Ceaseless Oblivion

I am flabbergasted. Thank you to Tariray for finding my story when I barely put it up for two hours, and what more, reviewing! I am sincerely grateful for you. :D And to reokumaurer for favoriting the story!

Two things before I begin: James, the man whom I mentioned who rebuilt ShinRa, is Rufus's illegitimate child, a man I made up in my SephirothxAeris story. He had more morals than his father ever did, and he is the one who is helping Gaia out. Also: where were Marlene and Denzel? They are with Barrett on vacation while Tifa is rebuilding her life, getting used to independence. At least, until she finds out Cloud is gone

forever. "The last bit of light is always the hardest to snuff out." Sephiroth says this in Kingdom Hearts 2, and I found it fitting for this, when it gets to the middle of the chapter.

Sephiroth's pov of the last chapter, with more added. The end of the chapter may surprise you, though I hint at it in my summary. Violence, some gore, Sephiroth's god complex, and my Nibelheim interpretation are some of the events. Let the madness begin.

I own nothing.


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"In many respects, man is the most ruthlessly ferocious of beasts." William James

Sephiroth's life had been nothing before he found his truth. The revelation was in his origins, in those blessed writings that told him what he had never known: that he was a Cetra, the last one of his kind. Also, Genesis had told him plainly that he was a monster, and that there was a connection between himself and the Jenova Project, something that made him immensely furious. Who were they to think that just because he was above all of the rest of humanity that he was labeled as an aberration? How dare they think such a thing!

During the time, he was in a mansion reading the notes, and he felt his eyes open wide. His mouth fell open and he felt himself laughing aloud, tears rolling down his mako oculars in his maniacal glee. Oh, it all made perfect sense now! How he was always the different one, the man with silver hair in a room filled with black haired males. How he was always on a different level than his fellow SOLDIER'S where training was concerned. It made so much sense!

And what made all the more sense, was destroying the Planet in the name of his beloved mother. How dare they think that they could dissect her, keep her in a mako chamber and peer, examine, and scorn the very being that gave him life! Oh, he saw it so clearly: this once lovely woman, now made ugly by experiments, giving him birth on a distant planet, his newborn cries hitting the air. She longed to hold him he knew, but their world crashed into the Planet, and there was no time for that. This world, these humans took him away from a life he never knew he was capable of living! Oh, how he longed for rage!

Thus, he took his vendetta out on the very soil he was standing on: Nibelheim. If he tilted his head just so, he could still hear the screams of the damned ringing in his ears, like a baritone lullaby, soothing his nerves and giving him utmost stimulation. It was exhilarating, their pain. Everything burned, and he loved the warmth on his skin. Roofs collapsed, embers sparking into the air, and the night was painted red, the shade of blood, of death itself. How delicious it looked, layered in the skies.

There was noise everywhere, panic and mayhem wherever he turned his head. People, in their final hour, asked him why he would do such a thing, for wasn't he supposed to be the good guy? He laughed aloud almost hysterically when the group of humans asked him that question. How asinine! Good? Why…he was the best! He was doing this to remind them of the inevitable future: how he would take their beloved Planet and use it as a vessel, soaring it through the galaxies until he and his mother found a new world, one that was uncontaminated by the filth of mortality.

So, he promptly sliced open his victims with his beloved masamune and threw more flames on everything. Everything had to be destroyed! There was still so much havoc to wreak, so much to obliterate! One victim stood out in his mind: a woman with short blonde hair bound back in a ponytail, with light brown eyes. He only recalled her out of the many people he slaughtered because of her last words. They were not the pitiful shrieks of mercy that shattered his lullaby of wails. It was a simple sentence.

She had said: "To think he wanted to be like you." The words were an enigma to his soul, for who in the Planet's name was she talking about? Ravings of a mind that was so certain that is would reach this "Promised Land." Yes, that was all it was. He dismissed it afterward when he impaled her three times, then tossed her into the churning blaze that was her home. How pitiful that she didn't even attempt to fight back! Those few that tried were fun to tear apart, cutting off their limbs and engulfing them back in the flames where they belonged. Ashes to ashes.

Oh, it had been so beautiful! And then that pitiful puppy of Angeal's had to ruin it, asking if he had "lost his mind." Oh contraire Zack Fair…he had found it at last! Of course he was not met with a similar opinions, for he was now trying to do something no one had ever attempted: destroy the world. In their eyes, he was the villain. But he was really just saving them from themselves, for they would destroy each other eventually. Why not die gloriously from his own hand instead of suffering through years of ennui's and misery? The geniuses of this world always had a hard time convincing others. How feeble human minds were.

Not as weak as Cloud Strife. It had been positively delicious to control him, whispering his intents into his mind, making him howl in anger and pain. He wanted domination of his thoughts and mind again? That wouldn't happen. Sephiroth was having far too much fun making him do his own bidding to relinquish his command over the human male. How he enjoyed making him place the Black Materia into his crystal mako bed, for it was the final step he needed. Now that that pesky flower girl was out of the way, nothing would hinder his plans!

Or so he had thought. Cloud had somehow managed to heal his mind, and there was no more of that delicacy of mind possession. What a terrible pity. How he had wished he could have won that final battle, but as lovely aberrations always are prone to do, he fell away into the Lifestream, battered and bleeding profusely, waiting for the time when his reunion would come.

It had come sooner than he had expected. There were three Remnants who's sole purpose was to re-create him, for they were physical manifestations of his own volition and spirituality. How interesting was it that no matter how many copies had been made of himself, that he would always be the alpha! None could duplicate him, no matter how much they tried to. He took over the strongest ones body, and delighted in being able to feel again, to touch his sword, and to leer down at Cloud, his wondrous puppet.

How he felt a thrill when he saw his mako blue eyes again, oculars that widened in absolute horror when he saw him re-appear. Good. One should always fear the predator, the leader of this Planet. Sephiroth saw no harm in telling his foe of his plan. Those infected with Geostigma would help him rule the world, and once he was done, he would toss their abused forms into the Lifestream, and it would result in a black coalescing that would taint those damned emerald lights for good. Then, there would be nothing stopping him.

And then, he was defeated. Countless blades surrounded him, and they all hit him with such an intensity that he had actually cried out. Him…making sounds of pain! It was almost laughable had the situation not been so grave.

"Stay where you belong…in my memories." How fitting that the last words he would hear from one of the human maggots had been from Cloud. He smirked, revealed his glorious black wing, and caught Cloud's eye. Sephiroth had never been one to let another take the last word.

"I will never…be a memory." Then, in a flutter of black feathers, his body returned to wherever his afterlife allowed. But Cloud hadn't even the slightest indication that that would not be the final time he saw him. Far from the last.

And after one more year of patience, absorbing energy, resting his precious eyes and straining his ears for the sound of his mother, he woke up. His eyes shot open, and he saw that he was encased in an ochre stone, one that glowed a brilliant scarlet all around him. Red waves of light waved in the air around him, and they were mesmerizing to watch. How fitting it was that he was greeted with the embodiment of blood in the air when he was to be reborn. Sephiroth took a deep breath, felt strength rise in his body, and in a matter of moments, he was whole once more. This time, he would not fail.

He appeared on the once vile shores of Midgar, and he was mildly surprised to find that it was no longer as filthy or dark as he recalled. The sun was out, and it shone on the water, scintillating in the light, as if many mermaids aimed their lovely eyes at the humans, giving them luck with their wink. How pathetic that someone would go to such lengths to rebuild the Planet, when he was certain to take it over! What a foolish aspiration.

'Mother, tell me what to do.' Jenova's voice had not been for some time now, but he figured it best for her to rest her voice, so that when she truly spoke to him, she would not tire. He shuddered to think of what remained of her. And even if the unthinkable was true, that she had somehow become eradicated, she would live on in his veins. He was Jenova's legacy.

Humans ran away from him, and he allowed them to live. Now was not the time for slaughter. It was the time to destroy this world. Sephiroth walked to the sands, and he focused on controlling the tide. If he focused enough, he would create a tidal wave massive enough to wipe away all of those on land. This was just one town out of the thousandths he had to destroy of course, an appetizer of sorts. But after so long, he craved the scent of despair. Sephiroth saw, in his fancy, that he would rise to the skies on his divine black wing, and then in that firmament he would streak everything red, watch as everything drowned. What a brilliant scheme!

Sephiroth allowed his mind to conjure up the image, and just as he saw the waves rock back and forth, swelling to an almost dangerous size, he saw an image out of his peripheral vision, the ever distinguishable blur: Cloud Strife himself.

He sighed and allowed the wave to stop, and he fought off Cloud's attacks, slightly surprised when he saw that he was using the Buster Sword, once wielded by Angeal Hewley, and then passed down to his pet, Zack Fair. It appeared it was passed from generations of imbeciles to this one.

"Well, it looks like you haven't lost your touch." Cloud said nothing to these words, and that bored Sephiroth. What use was toying with the man if he wasn't willing to cooperate, choosing ignorance over communication? He shrugged, and settled to coat his vision with the sight of the foolish mans blood. He wiped his masamune across his left cheek, swiping it just deep enough to leave a scar. Since Cloud was having such a pathetic time remembering that he was Sephiroth then he would give him a daily reminder. Let him see in the mirror each morning what he inflicted upon him, that he would never be a memory.

The warrior howled in rage, and he began giving him strong blows, ones that would have sent a weaker him to his knees. What an amusing thought! His knees would never fall unless it was to his own mother! Never would he bow before a human! They fought uphill, Sephiroth making the impression that Cloud was backing him into a corner. Oh, shouldn't he know by now that he was only toying with him? Sephiroth hadn't recalled the last time he had been this amused by his foe.

He decided to do two things: enrage the man and then give him a false sense of victory. That was sure to shatter his resolve. How sweet it would look when he saw the agony of defeat on Strife's face. His tears would fall, and they would be rain to Sephiroth's parched land, giving him something to dwell on when he was coaxing through the emptiness of space. He would make a memory then.

Sephiroth did the former, and pat a hand across his mouth. That would instill the seed of indignation in the man's chest, and it would be wondrous to see it take root, spouting twisted and black thorns over his body. Everything was diseased sooner or later. Then he allowed Cloud to think that he had defeated him, for he mocked surprise, defeat, and even pain as he allowed the man to impale him. He was always a good actor, the best pretender. Plus, someone had so graciously bestowed him the gift of fast regeneration, where even the slightest scratch would heal within seconds. It proved that he was on the correct path to being a god.

Then, when he tired of feigning suffering, he rose to his feet, and debilitated Cloud. How he reveled in his submission, in the way his body protested so severely to his own! It was as if Cloud's very sinew and fabric of his body rebelled against his own, the white in the yin yang pattern refusing to intermingle with the black side. The last bit of light was always the hardest to snuff out after all. He gripped the man's body and threw him against the guard rail, and he knew that if Cloud had been a lesser man, then he would have surely broken many bones in his back. And while he was at it, why not break his wrist? That would make him moan, and the sound would delight his deprived ear drums.

He snapped the bone in Cloud's wrist, and took pleasure in his obvious discomfort. Why, if he wanted to cause him discomfort, he should do the thing that he hated: get close to him. Sephiroth placed his mouth by his puppets ear, and he spoke low, to where there was no mistake in him knowing the words were for him alone.

"Well done, little puppet. I wished to see what you could do to this invisible body." Yes…he was invincible in this form, wasn't he? He was unstoppable with seven wings, and even though this body only had one, he was certain it was all he needed. One was the most powerful number after all, for it could morph into many forms, so many countless fashions. Sephiroth allowed Cloud to be released after that, for he wished to know what more he had up his sleeve, if he had gotten that cliché right. He was never much for those.

"I am not YOUR puppet!" His anger was stimulating, and he wished to see the light of rage die from his eyes. Those sapphires would glaze over in agony and the best sort of defeat, and Sephiroth would bask in it, breathing it in as if it were his own personal oxygen. How he longed for that! Sephiroth hit him again and again with his masamune, and he was slightly impressed how Cloud didn't seem to be wavering. Though, that was only to one who was watching the battle from a distance. If they were where Sephiroth stood, then they would have seen the fatigue his body emitted, and that he was losing blood, dripping his life away in a pointless struggle. How pathetic.

Sephiroth felt an irritant pain hit his throat, where Cloud had pitifully attempted to slice open his jugular. He felt like laughing, and then enjoyed feeling his flesh knit itself together. Cloud could never kill him!

"Why… wont you… DIE ALREADY?" Sephiroth smirked at the statement. He sounded like an errant child who demanded that he wanted something his way, or else he was going to throw a tantrum, annoying the adults that longed for silence. He sighed and gripped Cloud's blade as the man yet again attempted to slice his head off. Even if that happened, he would grow a new head and delight in seeing Cloud's revulsion and horror as he did the effort. That would be interesting.

He gripped the blades handle and whipped the weapon into the ocean. The last traces of the so called "legacy" were gone now, swept away by the sea. Cloud was defenseless. Sephiroth backed him up to where his torso hit the guard rails, and he thoroughly enjoyed feeling the man struggle against him. Yet another tally mark to the futile things the man had done that day. How it must have felt to have his hands behind his back, completely dominated! What a feeling it must have been!

"Let go." Sephiroth smirked to that remark, for why in his mothers name would he do such a thing? This would be the death of Cloud, and upon his death, he would reign upon the world. Mother would be so proud of him! Sephiroth spread his black wing out of his right shoulder blade, and let it smother Cloud's vision, blocking out the hated sunlight. He wanted Cloud's last thoughts to be about how he had failed, how he would never see light again. And, how he did not have such a grand thing on his own back.

"No. You're mine to control. You are only a hindrance to me and Mother. Die now Strife. Or…" His lips grazed the man's ear, and he wondered how Cloud would react if he licked his lobe. What a notion! He would squirm away, and he would feel as if he were being truly violated. Or, perhaps he would like it? The thought made Sephiroth frown. He merely shrugged it off as a wonderful fancy, something to cause Cloud…even more strife. He decided to make up for his lack of words by completing his sentence. "…join me." What an idea! Cloud would never join his conquest. Besides, Sephiroth would only use him for his strength. Or, make him his pet.

"How could you say that?" Sephiroth looked down at the struggling man, the one who was trying to summon up the mako in his veins, trying to use their abilities to make him stronger. Ah, yes. The man had been in one of those chambers for years after all. It was what made him so special. But, there was only room for one victor. Sephiroth paid the thought no matter. He was about to deliver the killing blow to Cloud's back, piercing his heart the way he had done that foolish little flower girl.

Then his plans fell apart once more. Sephiroth felt Cloud whirl around and grab his own blade from his gloved fingers, and in a speed that was too quick for even his eye to discern, he plunged the sword into his heart. Well. That certainly hurt.

Sephiroth lowered his head to where his silver hair hid his mildly surprised face. Were they destined to be an ever revolving cycle, vicious and intent on killing the other? Would this battle end? Of course it would. He paid no mind to the blood that poured from his chest, for though his heart was rapidly beating, every beat of his heart killing him, he managed one quick act.

"Go back to Hell." He would gladly go, but only if he could bring Cloud's unwilling spirit with him. If this was indeed his end before he inevitability came again, then he would show Cloud the meaning of the word Hell. He smirked and he was certain Cloud was not expecting his next move.

"Only if you will join me." Sephiroth stood up and took his own blade from his chest, and jammed it through Cloud's ribcage. A forget me not, one he would never not feel. There was no repairing this wound, for he had hit the heart's main artery, and there was no recovering from such an injury. He waited to feel his own organ regenerate, but as he felt a slow throb course through his chest, he was aware he had been waiting for far too long. What was happening? Had he only gained that ability for a short time, and it was useless for true hurt? How pointless!

Sephiroth was so deep in his tumult that he only realized he was falling when his legs connected with the scalding cold of the ocean. He flapped his wing calmly, wanting nothing more than to rise up and away, and take his place in the skies, watching down on what he would destroy from a cloud altar. But he couldn't feel his wing anymore.

He hit the water and attempted swimming, knowing even in this crisis, he would be able to make it to the shore. Cloud was underwater, and since the entire town would be drowned anyway, Sephiroth felt it fitting that he made him his first victim. But the only problem was that he felt something pull at him, dragging him under. It seemed as if there were small black hands on all parts of his body, coasting him through the currents, making it impossible to hit the surface of the water.

The sunlight winked in that endless light beneath the surface, and Sephiroth understood now that what he had seen in the waters before had been an omen: those supposed winks of fortune were of mockery. They twinkled because they knew that there was no escaping the ocean, no hiding from abyss itself.

'I will simply return then.' He allowed himself to be dragged, though he hated the sensation of being pulled down. It was as if he were the highest demon, being pushed from hand to hand, every body straining against his weight, pulling him to the underworld. Well, he was no demon. He was simply the devil himself. If a throne of animal bones and gems awaited him, then so be it.

Sephiroth allowed his eyes to shut, and he willed the wound in his chest to close, and he was only intensely aware that after a long while, it was doing nothing. But his calmness had lulled him to sleep, something he needed. His last thought was that a god didn't need to breathe, and for that he was thankful.


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The stirring of his eyelid's made Sephiroth realize that he was awake. Of course he would wake up, for he was not going to simply die from a mere wound to the heart. That was for weaklings to ascertain, and not him.

Sephiroth clenched and unclenched his fists and he delighted in feeling that he had hands, had a form to work with. How wonderful it was to have your own body, and not a pitiful copy like that Remnant had supplied him with. Vessels were simply that: something used for storage, and nothing more. He found that he was breathing, and he felt the rise and fall of his chest, something that greatly comforted him. Just knowing that he was capable of breath assured him of his soon to be rebirth.

He felt the need to open his eyes and to look around, and literally see where he was. One could not relax if they were under siege after all. Mako oculars opened, and he saw a sky of many colors, swirling and coalescing, as if the firmament were a rainbow. There were violet shades, and then deeper coats of blue, and then a bright yellow that hurt his eyes to stare at. Interesting. Was he in a higher form of the Lifestream? Last time he had been in a place that was constructed of ruby waves, and he was resting in a scarlet crystal. And this time? Sephiroth supposed it was only a matter of time before he found out.

The silver haired man sat up, and he saw that he was completely nude, devoid of his usual black leather uniform, with his masamune swinging like an ever faithful companion from his hip. That was fine, for he would get it back sooner or later. Sephiroth took a few deep breaths, and saw that everywhere, there were patterns of kaleidoscope colors adorning this barren landscape. He was sitting in something damp, and he felt the chill all throughout his legs and back. If that was the price to pay for another rebirth, he would endure it.

"Sephiroth." Sephiroth started, and turned his head from side to side. Then his eyes opened wide, his mouth opening in happiness. It was his mother! She was calling to him at last! She would know what was going on!

"Yes, mother?" He looked over his left shoulder, then his right. Was she here? Oh, that was a thought too glorious to imagine! His mother probably looked like him as well! What a beauty she must be! Sephiroth waited, and he felt his features etch a smile, one that only she could bring to his face. She was his truth, his purpose. She was his drive, his everything. He saw an approaching light, and he felt his eyes open, for surely that must have been her?

The light approached, bouncing in a gold hue. It assumed the form of a woman, and he saw that out of a seeming mirage, there was suddenly a form. A female stood not twenty paces away from him, looking down on his nude figure. She had long blonde hair to her waist, and her eyes were a light gray, mixing with a blue, as if her oculars themselves could not quite decide on a color. All over her body was armor of whites and gold, and there seemed to be metal etched into the design. She was a walking stronghold. This woman had a shield clutched in her hand that was almost as big as she was, as if she meant to protect herself from him. Good. He was not above killing women, especially if they proved to be troublesome.

Her eyes looked to him, and they narrowed, as if she could read his thoughts. Sephiroth laughed aloud at that, for there was no way she could do such a thing. Though, if there was one thing he had learned, it was that there was nothing more deceiving than a woman's appearance, or anyone's image for that matter.

"Mother? Sephiroth…you are a menace." Her voice was so strange. It was loud, booming around him, as if she had been shouting at him in a cave, the echo ringing in his lower eardrums, sparing him nothing. Sephiroth flinched, for he had not expected this. He chastised himself, for wasn't he supposed to be ready for anything? Yes, yes he was. Besides, this woman was no threat to him, just a disappointment. He thought that she was his mother coming for him at last, and he welcomed the thought with open arms. She would give him new life, and together, they would take over the world, and find somewhere new. Utopia would be theirs.

It was then that he recognized that this woman spoke to him, and furthermore, insulted him. Sephiroth smirked, and brought his right arm to rest over his knees.

"A menace. Thank you. I would prefer it if you called me a god though." Sephiroth watched as a thousand emotions splayed across her eyes: anger, hostility, and the knowledge that she had been had. Yes, for there was no one who could top him.

"And a god you will never be. Do you even know who you are talking to, arrogant one?" Sephiroth just looked at her, and smirked. Why was he even wasting his time talking to this woman? And further more, who did she think she was? No one could simply come up and talk to him, as if they deserved his speech, his time. He ignored her and lay back down, knowing that his mother would come for him soon. All he had to do was be patient. And if he ignored this woman, she would disappear.

Two full minutes passed, and Sephiroth was almost asleep when he felt his eyelids snap open, as if someone had forcibly pried them apart. He blinked and was about to inquire what happened when he felt his own body move not of his own will. One moment, he was laying down, and the next, he was sitting upright, as if he had never moved from his original position. What was going on?

Then he looked to the woman, and saw that she was speaking, chanting in a language that was soft, a whisper to the ears, a caress of the windpipe. From her words, he moved, and her fingers opened, almost as if he were…no. No, it couldn't be! He was not getting taken over by someone else! Sephiroth let his face convey nothing, and then he merely let himself use his strength to try to lower himself to the ground. Or, if he killed the woman, she wouldn't be so much of an obstacle to the idea of sleep, of rest. He tried to force himself to the ground, to sleep, but there nothing happened.

The woman smiled with thin lips, looked directly at him, and threw her hand in the air. Suddenly, he was airborne. His feet didn't touch the ground, and he felt a panic seize him, wiping rationality from his entire being. No one had ever dominated him before, in this way! This simply could not be! He was hanging in the air, as if there were a fearful puppeteer above him, leering down at him in his despicable glee. Were there strings attached to his wrists? Sephiroth could not comprehend how she, how this woman had managed such a feat.

"Ready to listen, puppet?" Sephiroth opened his mouth, and was about to stream a list of profanities at her, for he was no puppet, but the master himself! Yet this stranger seemed to think she could twist his convictions until they were nothing but ash. And by thinking, she made it reality. His body still hung in the air, and he was exposed for what he was, nude and raw, his entire essence showing. He tried speaking, but there seemed to be a hand that was clenched around his throat, his windpipe strangled by an unforgiving hand. She thought she could rob him of his speech?

"If you wont respect me, I will make you. You Sephiroth, have been a puppet your entire life. Jenova, the calamity, Harbringer of Death, and the being you assume your mother is false. Your parents were Professor Hojo, the man you deemed " a walking mass of complexes" and a lovely, foolish woman, Lucrecia Crescent. Never were you born from Jenova." Sephiroth felt as if every fiber of his being was on fire. He hated this! It was as if he were being talked down to, treated as if he were some pathetic human! How dare she! How dare she! He longed for the use of his throat, but there was no stopping the force on his neck. In fact, it seemed to increase in its strength, and for a moment, he could not breathe. He was wrong before, about one thing at least: gods' did need to breathe, eventually.

After an agonizing minute, the pressure on his throat released, and he choked, gasping for the air that was this world, this deceiving afterlife. What was this woman? Was she just another entity he would have to kill? Since Strife was gone, writhing around in the ocean current's somewhere, this woman may very well have been his next great foe. So be it then. The nameless woman with this power was now his enemy. He glowered at her, and he was sure he made a frightful image, his oculars smoldering in his skull, as if he housed two twin green fires in his head. He could never remember feeling this humiliated. And above all…this woman was telling him nothing but lies!

Her face revealed a cold smile, one that was devoid of anything other than brutal wisdom.

"As you wish arrogant one. I am Minerva, Goddess of the Lifestream, and ruler of several different realms. I also hold something very precious to every human." She emphasized the word human, and Sephiroth thought she surely must have been joking. This was the woman Genesis so idolized? What a joke! Her eyes flashed in righteous anger, and she shook her head, as if she pitied him. He hated pity.

"So be it. I hold memories, yours included." She threw her hand to the side, and he fell to the ground on his left hip, gasping and swallowing, trying to get the imaginary ghost of the hand on his neck off, away from even his memory. Then he looked to her and smirked. This woman was insane! "Experience the truth, arrogant one. It may kill you." The words were an omen of only the most frightful sort and as Sephiroth tried to let his body relax, to where he could ignore the woman, this "Goddess" and finish gathering energy, something very strange happened.

He felt himself being hurled through a large expanse of space, sky and ground tumbling him head over feet. There was no time for a reaction, for he was traveling far too fast for thought, for rationale, for anything. He didn't even have the time to open his mouth, for he knew if he did, he would wind up retching all over himself. What was this? How dare this "Goddess" do this to him? Did she have any idea who he was?

Sephiroth landed roughly to his right, and he found that the first thing he noted was that he was fully clothed in his uniform again, though he had no weapon on his hip. He would get it eventually he was sure. Then he heard the sounds. There were the screams of Nibelheim! He tilted his head up and waved his hand back and forth, as if he were listening to an opera singer wail about melancholy. It was music to his very ears.

Then he felt the pain. The searing. The tearing. The ripping. And he was aware of a sound above all of the other screams: his own.


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