Though he is no longer in control of his body, he watches them charge at him. Eight of them; eight of them where there had once been nine -- the pretty little last Ancient killed by his sword, her body lying at the bottom of the sacred lake. He'd gone back there once to try and find her body, but he couldn't reached her.
Sephiroth defends against the sword, hitting the blond swordsman back. The ninja jumps at him, but he steps backward and dodges her attack -- the shooter and his gun aims, firing. For a second, he feels betrayed as the bullets penetrate him, but he growls and retaliates.
The fighter lands fist after fist upon him, the man with a artificial arm takes his shot, the strange red lupine creature takes a bite off him, and he grimaces and blood -- or what seems to be his blood -- flows.
The older man hits him square in his chest with his spear. The small cat stands there, silent, and Sephiroth swears he sees intelligence in those dull machine eyes before he closes his own and slowly fades away
Eight.
Three parties of three-three-two.
Too many heroes for his liking; eight too many -- he's glad he at least got rid of one.
owari.Prompt: Too many heroes.