| GCB Fanfics: The Fanfiction Project |
August 22th, 2003"Flaws"The young flame-haired hero sat on the edge of the bed in his darkened room, alone. It was night, the moon was rising outside his window, casting liquid slivers of mercury through the frosted panes. It was colder tonight than one would expect during the summer… much colder. Oh well—the tournament dimension didn’t tend to follow all of the rules of nature, after all. It could be approaching freezing point one night—like it was now—and be back to scorching during the day. The silver light glinted off of a crystalline blade in front of the swordsman from Guardia, a crescent reflection painting the walls. Crono reached out and took the familiar handle of the katana, lifting it to the light. The moonshine passed through the crystal weapon, refracting against the back wall in an explosion of color, displaying the source of the sword’s name rather remarkably. Crono stood up from his bed, swinging the sword through practice loops that were as familiar to him by now as breathing. The blade was an extension of his arm, slicing through the narrow spaces of his bedroom, barely missing the furniture throughout—but missing it just the same. In Crono’s sojourn through time, he had encountered many sorts of fighters—especially swordsmen. There were the warriors who devoted their whole life to learning the way of the blade—Guardia’s Knights of the Square Table and the Acacia Dragoons down in the El Nido Archipelago were excellent examples of that. And then, there were those who seemed to have been born with a sword in their hand. Crono had met swordsmen who wielded the sword like it was fused into their own nervous system. Ozzie’s henchman, Slash, the legendary knight Cyrus, Cyrus’s companion Glenn (otherwise known as Frog)… they used their weapon in a way that could never be taught. When their already impressive innate ability was further enhanced by training, these natural swordsmen were virtually unstoppable. Light glinted off of the walls in exotic patterns as Crono continued to swing the Rainbow in those graceful loops. He was one of those whose talent could not be made… his mother had always told him a story about his youth. He and his genius friend Lucca had been playing in Guardia Forest—something that was strictly forbidden by their parents, of course—when they had been attacked by a monster. Its dreams of easy food were spoiled, however, when the young Crono grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and began to defend himself (and Lucca) quite aptly. While her friend beat the confused predator about the head, Lucca had hurriedly constructed a makeshift slingshot—a single shot from which sent the monster running. Her skills with machinery had already become evident… as had his talent with the blade. Crono smiled, wiping some sweat from his brow. The art of swordplay lightened his spirits, no matter what. There was something about a fight—whether it be a friendly spar, or something much more serious—that the young man found almost irresistible. Two people, pitting all of their talent against one another, giving it their all… there was beauty even in that grim context. Humanity’s true nature came out in a duel… combat revealed the ultimate truth. Yet Crono believed that combat for the sake of simple combat… there was no art behind it. Fighting without a purpose would only delude the combatants; it would never show them who they truly were. There were certain fighters who behaved like that in the tournament—Crono simply couldn’t comprehend it. He fought to test himself, he fought for what he believed was right, he fought because he felt more true to himself when he was in the ring. The time-traveling hero was light-hearted by nature. Crono loved to have fun, to go adventuring with his friends, to be with people he liked, or to simply hang out. Yet when he was truly in, the Guardian boy felt that everything extraneous about him was stripped away; all of his trappings seemed to vanish. He felt… well, like he was more like himself. While Crono loved testing his skills against someone, he tried to never hold a grudge. If someone beat him in a spar—well, Crono would laugh it off and continue on as if nothing had happened. The next time they fought, the redhead might be better prepared to handle that opponent, but Crono wouldn’t put any more malice into his attacks because of his defeat. With a sigh, he sat back down on the bed. He never held a grudge, but he knew almost everyone expected him to. Tomorrow, he’d enter the ring again—to the person who had defeated him in their semifinal match the previous year. The memory of the battle was crystalline… Mario ducked under the swooping katana, leaping up with an extended fist to punch Crono in the face. The swordsman had seen this attack before, though, and simply leaned back, a white-gloved fist missing his nose by less than an inch. Crono continued his backward fall, extending his feet to kick up as he somersaulted backward. His boots made a satisfying ‘thump’ as they connected, sending a startled Italian plumber flying. As soon as Crono was on his feet, he sprinted into action, making a mad dash to where Mario had landed. For his weight, the plumber had flown a considerable distance… and even as Crono rushed on, Mario reached into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his pants. In the back of his mind, Crono wondered what he was going to pull out this time—it could be one of the green shells, in which case Crono would have to react quickly. If it were a Fire Flower, the teen would have to immediately cut his dash short and concentrate on using magic if he didn’t want to be fried. The plumber pulled out an entirely new object though… a star. Crono wondered what purpose a star would serve, but it didn’t matter. Even as Mario began to shine with a thousand different colors, the swordsman began a massive horizontal slash. There was no way Mario could dodge this one. Mario didn’t dodge it. He stood there as Crono’s katana whistled through the air… and when it connected, it was all the red-haired blademaster could do to maintain his grip. It felt like he had just swung his sword at an iron wall… and Mario hadn’t budged an inch. Crono laughed to himself. The next minute or so had been a desperate fight. Mario’s newfound invincibility gave him a considerable edge, breaking the match’s utter stalemate. Some of the bruises that Crono received in Mario’s offensive hadn’t gone away for several months afterwards. The redhead had been about to fall unconscious when the curtain of light surrounding the plumber abruptly vanished in mid-attack. There was a pause. Both combatants stared at each other, quiet horror dawning on Mario’s face, silent confidence arising in Crono’s swollen eyes. The swordsman swung in a mighty blow, putting all of his energy, speed, and power into that one strike. Mario wouldn’t be able to dodge that… time slowed down to a heartbeat as the edge of his sword swept through the air. There was no way the plumber could ever dodge such a swift blow. Yet he did. Mario ducked as quickly as he could, the blade sweeping his cap off of his head and removing a good chunk of the plumber’s thick black hair as well…but he dodged it. With Crono recovering from the aftereffects of the swing… one punch was all it took to end the fight. Crono knew that there were those who expected him to be out for vengeance. Yet as much as he regretted the defeat—he had put too much into that one technique, rendering him unable to recover from the strike—he simply couldn’t channel that regret into anger. The circumstances of the tournament had resulted in some rather unlikely friendships forming—Mario and Crono were friends. Some of the competitors, and the vast majority of the audience… they expected him to come out swinging. To be out for blood. Even if he wanted to, Crono simply couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature. Mario was a friend of his… and he would treat tomorrow’s match as just a friendly spar, nothing more. It was a welcome change from his struggle to survive against the insane Kefka, anyway. Crono laughed to himself again—why, he didn’t know—and lay down on his bed, setting the Rainbow on the table beside him. Even if he lost tomorrow… it’d still be fun. Crono closed his eyes, sinking into a deep rest, the rays of moonlight vanishing as a lone cloud drifted past outside… …and Sephiroth frowned, his turquoise eyes slitting. He, too, was in the chambers provided for him, a silver globe floating in front of him, with no visible supports. A vision of the sleeping Crono was displayed in the fluid surface of the sphere, rippling and distorting as Sephiroth dissolved the magic globe with a thought. That spell was handy—enabling him to see anywhere he wished… That boy. That insufferable boy. Since the SOLDIER had witnessed his triumph over the insane mage, Sephiroth had found his thoughts wandering back to this… this… teenager. Playing those games with the ‘failure,’ the accursed Ancient, and the bumbling dinosaur had been amusing, of course, but something about this child intrigued Sephiroth. During the fight, had Kefka met the young boy on his own terms—physical combat—the mage would have not stood a chance. It was only by remaining in the realm of magic that Kefka had been able to do the damage he had done. Yet the boy had bested him there, too, in the end. And had Kefka not brought the well-being of the audience into the match… Sephiroth had no doubt that Crono’s victory would have been quicker. The sight of the bloody, battered, swordsman refusing to surrender had rather impressed the Son of Jenova. The boy’s spirit was indomitable. His prowess with the blade was innate, far beyond the level of all but the very best. And his magic had beaten a power that rivaled Sephiroth’s own. Those three areas—strength, magic, and spirit—were how Sephiroth assessed his opponents. In his life, he had encountered those with immense physical strength, such as the ape called Donkey Kong, or even the pathetic ‘failure’… Sephiroth had also met beings with innate magical ability, such as the flower girl, or the summoner named Yuna. He had stumbled upon spirits that simply could not be broken—the former champion, Link, for one. Sephiroth had also met people who were skilled in two of those qualities—the warrior named Magus had refused to submit, and had matched Sephiroth’s magic with his own. But Sephiroth had never before encountered someone who excelled in all three… Until the boy. The accursed boy… at night, Sephiroth had slipped into Crono’s mind, absorbing all of his memories, learning more about this young warrior that intrigued him so. He had learned Crono’s past, learned about the quest to save his future… While many in Sephiroth’s own world could not use magic without the aid of material—save a select few, like Sephiroth himself—the Master of War had only drawn out Crono’s innate abilities with magic. The boy relied on no one to give him his strength—just as Sephiroth relied on no one. Even Cloud, the ‘failure’ who had beaten him… Sephiroth firmly believed his strength had come from the Ancient who had stood at his side. Cloud was malleable, nothing more than a puppet, drawing all of his strength from the flower girl. The ‘failure’ had only triumphed because the power of Holy had been eating away at Sephiroth’s power from within… on his own, he was nothing. So even though Bowser had failed to force Cloud to return, Aeris had gone… and so Cloud was once more of no consequence. Without his support, Cloud was nothing more than a failed product of the JENOVA Project. But this boy… his strength was his own. The unity was his… his power was pure. And that infuriated Sephiroth to no end. Yet Sephiroth had uncovered flaws in his probing of the teen’s mind. As Sephiroth had told him after the first round battle against the animal… his kindness was his weakness. Crono’s spirit was uncrushable, yes, but only when Crono was in the mentality of a true warrior. His gentleness, his refusal to harden his heart in the upcoming battle… he was vulnerable. Sephiroth’s lips turned up in a cold smile. He will fall. His body will be another stone in the path to "Porta Dei"... and none shall stand before me. "The Fated Duel" With a deep hum, a constant vibration that one felt more than heard, the force barriers sparked into life, forming a steeply curved dome of power. Two figures stood at opposite ends of the arena, one tall, muscular, and lithe, the other short, pudgy, and round. Crono couldn’t care less what his opponent looked like, however. He knew from experience that the plumber was a match for even his blade. And then he laughed. On the other side of the ring, Mario joined his opponent in chuckling, as the two of them walked to the center. “They-a want to-a see a real-a fight, don’t-a they, Crono?” The force field surrounding the ring prevented any physical or magical forces from getting through to the audience, but they did nothing to block sounds. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, and it seemed perfectly divided—half was screaming for Crono to avenge last year’s loss, while the other half was yelling at Mario to prove that he was the better fighter for a second year in the row. Several fights had already broken out in the audience between the fans of the Sword and fans of the Plunger. Yet the two in the arena couldn’t care less. “Well, we’ll just have to see…” Crono’s eyes were twinkling with the anticipation of a good fight… not only had he brought his trusty Rainbow—hanging from his belt—but the swift Swallow katana was strapped to his back. Crono might have been treating this fight like a friendly match—but he wasn’t going to let the opponent win. He grinned. The brown-haired plumber met that grin with one of his own. Mario had no visible weapons or items, but Crono knew from experience that the seemingly infinite space in the plumber’s overalls would be holding an entire arsenal of gadgets and tricks—all of which the plumber could use expertly. Mario extended his hand. “Well-a then, may-a the best Italian win!” Laughing, the taller warrior shook Mario’s proffered hand, a grin from ear to ear. “Oh, you just wait.” With that, the two walked back to their respective positions. Although the crowd was screaming loud enough to burst eardrums, neither of the fighters heard it. It didn’t matter. They did, however, hear the gong that heralded the beginning of the match. And they were off. Crono opened on the offensive, sprinting at his shorter opponent as the crowd roared their approval. Steel scraped on steel as his two blades found their way into his experienced hands. Holding the Swallow in his left hand and the Rainbow in his right, Crono continued his dash… …and immediately stopped it, swiftly dodging to the side as a Green Shell flew through the area where his head had been a moment before. Crono smiled at Mario, cocking an eyebrow. “Too slow that time…” “A-maybe. Last-a year there weren’t-a barriers.” The redhead’s eyes flashed open with realization, and he turned to twist to the side, but was a nanosecond too slow. The green shell slammed into the side of his head, returning after ricocheting off of the force barriers. It skidded along the ground until Mario swiftly stopped it with his foot, picking it up and tossing it into the air. Then, the mustachioed fighter looked at his adversary, frowning. “Hey-a Crono… you-a could have dodged a-that… why didn’t you?” As he climbed up to his feet, holding his head where there would shortly be a rather magnificent bump, Crono could only shrug. “I don’t know. Took me off guard, I guess. C’mon, let’s go!” Without waiting for Mario to respond, Crono took off once more, going on the attack. - - - - - - In the stands, Sephiroth frowned. The crowd’s puerile shouting had grown to near-intolerable levels. Several rows in front of him, the “failure” was rubbing his temples, no doubt nursing a headache. Yet the legendary SOLDIER refused to even give so much as an outward sign of his discomfort. He was above them all. Sephiroth briefly toyed with the idea of killing them all, but dismissed it momentarily. Without a crowd, there was no tournament. Without a tournament, there was no… but those thoughts could wait. At the moment, he had a most annoying runt to take care of. The boy and the fat plumber were engaged in some minor physical combat in the center of the ring. Sephiroth knew that both of them were holding back—they were foolish, flawed, beings, after all—but couldn’t care less about the plumber. His target was the boy. Closing his turquoise eyes, the white-haired swordsman let his mind extend, flowing, encompassing all… The force barriers could block magic, physical attacks, Bowser’s Doom Ship falling over… but they couldn’t block the power of Sephiroth’s mind. His consciousness touched the very core of the young swordsman’s being, the parts hidden deep within his mind that even Crono wasn’t aware of. This had been something rather interesting that Sephiroth had uncovered in his probing of Crono’s mind. The flame-haired warrior’s mind was absolutely impenetrable when he was in the mindset of a true warrior. Yet when he was relaxed, when he was kind and gentle, his mind was laid open like a book with a broken spine. And Sephiroth took advantage of that flaw. - - - - - - Crono was in the middle of a sweeping block to parry the hammer that Mario had flung at him when a sudden force seemed to seize control of his entire body. He fell to the ground as the hammer passed overhead, collapsing like a limp rag doll, his swords clattering to the ground. The redhead tried to scream, but his lungs refused to obey… …everything was still, and Crono opened his eyes. A pallor of gray had fallen over the entire arena, shades of black and white all he could see. Looking down at his body—the only thing in the world still in color—Crono turned in puzzlement, trying to figure out what was going on. His adversary was frozen, his arm coming back up to a fighting stance after throwing the hammer… the hammer itself was suspended in midair. Everything around Crono was still, was frozen in time. “…hello?” ventured the young boy from Guardia, expecting to hear an echo in the huge arena, but the sound was stifled, muted. This was rather strange… Crono reached down to grab his swords, but the grayed-out blades of the Rainbow and the Swallow refused to move. A voice answered him. “You’re pathetic, boy.” Crono spun, his hands coming up into an unarmed fighting stance, to see whoever it was who had spoken. Mario was standing there, in color, moving, his hands crossed in a decidedly un-Mario-like position. When the plumber spoke once more, his voice was dark, deep, and most importantly, not that of Mario. “You have no idea what you’re up against, do you? And yet, you’re here, swinging your swords around like it actually matters, when you have no real understanding of the real battles at stake.” The swordsman’s blue eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” He said softly, the first hint of adrenaline coursing through his veins. This wasn’t Mario… it was an imposter. That impostor laughed, but not the warm laughter that the two had shared before. It was cold, the laughter of a killer. “Oh, I think you know.” Mario’s eyes suddenly flashed a brilliant shade of turquoise, and the vision of a tall figure with long, flowing hair appeared in Crono’s mind’s eye for a split second. “This poor, pathetic, fool. He was so easy to subdue, offering barely any resistance… I find it hard to believe that one like you lost to this worthless jar of fat last year.” Crono had no doubt now of the impostor’s true identity. “Sephiroth…” he growled. “You know that eliminating another competitor outside of the ring will get you kicked out of the tournament. You’re gone.” And then ‘Mario’ laughed again, triumphantly. “As long as I take this form, there is no reason to ever suspect that the one you know as Mario is gone… how can I be ejected from the tournament for a crime that hasn’t been committed?” “Then I’ll take care of you here.” Crono’s heart was pounding, his warrior mindset taking over. If Sephiroth truly had eliminated Mario, then Crono would ensure that justice was served. Even if he had to be the one who served it. “You’re welcome to try.” With a final laugh of victory, ‘Mario’ returned to his frozen position… and then, accompanied by a brilliant crash of light and sound, time returned to normal. Crono wasted no time. Against Mario, he could afford to not be so serious… but against Sephiroth, he didn’t have that luxury. He would bring the villain down right here. Scooping up his swords, Crono leapt into battle with a vicious cry, startling his adversary. And in the stands, the corners of Sephiroth’s mouth turned up in a cold smile. He will slay the plumber… and then, his kindness will be his flaw. He will have killed a friend in cold blood, and he will never forgive himself—he will be unable to fight… his weak heart will doom him. - - - - - - Mario had no idea why Crono had suddenly gone on such an enraged attack like that—it rather worried him, actually, to see his friend acting so strangely—but he had no time at all to think about it. Crono’s twin swords lashed through the air, slicing, forcing Mario to backpedal. The plumber suddenly ducked, rolling on the ground forward under the arc of Crono’s strikes, springing up and punching him in the face… …or that was the plan. Crono leaned backwards, allowing the punch to go overhead, and then came forward in a headbutt, catching Mario in the belly and knocking him into the air. The swordsman followed up on this, leaping into the sky and spinning around with a flying kick, sending Mario crashing into the energy field, where he slumped to the ground. Hoping to catch him before he got up, the Guardian teenager followed the plumber’s trajectory with a mad dash. Yet Mario was deceptively swift for his size. As Crono’s swords came down in an overhead cut, the plumber rolled out of the way. Crono’s blades bounced off of the energy barrier, throwing him off balance and leaving him open. Climbing to his feet, Mario pulled out another green shell from his infinite pockets, and threw it randomly across the arena. The plumber kept on backpedaling away from Crono, tossing green shells in every single direction he could think of. Crono was faster than he, so he needed to buy some time… and as the number of shells grew, ricocheting across the ring, that time was purchased and paid for. Although Mario seemed to have a practically prescient idea of the shells’ locations, Crono had to look over his shoulder every few seconds. Those few seconds were all Mario needed. He reached into his pocket as he sidestepped a shell coming from behind, and pulled out a flower. The petals of the FireFlower suddenly seemed to melt, absorbing into Mario’s body… and then he spun around, jumping over another shell, and flashed the “Victory” V to the crowd as his outfit turned white. “Here-a we go!” The newly-upgraded Firepower Mario turned to face his foe, and then yelped loudly as he saw Crono was almost right on top of him. Mario dropped to the floor in an instant, right under the sweeping golden blade of the Swallow. He pushed off the ground with his hands, aiming a kick at Crono’s belly. The red-haired hero easily parried the blow with the side of the Rainbow, and then smashed the hilt of his other blade into Mario’s face. Reeling backwards, the plumber staggered, clutching the wound on his head. That strike had been hard… with an intent behind it far more vicious than he had ever known Crono to be. As Mario fell to the ground, traces of blood on his formerly white gloves, he blinked to clear his vision. He was on his back, vulnerable… and Crono was walking over to him, a murderous glare on his face. Mario was taken aback… he had never known Crono to be this… this… bloodthirsty. Could it be he was truly out for revenge for last year’s defeat? Mario couldn’t believe that was the case… it didn’t seem like the swordsman. “A-Crono… are you-a… okay? A-what are a-you doing?” “Shut up,” growled the young teen. “You won’t trick me. You can’t trick me. I know who you really are.” Thoroughly puzzled, Mario could do nothing as Crono raised his swords high above his head. “And now… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt any more people…” Mario closed his eyes, wondering if this were truly the end for him… no more Peach, no more Bowser, no more kart-racing, no more pasta… And then the plumber’s eyes snapped open with realization, as he stuck his hand out behind his head, laying it flat on the ground. One of the many green shells rocketing around the arena slammed into his glove, causing it to skip off the ground and smash Crono in the chest, throwing him back into the wall of the energy barrier, which sizzled and crackled with energy. Mario wasted no time, ignoring the hurt in his glove, as he rolled to his feet. That had been too close… and although he was worried about his friend’s condition, he decided that surviving the match took priority. It was time to show Crono what the FireFlower could really do. “Fire Orb!” The plumber held his gloved hands out, gathering the power of the flower… and within an instant, a huge ball of flame had coalesced in front of his palms. Mario and Crono locked eyes for one instant as the redhead fell from his collision with the energy barrier. Then the fireball blasted through the air, blazing its dangerous path. Yet Crono was quicker, rolling to the side as he fell to the ground. The Fire Orb collided with the energy field, dissipating harmlessly with a crackle of energy. Crono wiped sweat from the back of his neck—that had been a bit hot, but nothing he couldn’t handle. But he knew Sephiroth would have a lot more where that came from. He’d have to take the match up close… Crono sprang into a dash, closing the distance between him and the startled Mario within seconds. He swung a downward blow with the Rainbow, keeping Swallow in a defensive posture. Mario didn’t dodge this one, however, reaching into his pocketspace and yanking out another green shell, using it as a shield. The Rainbow bounced off the shell, sparking as it did. Crono quickly shifted his off-guard position into a horizontal swipe with the Swallow, but Mario stepped back, blocking that one with the shell as well. Crono went on the offensive once more, slashing rapidly at Mario with both of his blades, spinning around with powerful blows, feinting into vicious slashes, yet Mario could seemingly see them all coming. Sparks glinted into the air as shell met steel repeatedly. The Italian suddenly took advantage of one of Crono’s brief periods after a blocked strike where he was vulnerable, tossing the shell at his head. It hit, sending Crono stumbling backward, leaving him with a mark remarkably similar to the one he had given Mario himself. The shell bounced back at Mario, and he simply hit it back again, bouncing it off of Crono’s head again and again, sending the younger man staggering back, incapacitated. Mario seized the opportunity to leap in a tackle, throwing all of his considerable weight at his taller opponent. However, Crono recovered far more quickly than Mario had expected, stepping to the side, his outstretched arms catching the plumber as he flew past. Crono spun to ease some of the blow, and then pulled Mario in close, grimacing through the pain in his forehead and the blood trickling into his eyes. He brought his knee up hard into Mario’s stomach, and then threw his adversary to the ground. The young blademaster spun around, driving both of his swords down at Mario in an impaling blow. Remarkably quick for his size, the plumber rolled to the side, springing to his feet as Crono’s swords got lodged in the tile floor of the arena. Rather than try to dislodge him as his opponent was attacking him, Crono chose to temporarily abandon the blades, rolling backwards under a small fireball. He grimaced. Without his weapons, he was much less effective in a fight up close… the imposter Mario would best him up close… but he could stand a chance in a duel of magic. Crono turned to the side, his hand shooting out, fingers outstretched, forming a claw-like shape… he snarled ferally as sparks jumped between his fingers, arcing all across his palm to join in the center, an apex of power forming. Crono whispered a few words of power beneath his breath, and then shot a glare at Mario, as the lightning arced from his palm to shoot at the Italian plumber. His adversary dodged to the side, readying another fireball, but as he went to cast it, a second shock slammed into his body, throwing him back, sending him skidding along the floor. Mario coughed a bit as the feeling gradually returned to his body—he could barely feel his arms and legs, thanks to the lightning. But he could still fight… he climbed to his feet, and then his eyes went wide as he saw Crono rushing for the swords in the ground. If his opponent got them, that would… not be good… Both Mario and Crono reached the blades at the exact same time. The red-head went for the handle of the Swallow; Mario grabbed Crono’s Rainbow katana. The swords slid from the ground with rasp… and then they clashed. In that instant, Mario realized he had made a rather big mistake. There was no way he could stand up to Crono in a duel, and he knew it. Crono, on the other hand, simply took the offensive yet again in the battle, fighting through the painful ringing in his head. Even though his two swords were remarkable effective, he had spent most of his life fighting with the single blade… and it showed. He danced circles around the imposter Mario, sweeping and feinting cuts and jabs, then dropping to the ground and spinning around, kicking Mario’s legs out from under him. Yet before Crono could follow up there, Mario shot another fireball, hitting the young swordsman in the stomach. Crono rolled to the ground to extinguish the flames, and then got up on one knee, slashing up in a vicious retaliatory blow that sent shock waves rippling through the air, grabbing Mario and tossing him back. The Rainbow flew from Mario’s hands, spinning through the air to land at Crono’s feet. Sheathing Swallow for now, Crono’s hands found the hilt of his most treasured weapon. Even as he held this magnificent blade, though, troubling thoughts nagged at the back of his mind. Sephiroth was a swordsman—and a superb one at that. He should have been able to match Crono in a duel of blades… what had happened? Come to think of it, the imposter was fighting remarkably like Mario had. In the stands, Sephiroth’s eyes slitted. No… the boy can’t be shaking the control… his mind is hardening to me. He closed those piercing turquoise eyes, letting his mind wander once more to that of the boy’s, increasing the power he had over that deep subconscious portion of the youth’s mind. In the heat of battle, Crono’s world skipped once, like he was playing a scratched CD. It was a particularly nauseating feeling—but at least this time, he didn’t fall over. When his vision stopped swimming, he found himself in the grayed-out reality once more… utterly still and silent, except for the two lone figures in the arena. The imposter Mario crossed his arms. “Hmph. Boy, you’re holding back. Why aren’t you giving me your all?” Catching his breath, Crono completely ignored Sephiroth’s question, instead asking one of his own. “You…you’re a swordsman, why didn’t you hold your own against me there? Why did you give up so easily?” Sephiroth smirked coldly, an expression that looked particularly odd on the plumber’s mustachioed face. “You don’t understand, do you, child? The crowd wants to see you fight the plumber, so they will see you fight that fat, blubbery, fool. Acting oddly would only hurt my plans. Do you understand nothing? …then again, I suppose I cannot ask for miracles.” The younger swordsman grabbed the hilt of the Rainbow, his brow furrowing. “I don’t care about your plans. I’ll die before I let you do anything.” To that, the imposter Mario could only laugh. “If you insist, boy, I will be happy to assist your suicide….” And then time snapped back into focus with much of the same skipping feeling as it had stopped with. Back in the stands, the silver-haired SOLDIER General smirked. The boy was becoming harder to control, yes, but nothing he couldn’t handle. That iron will of his was impenetrable… but Sephiroth had snuck the seed of betrayal into his mind when he let his guard down. With that there, even the steeliest defenses would fall. It merely required more of his power… Sitting a few rows in front of him, Cloud Strife’s body was taut with tension, virtually shaking. He knew something was wrong… something didn’t feel right about the events he could see in the arena. Crono was acting strangely, he had been doing so ever since he had had that first brief spasm. Something was going on, but Cloud couldn’t figure out what to save his life… and then, something on the back of his hand began to pulse, gently humming with power. Mario coughed into his hand as he staggered to his feet, not liking the fact that his white glove came away flecked with blood. He’d only suffered minor wounds, but then again, so had Crono… this could be a long, dragged out, fight to the death. That prospect didn’t exactly excite him, especially when he had arrived expecting a friendly sparring duel. He could always use the Star he had saved away for just an occasion… but he didn’t want to play that trump card just yet. Of course, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other tricks up his red sleeves… Mario reached into his pockets and pulled out a cap, much like the one he was wearing—but it glinted as if it were made of pure liquid metal. However heavy a hat made of steel might be, Mario lifted it as if it were nothing, and placed it on his head… And then the metal spread in an instant, covering the whole of the plumber’s body. Metal Mario once more gave the “Victory” sign to the crowd, and then turned back to his opponent. “Are-a you a-ready?” “Stop talking like that… you can’t fool me. Bring it on.” Crono’s voice was dark and determined, a fury in it that continued to unnerve Mario, who had no idea what his younger adversary was talking about. A-fooling him? What a-does he a-mean?” But there was no time to worry about that now. The Metal Cap would run out quickly… he had to do this fast. And he knew just how to do it. One of Mario’s most handy skills had always been his Super Jump… yeah, being metal would make it harder to get air, but when he was made of solid steel, it didn’t matter how high he fell from. It’d still hurt. The air whistled around him as Mario bent his iron knees, and then sprang into the air, impossibly high, almost touching the top of the force barrier high above… and then, Mario began to fall. And fall. And fall. The air around him began to grow red with friction. Down below, Crono frowned. What did the imposter think he was playing? The Rainbow could slice through metal… and the spiky-haired warrior knew that he could time the strike perfectly. It would be too easy. Even as Metal Mario screamed through the air, Crono began that finishing blow, intending to slash his adversary just as he came within range. Then, Mario flipped over into the air, performing a physical impossibility—he stopped in midair. Caught off guard, Crono couldn’t stop the blow, and the tip of his crystalline blade passed bare millimeters beneath Mario’s steel bottom. That aforementioned steel ass then slammed down onto Crono’s head as Mario performed his infamous Ground Pound. Crono fell to the ground like a sack of bricks… and Mario once more flashed the “Victory” sign, relieved he had survived the fight… but now that he had won, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Why had Crono been acting so strangely? “A-Crono… are a-you okay?” Crono’s head was swimming… he had been stupid to fall for that trick, and he had paid the price. But no… he couldn’t let Sephiroth win. He refused to let Sephiroth beat him, to carry out his evil schemes. Crono owed that much to Mario… to avenge what Sephiroth had done. And the red-head opened his eyes, wiping the blood from his face. “I’m… not done… yet…” he growled. “You won’t beat me that easily!” Crono leapt to his feet, the Rainbow coming around in an impossibly quick slash. Startled, Mario had no time to block, but he was confident that the Metal Cap would protect him. Then the metal ran out, returning the plumber to his normal (albeit Firepowered) state. The sword swept through the hero’s body, sending Mario stumbling to the ground, holding his side as blood trickled from a deep wound. The plumber winced in pain as he tried to stem the flow of his life force… and didn’t entirely succeed. “A-Crono… a-why…?” Crono stalked forward, drawing his second sword, a bloodthirsty look on his face that Mario had never seen before. “Because I can’t let you do what you have planned, Sephiroth.” Sephiroth…? A-what? Mario didn’t have any time to think about that, though… he rolled backward as Crono’s swords slashed into the ground where he had been seconds before. The wound would slow him in the long run as he lost blood… but now, he still needed to fight. He had to fight, or else he’d get more where that had come from. Mario forced his hands away from the gash, wincing to himself as he felt the blood begin to flow. His now-scarlet hands reached into his pocket, grabbing a green shell, and he threw it with all of his might at Crono’s head. This time, however, the swordsman was ready for him. Both the Swallow and the Rainbow arced around at blindingly fast speeds. The shell fell to the arena floor, cut into four pieces. The plumber gulped. Crono was taking it far too seriously now… did he think that Mario was Sephiroth? Something wasn’t right, something was wrong with the young swordsman. However, the multitudes of shells that Mario had thrown before had vanished, as they were wont to do. His advantages were gone… in a close-up duel, he knew he’d lose the fight—and his life. Delving into his pocketspace once more, Mario pulled out another shell—red this time. He spun, throwing it, and then cringed as the motion pulled his wound open… but hopefully it would work. On the other end of the arena, Crono could have laughed. Apparently, his adversary thought that by changing the color of the shell, he’d have an advantage. Well, apparently, he thought wrong. Crono merely sidestepped the shell, allowing it to slide past. He then turned his attention back to Mario, lifting his twin swords. Crono’s eyes closed as he began to whisper an incantation, and the air around him started to crackle with electricity. The lightning mage was about to cast his spell when the Red Shell slammed into him from behind, knocking him off of his feet. Huh? The swordsman stood up again… and moments later, the shell swept him off his feet once more, having bounced back. Crono’s eyes widened as he realized that the shell was a seeker… as it came back for a third hit, Crono lunged forward, spitting it on the end of his katana. He spun, flinging it off of his blade (and slicing it in half in the process). The spinning motion caused his injured head to spin… Crono staggered, holding his head in his hands before managing to stand upright again. Having recovered from his own moment of incapacitation, Mario took advantage of Crono’s wound, grabbing another green shell, and flicking his cape so Crono couldn’t see what he did for a split second. Behind the cape, Mario fiddled with the shell, and then tossed that one at his adversary as well. Crono recovered from his off-balance state not a moment too soon, as the green shell flew at his head. Smirking, Crono swept his swords down in a repeat motion of the last time. What did the imposter think he could do…? The twin blades bit into the green shell… …and ignited the Bob-omb within. The explosion threw Crono to the ground, singing his clothes and his hair, flattening him against the tile floor. The crowd roared their approval through the energy barrier as Mario drew his powerful Hammer from his pocketspace and dashed at the recovering Crono. The two warriors clashed in the middle of the arena, Mario’s hammer battering down at Crono’s defenses, his swords counterattacking but always finding the massive weapon blocking… Crono dodged to the side, slashing down with one sword and up with the other, Mario rolled out of the way, counterattacking with a spinning strike that caught Crono in the midsection and tossed him back. Blood flew from his wound, spattering the ground. Crono hit the ground rolling and tumbled to his feet. As Mario continued his offensive dash, leaving a trail of scarlet in his wake, Crono struck, tossing the Swallow through the air. It sliced through the sky like a boomerang, forcing Mario to drop to the ground to avoid being cut in two. The redhead had seen Sora use this technique in practice, and had copied it for his own usage… it came in handy. His opponent climbed to his feet just as the Swallow came back around. At the same instant, a lightning bolt shot out of the sky (well, out of the energy barrier), striking Crono’s Rainbow, which he was holding upright. Crono’s hand seized around the handle of the Rainbow, convulsing as electricity shot through the blade. Yet what went into the blade could come back out. He spun around in a modified version of his and Lucca’s Flame Whirl, releasing a disc of lightning that lazily sliced its way through the air at Mario, coming in at a much lower height, aiming to catch the plumber between it and the Swallow. Yet it was not Mario’s fate to be defeated there. Even though the blood loss was beginning to get to him, he managed one last-ditch jump sideways, trying to make himself as slender as possible—not an easy task. Yet it worked… Crono’s Swallow passed over him, missing him by a fraction of a fraction of an inch, practically shaving the fuzz off of his overalls. The disc of lightning passed beneath him, coming so close it singed the hair on the tip of his nose. But as he tumbled to the ground and the crowd roared, he was alive. Crono wouldn’t let him get away with that, though. He dashed at Mario, swords outstretched, summoning the power of lightning to him. Mario turned to see his foe oncoming… but Crono looked slightly more… blue… than usual. A spark of electricity arced from the young swordsman’s body to the energy barrier, and then another, and another. With a roar and a thunderclap, Crono sheathed himself in a ball of pure lightning and rushed onward at his opponent, swinging his swords wildly. He would end the battle here and now. The lightning-charged swordsman came on… and all Mario could do was to fall backward, gathering his own power of flame. Crono’s two swords sliced right in front of the plumber’s face as he fell, Crono almost right on top of him, passing over him… Time slowed, time kept on slowing as the enraged warrior brought his swords up for a deathblow, stabbing down at Mario’s prone form. Then, their eyes met, and Mario grinned beneath the blood and grime on his mustachioed face. “A-Super Flame-a!” A massive fireball erupted from Mario’s palms, slamming into the sphere of lightning surrounding Crono, clashing with it, sending sparks flying… and then a second ball of flame followed it, and then a third, and a fourth, overwhelming Crono’s shield of electricity. His swords flying away, Crono was overpowered, flung back by the power of Mario’s attack. The redheaded swordsman from Guardia slammed into the force barriers, the energy of which clashed with his own electrical charge, creating a feedback loop, sending volts of current through his battered body. Crono fell to the ground, steam rising from his singed clothing. For a moment, everything was still, and Mario climbed to his feet, holding the wound on his side that was now really causing him problems. He couldn’t drag this out much longer… but had he won? Had he really won the match? …was Crono okay? Get up, you idiot. Get up. Don’t let him defeat you! Kill him! That voice shot through Crono’s mind, a whispered exhortation that left only one thought in Crono’s mind. He had to kill him. As he stirred, his muscles twitching from the aftermath of the shock, and the crowd roared their approval, that one thought coursed through his brain. You need to kill him. Kill Mario! Wait. Kill Mario? No, I need to kill Sephiroth… Yes, of course, that’s what I meant… kill Sephiroth! Who are you? What’s going on? For the first time, Crono realized that the voice in his head that had been driving him for the entire match… something was strange. It wasn’t his voice… it wasn’t his thoughts. What the hell is going on? When the voice spoke again, it was soothing, calming, this time. Don’t worry about it. Just finish the match… remember, Sephiroth killed Mario and took his body. Avenge him. Avenge Mario, strike the pretender down… In the stands, Sephiroth’s eyes were closed tightly as he poured more and more of his will into this gambit… the boy was beginning to shake it. He could not shake it, Sephiroth REFUSED to let him break the control. If Crono regained control, all would be for naught. His path to Porta Dei might very well be blocked. It was a test of wills, and sweat began to trickle down the insane megalomaniac’s face. He would not be defeated… and eventually, the Trojan Horse already in Crono’s mind broke his defenses. Crono fell limp on the ground for one brief eternity, and then climbed to his feet, an insane rage on his face. He would kill. He would kill him… kill Sephiroth! He raised his hands to the sky, gathering energy to him for that ultimate attack, for his final technique that Spekkio, the Master of War, had granted him. But he couldn’t afford to cast Luminaire as he normally did, no… that would be expected, and Sephiroth would be prepared. A spark of power ignited on top of his hands, swirling and expanding into a dome of turquoise energy that covered him, shielding him from the view of the crowd. “Lumin…” And even as his body cast the most powerful spell he knew, that one spark of himself in the back of his mind kept resisting. But it was not enough, and the dome collapsed into a small sphere that Crono held in his hands. The redhead looked over his shoulder, brushing singed red locks from his face, fixing Mario with a cold glare, icy blue orbs staring into the plumber’s very soul. Although he was disoriented from the pain and blood loss that Crono’s wound had inflicted, Mario knew that stare. He knew he was in trouble. His hands wandered into his pocketspace to get the Star… they grabbed it… …no. He would die on his feet, rather than survive on his knees like a coward. Mario knew that there was no way he could use that Star. Instead, he tapped into all the remaining power of the FireFlower, hoping desperately that it was enough. Crono spun, his hands flashing out straight, the ball in his palms exploding into a huge wave of power that eclipsed half of the area inside the energy shield, focused at the plumber that the voice in his mind commanded him to kill. “LUMINAIRE!” Mario’s hands whipped forward as he countered this attack with the only way he knew how… his own magnum opus. “A-ULTRA FLAME-A!” A huge fireball erupted from his palms, and then a second, a third, a fourth… dozens of massive balls of flame bounced along the arena floor, colliding with the sheer power that was Crono’s Luminaire, mixing, being absorbed, pushing it back… sparks flew as energy collided, contained within the energy shield and pushed back inside to create a tempest of sheer power. When it cleared, Crono found himself standing alone… Mario was on the ground, immobile, red pooling around him from his wound. And as he drew his swords, stalking towards the plumber, who simply stared at him with wide brown eyes, looking at his oncoming death… he lifted his swords high above his head, they arced down for the final blow… that red pool became dark gray. Crono looked around as the world became frozen in black and white for a third time over the course of the fight. Huh…? This can’t be right… what am I doing? I’m going to kill Mario? No! That’s not… I’ve been… what? The voice in the back of his head that still belonged to him was frantic now, loud and clear, pointing out the folly… but his hands and legs still moved of their own accord. One step in front of the other, Crono moved towards Mario, who remained frozen in time… Crono’s mind screamed out, but to no avail. No one could hear him. You are… a puppet… Crono spun to see Sephiroth standing there, his long hair flowing, his green eyes striking in the complete black and white of the arena. “A puppet. Nothing more. You are a fool, boy… you’re about to murder your friend and there is nothing you can do to stop yourself. Revel in your misery… it will break you.” Sephiroth laughed coldly. “Yes, you’ve resisted me marvelously… but in the end, it is truly all for naught. No one can help you now.” In the stands, Cloud Strife’s forehead was damp with sweat. He could feel the power, he could feel something controlling Crono, he could sense it, but he couldn’t do anything about it, he couldn’t find who it was… he was powerless. He had to do something, though, he couldn’t… he couldn’t… A light burst from the triangle on his hand, a pure golden light in the shape of a triangle… the Triforce of Power… That golden light gleamed through the energy barrier, shining even in the quiet sepulcher of the world without time… and Crono and Sephiroth both covered their faces, so powerful and beautiful was the light of the Triforce. The golden glow washed over everything… even as the two swords still fell towards Mario. The blade of the Rainbow halted, barely touching the skin of Mario’s neck. Everything was in color… and Crono fell to his knees, the toll of the battle finally overpowering him. The swords clattered to the ground as Crono held his head in horror, in realization. He had been a fool, he had been manipulated by Sephiroth for the entire match… His horror-stricken blue gaze met the oddly calm brown one of Mario’s… and the plumber understood what had happened. “You a-weren’t in a-control…” he said, forcing the words through the pain; he didn’t hold any malice against Crono. Both of them now could sense the maleficent presence in the air… and both of them knew who it was. “No, it is my fault,” whispered Crono in a hoarse voice, as he stood up, grabbing the Swallow and the Rainbow and sheathing them. “It is my fault, and mine alone. I let my guard down… and I almost killed you. This tournament… for people to come and revel in this bloodsport… I can’t go on, I can’t continue here.” His voice was trembling with the realization of what he had just done, of what he had almost truly done—he had almost murdered his friend in cold blood. And Crono said in a whisper that was somehow heard by the entire stadium: “I forfeit. I can’t allow myself to go on here after this…” With that, he turned and walked away from the arena, through the force barriers, and out of the stadium. As he walked, he whispered to himself one single word. “Sephiroth…” "The Measure of a Warrior" The portal swirled shut behind the brown satchel, its throbbing hum replaced by stony silence. Crono heaved a silent sigh, running a hand through his unruly red hair. The teen chuckled to himself as he remembered the time, before the beginning of the competition, when Yuna had insisted on trying to tame that mop of hair. Three hours later, the kind-natured summoner had given up in frustration. Even Cloud Strife’s industrial-strength styling agent couldn’t help. He smiled softly, leaning against the stone wall of the empty corridor. Had it only been two months since they had arrived in the world of the tournament? The young man seemed to have enough memories to fill a lifetime… some bad, but mostly good. Crono had made friends at the tournament. He had laughed with them, trained with them… and, though he was rather chagrined at the memory, he had gotten drunk with them. Now, the memories were all that remained. He sighed again, looking at the empty space in front of him where the portal had been a moment ago. The bag that had vanished through the warp in space-time had carried all of the possessions that Crono had carried with him to the tournament. Now, it returned—alone. The redhead imagined his mother’s consternation when a satchel appeared in their home, mysteriously full of Crono’s clothes and belongings—yet without its owner. All of Crono’s possessions had been in that small bag—save two. The Swallow was strapped securely to his back, and he wore the Rainbow at his side, as he had during the match. As the young swordsman looked down the empty, silent halls, he found himself wondering how Magus had felt at this point, not even a week ago. To have come so far… and to have failed, to have been defeated. The teenager closed his eyes, softly hitting a closed fist against the wall. At least Magus had been defeated fighting… he had fought against the evil of the mask that had corrupted Link, he had matched his power with that dark force… both Crono and Magus had forfeited their battles. Yet while Magus’ fight had been against a powerful evil, Crono’s battle had been in the service of one such malevolence. He had been manipulated. The sight of his friend, near-fatally wounded by Crono’s own hand… it chilled the young warrior to the bone. Mario had survived, yes—he was recovering in the Tournament Hospital… but it could have easily been otherwise. How could he have been controlled so? How could he let himself have fallen for the deception of… Sephiroth… The young man turned, slamming his fist into the wall once more—much harder this time. Sephiroth. Crono had believed he was fighting Sephiroth to revenge whatever the villain might have done to his friend. In reality, he had been about to kill that very friend… and the silver-haired swordsman had been behind it all. Crono could not forgive himself for being used like a mere tool; he would not forgive Sephiroth for being the craftsman who had used him. Every night, one of the competitors passed through this portal—whether alive or dead, they had left. Fifty-two warriors had exited the dimension so far. Crono wasn’t planning on being the fifty-third. At least not yet. He had something to take care of first… - - - - - - - - The stadium was still—deathly quiet, as a matter of fact. Sephiroth stood in the middle of the stone arena, staring up at the cold stars above. Several warriors had met their end here in the arena… and Sephiroth knew that many more would fall before the end. Before he reached Porta Dei… And yet, while several of the tiles were stained red by the blood that had been shed today, and some of the stones had been torn up by the force of that magnificent battle… they were the only marks visible. The ring had been torn up by magic, remodeled for racing, splattered with blood in previous fights—yet none of those changes could be seen. They no longer existed. Sephiroth took the Masamune in his hand, moving the immense blade with deceptive ease. The slender sword slashed into the floor of the arena, slicing the stone as easily as if it were half-melted butter, leaving a deep gash in its wake. The SOLDIER frequently came out here at night to watch what would always happen… it fascinated him. But no, it was not yet time… he looked up at the stars once more, a pensive smile on his face as he read the destiny inlaid in those glowing beads. The stars washed their cold beauty over him, whispering to him promises of power. The Son of Jenova had read his destiny in the stars the first night he had been here… yet it had taken him the better part of his time here—yes, even with his superior intellect—to figure out what they had meant. Their promises of Godhood… His communion with the stars absorbed him so completely that it wasn’t until somebody spoke that he realized the stadium was no longer empty. “I knew I could find you here.” The master swordsman turned, his silver hair blowing gently in the breeze, and caught sight of the boy—that insufferable boy… yet he was of no consequence. Sephiroth would not allow his celestial meeting to be interrupted by someone so base. “Those who live in the valleys are always drawn to the one at the mountain’s peak, yes. Leave, now.” Yet the worm would not be driven away so easily. Crono laughed, the sound rather incongruous with the utter silence of the arena. “Keep thinking you’re invincible, Sephiroth. It’ll only make your fall that much more painful. You can taunt me all you want; you can play your little games… but you’re still mortal.” Obviously, the boy was not going to heed the commands of his superior. Sephiroth frowned. He could simply not understand why people went against the natural order of things… the entitled should rule, that was the way it should always be. Anything else was blasphemy. “You’re pitiful…” growled the warrior, annoyed at being jolted out of his repose by this half-pint. “Say what you want,” Crono shrugged. “It won’t change anything. You played your little game with me today, and you almost won. You almost succeeded, Sephiroth. But you failed. Cloud told me about what you tried to do back in your own world. Again, you almost won… but you were defeated. Again.” Breaking his flawlessly calm exterior for a single moment, Sephiroth snapped, “You have no idea what you’re talking about, boy. You would do well to keep that nose of yours out of matters that don’t concern you. You understand nothing.” The younger man shrugged. “What don’t I understand? That you’re so insecure about that defeat of yours that you need to play mastermind? That you need some sort of blue ribbon to actually feel like you’re worth something? What other reason would you have for trying to rig the tournament like you’re doing?” Sephiroth turned, his eyes piercing into the younger warrior’s soul. “You have no idea…” his voice was soft and smooth. “You could not possibly comprehend the forces at work here.” The shorter swordsman laughed derisively to himself. “Keep walking around looking up at the stars, Sephiroth, and you’ll be tripped up by the ground you don’t see.” At that comment, the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth gently tugged upward by an unseen force. “You have no idea…” he repeated, more to himself than to Crono. He spoke again, louder this time. “Who are you to talk to me about not seeing the earth I walk on? On the contrary, I’m the only one who can see it for what it truly is…” Raising an eyebrow, Crono crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What are you talking about?” Sephiroth began to slowly walk around the stadium, his eyes closed. It was a minute before he spoke; it was an hour before he spoke… time seemed to ripple around the two, to warp itself to their power. At last, the SOLDIER fixed Crono with his green stare. "Pathetic. Despite how far you've come, you still can't see beyond your own mode of existence to the vast possibilities beyond. For every universe you see represented here, there are untold other universes whose courses followed different paths. In most of them, evil reigns supreme. What you see here are the anomalies, specially chosen out of an infinite existence. Lavos was only defeated in your world by a bit of blind chance in your discovery. Every possibility, every course of action which did not play out exists somewhere in the multiverse." Crono’s eyes widened… how did Sephiroth know what had happened? Yet before he could ask that question, Sephiroth held up a hand and continued speaking. “Do not interrupt me. You see, each and every one of our choices has a distinct outcome. Every decision we make leads to another decision, which leads to another, ad nauseum. But what about the choices we don’t make? What happens to the paths that we don’t take?” The SOLDIER’s verdant eyes glinted in the gentle light of the moon. “There are infinite worlds out in the multiverse, each resulting from a different choice we may or may not make. The worlds are all parallel—they never intersect. The natural walls between them prohibit that… with few exceptions.” The flame-haired warrior’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know what happened with Lavos? And what do these ‘parallel universes’ have to do with anything here?” “I know about Lavos because I know about you… your mind was ridiculously easy to read… but that is inconsequential…” Sephiroth’s arm swept out to encompass the arena in one grand gesture. “And as for your other question… why, the multiple universes are at the very core of everything that happens here.” “Ordinarily, the walls between universes prevent travel between different worlds… yet here, almost all of us are from separate dimensions. The spectators, too, hail from different eddies in the cosmic stream… everything intersects.” With a cold chuckle, Sephiroth once more raised his face to the sky. “The stars are different here than in my world,” he said off-handedly before once more returning his gaze to the boy who stood opposite him. “With all your mucking about in time and space, I would have thought that at least you would realize what you're leaving behind here. Not just one world. But all of them. You are not even capable of grasping the significance of the very ground underneath your feet.” Crono’s sapphire eyes slitted. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “You’re not making any sense here…” The SOLDIER chuckled once more. “This world should not exist. It was not meant to be… the universe in which we are all fighting was artificially created by warping the very fabric of time and space. How else do you think it could function like it does? It is a cosmic gateway, a nexus… all things meet here. My world, your world, the worlds of the thousands of people who come to see the bloodsport we provide…” “It is able to function like this because, unlike the rest of the worlds, it has no dimensional walls. It is laid open to the rest of the multiverse… and as such, is inherently unstable. But I’m sure you’ve noticed this already. The constant changing of the arena, for one… erecting a maze when one is called for, transforming the ring into a race-track, creating powerful energy barriers in a single night, getting rid of all the scars and stains from the day’s battle…” “Please. You know as well as I do that the tournament has a team of robots that takes care of all of that… you won’t trick me a second time, Sephiroth.” “Do yourself a favor and be quiet, boy.” The great swordsman drew Masamune once more, scraping another gash in the stone floor beside the one he had created before. “Have you actually watched those robots? Watched them go over the same crater ten times without actually doing anything? They are just for show… and yet, not a single one of you has realized that. And if one of you has, then you don’t understand what it really means.” The wind brought a sound to the ears of the two, a sound akin to leaves rustling in an autumn breeze, a noise that grew steadily louder. “Ah, yes… here it comes. Watch carefully, now.” As the noise grew louder, Crono looked into the distance—as far as he could see past the stadium, anyway. What was Sephiroth telling him to look for…? And then a wave of—something… what was it…??... flew over the stadium wall—no, not over, through—carrying with it a current of rippling air that blew through Crono’s fiery hair, blurring the world. The wave of energy passed over the two of them… …and Crono found himself on the ground. He climbed to his feet, holding his head—which felt not unlike a giant watermelon that had just been split open. “What the hell was that…?” Sephiroth smirked at him. “A bit disorienting the first time, isn’t it? You might as well call it a… a “reset,” if you will. Look around the arena.” Crono did so, and his eyes went wide. All of the bloodstains and battle scars that had littered the arena were now gone, leaving behind perfect, unblemished stone tile. Even the two slashes that Sephiroth had carved into the ground had vanished, like they had never been there. The ring was not the only thing changed. As he looked around the stadium, he could see none of the garbage that the spectators left behind… it was just as if the stadium were utterly brand new. Until now, Crono had always assumed that the pristine state of the gigantic coliseum was due to the superb talents of the repair robots… he could have never imagined… “Do you understand more, now?” Sephiroth shook his head. “The very nature of this dimension is change, is impermanence… it is highly unstable. As such, we occasionally may catch stray time streams in the ocean of the multiverse… and we run the risk of collapsing into the infinite energies of that ocean. Of course, that would not do for those who run the tournament, now, would it?” The silver-haired man laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “They artificially warped space-time, creating matter from where there was none before. And they maintain the integrity of this world, despite its inherently unstable nature...” His eyes glittered with unbridled malevolence. "Tell me, boy. Do you have any idea of the sheer power involved in not only creating this artificial world, but maintaining it amidst the infinity of the multiverse? Can you possibly comprehend the magnitude of the energy that lies here? This is no ordinary world, it is the Gate of the Gods. The Porta Dei." Sephiroth shook his head, his mane of silver hair waving in the wind. “But then again, we cannot ask the blind to see, can we? Your view of the universe is stunted, and it will always be so. You have lost, and as such, are of no consequence anymore… now leave.” The SOLDIER turned back, preparing to once more join in his communion with the heavens, preparing to walk amongst them. “Sorry, that’s not in the cards.” Steel rasped on steel, and Sephiroth turned to see Crono sink down into a battle stance, his two katanas in his hands. “You manipulated me, Sephiroth… and you can spout all the mystical babble you want, but it won’t change the fact that you felt the need to use me as a puppet to get what you wanted. You’re just concerned with winning, that’s all. You wanted me out of the way because you were afraid that you weren’t the best.” His swords shimmered in the moonlight. “I can’t forgive you for doing that… for making me almost murder a friend in cold blood. And if you’re planning something, no matter what, I won’t stand by and let you carry it out.” The white-haired swordsman laughed coldly. “Your arrogance is amusing. You were as easy to manipulate as any of the other puppets I have discarded in the past. And what can you do? Harming another competitor outside of the ring is punishable by ejection…” the swordsman’s voice trailed off and he scowled. That scowl was matched by a beaming, confident grin on Crono’s face. “Bingo. I’m already out of the tournament…” Masamune flashed in the air as Sephiroth held it high above his head, the blade fixed with the deadly point aiming right between Crono’s eyes. “Very well then. If you insist, I will be glad to destroy you. If you’re not afraid to die, that is…” Crono smirked. “You think you can scare me? Everyone knows that death in the arena is only permanent if you’re dead in your home world… so you should be more worried about that than I.” Matching Crono’s smirk with one of his own, the elder swordsman laughed. “You really know nothing, do you?” He lowered the Masamune, holding it in a non-aggressive position, and slowly walked towards Crono… “All choices have consequences, boy. When your friends swapped you with that clone, they introduced an instability into the multiverse. He bent down, whispering into the redhead’s ear: ”You’re supposed to be dead, boy… and death will claim you.” The younger swordsman pushed Sephiroth back with the hilt of his swords, surprising the SOLDIER with his strength. “You can’t fool me again, Sephiroth. I’m not going to be your puppet a second time… you’re lying.” An oddly placid smile wormed its way onto Sephiroth’s features. “Perhaps. Can you take that chance? If you leave now, you’ll be with your friends again… if you die here, you’ll never see them again.” His eyes bored a hole into Crono’s mind, and the younger swordsman had an instant vision of Guardia Castle in ruins, fire and smoke billowing into the sky… bodies littered the ground. Two of them, lying side by side, he recognized… Lucca and Marle… Sephiroth’s voice hissed into his mind. “Yes… you see? Your choices have a consequence. Without you, is it so inconceivable that this is a reality? Your friends, your mother, everybody you know and love… dead… because your ego was so big you felt the need to futilely prove yourself against me. Can you take that chance?” The world swam back into focus, and Crono found himself on his knees, eyes closed… he had been shivering, the vision was so alarming. He would not be swayed… he couldn’t. If Sephiroth went on to the next round, he’d face Mario. Crono owed that much to his friend to try and stop the madman. Climbing to his feet, Crono’s sapphire gaze met Sephiroth’s emerald one. “I can, and I will. The fight today showed me what’s really important here. I don’t give a damn about this tournament anymore…” Crono grinned to himself. “I’m fighting for my friends. Lucca, Marle, Magus, Cloud, Sonic… and Mario.” Besides, I’m not planning on being the one who dies here.” Sephiroth frowned to himself. He could defeat the boy, of course… however, what did trouble him was the source of the boy’s power. He rarely encountered those who did not depend on outside influences for the source of their power. The bounty hunter Samus needed her suit to fight, the warrior Link had his weapons and the power of that golden trinket of his, the failure Cloud had his Materia—Sephiroth needed no Materia… he was in essence a living embodiment of the Lifestream, of course. It was rare to come across someone who fought with their own power… yet Crono was one of those rare beings who did. His strength came from the unity of his magical power, his prowess with the sword, and his iron will… his strength was pure. …As was Sephiroth’s own, of course. The battle that was brewing excited the SOLDIER commander… it had been so long since he had had a true fight. He would anoint himself in the pure blood of a true warrior, and then he would be a step closer to Porta Dei. “Very well then.” Sephiroth once more raised Masamune into the air. The blade sang in anticipation… it would shortly taste blood. “Come.” Crono dashed in with a lunge, thrusting Rainbow in. Sephiroth sidestepped, parrying the strike. Before he could counter, Crono spun around in a backwards slash to the SOLDIER’s midsection. The elder swordsman staggered backwards, his hand wandering to the cut on his stomach, coming away red. Sephiroth then grinned. “Very good. First blood…” “It’ll be more than first blood soon.” The redhead came on the offensive, slashing vertically and horizontally with his two blades, weaving his body through graceful strikes even as Sephiroth parried almost all of the blows, counterattacking and being parried in return, an elegant ballet of blades. The two masters of the blade fought, weaving a tapestry of steel, sparks flying. Sephiroth’s sword slashed down from overhead, and Crono blocked it with his blades in the shape of an “X.” Steel sparked on steel as the two tried to overpower each other, Sephiroth pressing down, Crono resisting upward… sweat began to trickle down their faces… and then Sephiroth disengaged suddenly, Crono’s swords flying upwards… he brought a booted foot up, kicking the young redhead in the stomach, sending Crono tumbling across the ring. His swords clattered to the ground at Sephiroth’s feet… and the long-haired SOLDIER chuckled. Disarmed, the boy was nothing. He might have gotten a good hit in to begin with, but the battle was against him in the long run… As Crono climbed to his feet, however, he was still grinning. He closed his eyes, his hands clasping together, charging the power of lightning to himself… his hair stood on end—even more so than usual—as an azure sphere coalesced from the ether between his palms… and then he broke his hands apart, holding them high above his head, grinning. “You ready?” Without waiting for a response, the young warrior twisted to the side, his hand sweeping around, releasing a sphere of lightning that wobbled through the air to where Sephiroth was, searing the sky around it. The silver-haired swordsman let it come. As long as he had control of Crono’s swords, he would win. Sephiroth raised his sword, intending to slice the boy’s projectile in two… In the moment his elder opponent raised the sword to the sky, Crono’s hands shot up into the air, and a lone thunderbolt seared down through the air, striking the long, graceful blade, and sending fatal amounts of electricity into Sephiroth’s body. …Fatal amounts for a mere human, of course. As it were, the strike merely stunned the SOLDIER… and then the ball of thunder slammed into his body. Sephiroth was knocked from his feet, silver and azure lightning sizzling all around him, sparking and dancing in the night air, his limbs twitching reflexively from the electricity as he tumbled to the ground. Crono took advantage of the other man’s temporary incapacitation, breaking into a full-out run, desperately trying to reach his weapons before his opponent could recover. The black-caped villain recovered far more quickly than Crono had expected, however. Sephiroth rolled to his feet in one swift motion, spinning in the same fluid movement, his foot sweeping out and around to trip up his younger opponent as Crono passed on his mad dash for the swords. As Crono fell through the air, his eyes caught an infinitely brief glimpse of crystal on the ground, and his hand shot out, grasping the well-worn handle of the Rainbow as he passed overhead in that desperate instant… the young fighter flipped himself in midair and landed on his feet, skidding several feet back from his inertia… and then the Rainbow katana came up to deflect Sephiroth’s vicious follow-up strike. Sephiroth pushed Crono back, taking control of the match. He feinted low before striking down in a twirling overhead cut that the younger warrior barely sidestepped to avoid the same fate he had granted Kefka. In a desperate attempt to turn the tide of the match, Crono ducked under a sweeping horizontal slash and dove in, striking at Sephiroth’s unprotected midsection with a counterblow of his own. Yet Sephiroth was no longer there, evaporating in a burst of ebony feathers that wafted to the ground harmlessly before disappearing. Crono had a brief instant to wonder what in the hell was going on before he hit the ground rolling, somersaulting to his feet. A faint whisper of fabric behind him was his only warning. Crono turned, Rainbow coming up to block, but he was an instant too slow. The Masamune flashed, and Crono spun to the ground, blood spewing from a deep diagonal gash on his cheek that started low and went up all across the bridge of his nose to his forehead. The younger warrior clutched his face with one hand, holding the two torn parts together as blood seeped through his fingers, on his knees. Sephiroth knew the boy had to be in utter agony at the moment as blood boiled from his torn face… to his credit, he did not scream, he did not cry, as lesser beings would. “You fought well… for a mere pawn… but all things must fail in their time. Are you ready to die, weakling?” “…yes.” Sephiroth paused, his sword raised high above his head in preparation for the final cut.. “Hm?” His voice was muffled from the blood in his mouth and the pressure of his left hand on his face, but Crono’s voice was strong and calm, as it always was. “You're forgetting something, Sephiroth. The difference between a coward and a hero. You refuse to fight your own battles, you try to manipulate everyone from a distance. I've already died once for what I believed in. I'm prepared to do it again. I have nothing. To lose. You do.” The one eye that was visible on Crono’s face glimmered with the spirit of a pure warrior. “And if you’re going to send me to Hell… I’ll be saving you a seat.” Masamune arced down for the killing blow… and then, with one hand, Crono swung Rainbow up, blocking it… at the same instant, a thunderbolt shot from the sky, energizing the crystal blade of the Rainbow, sending that same energy into the Masamune, and into Sephiroth himself. The power of the lightning strike wasn’t anything major, but it was enough to momentarily stun the megalomaniac… and Crono took advantage of that. Still holding his wound together, he dashed forward in a powerful leaping strike, his blade tearing up through Sephiroth’s stomach and chest, a spray of blood erupting in its path. Crono rolled to the ground, coming up and running for his other blade, the Swallow. He sheathed the Rainbow, in the same motion kicking the yellow blade into the air and catching it, turning to fight… as he did, a burst of silver light echoed through the arena, but Crono had no time to wonder what it was. He caught a brief glimpse of Sephiroth’s arm flashing through the air, a glowing white crystal in his grasp… And then he fell to his knees, the long, slender Masamune run through his chest. Crono gasped, coughing up blood, as Sephiroth limped over to his enemy, the Chaos Emerald in his grasp, soothing his wounds (even as blood dripped from Crono’s final blow onto the arena floor below). “You…” his face was wild and insane, with no trace of the composure he had been infamous for. “You, of all people, made me use this… this jewel…” The redhead didn’t actually understand any of what Sephiroth was saying—the wound on his face and the sword through his gut were foremost on his mind at the moment… but as Sephiroth drew the blade he had thrown from Crono’s chest, covered in the teen’s blood, the young warrior was dimly aware of a dark light pressing in at the corners of his vision. Sephiroth wiped some of the blood off of the Masamune with his hand, marking a scarlet cross on his forehead… he would anoint himself with the blood of the pure… yet he frowned. He had been forced to use the Chaos Emerald… instead of relying on his own strength… the win was empty… Yet he could still eliminate this troublesome worm. Sephiroth sheathed the Masamune, ignoring the gash on his abdomen that even the Emerald couldn’t completely cure, and raised his hands high above his head, gathering the power of darkness to himself… he would obliterate this boy once and for all. However, as the ball of power came down to eliminate the young warrior, Sephiroth shivered… Crono was smiling… …and then there was a blast of unholy energy. When the light faded, there was no trace of the boy from the Kingdom of Guardia. Sephiroth turned and limped away… and smiled to himself. He knew the failure had seen it all… the only question now was what Cloud Strife would do with it. In his bedroom back at the mansion, Cloud awoke, his sheets damp with sweat… and he turned, slamming his fist into the wall in anger and frustration. “Sephiroth…!!!!” he growled to himself. The time for revenge would come. ~~~~~~ Crono fell, always falling, always alone. Is this what it’s like to die? He asked himself, as he continued his eternal fall. It felt comfortable, it felt warm, it felt… nice… His body in this ethereal realm had none of the wounds it had suffered in life against the madman… it was peaceful. Crono, it is not your time… you can’t die here, you can’t die yet. The voice was soft, the voice was gentle and kind, and very familiar—yet try as the young man might, he couldn’t place it. He had a brief vision of kind, dark eyes… he had seen them somewhere before… All things meet at the Nexus of Space, the Porta Dei… I can’t speak with you long, however, you must leave. Just know this… there are more journeys ahead of you, Crono… the Savior of Time… With that, the voice vanished, echoing into the distance. As it left, Crono felt… lonely… And then he felt cold, bitter cold as the wind howled around him. Crono fell to his knees, in the wet, freezing, snow, huddling to himself, trying to keep warm… what had happened? He remembered falling, and a voice, and warmth… was this truly Death? He had escaped it before… but as Crono looked at the infinite whiteness around him, only broken by a sole, withered, broken tree… it was hard to imagine a more desolate place than this. Crono shivered as the tongue of the wind bit deep into his flesh, lashing at him for his failure to defeat the elder swordsman… And then light glinted off of an object, dimly visible through the blizzard. The young man’s teeth chattered as he recognized the gleam of light—it was a scythe… perhaps the Reaper had come for him after all? His hand seized up around the hilt of his blade—Crono hadn’t ever given in without a fight, and he wasn’t planning on starting now. Then the dim figure wielding a scythe stepped into view, and Crono found himself flat on his back, a warm, familiar weight against him… “Crono! You’re alright!” …Marle…?? There she was, Marle, her arms around him as though he had just returned from the dead, desperately clinging to him… and Magus stood with his scythe, smirking at the sight before him. “We found you on Death Peak once before,” the warlock said off-handedly. “It looks as though I was right to assume you’d appear here again.” His smirk darkened briefly. “I know what happened, Crono… and you and I must discuss it… so that we can stop it from happening again.” And even as Crono nodded, listening to him, he noticed something quite familiar about Magus’ eyes, but as much as he tried, the warrior couldn’t place it, as Marle clung to him… …It was good to be alive. ~Fin~ Next Entry Back |