Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII or Sephiroth. I just worship the guy.
Sors Inanis
by Father Malvado
As the music of this terrible melody begins, I learned something I had not known about my birth.
I was not human. No, I am greater, superior to these worthless flies. I am the angel of their dreams; yes only their dreams, for they can only dream what I can live. What I can be. All that I can be. For in that mansion, I learned the secret. The secret of the power that I have. Of the legacy I inherited. In Dr. Gast's notes I found what I wanted. Was I created like those freaks in the reactor? Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't. It hardly matters now. All that matters is bringing my mother back to her rightful place. As ruler of these pitiful wretches.
For days I read. I read every single book in that basement library. I pored over the diagrams. Studied the mathematics. The only thing I don't know about me is . . . nothing! I know everything there is to know about me. So what if I was created by a Mako infected wench whose genetic structure was laced with Jenova cells? Because of this freak experiment, I will take my place on the throne of this world, next to my mother. My mother . . . Lucrecia? No . . . Jenova! Lucrecia may have been the puppet out of whose whom I came, but it was the Jenova cells in her that made my power possible. And so I will return the favor.
You see, there was an itinerant race. They would migrate in, settle the Planet, then move on... At the end of their harsh, hard journey, they would find the Promised Land and supreme happiness. But, those who stopped their migrations built shelters and elected to lead an easier life. They took that which the Cetra and the planet had made without giving back one whit in return! Those are your ancestors. Your pathetic and weak fathers. And the sins of the fathers are passed on to the children. You fools still waste the Planet away. And what do you think will happen when you use up the last of the Mako, hmm? Do you really believe that a substance as precious as the Planet's life blood is to be squandered. You humans think it is like your fossil fuels. Rather easily renewable. Humph. Fools all. I would say that Mako is easily renewable. If you happen to slaughter a few thousand of your piteous kin. Say! Now there is an idea! Very well. It is decided. To replenish all the Mako you cretins wasted, I shall begin the massacre, right here in Nibelheim. My birthplace will become your necropolis. How fitting. You would be so lucky. Heh. Why those idiots named a place like this after hell . . . I suppose that I will have to make it a reality.
Veni, veni, venias, Mater! I will resurrect you to your place of glory.
Ne me mori facias! Do not let me die without uplifting us above these poor wretches.
Gloriosa! O glorious mother!
Generosa! O noble One!
Sephiroth! Let the cry of the Cetra ring out!
Sephiroth! Let all come to the Reunion!
The Reunion of Jenova!
And as the Soldier Third-class called Cloud ran through the flames to approach the Black Man, the Soldier First-class called Sephiroth gave a sneer of the utmost contempt before he slipped off into the raging pyres of Nibelhiem, the Hell of Norse mythology.