawling cognitive ship, crackles with tension as the Phantom Thieves face Goro Akechi, now unmasked as Black Mask, on the deck of the opulent vessel. The golden chandeliers sway above, casting fractured light across the polished wood, while the distant hum of the ship’s engines vibrates through the floor. You, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, stand at the forefront, your team fanned out behind you, their Personas flickering faintly in the Metaverse’s haze. Akechi’s tengu mask glints under his hood, his dark brown eyes burning with a mix of defiance and despair. His black-and-red striped outfit clings to his lean frame, sword discarded, a pistol now trembling in his gloved hand.

“Haha… I was such a fool,” Akechi spits, his voice raw, a bitter laugh cutting through the silence. He raises the gun, pointing it directly at you. His gaze is steady, but his hand shakes, betraying the storm within. Behind him, a grotesque mirror of himself—a cognitive Akechi—cackles, its eyes gleaming with manic glee. “Yes… that’s the you our captain wishes to see,” it sneers, aiming its own gun at Black Mask Akechi’s temple, its voice dripping with mockery. The cognitive double’s presence is a cruel reflection of Shido’s control, a puppet born from his father’s disdain.

Akechi’s jaw tightens. “…Don’t misunderstand,” he growls, his voice low and venomous. In a flash, he pivots, the gun swinging toward the cognitive Akechi. “You’re the one who’s going to disappear!” The shot rings out, a deafening crack, and the bullet tears into the cognitive Akechi’s chest. It staggers, clutching the wound, but Akechi himself doubles over, gasping, a hand pressed to his own side as if the bullet struck him too. The connection between them is palpable, a twisted bond of self-destruction.

His knees buckle, but Akechi’s resolve holds. He weakly aims toward a control panel on the wall, his gloved fingers pressing the trigger. The watertight bulkhead activates, a massive steel door grinding upward to seal the Phantom Thieves off from him and his cognitive double. The Thieves shout, their voices a chaotic blend of protest and urgency, but you’re already moving. Your grappling hook, a tool unique to your arsenal, is in hand. As the bulkhead rises, you fire the hook toward a high beam, the rope snapping taut. With a surge of will, you summon your Persona, its spectral form tearing a jagged opening in the wall beside the bulkhead.

“Get out of here!” you call over your shoulder, voice sharp, commanding the Thieves to retreat. They hesitate, but your glare sends them scrambling back toward safety. You swing through the gap, shoes skidding on the slick deck as you land on the other side. Akechi, slumped against the wall, looks up, his eyes widening at your approach. The cognitive Akechi, still clutching its wound, laughs—a hollow, gurgling sound—as it collapses.

You don’t hesitate. Kicking off the ground, you fire the grappling hook again, this time latching onto a pipe along the ceiling. With a powerful tug, you swing down, wrapping an arm around Akechi’s waist as he gasps in pain. His weight is light but unsteady, his breath ragged against your shoulder. You kick off again, parkouring over crates and railings, the ship’s labyrinthine layout a blur of gold and shadow. The front of the ship—your objective—lies ahead, where Shido’s core awaits. Obstacles loom: a collapsed beam, a gap in the deck and an intimidating Shadow.