But Do Not Have Love...
by Katie
Disclaimer: Sephiroth nor the world he inhabits do not belong to me. They're Squaresoft's. The Biblical passage cited is 1 Corinthians 13:1-2. Everything else here belongs to ME! *evil laugh*
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The little town was deserted. The shops were closed, the houses locked, the streets devoid of all life but for a solitary figure standing before the town chapel.
In truth the town was not deserted at all. It was a small Christian town, and, as such, currently occupied with Sunday mass. As it had only one priest and one mass per Sunday, the entire town locked up for worship.
The lone figure on the street was a newcomer to the town, an outsider to its ways. He had chanced across the town while wandering the land, and found its lack of life perplexing. His long silver hair blew in the wind as his cold green eyes studied the church intently. Choral singing attested to the life within.
See how they worship other-wordly gods while the Planet around them is dying, his mind hissed. They look for a life beyond death but ignore the life before them. They are not worthy of the Planet. I will destroy them all, and the Planet will be free of their evil.
His lips quirked up in a small smirk. This was the part he liked best of his mission: the slaughter of the guilty. And the irony of such bloodshed in a holy house appealed to his macabre sense of humor.
He walked up the steps, quietly pushed open the door, and entered unnoticed.
He stood in the back of the church, watching the events indifferently. A man walked up to the podium, presumably to read or speak something.
I will wait until they read...the Gospel, is it? The words of their bastard Lord can be the last thing they hear besides their screams as they all die. He smiled. I like this plan.
Unfortunately, it meant he had to wait until at least this reading was over. Having never been to Mass before, he had no idea how long his wait would be. But he could be patient. The idea was too irresistible to give up on.
A reading from the first letter to the Corinthians, the lecturer said. If I speak in human and angelic tongues, but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing symbol.
What do they know of love? They never show it.
And if I have the gift of prophecy, and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge...
They are weak, pathetic. They could never achieve such understanding. Only the Cetra have such power. Only I can achieve such things.
...if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.
He blinked, slowly, the words sinking in. His eyes narrowed slowly in anger.
Who are they to preach of love, who do not know it? Love is pathetic, weak! An emotion easily destroyed by a sharp blade. Love does not make someone worth anything. Love has never touched me, and I AM A GOD!
He unsheathed the Masamune, and quickly beheaded the two ushers standing closest to him. They did not have time to utter a single sound before their heads hit the floor, interrupting the lecturer. All eyes turned on him, and he dashed into the crowd, sword hungry for blood.
He looked around the room, his four year old mind already bored with the book in front of him. He didn't want to read, he wanted to play!
Nana, he said, can we play a game?
Nana didn't look up from whatever she was reading.
The Professor wants you to finish that book before tomorrow, she gave by way of answer.
But it's boring! Can't we play a game, even just for a little bit?
Nana sighed.
Just finish the fucking book, will you? I've got better things to do than to entertain four year olds.
Infants wailed, children screamed, and he was soon surrounded by chaos. He reveled in it. He controlled chaos. He held their fate in his hands. Their lives were his.
The examination table was cold, and he shivered upon contact. The Professor had his back to him, loading up a syringe with a glowing blue fluid. He knew it was going to hurt...badly. But experience taught him to hold his tongue or be visited by further pain, so he didn't cry out when the Professor jammed in the syringe. Immediately afterwards the Professor put a stethoscope to his chest, and he shivered as the freezing metal touched his skin.
Don't be such a weakling, boy, the Professor snapped. Take a deep breath...
He worked his way through the crowd, finally reaching the priest sitting behind the alter. The father's eyes were wide with horror at the carnage taking place in his holy house. He smiled cruelly at the father's terror. His precious love be damned. The only thing that man's life was worth was the energy it took to kill him.
And if I have the gift of prophecy, and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge...but do not have love, I am nothing.
They have no right to preach so about love! Love has nothing to do with this!
...but do not have love, I am nothing.
He smile vanished as a torrent of disturbing and conflicted thoughts raged through his mind. It was time to call back chaos. With one swift stroke the father was dead, and the two alter boys dispatched soon after.
He stood by the alter, surrounded by a congregation of corpses. He felt a quick surge of elation at a job well done, but his mother's usual praise was drowned out by the confusion in his mind. Chaos still remained.
And if I have the gift of prophecy, and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.
The chaos abated, but he could not feel his mother's presence. He felt...empty.
I am nothing.