Come to me...We belong together...We will rule together...
He opened his eyes.
Come to me...We must take back what is rightly ours...
An arm covered with a black leather sleeve snaked out to the side and the gloved hand belonging to the arm wrapped itself around the hilt of a gleaming, silver long sword; one who's edge was so sharp that it would have sliced through the length of a strand of hair without a mishap. But the narrow edge did not give the blade a sense of fragility as most well sharpened edges would do to their weapons; it merely heightened the breathtaking strength that pulsed strongly throughout the length of steel like a heartbeat. And beating in time with those surges of strength—of power, unlimited, endless power—were the heartbeats of the man who stood with the sword in his hand.
Go. Go. Rid the world of those parasites. Exterminate them. Trample them beneath your feet like the worthless, spineless worms they are. Show them what it means to defy a goddess and her chosen warrior.
He strode through the weak glass doors that were the only barriers his foolish victims had chosen to place between themselves and death. Nobody was in the lobby that greeted his searching, hungry eyes. The entire room seemed to echo with emptiness and silence.
But he only heard death singing through his ears.
With the squeak of boot heels sliding against tile, he turned and jabbed at a button in the wall. The doors beside the button opened obediently, sliding aside in the path of a god as he stepped through the yielding gates.
Kill them. Kill them all.
The cramped room stopped moving after a matter of seconds and the doors slid open once more, revealing one of those hated maggots wearing a weak, cheap imitation of the Goddess-blessed armor that graced the Chosen one's body. The sickly-pale little creature stared at his glory, obviously too taken aback and stunned to do anything.
He solved that problem for the weak-minded little simpleton. Before it could turn tail, it found the entire six-feet-plus length of steel buried in its chest. He twisted the sword around, watching with the fascination of a child pulling the wings off of a helpless butterfly, as the worm arched its back, its mouth opening in a soundless cry as blood bubbled forth from its throat. It overflowed and fell to the ground in thick crimson drops, its body soon following as he withdrew his magnificent weapon from the worthless corpse. There was not a single trace of blood staining the silver perfection of the sword, and it came as no surprise to him. This weapon, after all, had been made to suit the needs and station of one of Her Chosen ones.
He stepped over the body, fastidiously picking his boots clear of the blood busily swallowing up the formerly pristine white, tiled floor.
More. More. More blood. More death. Kill them.
The next floor of the insect colony had more excitement. No sooner had he stepped off of the stairway did the shrieks of terror and panic begin. He looked up, savoring the sight of puny weaklings running helter-skelter in helpless—and useless—confusion, staring at him with wide eyes filled with fear as if he were the devil instead of the angel of justice that he was.
Now! Go! Kill!
He had his fun. He toyed with them, darting forward into a cluster of the simple-minded animals and slashing at a few of them. He always had one target in his mind, however; every time he made a pass at a group, it was always guaranteed that there would be at least one more corpse lying on the ground, blood spreading into a pool around their still forms.
And finally there was only one left. It was snorting like a spooked horse, stumbling on its two legs as it clutched its forearms to its ample chest. It flung its long hair around as it looked this way and that, searching for a chance to escape and live. He let it look, and then he let it dart to the side as it desperately pumped its legs in an attempt to get away from his blade.
He overtook its pitiful attempts to flee with a few quick strides and cut it down with a single slash to its back. It let out a high, shrill scream, sounding rather like a rabbit being strangled, before it fell into a twitching heap at his feet. He smiled down at it as it twisted its head around to stare up into his glowing emerald eyes framed by smooth, silky silver hair—eyes and hair that marked him as the Chosen.
"Please, don't," he heard it begging in a breathy voice that inhaled and exhaled laboriously. "Oh, God, please don't..."
He took some pleasure in locking his gaze with its, knowing that his eyes would unsettle even the strongest of these worms, and smiled sweetly as it froze in mixed terror and desperate hope.
"There is no God," he said in the voice of a child laughing at the antics of a clumsy newborn puppy. He drew his sword back and brought the edge across the pathetic being's neck, leaving a red line behind that quickly gushed forth with blood as the head bid adieu to the body and tumbled away.
More! More! We must have more! Paint everything red! Kill!
He felt his pulse begin to pick up as he planted his gaze on his next group of prey. This time he finished them off as quickly as he could, feeling a surge of exhilaration run up his spine as blood flew and insects screamed their death calls. He turned to meet the next one; this one, however, dared to fight back. It threw itself at him with a wide broadsword clutched between its hands, swinging at his head in a blow intended to leave him with a sizeable weapon implanted in his skull.
It would have worked if he hadn't been many times the fighting maggot's superior. He twitched his head aside and lashed out, removing the renegade's arms from its body with two quick swipes. Its blade clattered to the ground as blood from its stumps sprayed out onto the ground; it stared in numb shock at its own arms lying like two extra worms on the ground and didn't even whimper when it was finally cleaved in half at the waist.
He was beginning to see crimson everywhere. The bright color dropped over his eyes in an euphoric haze, giving his head a pleasantly dizzy feeling as he moved upwards. His muscles were tensed with anticipation, and still yet did he and his sword shine freely of the blood that was splattered across walls, floors, and ceilings.
There. There. I am here. Come to me. Take me in your arms, and then we will only have one final parasite in this pitiful hive to finish off.
It loomed before him before he expected it. The steel dome had a door implanted in its side, and within the door there was a single glass circle that would allow the curious to view what lay waiting behind the metal door. A deep red light that glowed even more brightly than the bloody veil in his gaze seeped from behind the glass and through the cracks between door and dome. Out of habit and curiosity, he leaned forward and peered through the glass, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to make out the form that stood there with constraints wrapped about arms and body.
Take me. Set me free, and then we will become one. Let me out of this miserable prison and we shall take back what was always ours.
As if he were in a dream, he stepped away from the door and raised his sword above his head. It was an easy task to cut the door down, and even easier to step inside of the dome to free the prisoner confined there. It was unbearably hot inside, or at least unbearable hot for anyone below the status of an immortal with the powers of a god. He felt the heat as a child would feel a breath of a breeze darting through the air, leaving sensations behind that lasted for too short of a time to be truly felt and remembered.
Free me. Free me.
She had no head, but she was still the most beautiful immortal he had ever seen. She was a goddess, and it was his duty as her Chosen to serve her. He freed her as gently and quickly as he could and laid her across his back, carefully draping her slender arms across his shoulders. The limbs slowly tightened their grip until they could support the goddess on their own, and she herself was so light that he could hardly feel her presence impeding his movements.
Go now. There is only one more left to kill in this building, and then we shall go to our home and plan.
She guided him there with delicate touches of her mind against his, caressing and touching him as if she were a lover instead of a heavenly goddess. He responded to her directions and followed blindly, completely trusting her to get him to where they needed to go.
In that room. Now. Kill. Destroy. Drink the hate and the anger. Feel the blood. Give me power.
He slashed through the guards that had been posted there and then went after the heavily armed door. It was at least a foot thick, but it was no match for the strength of him, his sword, or the words of his goddess.
Behind those doors was the fattest worm he had ever seen. It was rather amusing to see its eyes bulge out of its wide head like a fish that had been squeezed too hard, and it was also a laugh to see the huge insect attempt to scramble to the doors behind it.
He darted around and cut off its exit before its heavy bottom had even left its seat and watched in satisfaction as it shrunk against its desk, mouth moving in a soundless plead for life.
"You can't kill me!" the obese creature half-shouted, half-begged. And then it drew itself up to its full height that still would not have reached the Chosen one's shoulder and glared at him. "As President Shinra and your employer, I command you to stop where you are, Sephiroth!"
The name struck him like a lightning bolt and made him pause in his tracks. He stared at the sword he held tightly in his grip and then shook his head slowly, trying to clear the red mist that still lingered in his gaze.
"What...am I doing here?" he wondered. And then the memories of all of the helpless slaughters flooded in, leaving his brain in a soggy deluge of blood. "What...have I done?"
President Shinra saw that he had gained an upper hand. He relaxed the barest bit and began edging to the side as slowly and innocently as he could.
You have done nothing wrong! The grating voice hissed through his mind. Look! Remember! You are my Chosen! Kill! Destroy! Rid this infected, diseased Planet of these greedy parasites!
He closed his eyes. "I..."
Kill! Taste the blood! See the victory that will be ours and ours alone!
You are my son, and belong to no one else! Go, my son!
"Yes...Mother!" With a cry, Sephiroth darted forward with a speed no man's eye could match. He grabbed the cowardly President and flung the man facedown against his desktop and raised the Masamune above his head.
Taste the blood! Feel the strength that is ours!
The Masamune descended, screaming for blood and crying out in pleasure as it bit through the President's defenseless back and ran its way through his spine and heart until its tip pinned itself to the desk. The President's body stiffened and then went slack with death as blood sprayed upwards and covered Sephiroth in crimson speckles.
He reached out a finger and touched the blood that was splattered across a cheek, staring down at the gloved finger that came away stained bright red with blood that was not his own. The veil of blood-lust had faded, and now he stared at the corpse that sprawled on the desk before him with his own eyes.
A slender hand slowly reached up and ran a finger across his jaw with a teasingly light touch.
Come. Leave the Masamune for now, Sephiroth. We have much to do.
"Mother," he whispered softly. "I'm...scared..."
You are young. It is understandable. Come, Sephiroth, my son. We shall train. And I shall teach you.
He nodded in assent with small nods of his head like a child and then turned and melted into the shadows, his alien mother clinging possessively to his back.