He awoke with a throbbing in his head. He was lying on the ground, outdoors
somewhere. The last thing he remembered was Cloud. Cloud had attacked him,
had used Omnislash on him. With that memory the rest came rushing back. He
remembered his fight with Cloud and the others who had opposed him. He
remembered his use of the Black Materia. He remembered his...defeat.
"How? How could this have happened?" whispered Sephiroth. "I was
unstoppable, no force could oppose me. Yet I was defeated. I was...killed?"
Sephiroth opened his eyes, and dragged himself to his feet. "I obviously was not killed, unless this is hell, and somehow I think hell would be far less pleasant than bad headache," he said aloud once more. Sephiroth surveyed his surroundings. Strange, blighted trees dotted the landscape. Nearby, a pool of mud bubbled, releasing a noxious odor. He had been to all places in the world, and yet this place was unknown to him.
A spot check of his arm revealed that he still was in possession of his Materia. Sephiroth then reached down to his scabbard, prepared to draw the Masamune. His hand clasped only empty air. His eyes went wide with shock and anger. "NO! My blade must not be missing. I must find it." He whipped his head left and right in search of his beloved sword. He found it not far to his right, the blade apparently stuck within the ground. Walking over, he calmly grasped the handle, feeling stronger merely by touching it. "With this at my side, I shall defeat Cloud and take back the land for Mother!"
Sephiroth pulled hard on his blade, but it stuck fast. "Why can I not free the Masamune? Am I so weak? I, who slew the Midgard Serpent without blinking, cannot even pull my sword from the ground?" He tried again, with more force. Nothing. He grabbed the handle of the Masamune with both hands and pulled with all his might, and still nothing.
"If I cannot pull the blade from the ground, I shall destroy the ground around the blade!" Sephiroth exclaimed. He began to summon up his magical power, pooling it into his hand for his spells. "Firaga!" Nothing. "No, not my magic as well, what has happened to me?" For hours Sephiroth attempted to retrieve his blade. He tried to use many other powerful magics, all of which failed him. He could feel the magic within him; it burned his blood as it always had. Still, it was too weak to cast the spells. In frustration, he pooled the last of the power he had into his hand and cried out, "FIRE!" A small gout of flame shoots from his hand and bounced pitifully off of the Masamune. Sephiroth brought his hand up and stared at it in rage. His voice is quiet, but held a tone that would signal to any to steer clear. "I would rather be devoid of my power than have only such paltry spells at my command."
Sephiroth continued to try and free the Masamune for as long as he had strength. After nearly half a day, he collapsed. He was weak. He had a shadow, if even a shadow, of his former power. "I worked so hard, and now I have nothing!" he said to himself quietly. "I worked hard to attain that power, and it seems Cloud has taken it from me. I will have that power again..." With those words, he passed out in that tortured landscape. The powers that be did not see him there. He was too insignificant to be worth their while...
He awoke a few hours later. Night had come quickly, settling over the land like a dread blanket. The rest had been beneficial. Sephiroth's rage at the loss of his power was gone. With his judgment now clear, he began to focus on the problem of retrieving the Masamune. "Brute force will not work. My magic is practically gone, only the most basic of spells are still within my reach. What then is the answer?" Sephiroth analyzed the situation. The earth held the sword; he would need to make the earth release it. Quake would have been ideal, yet it was not within his power. He grimaced. He considered such...paltry spells beneath him not long ago, now they were beyond his reach.
"I must leave it here for now," he said quietly to himself. "I must leave behind my sword, and come back for it when I have achieved more power. Forgive me." He caressed the handle of the Masamune, remembering that this was his one constant companion. He loathed leaving it here, in this wasteland, for some creature to ravage. He surveyed the lands around him more closely. To his right, the trees were blackened and twisted. In front was no better, nothing but stumps to mark where the trees had been. Behind him lay the pools of mud, stretching as far as the eye could see.
So Sephiroth headed to his left. It was impossible to tell where north and south lay, the sky seemed nothing more than a gray slate. No stars twinkled in the distance, no moon was visible, they seemed to have fled this place, leaving it to rot. He walked for what seemed like hours. The landscape did not improve; the same dead trees littered the landscape. Occasionally Sephiroth had to go around small pools of a tar-like substance. "Where on Midgard am I that such desolation goes unchecked?" he wondered. Even ShinRa had been better than this. He continued to walk, soon realizing his need for food, water, and possibly shelter. "Still," he said to himself, "I will not trust anything from this land."
Eventually, however, the trees began to have some signs of life. They were no longer blackened, but brown. Some even had leaves. Soon afterwards, Sephiroth heard the welcome sound of a bird singing somewhere. While no answer came to the bird's song, the very existence of that bird meant that there was more life somewhere nearby. Coming to the crest of a small hill, even Sephiroth had to gasp. The blight ended, almost as if a line had been drawn in the ground to show where it could no longer go. Beyond lay a forest. "What magic is at work here that could end a plague so...precisely?" he wondered aloud.
"Well, that would be because the magic didn't end the plague, it started it."
Sephiroth whirled his hand instinctively going where his sword should be. Cursing when he realized his mistake, he decided that if he could not defend himself, he would at least die in a dignified manner. Before him stood an old man, At least Sephiroth assumed it was a man from the voice. He was shrouded in a crimson cloak, no part of his body exposed except a lone hand. That hand looked more like that of one of the undead than a living, breathing creature.
"Who are you and how did you sneak up behind me?" Sephiroth asked. Yes, he had been taken back by the abrupt change in landscape, but he hadn't let down his guard. Nor had Sephiroth passed the old man. It was impossible.
"Easy son, easy. As you can see, I don't have the power or the intent to harm you," the old man replied. "As for how I got behind you, I simply walked here from over there." The old man gestured to the bottom of the hill, off to Sephiroth's right. There was another hill that started just as this one had ended. The path between the two was nearly completely hidden. He could easily have walked up and Sephiroth would never have noticed him. Sephiroth silently berated himself for not noticing the second hill earlier.
"You never answered my first question," said Sephiroth. "Who are you?"
"I am merely an old man out for a walk. This land," he gestured to the blighted area, "used to be beautiful. Still, that was before the Lich came."
Sephiroth's ears twitched at the word Lich. Lichs were powerful magic users. They could create such blight, and would without hesitation. Lichs being exceedingly rare creatures, Sephiroth was amazed to have found one so easily. Still, he kept his joy at the news hidden. There was no sense in revealing anything more to this strange old man. If he could defeat the Lich, perhaps the Lich could free the Masamune.
"Tell me old man," Sephiroth said cordially. "Tell me about his Lich. When did he come here? For that matter, where is here?" He had said the latter as an afterthought, and wished immediately to take the words back. Now the old man knew he was dealing with someone he did not know the area.
"The Lich lives in the middle of the blight. He has a barrow deep within the Earth, which he controls up until this border. That land is controlled by another fiend." The old man did not bother to hide the scorn in his voice. "The fiends came to this world suddenly, and soon began to take over. Nothing on Pariha was strong enough to stop them except each other."
The word echoed in Sephiroth's ears. Pariha. Not Midgard. That was why nothing was familiar. That was why all his power was gone. He was no longer on his own world.
The knowledge struck Sephiroth like a thunderbolt. He sank to his knees, his head swimming. There was no going back to the way things were. There would never be a rematch with Cloud, never again could he hope to ascend to godhood. Cloud had won; Mother would never again have the planet that was so rightfully hers.
Another realization strikes Sephiroth, the fact that he has an audience. He stood up slowly, making sure that his legs will indeed hold him upright. Another fall like that would mark him as easy prey. Cold logic trickles through his system, calming him, bringing him back to the present. Just because he was not on Midgard now didn't mean that he would never have a chance to return. It was time for him to gather more information.
"Well old man, do you have a name?" Sephiroth questioned. Despite the old man's explanation about sneaking up on him, there was something off about the strange geezer shrouded in a red robe.
"I do, but I won't bother to tell it to every passerby. Hermits don't get along well with others, and I am no exception," the old man replied. "Now, what would a pretty boy like you be doing wandering the blight?" the man questioned. "You are either a very brave boy or a foolish one."
"I was attacked by bandits. Apparently they dumped me out in that noxious land to kill me. It failed." Sephiroth lied. Somehow the thought of fighting this old geezer appalled him. There was more to him than met the eye, of that Sephiroth was certain.
"Bandits, you say? Kainazzo must be getting sloppy if bandits are roaming his lands. Good, maybe the Kraken will eat him." The old man's glee was apparent in his voice, and Sephiroth was sure that he was smiling in those shadows.
"Kainazzo?"
"Yes, Kainazzo, one of the fiends of water. Surely you must know that. All of Pariha knows the names of the fiends which destroyed our land." The old man paused, and took a step closer to Sephiroth. "Where are you from boy, that such knowledge eludes you?"
"I am the son of a merchant from the east. That is all you need to know about me," replied Sephiroth. "Damn, I have made him suspicious," Sephiroth thought to himself. "I must end this conversation quickly to avoid further suspicion."
"I am merely recovering from the blow those bandits dealt me. Now, if you could point me in the direction of the nearest river, I will be on my way. I am sure I can find my way home with a landmark such as that," Sephiroth lied. It was not a believable story, but it would do for now.
"Very well, I tire of company anyway. Now I remember why I became a hermit. Young people like you annoy the living hell out of me." The old man gestures towards the forests. "You will find the River Arign about half a day's journey into the forest." The old man laughed just then, and the sound sent a chill down Sephiroth's spine. "Now go away!"
With that, the old man began hobbling into the blight. "Are you a fool, who lives in a place where no animals go?" yelled Sephiroth as he watched the old man's form shrink as it went towards the horizon. No reply came.
Sephiroth waited until the old man was out of site before turning once again to the forest. He would need food and water. Shelter would be nice, but the night was warm, and sleeping outside would not be a problem. Sephiroth hoped that the little magic he was capable of would be enough to fend off any dangerous animals. "Animals," Sephiroth scoffed. "I used to slay dragons as a normal man would step on a cockroach, now I myself could be slain by a wild boar!" he exclaimed angrily to the skies. The thought of a wild boar made hunger rear its ugly head once more, and Sephiroth headed for the forest in search of food.
He wandered into the woods, noting that they were more like streams with trees on the banks. Not only streams but also ponds, all of them interconnected. "Surely this too must be the results of magic," Sephiroth spoke to himself. He also noted that the magic must be similar to that which created the blight, as very little could survive in a place with all water except fish. Eventually, after making his way across and around the waterways, Sephiroth came to a large lake. It was nearing dusk, and going around the lake would take hours at least, if not more. "It would seem that I would have to stop here or travel through the night. Very well, perhaps there are fish in these waters," he thought aloud.
One minor lightning spell later, three small fish came floating to the surface of the water. Sephiroth waded out into the lake to retrieve them, noting that the lake was very deep, and that the land suddenly dropped off beneath his feet. It was more like a huge hole had filled suddenly with water. "Very strange indeed," muttered Sephiroth as he waded back to shore. Laying the fish on the ground, he wandered back into the woods in search of firewood.
Sephiroth had originally planned to slice a few branches from the trees. Reaching instinctively for the Masamune, he cursed himself for forgetting it was gone. Forced to gather fallen wood from the ground, he set about his task, cursing his weakness as he did so. A few hours later, he returned to the lakeside to find his fish awaiting him. "At least no wild creatures have taken my dinner," he mused. "I should be thankful for that, at least." Building a small fire, Sephiroth places the first of his fish, a small perch, on a stick.
"I need to regain possession of the Masamune. That is my first priority," he said to himself as placed the fish into the fire. "To do that, I need to either regain my former power, or defeat the Lich that has blighted the land around it." Sephiroth's face contorted in rage, his voice raised to a thundering boom. "To do that, I need to regain my power!"
He had dropped the first fish directly into the fire, blackening it beyond edibility. Picking it out with the stick, he cast it back into the lake. Skewering the second, he placed it into the fire, being careful not to ruin this one as well. "Perhaps that is not true...the Lich must be expending a great deal of power to great and sustain the blight. It must also be expending power to try and defeat Kainazzo and blight his land as well," he mused. "If I can take the creature unawares, I might be able to defeat it before it even has a chance to attack..."
Sephiroth pulled the second fish from the flame, appalled at what he had just said. He, the mightiest warrior on the face of Midgard, was thinking about attacking a Lich like a common thief! He stared into the fire. Sephiroth just continued to stare into the flame until sleep overtook him, his fish forgotten.
Sephiroth opened his eyes, and dragged himself to his feet. "I obviously was not killed, unless this is hell, and somehow I think hell would be far less pleasant than bad headache," he said aloud once more. Sephiroth surveyed his surroundings. Strange, blighted trees dotted the landscape. Nearby, a pool of mud bubbled, releasing a noxious odor. He had been to all places in the world, and yet this place was unknown to him.
A spot check of his arm revealed that he still was in possession of his Materia. Sephiroth then reached down to his scabbard, prepared to draw the Masamune. His hand clasped only empty air. His eyes went wide with shock and anger. "NO! My blade must not be missing. I must find it." He whipped his head left and right in search of his beloved sword. He found it not far to his right, the blade apparently stuck within the ground. Walking over, he calmly grasped the handle, feeling stronger merely by touching it. "With this at my side, I shall defeat Cloud and take back the land for Mother!"
Sephiroth pulled hard on his blade, but it stuck fast. "Why can I not free the Masamune? Am I so weak? I, who slew the Midgard Serpent without blinking, cannot even pull my sword from the ground?" He tried again, with more force. Nothing. He grabbed the handle of the Masamune with both hands and pulled with all his might, and still nothing.
"If I cannot pull the blade from the ground, I shall destroy the ground around the blade!" Sephiroth exclaimed. He began to summon up his magical power, pooling it into his hand for his spells. "Firaga!" Nothing. "No, not my magic as well, what has happened to me?" For hours Sephiroth attempted to retrieve his blade. He tried to use many other powerful magics, all of which failed him. He could feel the magic within him; it burned his blood as it always had. Still, it was too weak to cast the spells. In frustration, he pooled the last of the power he had into his hand and cried out, "FIRE!" A small gout of flame shoots from his hand and bounced pitifully off of the Masamune. Sephiroth brought his hand up and stared at it in rage. His voice is quiet, but held a tone that would signal to any to steer clear. "I would rather be devoid of my power than have only such paltry spells at my command."
Sephiroth continued to try and free the Masamune for as long as he had strength. After nearly half a day, he collapsed. He was weak. He had a shadow, if even a shadow, of his former power. "I worked so hard, and now I have nothing!" he said to himself quietly. "I worked hard to attain that power, and it seems Cloud has taken it from me. I will have that power again..." With those words, he passed out in that tortured landscape. The powers that be did not see him there. He was too insignificant to be worth their while...
He awoke a few hours later. Night had come quickly, settling over the land like a dread blanket. The rest had been beneficial. Sephiroth's rage at the loss of his power was gone. With his judgment now clear, he began to focus on the problem of retrieving the Masamune. "Brute force will not work. My magic is practically gone, only the most basic of spells are still within my reach. What then is the answer?" Sephiroth analyzed the situation. The earth held the sword; he would need to make the earth release it. Quake would have been ideal, yet it was not within his power. He grimaced. He considered such...paltry spells beneath him not long ago, now they were beyond his reach.
"I must leave it here for now," he said quietly to himself. "I must leave behind my sword, and come back for it when I have achieved more power. Forgive me." He caressed the handle of the Masamune, remembering that this was his one constant companion. He loathed leaving it here, in this wasteland, for some creature to ravage. He surveyed the lands around him more closely. To his right, the trees were blackened and twisted. In front was no better, nothing but stumps to mark where the trees had been. Behind him lay the pools of mud, stretching as far as the eye could see.
So Sephiroth headed to his left. It was impossible to tell where north and south lay, the sky seemed nothing more than a gray slate. No stars twinkled in the distance, no moon was visible, they seemed to have fled this place, leaving it to rot. He walked for what seemed like hours. The landscape did not improve; the same dead trees littered the landscape. Occasionally Sephiroth had to go around small pools of a tar-like substance. "Where on Midgard am I that such desolation goes unchecked?" he wondered. Even ShinRa had been better than this. He continued to walk, soon realizing his need for food, water, and possibly shelter. "Still," he said to himself, "I will not trust anything from this land."
Eventually, however, the trees began to have some signs of life. They were no longer blackened, but brown. Some even had leaves. Soon afterwards, Sephiroth heard the welcome sound of a bird singing somewhere. While no answer came to the bird's song, the very existence of that bird meant that there was more life somewhere nearby. Coming to the crest of a small hill, even Sephiroth had to gasp. The blight ended, almost as if a line had been drawn in the ground to show where it could no longer go. Beyond lay a forest. "What magic is at work here that could end a plague so...precisely?" he wondered aloud.
"Well, that would be because the magic didn't end the plague, it started it."
Sephiroth whirled his hand instinctively going where his sword should be. Cursing when he realized his mistake, he decided that if he could not defend himself, he would at least die in a dignified manner. Before him stood an old man, At least Sephiroth assumed it was a man from the voice. He was shrouded in a crimson cloak, no part of his body exposed except a lone hand. That hand looked more like that of one of the undead than a living, breathing creature.
"Who are you and how did you sneak up behind me?" Sephiroth asked. Yes, he had been taken back by the abrupt change in landscape, but he hadn't let down his guard. Nor had Sephiroth passed the old man. It was impossible.
"Easy son, easy. As you can see, I don't have the power or the intent to harm you," the old man replied. "As for how I got behind you, I simply walked here from over there." The old man gestured to the bottom of the hill, off to Sephiroth's right. There was another hill that started just as this one had ended. The path between the two was nearly completely hidden. He could easily have walked up and Sephiroth would never have noticed him. Sephiroth silently berated himself for not noticing the second hill earlier.
"You never answered my first question," said Sephiroth. "Who are you?"
"I am merely an old man out for a walk. This land," he gestured to the blighted area, "used to be beautiful. Still, that was before the Lich came."
Sephiroth's ears twitched at the word Lich. Lichs were powerful magic users. They could create such blight, and would without hesitation. Lichs being exceedingly rare creatures, Sephiroth was amazed to have found one so easily. Still, he kept his joy at the news hidden. There was no sense in revealing anything more to this strange old man. If he could defeat the Lich, perhaps the Lich could free the Masamune.
"Tell me old man," Sephiroth said cordially. "Tell me about his Lich. When did he come here? For that matter, where is here?" He had said the latter as an afterthought, and wished immediately to take the words back. Now the old man knew he was dealing with someone he did not know the area.
"The Lich lives in the middle of the blight. He has a barrow deep within the Earth, which he controls up until this border. That land is controlled by another fiend." The old man did not bother to hide the scorn in his voice. "The fiends came to this world suddenly, and soon began to take over. Nothing on Pariha was strong enough to stop them except each other."
The word echoed in Sephiroth's ears. Pariha. Not Midgard. That was why nothing was familiar. That was why all his power was gone. He was no longer on his own world.
The knowledge struck Sephiroth like a thunderbolt. He sank to his knees, his head swimming. There was no going back to the way things were. There would never be a rematch with Cloud, never again could he hope to ascend to godhood. Cloud had won; Mother would never again have the planet that was so rightfully hers.
Another realization strikes Sephiroth, the fact that he has an audience. He stood up slowly, making sure that his legs will indeed hold him upright. Another fall like that would mark him as easy prey. Cold logic trickles through his system, calming him, bringing him back to the present. Just because he was not on Midgard now didn't mean that he would never have a chance to return. It was time for him to gather more information.
"Well old man, do you have a name?" Sephiroth questioned. Despite the old man's explanation about sneaking up on him, there was something off about the strange geezer shrouded in a red robe.
"I do, but I won't bother to tell it to every passerby. Hermits don't get along well with others, and I am no exception," the old man replied. "Now, what would a pretty boy like you be doing wandering the blight?" the man questioned. "You are either a very brave boy or a foolish one."
"I was attacked by bandits. Apparently they dumped me out in that noxious land to kill me. It failed." Sephiroth lied. Somehow the thought of fighting this old geezer appalled him. There was more to him than met the eye, of that Sephiroth was certain.
"Bandits, you say? Kainazzo must be getting sloppy if bandits are roaming his lands. Good, maybe the Kraken will eat him." The old man's glee was apparent in his voice, and Sephiroth was sure that he was smiling in those shadows.
"Kainazzo?"
"Yes, Kainazzo, one of the fiends of water. Surely you must know that. All of Pariha knows the names of the fiends which destroyed our land." The old man paused, and took a step closer to Sephiroth. "Where are you from boy, that such knowledge eludes you?"
"I am the son of a merchant from the east. That is all you need to know about me," replied Sephiroth. "Damn, I have made him suspicious," Sephiroth thought to himself. "I must end this conversation quickly to avoid further suspicion."
"I am merely recovering from the blow those bandits dealt me. Now, if you could point me in the direction of the nearest river, I will be on my way. I am sure I can find my way home with a landmark such as that," Sephiroth lied. It was not a believable story, but it would do for now.
"Very well, I tire of company anyway. Now I remember why I became a hermit. Young people like you annoy the living hell out of me." The old man gestures towards the forests. "You will find the River Arign about half a day's journey into the forest." The old man laughed just then, and the sound sent a chill down Sephiroth's spine. "Now go away!"
With that, the old man began hobbling into the blight. "Are you a fool, who lives in a place where no animals go?" yelled Sephiroth as he watched the old man's form shrink as it went towards the horizon. No reply came.
Sephiroth waited until the old man was out of site before turning once again to the forest. He would need food and water. Shelter would be nice, but the night was warm, and sleeping outside would not be a problem. Sephiroth hoped that the little magic he was capable of would be enough to fend off any dangerous animals. "Animals," Sephiroth scoffed. "I used to slay dragons as a normal man would step on a cockroach, now I myself could be slain by a wild boar!" he exclaimed angrily to the skies. The thought of a wild boar made hunger rear its ugly head once more, and Sephiroth headed for the forest in search of food.
He wandered into the woods, noting that they were more like streams with trees on the banks. Not only streams but also ponds, all of them interconnected. "Surely this too must be the results of magic," Sephiroth spoke to himself. He also noted that the magic must be similar to that which created the blight, as very little could survive in a place with all water except fish. Eventually, after making his way across and around the waterways, Sephiroth came to a large lake. It was nearing dusk, and going around the lake would take hours at least, if not more. "It would seem that I would have to stop here or travel through the night. Very well, perhaps there are fish in these waters," he thought aloud.
One minor lightning spell later, three small fish came floating to the surface of the water. Sephiroth waded out into the lake to retrieve them, noting that the lake was very deep, and that the land suddenly dropped off beneath his feet. It was more like a huge hole had filled suddenly with water. "Very strange indeed," muttered Sephiroth as he waded back to shore. Laying the fish on the ground, he wandered back into the woods in search of firewood.
Sephiroth had originally planned to slice a few branches from the trees. Reaching instinctively for the Masamune, he cursed himself for forgetting it was gone. Forced to gather fallen wood from the ground, he set about his task, cursing his weakness as he did so. A few hours later, he returned to the lakeside to find his fish awaiting him. "At least no wild creatures have taken my dinner," he mused. "I should be thankful for that, at least." Building a small fire, Sephiroth places the first of his fish, a small perch, on a stick.
"I need to regain possession of the Masamune. That is my first priority," he said to himself as placed the fish into the fire. "To do that, I need to either regain my former power, or defeat the Lich that has blighted the land around it." Sephiroth's face contorted in rage, his voice raised to a thundering boom. "To do that, I need to regain my power!"
He had dropped the first fish directly into the fire, blackening it beyond edibility. Picking it out with the stick, he cast it back into the lake. Skewering the second, he placed it into the fire, being careful not to ruin this one as well. "Perhaps that is not true...the Lich must be expending a great deal of power to great and sustain the blight. It must also be expending power to try and defeat Kainazzo and blight his land as well," he mused. "If I can take the creature unawares, I might be able to defeat it before it even has a chance to attack..."
Sephiroth pulled the second fish from the flame, appalled at what he had just said. He, the mightiest warrior on the face of Midgard, was thinking about attacking a Lich like a common thief! He stared into the fire. Sephiroth just continued to stare into the flame until sleep overtook him, his fish forgotten.