GCB Fanfics: The Fanfiction Project

August 11th, 2003


Preshow:
"Good Knight?"

In less than a week's time, Link's world had turned upside down. All the grounding he had for himself was shaken, his foundations uprooted. It was as though the gods themselves were mocking him. All he had to his name these days was a championship title from last year-a title which was looking more and more in jeopardy.

Too much had happened at once. Zelda had run off with a chaos emerald, avoiding even him. He had discovered that Ganondorf was using another tournament fighter to get to him, and was manipulating events in his favor. That revelation had caused him to lose control fighting against Fox, and the results had been gruesome-although not fatal this time. Kaepora had been avoiding him since the match... or was it the other way around? What it came down to, is that he'd been stuck with the company of Tingle, and the little sprite was continually grating on his ears with his enthusiastic praise. He had to get away-so he decided to pay a visit to Crono before his fight.

The walk to Crono's room gave him ample time to think. By coincidence or conspiracy, the higher seeds were lodged in opposite corners. Link's mind returned to the events which had shaken him. None of it made sense. Zelda had been one of the most stable people he had known, but she had lost it. Link had to wonder why he had ever relied on her after seeing what she had done. She gets her first taste of real power... and she just runs away... avoids everyone else... and thinks no one can relate to her now. And to think, she was worried about me.

From what he had heard from the hedgehog and his friends, the chaos emeralds held some significant power... but they did not concern him, and they should have not concerned Zelda. Whatever those emeralds can do, protecting the Triforce should be our primary concern- the animals can worry about their own trinkets.

Thinking about the Triforce led Link's mind to the biggest surprise of all... Ganondorf's fall. Unconsciously, Link began to speed up as he thought about the upset which had shattered his conceptions of the tournament. He was breathing more heavily. Ganondorf, his arch-nemesis... the king of evil, who had terrorized Hyrule and proven undefeatable to all but Link... he had fallen to an unknown wizard. All the prophesies seemed useless now. Everything about Link's existence had been based around destroying Ganondorf, and believing that he was the only one who could do so. The Master Sword had been forged to defy the power of the Triforce that Ganondorf held. Without it, killing Ganon was impossible. Why else had he fought so hard and done so much to obtain the sword he now bore?

But Magus had accomplished that same task armed only with his own magics. He had fought the wizard evenly, and destroyed Ganon's final form with a nightmarish spell while Link himself had been knocked unconscious. Link hadn't even been able to witness it- he had heard the tale from Crono, and had to sit still, sulking, as the swordsman bragged about his friend.

It wasn't fair. But of course, that wasn't enough. The ultimate injustice had to follow. The Triforce of Power... the artifact he was destined to protect, and keep out of unrighteous hands-it had chosen Magus as its bearer, in an act which defied all explanation and logic.

Link reached Crono's door a little more quickly than he had expected. He realized that he was gripping his sword's handle so tightly that his knuckles were white. His entire body felt ready to fight. Link took a minute to calm himself down. He was here to see Crono, the other swordsman could probably use his advice.

The door creaked open slowly, and Link inched his way through, letting it slam shut behind him. Crono was lying on his bed, his head resting in his arms. A second figure sat in the shadows. The two had apparently just finished a conversation-Crono looked like he was thinking about something, and the other man was picking himself up. As the light illuminated the other man, Link could see blue hair and red eyes. His blood began to rise up in him. Magus...

The wizard nodded to him politely, and began to step out of the room. Not even a word for me. The two had never really spoken. Link's eyes quickly darted down at Magus's palms, and was surprised at what he did not see. The emblem of the Triforce was absent. Is that even possible? Could he not know? No, ridiculous. He must be holding it back.

Crono drew his attention away from the departing magician. "Hey Link, good to see you. What's up?"

"Not much." Link looked for a place to sit down, and decided that he would prefer to stand. "Look, Crono, I just wanted to give you some advice on your fight."

"All right." The warrior nodded agreeably. "Feint low, cut high... what?"

Link forced a laugh. "No, your technique is excellent, and you did a great job last time. It's just..."

Link struggled to put what he was thinking into words. Crono had done exceptionally well in his fight last round, but he had made a major mistake. Link could tell the warrior had held back, to his detriment. Crono had been willing to jeopardize his win against an opponent who might have even killed him. Tom Nook was just another animal... Link failed to see why his welfare should take priority over Crono's own. It was a simple mistake to make. A long time ago Link might have behaved similarly, but he had learned to take things more seriously. Crono simply had to be reminded that he was in a fight.

Link completed his thought. "It's just that you hold back too much. Kefka will fry you if he has a chance. Out of all the people here, he's probably the one you can least afford to go easy on."

Crono nodded. He had heard it all before. "I don't intend to go easy on him, and I'm going to win. I just don't want to kill him if I can help it."

Link sighed. "You can't win that way. Your opponent has to worry about himself, he doesn't need you doing it for him. Any weakness that you show against Kefka, he'll just exploit. He killed his last opponent. He'll do the same to you if you're not careful."

Crono nodded. "Yeah...." His voice trailed off. It was obvious that he was still thinking.

Link knew that he had done all he could-Crono would just have to figure it out for himself. "Well, listen. I just wanted to wish you good luck. I'll look forward to seeing you in action out there."

Link walked out of the room as Crono waved goodbye. The fight was looking like an interesting one, that was for sure.


Battle:
"Dancing Mad"

Laughter. Laughter followed the maniac wherever he went. It wasn't warm, good-natured laughter, a child's amused giggle. Nor was it the cocky, taunting guffaw of a competitor whose rival has just slipped up, costing him the victory.

This laughter was empty, remorseless, without feeling, much like the jester himself. It was cruel and whimsical, random and terrifying, and completely and totally insane. The sky above the arena was dark, thick with rain-clouds. And as Crono stood in the arena, forcing himself to relax, that laughter wafted out of the entrance tunnel, preceding his foe's arrival.

Crono grit his teeth. This was it... the red-haired swordsman knew that if he lost the fight, he wouldn't be returning home... at least, not alive, anyway. Countless people--Auron, Magus, even Link and Sephiroth--had warned the teenager about the consequences of his heroic nature. This was truly 'kill or be killed.'

And yet, Crono wasn't comfortable with that black and white situation... it wasn't in his nature. But the warrior certainly didn't want to die. Death didn't scare him; he had faced and conquered it before. Rather, it was the fact that he would never get to see Marle or Lucca again, never spar with Frog again, never tell his mother he loved her again... the absence of life terrified Crono far more than death ever could.

As the fiery-haired swordfighter stood, lost in thought, his opponent danced up to him, skipping every few steps, jumping back a pair and chuckling madly, then walking up once more. "I thought you looked a little stupid... so I drew you my own self-help booklet! Mwehehe!" giggled the jester named Kefka, reaching into his colorful robes and pulling out what looked like a piece of paper, folded in two.

Puzzled, the taller man warily took the slip of paper, unfolding it and glancing at the inside.




What is he up to? Is he just... insane?

Kefka smiled a shark's smile, baring several teeth that had been filed to points... and handed Crono a second piece of paper. "I like the second part better..." he chuckled softly to himself.

This time, Crono rather expected what had been drawn in the same crude style.




Crono's gaze hardened, and he let both pieces of paper fall to the ground, gently blowing away in the wind. The Hero of Time held out his hand, not moving his gaze from Kefka's face... and a blast of lightning vaporized the two sheets of paper in the blink of an eye. The golden stud in Crono's ear glittered.

Needless to say, Kefka wasn't pleased. "You... I... I worked hard on that, you imbecile! You little red-haired monkey..." growled the insane mage, hopping up and down, teeth clenched. "I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

In the next moment, however, the infernal jester was as calm and placid as could be. Kefka began to softly applaud. "Your magic is very impressive. Quite toasty, I like it." He bared that same humorless grin. "But mine's better."

The jester brought his hands back, and then quickly pushed them forward again. Crono's eyes shot open in realization and he leapt to the side, not a moment too soon. The air seemed to become oppressively hot; Crono could barely breathe... and then a spark of flame ignited where the swordsman had stood, whipping into a swirling holocaust, completely obliterating that area.

Kefka stamped his feet when seeing that Crono had escaped. "Urgh, you idiot. Stay still! Stop trying to live! You don't even understand battle..." the predator's smile returned. "you see, the chase is half the fun..."

His magic... I've never... The swordsman climbed to his feet, gulping down air. "Dare I ask what the other half is...?" he said at last, holding the Rainbow up in a defensive posture.

A pale white eyebrow arched. "The kill, of course."

Crono had had enough. From what he had seen, he knew that Kefka was far, far too powerful to toy with... he had to finish this as quickly as possible. Tightening his grip on the handle of his katana, the swordsman slashed quickly, four rapid strikes in the time it would have taken a normal person simply to draw his blade. Crono had always been good with time.

With each slash, the air rippled outward, the force of the attack carrying over into the very molecules of the wind itself. Kefka raised the other eyebrow. "Hmm? What the...!!"

The first two Slash techniques slammed into the diabolical clown, knocking him off of his feet... but Kefka was ready for the second two. As he came down, he fired a pair of low-powered energy balls. They collided with the attacks in midair, neutralizing both. "Well! You're smart!" Kefka began to laugh insanely, raising his voice. "But that won't stop you from getting fried!"

Emperor Gestahl's right-hand man straightened up, firing dozens and dozens of the small, weak energy spheres at Crono, a veritable sea of darkness. Crono had no choice. He began to swing his sword at speeds unmatched by virtually anyone alive, swinging a dozen times before one could even count a second.

The Slashes and the energy spheres met, neutralizing one another, forming an explosion of nothingness, a blast of emptiness. Nature abhors a vacuum, and the air rushed in to fill the void left by the clash of the two energies... Crono, the physically stronger of the two competitors, was able to stay on his feet. However, Kefka was pulled to the ground.

Crono seized the opportunity. This was his chance. Dashing at high speed at the fallen Kefka, Crono readied his blade. As soon as Kefka had climbed to his feet, he saw the teenage warrior, his blade outstretched, bringing death. Kefka welcomed death--although not his, specifically.

With a speed that stunned the younger competitor, his elder adversary ducked under Crono's massive slash. Stopping and turning, Crono slashed downward, but Kefka dodged to the side. The jester fired a bolt of lightning at point-blank range, catching Crono in the chest.

Every single nerve in the redhead's body fired at once, his body overloaded by pain and ecstasy, sorrow and elation... Crono screamed loudly, arching his back at a painful-looking angle.

"That was a lesson, little boy..." cackled Kefka. "The lesson is: you can't beat me! Uweeheeheehee!" He stalked closer and closer to the younger fighter, charging a dark magic spell. Crono shivered, curled up on the ground in the fetal position, cold sweat lining his back... someone whispered in his ear, the voices of the dark beyond, who always called for him, seeking him... he had escaped them before, and Death did not like those who slipped from his grasp.

Slowly, the world began to come back into focus... and just as Kefka threw the bomb of darkness down, Crono leapt into the air, hacking down at the wizard with his glittering blade.

What happened next was rather surreal. Holding the attack back in an instant, Kefka grinned again, and the sphere of nothingness was sucked into the palms of the jester's hands. With the magic sheathing his palms, the dark mage reached up, catching the deadly blade as if it were nothing more than a cheap wooden weapon.

Crono's eyes went wide again, but then he grinned, pulling the sword from the clown's hands before he could grab hold. The swordfighter landed in a defensive stance, his strength returning to him.

Kefka stared at him with that empty, frightening gaze, gently resting one of his hands against his cheek. "Well, you have courage. Or stupidity. I haven't really decided yet, mwe hee hee!" As the jester pulled his hands away, he noticed a dark red, wet mark on his cheek. Kefka, puzzled, looked at his hands.

A long, dark gash ran across both of his palms, leaking blood slowly. Kefka hadn't noticed the pain--what was pain to one as powerful as he, anyway? Yet that wound was a testament to the power of Crono and his blade, that they had had the strength to at least partially penetrate Kefka's defenses.

And the clown began to laugh softly to himself... an angry laugh, laden with both hatred and amusement. "Heh heh...blood? You... you... you made me bleed... I bleed? I don't bleed! I hate to bleed..." Kefka's eyes were wild and insane.

"You hurt me! You actually HURT me!" The jester whirled around, unleashing a massive blast of lightning, blue energy sizzling through the air, crackling and hissing.

Crono was barely quick enough to hold his sword up in front of the attack. The lightning hissed around the crystalline blade, dispersing in one of two directions--up, harmlessly, into the air... or down into Crono's hands. The young warrior's hands seized up, threatening to move on their own, yet the redhead willed them to continue grabbing, WILLED them to stay... his palms began to smoke... and then, it was over.

Kefka wiped the blood off on his white-painted face, making him look even more demonic than he had before. "Hmm. You're fun. I like you. I don't suppose that hurt, hmm?"

Trying to fight the searing pain in his palms, Crono nodded, shrugging. "A bit..." he admitted. "But you'll have to do better."

Kefka's eyes gleamed. "An excellent attitude to take! You have no idea how rare it is to find someone who truly embraces pain."

Crono just looked at him blankly. At times like this there was nothing to say.

"Chaos... decay... destruction... this is the natural state of everything! All things destroy themselves by nature! You can either fight the pain which is life... or you can welcome it with open arms!"

The sensations were gradually fading from Crono's hands. He felt more than ready to continue the battle. "I'd rather control my own fate," he informed the wizard. Crono began to advance on Kefka, cutting the distance between them.

Once again giggling, Kefka shook his head. "You silly, silly, PINHEAD! Don't play with fire, you'll just get burned!" Twin flames appeared in the jester's hands, dancing, casting ominous flickering shadows on the ground. In the firelight, Kefka's face contorted wildly. "Run, run, run... or you'll be well-done..."

With a deafening whoosh, the twin jets of flame soared through the air at Crono, who leapt forward to meet them, swinging his Rainbow katana around to parry the flames away harmlessly. Kefka merely looked amused, laughing to himself.

The teen from Guardia continued to run, ignoring the pain in his hands as he gripped the sword. He swung his sword around in a sweeping cut, a modification of his Cyclone maneuver... and steel met crystal as the insane jester whipped a blade out from under his robes, parrying the strike. "Heeheeheehee...!!" chuckled Kefka. "Not the only one who can use a sword, now, are you?"

Kefka struck an overhead blow down at Crono, but the younger competitor easily parried it. "True," shrugged the redhead. "But now you're playing on my field." With that, Crono leapt into a flurry of attacks, slicing rapidly at his foe.

The mage simply couldn't keep up with the strength, power, and skill of his adversary. Bleeding from a hundred minor cuts, Kefka scowled, summoning his power to him. As Crono lifted his arms to strike once more, Kefka slammed his fist into the boy's unprotected stomach, releasing the energies he had stored.

The next thing Crono saw was the ground coming up to meet him, rather fast.

As the red-haired hero hit the ground hard, like a rag doll, the crowd let up a collective gasp. He was by far the crowd favorite, but he seemed to not be doing as well as people had hoped. Some were already starting to cheer for Kefka, actually. But those that were still rooting for Crono let out a loud cheer as their hero stirred.

Crono staggered to his feet, wiping his hand across his mouth. It came away tinted red. Although he was fighting for his life, something deep inside Crono couldn't help getting excited. He was a fighter, a warrior. He had always fought not to bring death, but to protect life. And here he was, fighting against what could very well be called the physical representation of Death itself.

The battle spirit was welling up inside Crono.

A single drop of rain landed on the back of Crono's hand, and the teen looked up at the cloudy sky, just as the heavens opened. The rain began to pour down, quickly chilling everything and everyone in the arena to the bone.

Kefka stared at his foe through the rain, the water wiping his makeup from his face, smearing it all over his demonic visage... Kefka couldn't care less. His bloodlust was raging, his desire to kill boiling within. Lightning flashed overhead, as the jester hissed at Crono. "You pathetic little fool... running from the inevitable! All things must die in time. Have you ever tasted death, coward?"

Crono allowed the rain to set in, dampening his tunic. "Yes. I didn't like it."

"Oh, I've tasted death," Kefka whispered, as if letting Crono in on a great secret. "They killed me... and turned me into THIS!" Lightning slammed down between them, but neither warrior moved. Kefka whispered again, his eyes glowing with rage. "And I killed them for it, too."

With an effort, Crono kept his face expressionless, shutting out the chaos around him, containing his horror, and letting his fury build up. Kefka only wanted a reaction from him. In order to win the clone that had ended up saving his life, he had had to control himself to mimic his double perfectly-a skill that occasionally came in handy. He remained silent, letting the madman ramble on and distract himself. Babbling was not the way of the warrior... it only served to destroy one's concentration.

Kefka finally began to be annoyed by Crono's silence, and cut himself off. "Fine! Just allow me to speed you on your way! Oh, you might be able to take an attack here and there, but you really think you can stand up to ME?"

The problem with the boy was... his sword... that stupid sword had blocked Kefka's precious fireballs, had absorbed most of his delightful lightning. The boy would continue to dodge or block the jester's attacks. And that infuriated him.

A diabolical grin crept onto Kefka's face, and he held his hand out at Crono, palm flat, facing outward. "Let's see how you take this one..."

The air began to ripple in front of Kefka's palm, shimmering, compressing and expanding rapidly. Crono narrowed his eyes. Whatever this was, it was powerful... although his overall magic wasn't nearly at the level of Kefka's, he did have some relative skill with the magical arts. And right now, he could sense the growing power in that distorted air.

An invisible ball of power began to swell in front of Kefka's palm, the shimmering air the only indicator of the staggering energies that the jester was gathering to himself. A piercing shriek rent the air, splitting the eardrums of all and sending shivers down the spine of all who were magic-sensitive.

Crono winced. This attack would be powerful, he knew... but he could probably dodge it. It wouldn't be that hard. Why was Kefka wasting all this energy on such a single powerful attack? If he missed, then he'd have expended a great deal of power uselessly. The two warriors stared each other down, looking each other in the eye, glaring... the rippling air swelled.

And then, Kefka began to laugh, and moved his arm to the side, switching his aim. His arm was now pointed straight at the audience... who had no idea what was going on, being unable to see the blast, especially through the rain.

The swordsman stiffened up, eyes widening suddenly. "Gah... no! You... you can't!" Crono shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the pouring rain. He wouldn't. Is he THAT evil?

Kefka's voice was dark, ominous, bringing to mind nothing so much as the sharpening of an executioner's axe. "Can't I?" He laughed again, cackling madly. "You can save yourself-but doom innocents! Life or death? The choice is yours!"

He fired the massive spell, a slow-moving, incredibly powerful blast of rippling air and shimmering energy. Death moved on its inexorable course at the audience, who remained blissfully unaware of their impending doom.

The air seemed to slow down around Crono as the teen began to run. Kefka had said that the choice was his. Yet to the Hero of Time, there was no choice. It hadn't been a choice to him when he had faced down Lavos during the collapse of Zeal. On the contrary, it had felt completely and totally natural to him... it was the right thing to do.

Crono leapt into the air, willing himself higher and higher... and a smile came onto the redhead's face moments before he collided with the energy blast.

In the next instant, all he was, every single bit of his existence... was pain. Magical energies that Crono couldn't even comprehend, let alone describe, tore at his body, battering it. The young swordmaster from Guardia let out a wordless scream of agony as he felt his chest crushed by the force of a thousand iron hands.

A blinding light erupted from the blast, causing all but the foolhardy or already blind to turn away to protect their gaze. An enormous explosion mushroomed from what seemed to be nothing more than air, and then the energies imploded in once more, throwing the young crowd favorite to the ground.

On his hands and knees, Crono was shaking, pains stabbing in his chest with every breath he took. One or more of his ribs were probably cracked... Crono coughed, and flecks of red spattered the white tile. He was a lump of agony with flaming red hair.

Despite the excruciating pain, however, Crono stiffened straight up, eyes widening, as he heard Kefka begin to laugh from behind him. "Well, THIS one should hit you... oh, oops! Missed again!"

Crono whirled around, fighting the stab of pain within his chest as he spun, only to see Kefka shoot another energy blast at the audience in the opposite direction. No!!! Staggering to his feet, Crono ran as fast as he could, leaping into the spell, detonating it once again.

This time, when he hit the ground, it was a bit longer before the younger competitor was able to climb to his feet, staggering and swaying. A trickle of hot red leaked into Crono's eye, partially blinding him... but the hero was not going to be granted a rest so easily. Laughing maniacally, Kefka launched another blast at the unaware audience.

In the aforementioned audience, the crowd was growing restless. The rain was pouring down, chilling them to the bone, water permeating every single inch of muscle and flesh. To make matters worse, the deluge was obscuring their view of the fight... although, from what they could see, the younger swordsman was getting utterly trashed by the insane mage.

"What's he doing?" growled a middle-aged, balding man who had been drinking hot coffee. "This is ridiculous! I came here to see a fight, and look at this! He's not even putting up much of a match... Crono's just getting annihilated!"

All around him, quite a few of the spectators seemed to have rather similar opinions. Some of them, very disappointed with how the destroyer of Lavos was faring, were even starting to cheer for the diabolical clown. Gradually, the chants began to proliferate around the jam-packed stadium, whether they were "Go Kefka!" or "Booo! Crono sucks!"

The only section of the stadium that was still silent, appropriately enough, was the competitors' seating. Bowser had been laughing, but a handy 'silence' spell courtesy of Cloud had cut that off... the armor clad warrior was currently sitting rigid in his seat, trembling with rage. He knew what was going on... even if he couldn't see it with his eyes, unlike most the spectators, he could feel it. The malevolent energies were like a sea of anger, of hatred...

The other magic-sensitive warriors could feel it too. Magus wore a dark expression on his face, disgusted at the clown's dishonor and treachery. Next to him, Link was similarly repulsed by the choice Kefka had given Crono. Even Sephiroth's expression was darkly brooding, although Cloud suspected that had more to do with his coming to terms with the existence of a power that rivaled his than anything else.

How can they be booing him... why must they be so blind? The unsung hero... he saves them, he bears so much pain for them, and yet they boo him... why is it always like this?

Kefka, on the other hand, was currently delighting in his foe's misery. Crono was on his knees, coughing up blood onto the stone tiles, his tunic shredded and tattered, his skin bruised and lacerated. He looked dully into space, his eyes glazed-over and unfocused. "Mwahahahaha... you hear that? That is the delightful sound of humiliation! Thousands of voices crying out in unison... for blood! Those morons... you save them, and they boo you! Uweeheehee!" as the jester continued to laugh, he walked over to his fallen foe, suddenly bringing his foot up to kick Crono in the jaw. The half-dead boy flopped to the ground, looking like a corpse for all the world.

A contemplative expression found its way onto Kefka's face, as he looked down at the prone Crono, who barely seemed to notice the pouring rain. "Hm. I wonder how loud a crunch your head will make underneath my heel..." The jester brought his leg up, intending to squash his adversary's skull like a grape beneath his boot...

CRONO!! ... ...Marle?

In the next moment, Kefka doubled over, choking out a gasp, the end of the Rainbow Katana poking through his back, dark with blood. Crono pulled his blade back, letting Kefka fall free, clutching at the wound on his stomach. "You let your guard down..." said Crono through clenched teeth, still fighting the pain of his wounds but appearing to have recovered at least some of his fighting spirit.

Crono climbed to his feet, looking down at his enemy. "That stab didn't hit anything crucial. It was painful more than anything else... you should live."

However, his foe seemed to pay him no heed. Kefka, cradling the wound with both hands, brought two bloody fingertips to his mouth and licked them clean. "The taste of blood... the taste of... it should be... the taste of your blood." Kefka shot Crono a furious glare, full of hatred. "Ironic... that he who claims to be such a champion of life... is fully capable of dealing death. Admit it. You revel in the destruction, you delight in the unmaking of what has been made! You are much the same as me, you little..." a cough wracked Kefka's body, and blood splattered on the ground.

The jester straightened up, letting go of the wound, the blood flowing onto his colorful robes. "Die!" screamed the jester, unleashing a powerful, desperate, magic blast from an outstretched hand.

Its effect was slightly less than none. Crono seemed to disappear, vanishing, allowing the magic blast to pass through him, crashing into the floor below, tearing up the stone and concrete tiles. Before Kefka could even register this bizarre occurrence, the swordsman smashed into him from behind, delivering a mighty blow. Yet when Kefka had spun to counter, Crono had once more dematerialized, this time reappearing and attacking from the side. Now furious, Kefka shot a fireball at the young warrior, but it too hit the ground harmlessly as the redhead vanished into thin air. The next attack seemed to come from two sides at once, slamming into the clown with two extremely rapid slashes.

The next thing Kefka knew, he was kneeling on the ground in front of his younger foe, the katana pressing up against his neck. The crowd appeared once again to be rooting in Crono's favor... however, Crono himself appeared to not be hearing them at all. There was a fire in his face, a determination that Kefka had never seen on the swordsman's visage before.

Crono raised his katana, preparing for a final, killing, strike... "Heed my warning, especially for the next round. Show no mercy, Crono..." the voice of the man in the black coat echoed in his mind... Kefka didn't deserve to live. He hadn't killed him when he had stabbed the jester in the stomach, but the blow had only infuriated his opponent...

The sword began its slow, inexorable descent. He would have killed me in an instant. Why should I be so different? Why should I... the Rainbow glittered in the rain as it sliced down at the evil mage. And then, unbidden, a memory stirred of a fellow swordsman, an elder warrior... "You have your own story, Crono. No one else but you may write it."

A thin line of blood trickled down the side of Kefka's neck where the Rainbow had stopped abruptly against his skin, just short of a deadly decapitating blow. Crono exhaled, a load of tension releasing from his shoulders. "This match is over... you have been defeated. Now leave... and never, ever, come back..."

Crono turned and began to limp away through the pouring rain... when a sound from behind stopped him. "Heh... heh... heh..." Huh?

Behind him, Kefka was still in that same position, softly whispering to himself, a dark, sinister laugh. "Pity? You're... you're pitying me, are you?" The jester began to chuckle some more, a laugh laden with a deep, bitter, rage. "I've... I've never been pitied. Pity is for the weak... you are weak... I am not weak..."

Kefka stood up suddenly, and screamed. "This tournament is nothing to me! The petty lives of the competitors, the worthless insects that come to watch this bloodsport... it is nothing to me! And so, it shall be nothing! This arena shall be the foundation of my monument to nonexistence!!!"

Eyes wide, Crono spun around. The air was becoming oppressively heavy, as though an invisible giant had decided to sit down atop the arena... it was hot... so hot...

Although he was a skilled swordsman, the young boy from Guardia also had fair talent with magic, specifically the Lightning element... however, there was a certain disparity between his magical attacks. His normal, lightning-based spells did the job, yes, but they didn't showcase the warrior's true magical power. Crono's magnum opus, on the other hand... it was a spell that even the swordsman feared to use to its full extent, such was its power. And that power was rather akin to what he was feeling here...

The two foes matched glares, Crono's determined sapphire stare and Kefka's dark, insane one... and then, Kefka laughed, the empty, cruel laugh of the jester-telling his final joke. "ULTIMA!!!"

A speck of blue light burst into being between the two, yet it didn't remain a speck for long... it began to expand at a terrific rate, a swirling tempest of azure energy, completely obliterating everything in its path.

The younger competitor shook his head, closing his eyes. He had seen Kefka use this skill against Pac-Man... yet that destruction had been more ordered, more focused. This blast was pure, chaotic, rage. And Crono knew he only had one chance against such malevolence.

"LUMINAIRE!"

The golden stud in Crono's ear shattered.

Crono threw his arms back, letting the mystical power that the Master of War had granted flow through him. The stud that had been in his ear acted like a type of seal... reducing the power of a magical technique, but by the same token reducing the amount of energy it would take to cast it. With the seal broken, Crono's technique would be fully unleashed.

A teal sphere erupted around the younger warrior, growing just as fast as Kefka's spell. And then, Kefka's Ultima and Crono's Luminaire clashed, igniting a frightening maelstrom of powers, a storm of magical energy. Pure chaos that screamed and howled and unmade met its kin, and the two wreaked havoc together on the arena.

However, where the two attacks met, there was an interesting phenomenon where the two energies canceled each other out--the eye inside the storm, so to speak. Inside that eye, Kefka was laughing, a shrill, gleeful laugh. It was here, inside the power of Death, that he was most comfortable... it was here that he truly belonged... inside nothingness...

Something touched the top of his head, something cold, as light as a kiss. Kefka would have easily dismissed it as a puff of air from the maelstrom around him... yet there was a unique quality to the sensation that caused the dictator to believe that it was perhaps something more. Kefka turned around, puzzled.

Crono was standing there, looking at the insane, diabolical jester. He sheathed his sword, the Rainbow, and his gaze softened slightly. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

Kefka, having had enough of Crono for one day, growled, immediately reaching within himself to summon the dark energies needed to annihilate the troublesome teen once and for all. He stopped, however, as a curious effect began to appear in his vision.

There appeared to be two Cronos. Or at least, if there were only one, he was slowly sliding apart, cut in half. Kefka briefly wondered how the boy could be so complacent about his obviously impending doom, when a brief flash of insight hit him. Kefka, puzzled, reached up to touch his forehead, his fingers trailing over his flesh until they found that one line, that one point where the flesh was no longer joined.

And Kefka began to laugh, the laugh of death, of nonexistence. His own nonexistence. Kefka fell forward to embrace that eternal dark, the nothingness beyond... and as the jester split, cleaved neatly in two, his dying, triumphant laugh echoed through the arena.

As soon as his spirit had fled the mortal coil, the repressed energies within no longer found themselves to be so controlled, and exited Kefka's body in a most disorderly fashion. A massive explosion of power erupted from the fallen sorcerer's body, washing over Crono, who vanished into the blast with a scream...

The tempest of energies eventually died down, leaving a very, very battle-scarred arena in their wake. A large portion of the arena floor had simply ceased to exist, having been obliterated straight down to the bedrock below.

And when the light faded, the audience saw something completely unexpected. In a relatively untouched area in the center of the ring, three figures--no, two--were lying on the ground, unmoving. Red liquid was staining the tile where Kefka lay, cleaved in half...

Beside him, his opponent looked just as dead, if considerably more whole. Crono lay, bloodstained and beaten, unmoving. Even the sharpest eyes in the audience couldn't make out if the red-headed competitor were breathing or not. Silence reigned supreme as every single member of the crowd tried to make sense of the scene before them. A tie? What did the protocols say to do in case of a tie...?

In the middle of the ring, Crono coughed, spitting up blood. That lone sound echoed through the sepulcher-like silence of the arena, a fitting tomb for a warrior... and then, rather unsteadily, the young boy from Guardia climbed to his feet, and slowly began to stagger out of the arena, limping badly.

The crowd remained in awestruck silence as the victor wearily trudged his way out of the stadium... and then, in the competitors' section, the green-robed warrior known as Link stood up, and began to slowly applaud his fellow swordsman. That lone clapping echoed through the arena... until it was joined by that of Cloud Strife... and then that of Magus Zeal, and then that of the Princess Zelda, and that of the lone remaining Mario Brother, until the entire competitors' section was awash in applause for the victor. That applause quickly spread through the entire stadium, until everyone was cheering for the valiant warrior.

Overhead, a brand-new rainbow split the sky.


Aftermath:
"True Power"

Sephiroth stood in the doorway of the portal room. He wasn't supposed to be there, but who was gonna stop him. He looked on as the clean-up crew threw one bag into the portal, and then a second. The two guys in jump suits carefully walked by the son of Jenova, making sure not to bump into him. Sephiroth stared at the portal, he wasn't planning on being tossed into it by a janitor.

He slammed his fist against the side of the doorway, leaving a sizable dent, and then walked away. He thought back to his quarrel with Kefka, it had seemed that the insane clown's power was equal to his own. But that boy......that boy had destroyed Kefka. If Kefka hadn't brought the well-being of innocents into play, the boy would've vanquished him easily. It infuriated him.

Sephiroth walked out of the portal house and looked over to the training grounds. An enormous crowd had gathered to welcome Crono out of the infirmary. Apparently the fools had realized what had happened during the match and were coming to apologize for their idiotic actions. Scum thought Sephiroth. As he walked on towards the mansion.

He burst through the entrance of the mansion, several people leaped out of his way, few held their ground. Dante in particular remained in his path and refused to budge. Sephiroth scowled at the half-demon, but wasn't in the mood to force him out of the way. He took a step to the side and walked on. He heard a grunt of laughter from behind him. No matter thought Sephiroth He'll pay later.

He entered the elevator, and the cleaning lady who was going up quickly exited. His thoughts switched from Dante back to Crono. The boy's power just hadn't been with his sword, it had been his magic too. Kefka's magic was second to none, but yet the boy had matched him with his own spell. There wasn't an area he could attack where the boy was weak. His power had been true.

The elevator reached his floor. Sephiroth walked into his room and walked to his dresser. He hadn't brought a change of clothes, but it had served as a house for the accessory he had found upon arriving. He removed the trinket from the drawer and held it in his hand. He felt the immense power inside the crystal coursing through his body. He hadn't activated it yet, but he had watched the others, and pretty much figured out how to unlock its vast power. Still, just holding it increased his strength. He had no doubt that with that item he would be able to eliminate anyone in his way. He clutched the silver emerald in his hand and smiled. The boy couldn't contradict his power, no one could. He would show them what true power was....



Today's Authors: BigCow, Funkadelict, Furious J
"Pictures" by Jjukil (inspired by The Return of Ganondorf)
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