Hello everyone.

As of now, I have revised chapters one through six. I have added new content, more characters, some different scenarios, and newscenes in almost every chapter. I have also combined chapters four and five, and Tifa's dream sequence is a tad more gruesome (heh heh). This opening scene was already here, fixed up a little bit, but I turned it into the stories eerie prologue.

If the above not is still not clear:

The fanfic has undergone a slightly drastic, but not very, change. Have fun rediscovering.


Prologue

The clock tower chimed for midnight.

It was a stormy night in the city of Royals. The city stood helplessly under the torrential rain; the skies were purplish grey, murky and unclear, with no stars or moon to light the way. Periodic lightning bolts flashed across the sky.

The cobblestone streets were covered in a shallow lake of water, enough to drench your ankles. The flames of the street lamps were covered by glass encasings and lit the way for the few weary travelers who would brave the ghastly weather.

It was on this night that a man walked the streets alone, looking for shelter. His posture was hunched, and one hand was clutched on his side. The other pressed against a building to help him go forward.

His whole body was soaked to the bone. His clothes and hair stuck to him like glue. Blood seeped onto his white shirt, barely seen under his black overcoat. For a moment, he stopped to catch his breath. A half-smile appeared on his face, and he kept going.

He had won! He had won! They came after him, and he had won! Served them right. They should have known better than to attack him, and they had it coming! How gloriously ironic!

His back straightened up, with his hand still sliding on the wall. He let his head fall back, and a vindictive cackle escape from his mouth.

"Dance, dance, fools!" he cried. "Pack of bloody varlets!"

It had been a terrifying battle. Swords came at him, and the stench of blood filled his nostrils. He could still feel that blade cutting him in the side, and it made him shudder. And the lives he took… the people he maimed... just in a moment. He could smell death at every corner of the city, and their death rattles rang in his ears. His skin felt raw, and the rain stung him. His mood slowly began to sour.

He felt tired, so tired.

The man reached a covering and was glad to escape the rain, for just a moment. He could not keep exposing himself like this. He needed a place to stay and fast.

He sat down on the ground, underneath the covering, wanting to stay away from the rain for a little while longer. The world was an empty void, and he was alone. The last sounds of the midnight call melted into the night.