Ceaseless Oblivion

And so, it begins. One year after the Advent Children movie might I add, without the spinoffs. I own nothing.


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"Reality, however, has a sliding floor." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cloud could not remember having been this mad in his entire life. Not when he was dealing with the juvenile anger that his childhood was made of, picking fights with whoever he wanted to. Not when his mother told him that his own father had died for SOLDIER, for he had never come back to him like he promised. Not even when he had been denied entrance to SOLDIER because he was deemed too weak, not being able to pass the training exercises.

No. This was not anger. This was rage.

For the third time, Sephiroth had come back, without the help of a Remnant, experiments made from the Jenova strain to help coax his black soul back into existence from whatever manner of underworld he had come from. He was here, haunting him like a malevolent phantom that was hell bent on giving him utter torment for the rest of his days it had seemed. Sephiroth had appeared on a cliff side by the dark ocean in Midgar and many a civilian had ran from him, wishing to get as far away from him as possible. What civilians stayed in those murky waters Cloud would never know. But they had a right to be scared. Cloud's memories showed a cackling and sinister man, casting people a haughty look as he killed them, impaling them with his freakishly long sword. Innocents, who only were living. Innocents, who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ash swirled in his long silver hair, and his eyes had a maleficent glow to them, one that made him appear as if he were a demon, one incapable of mercy, coherent thought, and sanity. He was unstable.

Cloud had received the call from a frantic Yuffie, and he immediately dropped what he was doing, washing a plate in newly rebuilt 7th Heaven bar with Tifa, and ran to grab his Buster Sword. He had reclaimed the blade upon thinking that Zack would have loved it if he had it to the end of his days. He said he wished to be his legacy, and legacies were forged with items from the past, coalescing and becoming a part of the future itself. Thus, Cloud took it from that cursed hillside, one where wolves constantly roamed and howled, and fixed it up, making it good as new. How strange was it that he could lift it with no problem, and all of those years ago, he had to drag it through the sands, thinking it weighed so much. Everything had changed, and the meaning of the word burden was the main one.

Tifa was frantic, and she told him that she wished to go with him. Cloud said no, for he claimed he would be alright. If he had stopped this seeming unstoppable man twice before, why could he not do it a third time? Third times the charm, right? Yet, something in his heart told him that there was no coming back from this moment, that this battle would end his life. The thought struck him as strange, for he had always emerged the victor, the mako in his veins making him nearly as strong to match and battle Sephiroth. But by no means did that make him invincible. He thought that thought, turned around, and kissed Tifa impulsively, on a whim. She yelped once, and then eased into his body, gripping his neck in her hands. He separated himself from her, and he was struck by how he had felt nothing with the act. No spark, no clichéd flame. Simply…nothing. It was as if he had kissed his sister. The blonde haired man shook his head, for there was no reason to dwell on that matter. The fate of the world was literally at stake here.

"If I die Tifa, please move on. Like you once said, don't chose memories over what is in front of us." Tears filled her lovely brown eyes, and she nodded. She seemed to sense the air of finality in the air as well. He didn't convey how the kiss hadn't been what he was expecting, how he had felt nothing as his lips touched hers. She truly must have been meant to be only a friend.

"If that happens Cloud…I promise you I will move on." She gripped his arm as he turned to walk out of the door. "Be careful."

There was no being careful when battling the deadliest being on Gaia was concerned. The man was unstable, and he wished to take over the Planet, bend it to his own covetous will and plague humanity with his curse. That could not happen! As long as he had breath in his lungs, he would fight to eradicate Sephiroth.

He broke countless speeding limits as he raced to the beach on his bike, and he threw himself off of the machine before he parked it. There was no time to lose if he was to, once again, save the world. There was no back up, no one who could help him this time. It was all on his shoulders, yet again. Ever was he destined to be Atlas.

Cloud ran over to where he saw Sephiroth standing on the grimy shores, smirking. Oh, how he hated this man! He hated what he had done, stripping him of his humanity, memories, and his own will. Silver strings were spun from the man's hand as he turned him into a mannequin, a puppet for his own amusement. He talked and walked across a wooden stage, thinking that that was his own volition to do so. Not likely. It was only Sephiroth, time and again, fucking him up.

The thought filled him with a mindless rage that coursed through his bloodstream, bubbling in his veins like a black poison. His purpose was clear: kill Sephiroth, once again. Cloud gave a battle cry and without a word from either of the two men, their blades clashed, one that was long in length and deadly, and one that had been wielded by a lost friend. They parried and rebutted, sparks flying off of the metal in their vicious attacks.

"Well, looks like you haven't lost your touch." Cloud was enraged that the man wished to talk to him. What could he possibly have to say? Cloud refused to give him an answer, to even acknowledge that he existed. There was no forgiving this man, and forgetting was out of the question. He simply countered the man's blows and thought of strategy after strategy to get rid of the man. Should he knock the man off of his feet, send his blade spiraling just out of his reach, and then stab him in the back, like he had so callously done to Aeris once upon a time? Cloud felt a gall rise in his mouth, and he longed to gag. That notion was cold hearted, for shouldn't a warrior defeat his foe fairly?

The blonde haired man howled with indignation when he felt Sephiroth slice his left cheek open with his blade, and he gave a ferocious battle cry. He charged at the man, delivered blow upon blow upon his body, and finally, weakened his defenses enough to get a hit or two in. Sephiroth staggered slightly, but Cloud knew that this was far too soon to celebrate. The man thought himself as a god, and there was no dealing with that type of egotism. Confidence supplied strength, and he had plenty of it. Still, Cloud managed to back him up to where they were fighting uphill, going up a slope that provided a lovely view of the ocean. The ocean itself was no longer black and polluted as it had been before, for ShinRa had been taken over by Rufus's heir, an illegitimate son named James who was trying to rebuilt Gaia. The shores were still disgusting, but there were means that were taken that were sifting through sand and stone, replacing it. There were gulls that seemed to be singing, the sun was shining from behind the clouds, and the ocean was sparkling with a turquoise hue, as if it were lapis lazuli. Nature went on when worlds collided Cloud knew, all too well.

Sephiroth parried ten of Cloud's attacks, and as he panted to recover, Sephiroth made the motion of patting his mouth with his hand, as if he were bored of their endeavors. That did it! Cloud cried out, and suddenly he felt the strength of all of those lost to him flow through his veins. Aeris and her inhumane vigor to summon Holy. Zack, and his ceaseless smile. His mothers wisdom, and every single villager who had been lost forever from this mans insanity.

Cloud delivered multiples hits on Sephiroth until he saw the man's sword be thrown out of his hand. Cloud sliced at his hand, wishing to sever it from his arm, but the angle wasn't right for such a thing. Instead, he saw Sephiroth's eyes open wide in surprise, and he heard him gasp as Cloud tripped the man, making him sprawl to his feet. He could not give the man time to jump in the air and reveal that black as death wing, and fly off until "next time." There was no time to let the evil rest!

He cried out and stabbed him clean through both of his legs, arms and torso. Sephiroth's body lurched upwards, and he vomited up red spittle. Cloud cared not, for this was the only way. He felt as if he were a priest tearing a demon from someone's body in a cruel exorcism. He didn't allow himself to look at the damage he was inflicting, though he knew it must have been excruciatingly painful. This was no time to feel pity for ones arch nemesis!

"For Aeris." He stabbed through his ribs, and the man cried out, gasping. "For my mother." He stabbed through both of the man's palms. "For EVERYONE who YOU have EVER killed!" Cloud placed his boot on the man's neck and raised his Buster Sword up to impale the mans heart. That should surely kill such an abomination.

As he rose his blade, one thing occurred: Sephiroth's wounds healed rapidly, and he knew then that the man had only been playing with him. As if he were…a puppet! Damn it! Something told Cloud that he should have known he would do something as sly as this, especially during battle. Sephiroth threw Cloud off of his body with the strength of ten bulls, and his back hit the guard rails, the ones that were a tourist spot for this ocean. Newly added of course, and they it sent a shock of pain up his spine. He felt a bone in his arm snap as Sephiroth ran to him, gripping his left wrist in a lock of iron. Sephiroth's face grazed his ear, and he felt every hair on his body stand erect. How he loved to cause him pain!

"Well done, little puppet. I wished to see what you could do to my invincible body." Cloud ducked under his arm and whirled his blade around, knowing that he would have to find a way to kill him without him regenerating once again. When did he gain that talent? Was he an organism that was always coursing through evolution, tossing all of the old weaknesses aside for new and improved abilities? Sephiroth ran to him and rained blows on him, ones that he could barely avoid, much less counter.

"I am not YOUR puppet!" Despite his broken wrist, he swung Buster around and raised it over his head again and again, delivering hammering attacks that backed Sephiroth up against the guard rail, where not two minutes before he had been sprawling on the ground, almost assure of his victory. He should have known, for victory was a whore, mocking an orgasm. Never did she come easily.

They fought until all of Cloud's muscles screamed at him to stop, and he bled from many open wounds. His dark blue wardrobe was coated with blood, and it stained the material with irreparable marks that no amount of scrubbing could get out. As always, Sephiroth coated his life until he never felt clean. The man had tainted everything he had ever been, ruining his very life. If this man had never been born, his mother would have been alive right now, cleaning their quaint home in Nibelheim. If this man had never lived, he would have surely had his best friend Zack, and he and Aeris would have been happily married somewhere. Tifa would not bear the mark of a brutal scar on her stomach, one she had obtained when she had tried to do what he was attempting: kill Sephiroth.

Sephiroth still seemed filled with energy, as if he could go on for days on end and not tire of this exercise. That was all it was to him after all…exercise! This was nothing but playtime to him, amusement to a seeming demi-god! The silver haired man countered every blow he had given, and then gave him twenty more to compete with. Cloud began to sway on his feet, but he made his heels grind into the soil. He would not be a fool to fall to his knees in front of Sephiroth. In his own sick mind, he would think that Cloud gave up and had submitted to him, fallen to his knees in his own twisted worship. Never would he give him that satisfaction!

Cloud shook his head and watched the man's movements, looking in vain for a weakness in his defenses. Was there one? Was there anyway that he would be able to get close enough to deliver a killing blow? Off with his head, through the brain? Or through the heart, imploding that vile organ that beat with mania, and malicious intent? Which was more suitable? He would find out when he got there he supposed.

The enraged man drove off his fatigue and began fighting the man once more, trying to aim for the throat or heart. He managed a fatal scratch to the man's jugular that should have killed a mortal man. But this was no human he was battling, and the injury closed instantly. He was fighting a demon, one that had made it his own business to make his life a living Hell. Cloud felt that every blow he delivered to this being was one step closer he was falling into an abyss, one that was made of only hatred and the deepest of loathing. It burned in his breast when he saw the flash of green his eyes held in their depths, when he saw the way his odd silver hair glinted like polished sterling in the sunlight. Everything about him he despised. Never could he remember being this mad in his life.

Both men nailed the other with killing blows, ones that were meant to cause both quick and easy deaths, and slow and lengthy ones. Torture was inevitable when mortal enemies fought. This man was what made Cloud tick, everything foul in his human rising when he thought of what Sephiroth had done to himself, and to everyone he had ever cared and loved. How could he even be breathing the same air as a demon?

"Why…wont…you DIE ALREADY?" Cloud shrieked and he lifted his own blade, bent on sending the man's head whirling from his shoulders. Would he spring up more heads, like that wretched Hydra? It was worth a shot he supposed. The man gasped when Sephiroth gripped the blade's handle before it delivered the blow, and Sephiroth brought his blade up and behind Cloud's back, bringing both men together.

He was close enough to feel the warmth of his enemy's breath tickling his cheek, and he struggled against it, not wishing to share his company. This proximity was revolting, and he felt that his own body was going against it. Cloud struggled to break free, but it did not happen. The man had him locked in a steel grip, a cage that was forged with his arms with enough strength to incapacitate a lion. He felt as if he were the golden bird trapped in a cage of iron, one where he saw freedom just beyond the bars, but could not escape the jaws of his prison. The metaphor made Cloud kick and whirl his feet around, but he could barely move in this position.

"Let go." Sephiroth smirked, and when he spoke, the silver haired man's voice was so soft, Cloud knew his words were only for him.

"No. Your mine to control. You are only a hindrance to me and Mother. Die now Strife. Or…" he chuckled darkly, and the sound made a shiver of fear run up his spin "…join me." Cloud gasped aloud, and he felt as if his vision were hazing over in red, in a fog that only came from the worst types of anger.

"How could you say that?" He felt his upper lip twitch, as if he were a panther who was ready to pounce on a kill, his jaws ready to snap and fangs exposing. Sephiroth let him go then, and he held his hands behind his back, though Cloud tried his hardest to break free of the grip. He saw the image of his Buster sword sail up and over the banister, and then the velvet black of Sephiroth's wing. It covered his vision, as if it were an evil midnight, a nighttime hour that meant to kill off daylight, starlight, and the dreams of young children in their beds. The wing was death. No! He could not die without defeating Sephiroth! If he died…who knew what would happen? He was the only one who could do this!

He found the strength of the mako in his veins hum through his core, and he felt himself gaining an almost supernatural strength. It was as if he had been given Aeris's blessing and was filled with an unstoppable force right then, one that would enable him to escape from this literal death grip, and deliver an end upon Sephiroth once more.

Cloud whirled around, grabbed masamune from Sephiroth's hands, and impaled the man through the heart. The silver haired male fell over, his head bowing as if in defeat.

"Go back to Hell." Cloud figured it best to wait until the man dissolved like he had last time, turning into nothing but a puff of black feathers, declaring an ominous sentence as his last words. "I will never be a memory." How utterly true. Memories haunted with enough malice to be living entities. The man saw Sephiroth's head shoot up, and he leered wildly at him, his lips forming a smile that was not happiness, but a glee that came with madness.

"Only if you will join me." Cloud saw with a gaping horror as Sephiroth withdrew his own sword from his chest, and in a speed that was faster than the naked eye, he rammed it through Cloud's chest. He cried out and felt blood coat his mouth, layering his teeth. Damn. This had been his final battle after all.

Two things happened that let Cloud know that things would never be the same after this: his consciousness wavered, and he felt himself tilt over, his back hitting the rail with a screech of bone and flesh. The next thing was that the ledge they were on was destroyed, sending both men falling in a mixture of debris and pipe, heading straight for the ocean's depths.

Cloud hit the water and he felt as if he had made a face plant in concrete, only with his entire body. The water was sharp and cold, unforgiving despite the sunlight that meant to warm the sea. Even the sun could not heat up the unmerciful chill of the ocean itself. He felt himself being dragged under, a tidal wave bearing down on his body. Struggling was pointless at this time, for there was no way his small body could win against something that enormous.

'At least I managed to kill Sephiroth. I hope.' His worst fear was that Sephiroth had regenerated and was now wreaking irreparable havoc upon Midgar, terrorizing every single person who was stupid enough to cross his path. But even fear had no hold on death. Cloud felt the blood course through his wound, and he knew that no stitches, staples or any manner of recovery would heal him.

'Goodbye.' His eyes had been closed to everything, and that had resulted in him being blind to the facts: that his body, along with Sephiroth's, was being engulfed in a black abyss, their bodies fading into the embodiment of darkness. It consumed them both, and there was nothing left for anyone to find. No bodies would wash to shore, for they had disappeared.


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