Just a short story with which I came up with for the end of FFVII since I've always had a hard time accepting that Cloud could just get over his mental trama thanks to Tifa, feelings of inferiority don't just disapear like that, unless of course the production storyline team at Square decides so. Also by the way I own nothing that you recognise in this story so don't sue me! Please Review!

Like a spiral heading downwards, I am dying from within.

My hate is like a catalyst, fueled by all your sin.

This time he swore it was different. That feeling that was there. The normally nagging feeling that always seemed to suffocate those who dare to be in its presence, that feeling of dread and fear, and the feeling of misfortune that had seemed to plague him. It permeated the senses like smelling the burnt flesh of a corpse or like feeling the frigid waters of a makeshift burial service. Cloud was a stranger to nether and was quite sure that such experiences would forever haunt him.

Almost like the man before him.

No, he was no longer a man, but rather an angel with the powers of a god. A fallen angel at that. Sephiroth was attempting to upstage Gaea's natural order. So ever the puppet, Cloud had merely changed roles at the planets whim. He was to become the judge that would stop the mad angel, bringing him justice. This in the world was frequently abused, but none of that matters. The warrior attempts to stand tall and face his nightmares, face the hell of this forsaken crater, this Armageddon.

But all those who oppose the newly formed god are struck down. Powerful magicks strike at their battered bodies, making resisting seem even more bothersome and futile than originally thought. For every fallen comrade Cloud tries to make up for the lost strength and the fallen angel's devilish grin seems to widen. There is no time to mourn only time keep fighting and hope it will be enough to stop the handsome angel before him.

Finally only he and his idol were the last ones left standing.

"Cloud."

"Sweet little Cloud."

"My Cloud, my puppet. Be a good boy."

This man. His general. The one he admired most, the one that as a boy he had placed on a pedestal. The man who he had long whorshipped as a god before his sanity spiraled downwards. And yet if this was a question of sanity then cloud that man be saved? Would it be that easy to save him? He honestly doubted it.

There was no fight left in him. He knew that now, and did nothing but stare at the feral grin of his enemy. What was the point of fighting anymore? None of his friends had even been able to match his strength, so Cloud knew it would somehow end up like this. It always did after all.

Cloud's grip seemed to slacken. His sword held loosely in his hands. There was nothing he could do now, nothing. Not save his friends, who were already starting to decay because of exposure to mako inlaid in the cave walls. Not his best friend, who had sacrificed himself for Cloud's survival by getting a 

chest full of bullet wounds, not the helpless flower girl, who never saw her death coming from behind. Not even his general, the man he had thought he saved five years ago from insanity.

His sword slipped further. Eyes blank, lost in the torment of his mind. Only the sinister laughter of the angel in front of him brought him out of his stupor. Cloud felt his head look up on its own accord. He gasped softly at the laughter he saw in green eyes that had never left his own. Averting his eyes he looked down slightly, anywhere he felt would be better than that handsome face. However by looking down what he found shocked him. So much so that the warrior never felt his mouth part open, nor his sword finally slip from his hands and land with a loud clatter that had broken the silence of the crater.

Sephiroth's hand was out stretched before him, palm face up. Once again asking Cloud for his allegiance.

He accepted, after all he had nothing else left to give.