| GCB Fanfics: The Fanfiction Project |
August 13th, 2003Preshow: "Bring On the Payne" The Hero's Haunt was doing good business that afternoon. Max Payne sat a table across from Vercetti, with Snake and Samus to his left and right. A bounty hunter, a mob boss, an ex-cop, and a secret agent, all gambling and drinking together. It sounded like the setup for an impressive shootout. But that was as far from the truth as you could get-the four were there that day simply to pass the time, and focus their attentions on something other than fighting. Max had chosen to kill time playing cards instead of practicing for his match. Not that there was any way he could practice. He had nothing to go on. He had watched Sephiroth fight, and the deadly swordsman had dispatched another supernatural fighter with ease. He figured his nerves would best be suited enjoying himself in a comfortable environment than anticipating the inevitable. The four of them counted out their chips and took their cards silently. None of them wanted to say what was on their minds. Max Payne, a man who had never cared about the odds, had them stacked against him once again. And this time, his opponent could very well have more tricks up his sleeve than he did. None of them could say how they felt. To wish him goodbye might shake his confidence. Max glanced down at his hand. It was nothing special. Two nines was the best he could spot. "Yeah, well, good luck, Max," Vercetti said, with forced glibness. "Out there, I mean, not in here. You're going to lose against me no matter what." Max chuckled softly. Playing with the group here brought back so many memories. Alex Ross had been a pretty lousy poker player too. He opened the bidding with a high bet, just to spite Vercetti. Samus shook out her long blonde hair and gazed at her cards thoughtfully. Max hadn't played with her long enough to know if that was a tell for a good or a bad hand. Her helmet was off, but she kept the rest of her suit. Max had wondered about how uncomfortable that must be, but she claimed it had better cooling systems than the bar. She was an odd one. Samus ended up folding. Vercetti nodded respectfully at the move, but tossed in his chips to match Max anyway. Max was a little surprised that Vercetti wasn't being his usual uncharming self around Samus. Maybe his experiences with KOS-MOS had taught him something. Or maybe he was just too distracted. Snake matched Max's bet as well. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Max knew what was on his mind. The older fighter had tried advising him earlier about how to go up against an opponent like Sephiroth... but Max hadn't really wanted to hear it. He operated on chaos and luck. He was counting on Sephiroth not being used to a fighter like him, as much as the converse would be true. Snake wasn't pleased, but he respected Max's wishes, and hadn't brought it up again. But it obviously still weighed on his mind. Still, Max had no intention of letting someone else fight his battles for him-it was going to be won or lost his way. Max drew three cards, getting a third nine and some rubbish. At least it retroactively justified his first bid. He let the bidding pass him. Vercetti opened with a hundred, and Snake folded. The former secret agent knew when to back out... but he always seemed to end up winning more than he lost, making up for the small losses with some big wins. Max called the bet, simply because he had nothing better to do with his money. Vercetti flipped over his cards. "Full house." Max grunted and shook his head. "Nothing but three nines, the hand's yours for once." He turned his cards over on the table and began to pick himself up. He couldn't be seen showing up late to his match, he had to be getting ready. Vercetti called back his attention, however. "Not so fast Max... dueces were wild, remember? You've got four nines there. Pot's yours." Max looked at his former cards in disbelief. So he had. He couldn't believe he'd made a rookie mistake like that. Vercetti grinned at him. "Don't sell yourself short, Max, you'll be fine out there. Make all of us non-freaks proud." Max nodded, still a little surprised at his accidental win. He scooped up his chips with one hand and cashed them out. It didn't really matter one way or another who had won. It was just money, and he'd seen more pass through his hands on lesser occasions. It did give him a measure of well needed confidence though. Now, let's just hope I can keep that streak alive... Battle: "Fallen Angels" Sephiroth: Sephiroth stood tall and proud in the center of the arena- the focal point of attention for thousands of fans. Darkness was beginning to fill the field of battle as the sun set, but he could still be seen. The light that shone from his eyes was a dead giveaway. But of course, the son of Jenova had no need to hide. He never had. Not wishing to be spotted would imply that he had something to fear-that there was one greater than he. Despite the growing darkness, covering the arena like a blanket, Sephiroth had no intention of relying on stealth, or avoiding his foe. He would make another example of his opponent today, and face him full on. It was tragic, in a way. None of the others really understood it. They were not capable of understanding it. The contest... the arena, the crowd... all of them failed to understand the significance of what they took part in. Some saw it as a game, a diversion, a chance for glory. Entertainment, amusement-they viewed the arena as a place to do battle. Sephiroth saw the arena for what it really was. A temple. The crowd cheered and roared for him, like acolytes offering themselves as sacrifices to their god. The remaining contestants struggled and did battle-a pantheon of demigods striving to prove themselves worthy of worship. The crowd was there to recognize his glory, and they existed, like everything else, to serve him. And today, just as before, they were clearly on his side. His name was chanted across the arena, like a chorus of monks engaging in a ritual of meditation, all focusing on him. The crowd raised their hands in adoration-a rite of worship for a new age. Ancient legends had heroes, villains, and gods fighting together in the afterlife. Valhalla-a place where the greatest warriors of good and evil could relive their past battles, fighting forever until eternity's end. His afterlife had proven even greater... the power that the other contestants had, he would soon be able to claim as his own. It was his by right. All power was his by right. He would win the tournament, become the greatest among the demigods present, and he would rule this new world... or destroy it. He knew little of the forces that had arranged for this tournament, but Sephiroth believed that even they would have to bow to his wishes. But none of the others understood any of this. Not even the Ancient herself. It was only fitting-they were for the most part, after all, merely human. A title which did not even begin to describe him. His doomed foe entered the arena to muted cheers. He seemed surprised to find Sephiroth already standing there. The silver haired swordsman smiled. Max Payne would soon become another example of the frailty of mortal man. He was merely another obstacle that Sephiroth would turn into a tool to aid in his ascension. ---- Max Payne: It was all coming down to this. You fight for weeks, endlessly battling the best that your world has to offer-only to come face to face with a warrior beyond your experience. The chill of the night air and the shivers of fear running through my body were competing for my attention. I shut them both out. It was only one man I had to fight today. Considering how many men I had killed in my search for revenge, that should have made it seem easy. But I was only one man as well. My opponent faced me with unwavering eyes, staring into my soul. If looks could kill, there would have already been at least one death here. His eyes glowed like he was holding back the fires of hell within him. His face was noble and aristocratic- his whole appearance suggested confidence and dignity, as though he bore the blood of some ancient noble family. I had heard somewhere that he had been a soldier... that might explain how he carried himself. His sword stretched on forever, like a bad metaphor-twisting and meandering in its way, taking endless detours before finally coming to a point. It was an anachronism in this fight-he was obviously a classicist. Guns and ammunition might be more advanced than what he held, but they couldn't compete with the appeal of a natural blade. He held it like it was an extension of his arm. All he had to do was swing that outdated weapon at this range, and my blood would be painting the floor of the arena, like a particularly gruesome piece of modern art. I never really liked art. The gong reverberating through the arena was our cue to let the madness begin. The crowd was roaring for blood. Like two gladiators, we stared each other down, waiting for the first move to kick off our decent into brutality. Sephiroth broke the silence with a sharp flurry of words. His voice was deep and bitter, filled with darkness. "You are not even worth my time. You have no power worth opposing." That made the first move mine by default. I countered his words my with my bullets. Actions speak louder than words, and mine were almost deafening. I whipped two Berettas out of my pockets, firing round after round into the taunting monster who stood before me. Thirty-six bullets later, smoke wafted through the air, and the echoes of the gunshots were beginning to die out. The rest of the scene was unchanged. Sephiroth stood with a sneer on his face, his countenance fixed-frozen in time. My bullets lay worthlessly on the ground. In another time I might have been worried about littering. I stopped trying to think about it and reloaded, slipping into bullet time. I watched my next round of fire scream through the air, racing towards the swordsman-then heard the screams cut off sharply, and watched them fall to the ground. A hexagonal red barrier had appeared at just the right moment, and it slowed the bullets down as they passed through it. My ammunition lost its momentum... becoming useless. Sephiroth swatted the shots onto the ground in the blink of an eye. As slow as time was passing for me... he appeared to be moving even faster. The sneer widened on Sephiroth's face. His mouth began to spew venom at me again. His words were dripping acid, burning my heart. "Your abilities are useless. You are pathetic. You are not worthy of being here." "Yeah, those are some pretty strong words. You'll have to let me know how they taste later. I haven't seen you try to hit me either." "You are not worthy of feeling my blade." He began to laugh softly, raising his hands above him, reaching for the heavens. "Then how do you think..." suddenly a searing pain split my head open. I felt my vision begin to blur, and I staggered back. My eyes darted around frantically and tried to focus. Sights, sounds and smells rushed through my head. My world began to fall apart. Reality shifted and collapsed on itself. When my eyes regained their focus, I was back in my living room. Flames licked the walls in an eternal consuming fire-but somehow I knew my house wasn't burning down. I sat down in an easy chair, and tried turning on the TV. I got nothing but static. For a moment I thought I could see a tall armored aristocrat laughing at a street punk in leather, surrounded by jeering crowds... but the image faded away like a bad dream. I noticed a letter on the coffee table. It looked threatening, but I was doomed whether I read it or not. There was something disturbingly familiar about the letter before me. The handwriting was all pretty curves. "You are in a piece of fanfiction." The truth shattered my illusions, cutting apart my convenient construct of reality. My entire existence was reduced to the whims of a two-bit author-distorting and abusing my character to fit into some arbitrarily constructed plot. My fate had been determined before the first word was written, and the outcome had nothing to do with any illusion of choice I had. My whole personality, all that made me who I was, subject to change, interpretation, and inconsistency. My world was a badly written lie. I was in a fanfic. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing I could think of. Somehow I knew what to do next. I picked up the phone before it even started ringing. "Max! What the **** is wrong with you? Just snap out of it, he's going to kill you! Geez, what's wrong with him?" It was a bad line, the voice on the other end spouting insane babble. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But something they had said disturbed me, and the voice seemed oddly familiar. I decided to move, and I was at the top of the stairs before I had even picked myself up. Gongs sounded all around me. Voices whispered, screamed, and chanted five nonsensical words: "The flesh of fallen angels..." I came to Michelle's room. The killer had gotten to her before I could arrive this time- I was spared witnessing her death for once. I raced through the door, not even touching the ground as I chased after the killer. I felt like I was flying. I came to a subway, watched as the killer killed dozens until he came to my partner. The monster distracted him just long enough for his accomplice to get the killing shot in. Efficient and deadly, the bullet ripped through his heart. And a one winged angel stood nearby, watching over all with approval. The killer ran off again. I followed the trail of blood, and tracked the screams to their source. The murderer had killed my boss, hundreds of innocents, and left destruction and death in his wake wherever he went. He was an angel of death, bringing judgment to all. But it was his turn to be judged. The one winged angel stood by my left shoulder, whispering in my ear for vengeance. He was my conscience, guiding me to my destiny. I already knew what I had to do. The killer's face was ugly and contorted. He wore a leather jacket... it felt familiar... I must have seen it on TV somewhere. I pressed my gun up to the side of his head. He didn't even move. He must have accepted that his time had come. Michelle grabbed my right arm, trying to push the one winged angel away from me. "Please Max, no, don't do this." I gritted my teeth and tried to shove her off. "He deserves to die." "No.... please Max, no. He didn't mean to." "That doesn't matter. It's time for his life to end." "Please Max, this isn't real. You can't kill him. I love him.... I love you..." She grasped my arm and planted a soft, tender kiss on my cheek. Her lips felt as cold as metal. The circular shape of her mouth gradually faded away to a gray cylinder, and that morphed into a gun barrel. Michelle disappeared, and I realized I was pointing a gun at my own head. The illusion faded. The crowd was yelling at me to stop. I put the gun to my side and relaxed my hand... my finger had been barely a centimeter away from ending my own life. Sephiroth's face was contorted in concentration. I felt the rage I had put to rest for so long begin to build up in me. I took a step forward... I was the baby's bedroom, watching helplessly as the murderer stood by and let his family die. Blood filled the air, an enormous trail all leading back to him. All the others were dead, he was the only one left who was responsible. I brought my gun up level to his face... No. I stood at the top floor of the Aesir building. The serial killer was gunning down more guards. The cops were on his trail, but he was too fast for them, he always escaped before they could even get close. Only one man could stop him now. The one winged angel gestured at the murderer, hiding behind a table like a coward. I moved in for the kill, tightening my finger on the trigger... No. I sat down at the hero's haunt. The one winged angel was taking up Vercetti's spot. I grinned and turned my hand over. Three nines, and a deuce morphed into the fourth nine in front of my eyes. I smirked and reached for the pot, scooping up the win. The angel revealed four aces. I sat back stunned. He pulled out his sword and thrust it into my chest. My nines flew up into the air, dancing above my head in a surreal fashion. "9999" hovered in the air over the strike. I was dying... the pain was unbearable. I only had one chance to end it. I reached for my gun... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I tore myself away from the illusions, screaming with the fury of the damned. If I was going to die, I would die with full knowledge of who and were I was. I began to race forward. Sephiroth was sweating, but I kept moving, ignoring the lies my senses told me. A wall of flame appeared between us. I didn't know if it was real or imagined. I didn't care. It couldn't match the fires that were burning in my heart. All the pain, all the loss... the desire for vengeance that had consumed for me so long had returned, and it was all focused on the man who was trying to destroy my mind. I had battled my own mind long enough to stand a chance against him mentally. Sephiroth had superior strength, magic, and speed. But there was one area I refused to be matched in. Will. My mind and my actions would be my own until I died. The flames tried to claim my life, but I charged forward. I reached for my guns... they were all gone. I gritted my teeth, and reached down again, believing that I could find my Ingrams there. The guns appeared as I had hoped. I slowed time down as I completed my charge. Hundreds of bullets flew through Sephiroth's barrier. I swung my gun like a club, hitting him in the face. I forced my way through the magical wall and poured the bullets into him at point blank range. I don't know how long it lasted... I poured every bit of my rage into the body of the demon who had masqueraded as an angel inside my mind. Sephiroth's face became contorted with fury as he opened his eyes. Blood streaked down his face like sweat. His chest must have been filled with lead, and he was swimming in his own blood. He back and forth between me and himself, disbelieving, a mix of hate and denial. Blood was dripping onto the floor... the flesh of a fallen angel. I couldn't move fast enough to dodge the sword that flew at me after that. It was too long... the blow was too powerful. His blade ripped open my side, leaving a wide gash. I felt the blood spilling out. I gritted my teeth. It was only pain. I returned fire, pouring the last of my bullets into him. He hadn't even bothered to put up another barrier... he was too furious. He howled in rage at the insolence of my attack. But his own anger was nothing compared to my own. All the hatred, all the loss... it was all back. I wanted to taste his blood. Though I was doomed, I wanted to fight until I died. An enormous bolt of lightning snapped me to my senses. My muscles twitched involuntarily and I fell to the floor. Sephiroth leaned over me, laughing. I tried to fire, but my guns were empty. I threw them at his face. He howled in anger again... raising his hands above his head. A dark cloud of boiling energy began to appear. The sky screamed as energy flew out of the air and into the hands of my nemesis. I had never been big on the supernatural... anything you couldn't kill with the right amount of bullets wasn't worth messing with. The dark energy expanded to fill all the space above Sephiroth's head... and then it was hurled at me. His hands were pointed towards me in a final gesture of contempt... the only goodbye he was capable of giving. The black energy tore at my flesh, feeding upon the darkness within my soul. I felt fire consuming me, and ice freezing me at the same time. My skin felt like it was turning inside out. Sephiroth was leaning over me, his face a paroxysm of fury. I watched sadly as he began to lower his blade. I was dying... the magical spell was still destroying my life, and my foe was closing in for the kill. I felt my life slipping away... Michelle... No. I watched the sword cut through the air in slow motion. It began to decelerate as it threatened to cleave me in two. Time itself began to slow down, creaking slower and slower... until it stopped. ---- Cloud Strife watched in disgust as Sephiroth's spell consumed Max, and heard the Masamune clang into the ground. He leaned over to look at the ground floor... there was nothing left of the fighter. That monster... Sephiroth. Max fought so well at the end... only to die, helpless. Max shouldn't have had to fight Sephiroth. That was Cloud's duty. But things had worked out how they did... and it was beyond changing. Sephiroth stared down at the ground where Max had been for a few seconds, then picked himself up, stalking out of the arena. The crowd still cheered his departure. They had wanted to see a fight, however mismatched, and they had gotten their wish. Disgusting. Cloud left the arena-he had nothing more to see or to say. One thing surprised him on his way out though... he saw a shape leaving the medical ward. He didn't think Sephiroth was capable of asking for help. ---- Max Payne opened his eyes. He was alive. The flow of time had returned to normal, and the universe had resumed its flow of operation, thankfully. He was standing in front of the portal home-it must be time to go. The streets of New York were calling for him. He had done all he could in this dimension... and his own world was his home. The tournament had been a challenge... but it was the people who had made the biggest impression. He felt less alone somehow here, despite being removed from his life. He knew he should go. He didn't want to attract any attention after an escape he still didn't fully understand. Everything had just frozen as he made his escape... he didn't know that was possible. Not wasting another minute, he stepped into the portal, and left the tournament for the second time. Aftermath: "Wrath of the Gods" Magus of Zeal had watched the match with detachment. The results had been unpleasant, but predictable. Max Payne had never really stood a chance-that he did as well as he did was a testament to his strength of spirit, and a warning to Sephiroth's pride. Out of all the participants who fit into the generic "evil" category, only two had fallen-Ganondorf, and Kefka. The late king of evil, may he rest in pieces, had been dispatched by Magus himself, and Crono had dealt with Kefka. The two of them were practically cleaning up the tournament of its less desirable characters single-handedly. That left Bowser and Sephiroth, and quite possibly himself. Magus had to show a rare smile at that thought. Aside from Crono, he doubted that anyone at the tournament really had a chance at understanding his motivations. He had no need to be labeled by others, to fit into their narrow conceptions of what right and wrong. He was who he was. They could either accept him for what he was or fear and loathe him-it made little difference to the prince of Zeal. He was not mad, and he was not "evil"... but he was not "good" either... he was merely himself. Magus was following a magical trail through the forests. Sephiroth had left the arena without returning to his room-Magus could only assume he had run off to lick his wounds. The man's magical presence was hard to miss, and so Magus chose to track him by feeling him out with his magic. His instincts were occasionally reinforced by a trail of blood, and he was soon rewarded for his efforts. Sephiroth was standing alone in a slight clearing, where the trees were not as heavy. He was bathing his body in green light. Magus watched the magical energies pour over him, sealing his wounds, and renewing his life. It was nothing unexpected. All of the magical fighters regularly relied on such techniques, although the healing ward was preferred by most all of them. That only left those who were too proud or stubborn to recognize their need for help... and those who simply refused to acknowledge the reality of powerful forces other than their own. Your self-reliance is admirable, but needless here. You waste your own magic. Magus had observed Sephiroth in the past, and found little cause for concern, despite today's spectacle. He had lost last year, he would lose again. He was too proud, too blind. And at the very least, Crono stood in his way. The light began to fade around Sephiroth, and the silver haired warrior picked himself up. Magus slinked back into the shadows. He had seen what he thought he would. That was enough. But suddenly Sephiroth's eyes found his through the patch of woods. Magus froze, not daring to breathe. He can't possibly see me... Sephiroth spoke calmly. "Do you know why you're here?" That settled that anyway. Magus replied, keeping his voice level. "Because I chose to be." "No," Sephiroth answered. "You're here because I wished you to be. I summoned you here." Such arrogance, Magus thought. Typical megalomania. He would believe that all reality revolves around him, bending to his well. He may not even be aware that people have lived their entire lives ignoring the wishes of Sephiroth. "Unlikely. You have had many opportunities to speak with me before." "Yes." Sephiroth paused thoughtfully. The anger which had filled him before seemed to have vanished with his wounds. He was the very picture of serenity... there was hardly an emotion to be seen on his face. "You hold so little power at first you did not appear worth my time. And then you chose to spare a life that was worthless to you." "I had that choice, and I made it for myself. At least my intensions were fulfilled. You failed in your goal today." Sephiroth's eyes literally flared at Magus. "Yes. I did not feel him die either. But that is pointless. He is worthless, alive or dead. He was an insect. They are all insects." Then I must be addressing the Lord of the Flies. Magus thought. "Then why have you sought me out?" Sephiroth looked him over with cold eyes. "Because you should not be here. You were meant to lose to Ganondorf." An image suddenly flashed through Magus's mind... two ancient foes, doing battle on a desolate patch of ground, in a dimension built for battle... he saw Link growing steadily angrier as Ganondorf taunted and mocked him. The elf boy was charging the wizard in desperation... The scene faded as fast as it had come. Magus took a moment to regaining his bearings. The images had been unwelcome, but he had a difficult time shutting them out. Magus took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Fate is a malleable thing. I defeated Link's nemesis before he could. Get over it." "Yes..." Sephiroth said softly, his eyes gazing off into space. He seemed to be looking past Magus. "But his destiny is now incomplete. And you should not possess that kind of power." Sephiroth drew his famous blade and brandished in the air. Magus had a passing familiarity with the sword, but appreciated the chance to see it up close. It was long and sharp... it bore little resemblance to the Masamune of his world. That sword reflected the hopes and dreams of its owner... it was forged from dreamstone, and drew its power from the will of the bearer. He had killed its first owner, Cyrus, and shattered the blade just as he had shattered Cyrus's will. But by doing so... he created a fighter who was capable of defeating him. It was the ultimate irony. The magician who lusted for revenge his whole life had inadvertently created his own vengeance crazed nemesis. By destroying Frog's form and teaching him hatred, Frog's will had been strengthened to where he was able to beat Magus. It had been the first of many lessons he would learn. Magus focused his attention back to Sephiroth's sword. He sensed no innate magical power in it, although it had a high magical resonance... it seemed as though it was simply designed to channel power. Sephiroth gestured towards Magus's scythe. "Let's see what you're capable of then." Unexpectedly, the former first class Soldier swung his blade at Magus. Magus quickly blocked the stroke, and parried a series of quick blows and feints. Magus's eyes narrowed. What is he trying to accomplish? Sephiroth stayed on the offensive, repeatedly attacking Magus. This is tiring, he knows this is pointless. Magus gathered the energy for a dark bomb, and slammed it into Sephiroth. Sephiroth kept his face solid as the spell burst and bled dark magics through him. He re-sheathed his sword. "Impressive. No human should have that kind of power. But then... you don't owe your power to anything human, do you?" Magus said nothing, scarcely believing what he was hearing. "Neither do I... I am the son of Jenova. She was so much more than human, falling from the heavens-but none of them understood. They called mother 'the calamity from the skies'. I was made in her image, heir to her power and purpose, to complete what she began. What is your story?" With an effort, Magus held his tongue, still trying to understand what Sephiroth was telling him. He felt dark tendrils probing his mind... his spirit felt like it was being overrun. He tried to erect a kind of mental defense as Sephiroth began invading his psyche... "Lavos... fascinating. You owe your power to a creature from the skies as well... you were infused with his power just as I was, from an early age... and yet you hold back in serving your master. I have accepted who I am. Why haven't you? Your father... what became of this... Lavos?" Magus gradually forced Sephirtoh's probing presence out of his mind. He chose to give up his answers before Sephiroth could have a chance to steal them. "I killed him. His presence doomed my people, ruined my life, and destroyed my family. My will is my own, I would not bow down to another merely to gain power-I saw enough corrupted and devastated because of those ends." Sephiroth looked at him with hatred and disgust. "Then you failed yourself. I would have hoped for more. The true mark of greatness is not power, but will. You know the roots of your power lie elsewhere, but you weakened yourself. Why ally yourself with those who are merely humans?" "I serve no one but myself." Magus's mind began exploring the traces of Sephiroth's mind that he had left behind. It felt oddly familiar. "And what of you... you were someone else before you surrendered your will. I stayed true to myself. You gave up your will to be manipulated by an alien force... reliving the grudges of an extinct monster. You were merely duped by your desire for power, manipulated by this Jenova. You speak of will... but it is not your will that you follow, it is hers." "We are the same." Sephiroth's eyes blazed. Magus watched with interest as the man pulled a silver orb out of nowhere, and slipped it into his sword. Magus frowned, thinking back. Where have I seen something like that before? The blade began to pulse with immense power. Magus sensed what could only be described as unfocused chaos emanating from it. Sephiroth swung his sword at him, and the wave of insane energy nearly knocked him over. Magus only kept his footing by a magical wall he had thrown up intuitively. He leaned back against a tree, still reeling from the attack. The energy there is insane, unfocused... he can't hope to control it. It has to be hurting him as much as it does me. Magus flung a black hole at Sephiroth in anticipation of his next attack, hoping to absorb or negate it. Sephiroth responded as he had expected, attempting to strike him with his blade and letting the chaotic force leak out of it. The black hole grew larger as it absorbed the attack... but Sephiroth began pressing it forward with his own magic. Unexpectedly, Magus felt his own black hole suddenly on top of him, with a river full of energy behind it, his own spell threatening to burst like a dam. "You're pathetic, wizard. You should have known you were only meant for failure. Link should be spared the bother of fighting you. Your power is negligible here." Sephiroth threw a lightning spell into the mix of chaotic energies, and Magus watched helplessly as it zapped through the growing magical forces, and watched his black hole diminish. Magus strengthened his magical wall... but he knew it would soon collapse. Sephiroth stood with his sword raised... his escape was blocked on all sides. Sephiroth laughed cruelly at him. "Just give up. Fighting can bring you back nothing of what you lost. You long for death to rid you of your pain. Accept it." Just accept it... NO! Magus's blood boiled. For Sephiroth to mock his power while relying on the strange jewel to aid his attack was pure hypocrisy. If Sephiroth managed to kill him, it would likely disqualify the swordsman, but he would not die just to rid the contest of the man. He was no one's pawn. Magus felt incredible anger welling up in him, combined with frustration at his inability to stop the growing magical forces about to consume him. I will not die here. Power... I just need more power... Unbeknownst to him, Magus's rage was already beginning to manifest itself. A blood red sphere formed of flame and dark magic had been growing inside him, begging to be released. Magus pressed both of his hands forward, scarcely knowing what he was doing. His palm began to shine brightly. Just as his wall collapsed and left him defenseless, Magus fired out a blind, unfocused magical attack, a last ditch effort. Whatever spell it had been, it streaked through the air furiously, consuming both of their magical attacks. The unfamiliar arcane magic slammed into Sephiroth, spilling him over backwards. Magus gasped for breath, barely believing what had happened. His eyes were caught by the light shining from his hand... a triangle made up of three identical triangles was glowing on his palm. The Triforce of Power...? Sephiroth picked himself up, laughing slowly, showing no signs of harm. He must have been hurt. Is he really that strong... or is he just trying to hide his pain? "Excellent. You have gained the power of gold after all. Link's destiny is complete." Power of Gold? The Triforce... then I must have it after all. Incredible sensations began to flow through Magus as he realized what he now possessed. With this... he would be unstoppable. New worlds of potential began to open up to him. But there was still one thing... "Link's destiny?" Magus repeated the last part of Sephiroth's sentence. "Yes." Sephiroth smiled, and turned his back to Magus. "The fight will happen as it must now. Your fall shall replace Ganondorf's, and aid in Link's." "I will not fall. You merely fear the boy because he defeated you. He has no chance of beating me now." "Yes. But he knows this as well, son of Lavos. He will fight you until the bitter end, and he will sell his soul for power. All that your efforts in obtaining the Triforce will end up accomplishing is completing his path to ruin. He shall do to you what he intended to do to Ganondorf... slay you in the worst way possible." Magus's blood began to run cold. His emotions caused magic to begin to gather at his fingertips, unconsciously. He tried to relax the energies... the power at his disposal was so enormous, it was difficult to control. But how could Link win? And how could the noble hylian fall? "What have you done to him? What are you going to do to him?" "Nothing." Sephiroth smiled coldly. "I merely shall witness his fall. His corruption is of his own doing, not mine. I can do no more than you to prevent or encourage it. It is inevitable." Sephiroth's features shifted from a mocking gaze, to a predatorial one. "You wretch. You cannot beat Link... but I can." Images suddenly flashed in Magus's mind... his home life in Zeal... they had all assumed he was the weakest of the enlightened ones. He had shown no signs of power back then, eclipsed by Schala and his mother... but he didn't let that concern him. He had been content without power. I never really needed it... isn't it just worth giving up... Magus suddenly realized what he was doing. He was extending the hand with the emblem of the Triforce towards Sephiroth. Magus growled in anger, and swung his scythe at Sephiroth... but the swordsman had already disappeared. Magus looked around, scanning for blood on the ground. Was he ever really there? Magus spotted a few traces of blood... Sephiroth must have simply escaped somehow. "Hey, Magus! What are you doing out here?" Crono's voice called out to him. For once, the sound did not grate on him as much as it usually did. He was actually glad to see his ally. Crono looked at him with an expression of concern. It wasn't hard to see why. Magus was kneeling down in a deep crater, alone in the middle of the forest. The woods around him were charred, and no foliage had been left unscarred within a several foot radius. "Are you ok there? If there's anything at all you need, I can try to help..." Magus interrupted him. "Sephiroth." He stared into Crono's eyes, making his face as serious as he could. "If you ever have the chance, I want you to kill that man." Magus returned to the hotel in the company of his former foe and current friend. The two said nothing... Crono, because it was not in his nature, and Magus, because he had little that could be explained with words. His mind was racing, chasing itself in circles. He knew Sephiroth would be willing to lie to him without a second thought, hoping to manipulate him against Link in some way... but his words had held a glimmer of truth. And nothing would be more horrifying than ignoring his warning only to realize it was the truth, too late to do anything about it. He bid Crono farewell as they reached their rooms. Crono waved goodbye, still looking worried. He actually seems to care about what happens to me, if only because he has no one else here. Crono's defeat of Kefka had been impressive to witness, even for him... there was a chance the boy could live up to the reputation he had gained last year. Magus paused as he reached his room. There was only one way to sort out the conflicts going through his mind. He had to go to the one person capable of reconciling his questions, and who might be able to uncover what Link's supposed destiny was. She had saved his life before... she might do so again. There was only one problem. At the moment, she had no idea who she was. Next Entry Back |