A/N: This story has nothing to do with the plot of KH, FF, or anything else. I made up the story completely because I was thinking about the scene in KH2 when Cloud and… Axel? Were backed up against a wall by a "horde" of heartless, and I thought that was incredibly cool anyway, this has nothing to do with that except that I wanted something to write about. Hope you like it

-Dex

Destruction Manifesto

"Wings," he thought. "I have wings."

Cloud stared into the fire. Disguised in his Organization XIII suit, his sword lay an arm's length behind him, on a simple wooden table.

He was a servant of both the dark and the light. He knew this now; the blade he favored had cleaved the flesh of both sets of servants in its time. To act as a servant of something so definitive, yet infinitive, was to sacrifice one's identity.

His eyes moved about, apathetically searching for answers as though he had long since realized that the tent held none. This was certainly true. In its defense, the tent held very little. A fire pit, table and blade served to be the only furnishings Cloud desired or was able to travel with. The red velvet walls rustled slightly, as though moved by a silent wind.

Glancing once at the breathing walls, his eyes wandered back to the fire. It was to be expected, he thought; the horde was here.

Is this it, for me, then? Will the horde end me like so many others?

Subconsciously, he began rubbing his hands together as he watched the flames dance their uncharacteristic, sluggish dance. The creatures outside had all eternity to wait, because as long as Cloud, servant of the light, existed, then the horde, the servants of the dark, could and would exist. This was the way of nature, Cloud mused; these two all-encompassing forces at constant battle, neither ever to win.

Many kind hearts and pure souls had been sacrificed to this doomed fate; am I to add to that number?

No, I already have. The darkness has taken me.

What was left of him now was nothing more than an inverse shadow; an imprint of light against a never-ending vista of beautiful darkness. He saw this now, for his eyes had adjusted.

Cloud straightened up slowly, with purpose. Taking up his blade, he rotated it slightly to catch the light of the fire behind him. It shined in his eyes as he stepped toward the exit.

The horde was waiting, as was the way of the dark; who was he to deny them their next inevitable victory? He would sacrifice his imprinted life, so that the light might live on to fight again. He wouldn't die, by definition. He would sacrifice the last of his innocence by welcoming the deadly struggle. He would defeat this horde. This horde was insignificant.

Cool, fresh night air; the tent now behind him, part of another life, Cloud embraced what was to come. He raised his eyes to the horde that awaited him.

Maybe ten thousand, to a man, or creature may be the more accurate word. Cloud smiled.

He raised his sword.

He unfolded his wings.