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Tartarus remains, and so, they continue to climb.
Exhaustion weighs down Minato's limbs, slows their progress to a crawl. It's almost certainly infuriating to the other S.E.E.S. members following behind him— he's noticed Junpei creeping ahead of him several times, only to fall back when he realizes he's been spotted. Yukari keeps making what she probably thinks are subtle comments about how Tartarus is so tall and the Dark Hour is so short, and Fuuka keeps nervously agreeing with her. Aigis, at least, follows loyally beside him, keeping pace with her mechanical precision, not uttering a word of complaint.
It's unusual for Minato to find Tartarus quite this exhausting. From the start of this, he's had a better tolerance for the Dark Hour and its oppressive air, and that tolerance has only built for all of S.E.E.S. the more they've lived through it. He's been set back beyond even where he started, to be so tired after only a few uneventful floors. They haven't even gotten into fights with any Shadows— the floors they've traversed so far have been strangely empty.
"I have a bad feeling about this…" Fuuka's voice rings through his head as he approaches the stairs to the next floor and prepares to climb. "There are a lot of Shadows on the next floor."
"We can take 'em!" Junpei swings his sword through the air, itching as ever for a fight. Minato supposes he can't blame him— they've all been restless.
"I don't know," Yukari mutters hesitantly. She's looking directly at Minato, for some reason. "Maybe we should just come back tomorrow night. There's something weird going on here."
"Maybe that's just 'cause the full moon Shadows are all gone!" Junpei argues. "Come on, we're in peak condition!"
Yukari mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like Minato's name. He decides to ignore it— it doesn't matter. He goes back to climbing the stairs.
"Leader, are you sure about this?" Fuuka sounds horribly concerned. He should listen to her, probably, but he can't really find it in himself to care. The others will be fine. It's only Minato that they should be concerned about, and he's fought through worse than a little fatigue.
"It's fine," he says shortly, and continues to climb.
As if to make up for the seemignly timid Shadows on the floors previous, Minato finds himself attacked a mere few steps into this one. Clawing hands grasp at his feet, and while he swings at the offending Shadow, he can hear the others engaging in their own battles. Once he frees himself from the first Shadow's grasp, he finds himself surrounded by others.
"They've separated you!" Fuuka warns, as though it weren't obvious. "You'll have to fight through them to regroup!"
It doesn't matter how many of them there are— Minato presses his Evoker to his head and pulls the trigger. Mothman, he calls, and—
Orpheus answers. Something hollow yawns in his chest and Minato knows, suddenly, that Orpheus is the only one who will. His other Personas are beyond his reach, for some reason, swallowed up by the gaping chasm in his heart.
Igor warned him, vaguely, of something like this, he remembers. A change in his heart, a setback of some sort. A reminder of the importance of bonds, of the dangers of isolating himself. Minato ignored him then, of course, and he doesn't think he was entirely wrong to do so— his bonds have only caused him pain. Shinjiro, Pharos, even the chairman— all gone. It is easier, then, to spare himself the pain of losing others if he neglects the bonds that tie them together. If he is the one to push them away.
This is the consequence, apparently. It doesn't matter— Orpheus may not be as suited to this situation as some of the others, but Minato will make it work. The strings of Orpheus' lyre are plucked, and fire erupts around him.
The Shadows advance, unscathed by the heat. Immune to fire. This is… not ideal, to say the least. On top of that, he finds himself unusually drained— he should be able to call on Orpheus with ease, but he finds himself unable to maintain the Persona's presence, nearly as dizzy as he was the first time he awoke to the power.
he thinks to ask Fuuka for help, but the others surely need it just as much, if not more. He'll be fine. His head throbs and the room is spinning even more than it already was, a whirling stream of multicoloured lights that sear themselves so violently into his vision that he finds himself screwing his eyes shut. Not his smartest decision— clawed hands drag him painfully to the ground, where he finds himself rapidly swarmed.
There are worse ways to die, he supposes. Like this, no one but the other members of S.E.E.S. will know he's even dead. He'll just be missing, and no one will even care. It's not like they should. He doesn't care about anyone else, and they shouldn't care about him. And that way, no one gets hurt when he dies.
Shadows tear and grab at him from all sides. He almost wishes they were stronger, or his armor less resistant, so that this whole affair would be over sooner. As it is, it's painfully drawn out— he can't catch his breath between the involuntary gasps and cries that escape him with the pain. He thinks he hears Fuuka shout something, but even the inside of his own head sounds faraway, underwater. He's tired. His body aches and stings and burns.
"Palladion!"
The Shadows shriek and dissipate, caught under the relentless assault of Aigis' Persona. Minato dares to open his eyes, but the swirling lights of this block still carve painful trails across his vision. Fortunately for him, before long, Aigis' concerned face obscures them from his vision.
"You are injured," she says, as though he couldn't tell. "Yukari-san is approaching our location. We are leaving once you are healed."
"It's fine," he tries to protest, but Aigis shakes her head furiously.
"No. You are in no condition to fight. We will return once you have recovered."
It's unusual for her to disagree with him so stubbornly. Minato decides there's no point in arguing. He's tired, anyway. Maybe it's for the best.
As if reading his mind, Aigis says, "You should rest. I will protect you."
She's too attached to him. He will only hurt her when, inevitably, he dies and she does not. Still… still, he finds he appreciates the reassurance, that he is not alone.