To my faithful readers...

Normally, I abhor asking people to review my story...but I really want to know your thoughts on the end of this chapter. It will be rather obvious what I'm referring to when you get there... This will in no way effect my finishing this story, BTW. I'm just curious.


Ragnar went sailing away yet again, landing hard against the ground. His face was filled with agony this time, as he felt bones smashed in from the latest unseen blow. It mingled with the rest of the pain covering his body. He was starting to get used to it…because his body was getting used to the idea that he was only going to subject himself to more as time continued.

The youth landed flat on his back. And unlike earlier…he wasn't springing up as quickly as he had before. He actually groaned and lay back for a few moments before he grit his teeth and forced his head to run forward. A feeling of dripping ran down over his mouth and chin, and began to accumulate on his bare, cut torso. Sniffling, Ragnar raised the back of his arm and rubbed at his nose. Doing so drove him into more pain as he felt fragments inside shift around. And when he withdrew his arm, he was surprised to see a wet, bloody smear across it.

This only asserted in Ragnar's mind that the blow had to have broken his nose.

The youth stiffened, and then leaned forward and coughed. Another wad of blood came out. He was bleeding over most of his body now, looking almost like a human piece of raw meat. Yet the cuts that covered him said nothing of the bruises and sprains he had. At this point, even holding his sword hurt. His arms had been sprained while being wrenched by one of Sephiroth's blows. One of Ragnar's eyes was beaten shut now, while his lip was swollen and split. He felt as if several of the hits had left a hairline fracture or two somewhere inside him…and every one on him ached.

And yet, as he looked up with his one sweat-stained eye left…he still saw Sephiroth standing calm and patient…with that smile still on his face.

Ragnar couldn't believe it. This man wasn't even tired. Beating into anything would tire you out after a while even if it wasn't beating back. He hadn't even heaved once. His power…it was nightmarish. Every moment this went on, he revealed only more strength and might. It was like fighting a phantom with how many laws of physics had been broken.

Stumbling a bit…Ragnar began to pull himself back up to his feet. He snorted again, and spat out yet another wad of blood. He wasn't sure it was from his nose, his insides, or perhaps the second tooth that Sephiroth had knocked out so far. What he did notice was that his movements were becoming more spastic and rigid. And as he rose…a wave of dizziness came over him. He opened his mouth and groaned, and closed his eyes for a moment as the world swirled around him and darkened. It didn't go completely out, but it left him dizzy…and made his head throb. He wasn't sure how much blood he had lost in this fight…but he realized that this meant it was getting critical. Despite the heat of this part of the Dome…he was starting to feel cold as his body kept throbbing.

And yet, once on his feet again, he managed to raise his blade once more into ready position. He closed his eyes afterward. It took longer now…because his own spirit was beginning to ebb as well. And yet, after focusing a bit longer, his blade once more ignited into flame. Forcing his strained mind to keep it up, he opened his eye and focused on Sephiroth.

"Stupid child." Sephiroth answered calmly. "You still haven't had enough to drink from my cup of judgment?"

Ragnar couldn't respond…for he had no time. Sephiroth was immediately on him again. The furious duel began once more. Flinging his own blood around him as he did so, Ragnar frantically attempted to guard against the deadly assault of the Jenova mutant. Each blow rocked his body further, seeming to threaten to dislocate parts of his skeleton. His muscles agonized as he shot in and pounded away at him again and again.

The youth struggled to fight back…but it was no use anymore. He was too dizzy and weak. He couldn't focus his thoughts. It was all he could do to keep from being struck down. His knees were watering, and his arms felt as heavy as lead. And he was so stricken with agony from all that Sephiroth had done to him… He could only focus on struggling to survive this onslaught, half dragging himself back farther and farther as Sephiroth continued to strike down on him. The dark man merely smiled as he did so, delighting, it seemed, in the pain that he drove through Ragnar's bleeding body with every blow. Ragnar himself struggled to keep focusing, as the exertion began to make him dizzy again…

Sephiroth ripped away, seeming to shoot from Ragnar on invisible strings into the air, and then shot forward again and brought his blade down like a bird of prey soaring on its victim. He drew back and did so again, moving forward and swinging it around, over his head, and down on Ragnar again and again. The youth cried as his body reacted with pain. He desperately tried to protect himself, but it only got worse and worse… He had to shift his arms, and began to lower Ragnarok to his own shoulder, in an attempt to brace his blade against the terrible killing stroke of each blow.

And yet, as his right humerus began to lower to better guard himself, Sephiroth stopped. He locked blades with Ragnar, and then held in a clash. The youth's one good eye opened, reacting in surprise to this…and knowing something good couldn't be coming. Sephiroth's face…illuminated a bright fierce green in the pale mako light…smiled darkly back at him, before tipping his body back, extending his leg, and then swinging it around with earth shattering force to smash into Ragnar's humerus.

An enormous cracking sound went out as the two halves of Ragnar's upper arm collapsed around the leg.

The worst pain yet drove itself into Ragnar's mind. Crying out in agony, he stumbled back from the blow. His right arm fell down to his side, now totally useless. His upper arm had been horribly compound fractured. Even as he backed away, the blood beneath the skin from the bone piercing the inner tissues began to leak out through the flesh.

The pain was too much. Ragnar was dizzy again…overwhelmed by the pain and blood loss. He staggered back, stumbling over his own two feet…before he finally fell back and collapsed onto his rear end. It took all the strength and focus he had left to keep from falling on his back. He winced and strained. The slightest movement drove his right arm into pain. Even moving the fingers hurt it more. He couldn't hold onto Ragnarok with this hand. It shifted fully into his left before letting it collapse on the ground next to him. Here, Ragnar panted and gasped, feeling his body and arm throbbing, struggling to get his mind around the blinding pain…

"I guess that means you're done."

Hearing this mocking voice…now becoming somewhat dreamlike and phantasmic…Ragnar somehow snapped to his senses. His eye opened, and his breathing leveled off. Everything felt unreal now. The high of endorphins and adrenaline was making everything seem inconstant and fake… And yet, he knew it was not. He was still down in the hell of the New Shinra HQ Dome. And the devil of this domain was still right in front of him, with his long cruel sword at his side and waiting to answer its master's demand for blood once again. Looking down on him now, and casting a shadow that seemed to not only come over Ragnar, but envelop him, Sephiroth narrowed his pupils and maintained his smile.

"Hmph…look at yourself." The dark man stated, seeming somewhat disgusted. "Bleeding…bruised…broken… You're life is nothing more than a candle flame to me that I can blow out whenever I wish. And you thought that you could defend this world from me. You thought you could save this world from mako reactors and the New Shinra. You were ignorant as well as weak…living on some childish delusion that you were someone strong or purposeful, when you're nothing more to me than another stupid indigenous bacteria, like those men of yours I killed. You're nothing but an insect…scurrying around trying to deal with things that are too big for your pitiful little spirit, and even more pitiful body, to comprehend or respond to. Why don't you do what you mortals are best at? Lie down and die."

Ragnar heaved and tried to gain his breath. He still felt dizzy and weak, and was unable to respond. For the first time, however…fear was starting to come upon him. He was too tired to be angry now, and he began to realize just what was going to happen. He had nothing left. His body was broken and exhausted… He was beaten. Bahamut had been right…Cloud had been right…but in his arrogance and anger he hadn't listened to them. He should have ran…used what strength he had to escape. Now it was too late. Sephiroth was far stronger than anything he had dreamed of…far more terrible and horrific… He had never even had a chance…

He began to realize what was going on. Sephiroth was going to kill him. And he couldn't fight back. His arm was useless. His body was drained of blood. His muscles and bones were aching. He couldn't defend himself. He was going to die. There was no escape…no way to fight back… Ragnar suddenly realized he was staring death right in the face. Never before had it been more certain…more inescapable… And as he realized this…his bolder exterior broke…and the shield of strong emotions and bravery behind him fell slightly…

He's going to kill me…

I'm stuck down here…alone and helpless…and I'm going to die.

For a moment, Ragnar's battered face stared at Sephiroth, and some of what he used to be…a frightened young man fleeing for his life from the New Shinra HQ Dome…came to the surface. He suddenly looked younger and weaker, and more afraid. Sephiroth noticed this…and cracked a side of his mouth. He relished it…drank it in…indulged in it.

"There it is…" Sephiroth remarked in a slow whisper, seeming to muse over it as he saw it. "Coming out at last… Despair."

However, hearing this made Ragnar snap out of it. He shook his head, and suddenly put his juvenile terror away again. He was once more a general and a warrior. However…he was also showing true fear of a sensible man. He was in mortal danger. He had to do something…anything…whatever he could to save himself…

In the end…only one option was left.

Ragnar looked down and to his sword. It had gone cold again. He swallowed, and felt his strained mind. He was already taxed to the limit. Even if he could pull this off…he'd be done. He wouldn't have the fortitude to turn his sword into flame again. He was already so tired… But he forced himself to look awake. He had to try it. If he didn't…he was finished.

The youth licked his cracked lip, and then swallowed. He stopped breathing and focused, beginning to draw on his power again. It immediately left him sore, but he forced himself to go on. He slowly extended his hand out…and placed it on the hilt. His bleeding fingers slowly grasped the gold and jeweled handle. He exhaled and inhaled sharply, and shuddered as he tried to focus. He had to put it all in this one to hope it would work.

Still holding the blade, he turned and looked up to Sephiroth again. His one eye narrowed darkly, and filled with the last bit of anger and determination Ragnar could muster.

"I have enough hope left in me…for this…"

With that, Ragnar ripped Ragnarok off the ground, ignited it into flame, and flung it in an arc at Sephiroth as hard as he could.

Right after flinging it, Ragnar forced his arm to stay up. Bringing all of his focus to bear, he aimed it at the weapon and made it continue to its target, clearly seeing Sephiroth in his mind and his weapon tearing through him…

Sephiroth stared at this move without changing. The deadly spinning blade headed straight for him for a moment longer, but then, right before connecting, the man simply leapt into the air. His power immediately shot him far higher than any mere human could leap, and some sort of power held him there. However…it didn't work this time. Gritting his teeth, forcing his blade to move…Ragnar aimed his arm up. Immediately, the blade snapped around and went into the air, after the man.

For only the second time that fight…Sephiroth's smile faded, as what looked like surprise finally began to fill his eyes. He stared at the blade sailing for him for a moment…but then, he quickly dropped down in midair, avoiding it as it shot up to him and attempted to slice him from an angle. But this was what Ragnar hoped. As Sephiroth dropped down…he immediately brought Ragnarok down on top of him. The blade orientated itself so that it was cutting vertically, and then dropped straight onto the dark man. Sephiroth's surprise continued as he saw it coming, and in response he quickly twisted his blade up around and guarded himself. Moments later, the swirling, burning blade struck him, and spinning madly it struck again and again at him at hyper speeds, sending flaming fragments everywhere, including pouring down on the man below the weapon.

Ragnar cried out a groan, and forced the blade to become more aggressive. He shoved down with his arm, and forced it to push fully on the dark man. And to his amazement…it seemed to work. The power of the blade forced Sephiroth down in midair, and sliced against him so furiously that even he couldn't afford to let it go or push it off. His body became covered by the flaming bits that fell off of the sword, as it pushed down harder and harder…desperate to cut into the target its master designated… For a few fateful moments, the two powers clashed on…

Then, most suddenly…Sephiroth broke. Abruptly, the great spinning blade of Ragnarok seemed to shove into him and knock him out of the air. To Ragnar's amazement, the blade forced the man down with incredible speed and force, and to his surprise…it shoved down until it forced the man to the floor. But still spinning…it smashed him right through it, sending him underneath the floor and into the mako pit. But Ragnar saw no more than that. From where he was on the ground, he merely saw his flaming blade seem to smash Sephiroth through the metal grating, its own heat cutting up the grate in its wake, and fling him into the sizzling pit beneath…

Ragnar wasn't sure how he managed to maintain control, considering how stunned he was at what he had accomplished. But somehow…his mind was clear enough and strong enough to maintain focus on his blade. Now that the target was gone from Ragnar's view, the flaming disc of Ragnarok tore through the floor again a moment later in a different spot, leaving more molten slag in its place, orientated itself around, and then spun back for its master. The youth blinked in astonishment at the ground, hardly believing what had happened. But then, he saw the weapon. Barely focusing…barely remembering the danger he was in from his blade himself…he reached out his hand to grab it. Moments later, the arc reached it…and spun in such a way that the handle landed right in Ragnar's palm. On hitting it, the blade immediately lost momentum and turned into a normal sword again.

Yet amazing as that was, Ragnar didn't really care right now. He let his weak arm holding the sword fall to the ground, still focusing on the floor. He expected at any moment for Sephiroth to shoot out of it again like a black demon from a green flame hellish abyss. Again…he began to feel fear accenting that. Fear that he would return and strike him again… However, it didn't happen. The room was silent, save for the sound of boiling mako and machinery. He didn't come back.

A faint feeling deep inside Ragnar's mind felt the most impossible scenario…that this mostly panic move had killed him. However, his rationality soon came in. He wasn't dead. There was no way he could have died from that simple move. He didn't know where he was…but he had to still be alive. And at this point…Ragnar realized how beaten and bloody he was. He could barely walk. He couldn't be here if and when he returned… He had to take Cloud's advice with the last bit of strength he had in him. He had to run.

Ragnar gasped a moment longer, but then tightened up his sore, swollen muscles again. Though it threw his arm into agony, he managed to push up and roll onto his feet. He only had one good arm left, and he used that to turn Ragnarok into a crutch to elevate him into a standing position. He gasped once he was there, his head swimming. He was tired…so tired… His whole body felt like an open sore… He realized that even if he did get away from Sephiroth, he was severely injured and stuck at the bottom of the New Shinra HQ. He doubted he'd be able to limp very far…but he had to try.

The youth turned his head to the side to see something he had spotted earlier in the fight. A cage-like metal elevator was against a wall, used obviously only for industrial purposes. As far as he could see, this was the only way out. Forcing his weak legs to move, he limped/staggered over to it as fast as he could, leaving a trail of his own blood in his wake. After what seemed like forever, he reached it. Straining his one remaining arm, he forced himself to pop the clasp and pull the door open. He went inside…and, feeling a wave of fear, quickly shut it and bolted it behind him. After that, he pressed the button for the highest level he could go to. The elevator hummed a moment, but then gave a snap and began to rise.

Ragnar himself limped to the corner and balanced his body against it. He breathed long and slow, and tried to see if he had enough clothing left to do anything about his wounds. Mostly…he just rested, and hoped that he had enough strength to get out of this maze-like tomb.


Mack performed a barrel role to avoid the firepower of the eagle gun that shot behind him. After doing so, he continued to apply his maneuvers. This guy was good. He wasn't being thrown off like lesser pilots would have been. The result caused the commander to frown, but he was far from outdone. He decided to employ another trick instead.

Abruptly, he pitched his craft down at an angle and dove for one of the enemy destroyers. The bogie immediately fell in behind. As Mack expected, he was more concerned with shooting down his prey than paying attention to his environment. As a result, he didn't notice when the enemy destroyer assumed that Mack was making a solo run against it. It immediately pitched its guns up, and began to fire away at him. The commander waited just for the first few shots to go off, and then quickly launched his craft into a split S. The enemy behind him noticed this, and was about to respond…when he realized too late that the destroyer's firepower was now sailing right for him. Moments later, it went up in a burst of flame.

This marked yet another loss of a fighter for the New Shinra Navy…but Mack was hardly enthused. He only had to look down below to see how things were going. The New Shinra Navy was definitely in a sort of crescent shape now, trying to curl in around the Wutai Gold Navy. And for all their effort, they were unable to keep this from happening. More destroyers were going down on either side all the time, but when it came to straight numbers the New Shinra had them beat. They couldn't hold much longer. Frowning, Mack looked to his long range sensors. The enemy grid was still active, having not shut down since the failure of an attack run. He sighed, and then looked to the time.

0620 hours.

The pilot cursed himself, adopting one of Cid's colorful coloquielisms when he did so. After doing so, he turned to his radio and adjusted it to the Sierra's channel.

"Sierra, this is Phoenix Leader. I think it's reasonable to assume at this point that Operation Hiccup didn't go well."

"I could've told you that ten minutes ago, Commander."

"This is Admiral Godo. Our fleet is sustaining too much damage. We must start making plans to withdraw."

"Admiral, we bug out now, we won't get another shot at that thing!"

"We don't have a 'shot' now, Captain. It will be a futile slaughter of our pilots to send them in on an attack run. We have no way to shield them against that onslaught."

Mack heard silence after that on the radio, and he assumed that Cid had gotten the idea. Mack swore again, however. This close…and yet they couldn't do it. But even if they could break through this fleet and attack the shore with their own, that would only remove the most coastal defenses. It wasn't a matter of being brave or skilled enough. There just wasn't enough clearance to get a ship through there. And the fleet couldn't hold out that much longer anyway. There was nothing left to do…

The pilot was moments from putting his radio on an order to tell all Phoenixes to back off and try and protect an escape. He hated doing this…especially knowing what it would mean when the Gauntlet of Zeus was finished… But before he could say a word, Cid spoke up again.

"Excalibur…this is the Sierra. Pull up alongside me and match my moves. Phoenix Leader, ready your strike squadron and pull up next to us."

Mack's face immediately turned to confusion.

"Captain…?"

"Just hurry up and do it, commander! We ain't got much time to carry this out!"

The pilot continued to look puzzled. "…What exactly are we carrying out, captain?"

"An attack run, you idiot!" Cid barked back. After giving up another cough at his sudden yell, he added more. "Admiral Godo says you guys need a shield…so you're going to fly above the Sierra and the Excalibur. We're gonna be your shield."


The elevator ground to a halt, and abruptly its loud noises ceased as it went dead. Ragnar, breathing hard from where he was leaning, slowly turned his head up and out. The elevator was done, he soon realized. But so soon? He had hoped it would go a lot higher… He wasn't sure how high up the elevator had gone…and frankly, he had been too tired and dizzy to pay attention…but he knew it couldn't have gone more than five stories. He doubted he was out of the sub-basement yet…

Still panting, the youth turned his head and weakly looked outside of the wire mesh gate. He could see little. Everything was still swimming and indistinct to him…but his muddled senses made out that he was still deep in the maintainence area. The only real difference he could see now was his lighting. The mako mist and glow was gone, with some industrial lights replacing it. But it appeared that some sort of pipe lined corridor stretched in front of him. He could hear steam hissing and boiling from around the area. This had to be some sort of...of…

Ragnar shook his head and coughed, spitting up more blood in his wake. He didn't want to think about what this area was. He was too tired. Thinking about anything wore him out. He was starting to feel rather cold as well as sick… His guts had to have been nearly beaten into pudding… Despite his brief time of rest, Ragnar found himself seeming to wobble even more as he pulled himself off of the side of the elevator, leaving more bloody stains in his wake, and limping to the door. He had to set his sword at the side for a moment so that he could open it. But once it was, he began to limp out with it as a crutch.

The sound of steam hissing began to increase as he slowly emerged. But other than that, it was silent. He swallowed a bit, drinking some of his own blood in the process. Directly ahead of him, the corridor terminated into some more open, better lit chamber. However, he could see no doors in there. On exiting, he noticed that there was a hallway right at his left and right. He turned his head to the right, but saw nothing but more darkness. He inhaled deeply, and turned his head to the left…

Somehow, Ragnar had enough adrenaline left in him to react…and it was a good thing too.

Abruptly, the youth's one eye widened as he saw the flash of a gleaming blade dive for him. He twisted his body back and out of the way, and the blade narrowly missed giving him another cut before piercing a steam pipe on the side. A burst went out as boiling hot mist exploded. But Ragnar paid no mind to this. He twisted back into the initial corridor he saw, and brought up Ragnarok as best as he could with one arm.

He didn't know how he had followed him…or what had happened to him…but he was here.

Sephiroth calmly and coolly stepped around the edge of the hallway, yanking the Masamune out in the process, wielding it in front of him, and advancing on Ragnar.

The dark man reared the blade back a moment later and slashed at Ragnar's head. The youth gaped a bit at the speed and power, but managed to duck before the blade sailed over him, taking a few of his hairs with it, and then smashed into a series of pipes on the other side. More steam exploded in their wake, but he calmly walked through it as he advanced, bringing his blade back for a cross slash on the opposite side. Ragnar ducked this as well, but Sephiroth moved faster and quickly came in to slash at him again. The youth brought up his blade with on arm…and though it threatened to break his remaining limb, he somehow braced the weapon against himself and blocked against two more blows. But after that, he was too weak, and staggered back to avoid a third swipe. It landed in the floor a moment later, cutting a huge metal scar into it.

Sephiroth kept advancing, and struck down on Ragnar two more times, forcing the youth to struggle to guard. Sweat soon began to flow from his brow as agony filled his body. On a third strike, Sephiroth went into a clash again. The only way Ragnar could withstand it was by pressing his whole body against the blow, bracing his blade against himself. At this point, he didn't have the power to ignite it into flame. He held as much as he could, gritting his teeth and straining against the power. But Sephiroth simply smiled and continued to push him back, forcing him further away.

At last, Sephiroth shoved him off from him with a simple gesture. Ragnar went flying back, and nearly tripped and fell. However, he somehow miraculously stayed on his feet, and guarded again as Sephiroth advanced. He swung his blade up and brought it down full force against him, threatening to break Ragnar's arm off if he tried to withstand it. The youth cried out in agony, and did so three more times as Sephiroth advanced and struck down on him again and again. Finally, on the fifth strike, Sephiroth swung his blade down at a side. Despite Ragnar's best efforts, his arm was wrenched to one side and nearly slammed to the ground. When that happened, Sephiroth reared back and kicked. This time, Ragnar saw it coming, but it didn't matter. He was too weak to dodge. The blow struck him right in the sternum. Painful as it was…it wasn't as agonizing as before. This time, it only served to knock him off what small balance he had, and to the ground on his back. He slammed down a moment later, and slid forward a precious few more feet…

However, as he came to a halt…he felt nothing behind his upper skull. Somewhere, through his dazzled, tired, oxygen-deprived brain…he recognized this. On doing so, he twisted his head back and behind him, in his tiredness forgetting not to take his eyes off of his enemy, and looked to where he had come.

Despite his position, he was able to see and sense something very clearly. He had reached the more open corridor…except it wasn't an open corridor at all. It was a pit. And he was at the top of it. A few more feet, and he would have fallen into it. He couldn't look well enough to see if it was shallow or deep…but he didn't desire to find out. He turned his head back up and around, and looked above him…

A moment later, he slammed his head back against the ground and didn't move.

Sephiroth's blade had abruptly extended and rested its tip right on his throat.

The youth froze, and struggled not to breathe. He lay sprawled out against the ground, his eyes now showing his anxiety and fear. He stayed as flat as he could. He didn't dare elevate himself the slightest bit. He could feel Masamune's tip resting on his throat, just pricking his skin enough to draw a single drop of blood. The slightest spastic movement would send it in and puncture his windpipe.

Standing over him…seeming far darker and deathly than the silence and darkness that surrounded him, Sephiroth stood in his position of victory, his blade ready to take Ragnar's life with the slightest gesture. He didn't move. He didn't even really smile. He stood as still as a statue, looking over his panting, bleeding, broken opponent.

"…And you were going to defend the Cetra from me." Sephiroth finally spoke, in a half snort. "You can't even defend yourself, or save yourself. I've killed hundreds like you. I know exactly what you are. You are an arrogant little boy, thinking that because he can play with a sword he can fight a true opponent. If this were the Wutai-Shinra War, I might spare your life. I took no honor or satisfaction in killing helpless children back then."

Ragnar didn't answer. Part of him, deep inside, was indignant…but the rest of him was now afraid. He had never felt so beaten and tired…felt his own body giving out on him…felt death actually clutching at his throat. He could only stare back and struggle to hold his breath. However…he knew the grim truth. He was beaten. Defeated. He had no chance to survive now, and he had nothing left. He realized he was going to die. Sephiroth was just prolonging the moment. One thrust…and he'd join his mother and sisters…

Hence, he was rather surprised when Sephiroth slowly removed his blade from his throat.

"This fight is finished."

The youth's eye widened, and he leaned his head up a bit at that. Though free to breathe again, he didn't out of sheer surprise. Sephiroth, on his part, stopped smiling all together, turned his blade around, and returned it into his black coat. With that, he swept his body around, and put his back to the fallen youth. Ragnar blinked, but then began to lean up.

"…This has been the biggest waste of time I have ever undertaken." Sephiroth remarked, his back still turned. After that, he began to walk away.

Part of Ragnar told him to just let him leave. But he couldn't. He leaned back up into a sitting position. His fear made him hesitate a moment...but then he found himself calling after him hesitantly.

"…You're…sparing me?"

Sephiroth stopped walking at that.

"Hardly." His dark voice retorted. "I'm leaving you to die, which you should before too long. You can wander through the dark mazes of this structure until you pass out from blood loss, hunger, thirst, or agony. Then you can lie there like a sick dog and slowly breathe your last. I don't care to waste the effort finishing you."

Ragnar, recovered a bit now…felt a twinge of anger start again in him. He swallowed and moistened his swollen lip, wincing a bit from the sting, and then spoke again, a bit more challengingly.

"…I thought you wanted to bring me to you so that you could kill me."

"Don't be so vain or arrogant." Sephiroth answered, still not turning. "If I wished to kill you, I would have done so with my first blow. You've made it more than clear that you would never survive my full power. I find the fact that you would suggest the fact that you have survived this long on your own talent extremely insulting. You're nothing. Just some silly little boy spouting out idle boasts."

Ragnar felt his anger burn a bit more at this. Despite his beating…Sephiroth had been calling him a child again and again throughout this entire fight…making it look like he was helpless and defenseless…making it look like he needed someone else to protect him.

He hated that more than anything.

However, his hate was interrupted by what Sephiroth said next.

"I wanted your master."

To this, Ragnar's eye widened again.

"…Lord Bahamut?"

"In my latest incarnation, he is my only true obstacle to power." Sephiroth calmly explained. "Even the Cetra cannot stop me this time. Hence, I didn't bother sending the Cetra you love back into the grave the first night I reawakened. But he has had the annoying habit of interfering in my sorts of affairs throughout history. I know he'll only cause me trouble later if I don't deal with him now. I thought torturing you would bring him out to your aid. Evidently, I was mistaken. He must think you're as hopeless and meaningless as I do, little boy."

Hearing this comment…Ragnar's surprise faded once again, and turned to back to anger. His fear had held him back before...but something about these words...how mocking and condescending they were...they seemed to sink into him. They seemed almost like fuel being thrown on a fire.

His eye narrowed and his swollen, potentially broken jaw clenched.

"…Stop calling me that."

"I have a better idea." Sephiroth responded with a slight laugh. "Know your place as a corpse." He paused a moment, and then sneered, shaking his head. "You…you were so cocky and confident… You thought you'd just come up to me and strike me down as if I was just a practice dummy. Even this entire fight, with your pathetic little flaming moves, you actually thought that you were turning the tide of this battle, catching me off guard.

"You never had an edge for even an instant. The only reason you burned my coat is because I went far too easy on you. While you've been fighting for your life, I've been growing bored with having to keep up the charade of actually fighting you. The only thing you do have is an impossibly stubborn spirit. You have no power whatsoever to back it up…but you refused to just give in to your pain and despair. If you had, I might have killed you."

Sephiroth drew in a deep breath after this, and grew more calm with his voice…but also far darker and grimmer…like a sentence from Death itself…

"Now…you will have to spend the last bit of your life wishing I had." He began. "Here, helpless…alone…faced with the crushing reality of how weak you truly are…you will slowly die knowing that you could never defend the ones you loved from me. You will have to see again and again in this darkness and silence my visage tearing apart Cloud, Aerith, Tifa…anyone you care about. You will have to be face to face with your own flimsy, broken flesh and realize just how useless you were to the Planet. Just as you failed to defeat me, you failed to save your world, your army, or anyone else. Worst of all…you'll have to live knowing that your operation failed. The Gauntlet of Zeus is quite safe."

Ragnar's mouth loosened as his eye widened again.

"Yes…I made sure of that." Sephiroth answered. "You'll have to live knowing that you only assembled an army to meet its death. Last but not least…you'll see just how helpless you are. For years you went around spouting that you were a man and not a boy…but now you'll see just how helpless a child you really are. You're no leader. You're no warrior. You're no man. You're just some sick, beaten slave…right back where he started. After all you have done, you're still going to die in the bottom of this prison, as helpless and weak as you were before you were trained.

"Now…be a good little boy, lie back down, and die…and maybe I'll tell Aerith before I kill her that you died honorably…and not sobbing at my feet, licking my boots, begging for death."

With that, Sephiroth calmly began to walk again, as if the matter was closed.

The youth's surprise slowly faded as he glared at him. Each word that Sephiroth spoke sunk into Ragnar like poison, seeming to bring out his deep inner fears of inadequacy and weakness. They seemed to call out to every moment in his life when someone needed him, but he couldn't help them because he was too weak. The last images…the ones of him lying beaten in that cell…they struck him most vividly. Over a year later…he was back in the cell…weaker than he was before.

He was trapped here…but just as Sephiroth said, he could see his friends. He could see them dying now. He had thought he could save them…help them. He thought he could defeat Sephiroth and avenge the dead. He thought he could protect Aerith from him... And yet…in the end, here he was. He hadn't saved anyone. He hadn't even saved his own life. He had thought so much of his skill and his power…and Sephiroth thought no more of him than of those he had killed. He was nothing to him…being dismissed as a helpless boy… He was off to do as he pleased to his friends and to this planet…and he, the Planet's Chosen One…he hadn't even left a scar on his body for him to remember him by. He hadn't even given him a handicap. Cloud had no training, Jenova cells, or mako…and he beat Sephiroth before. But he…he couldn't do anything to him. He couldn't even hurt him. And now he was stuck down here…bearing his insults…left to rot…while he went off and did who knew what to Aerith…

No…

I'm the chosen one of the Planet…

I'm the one who has to save it…

I'm not a kid.

Ragnar felt his anger take him again. Sephiroth was writing him off as a nothing. He was supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to be the one who would save this world. And he would. He was supposed to be strong enough to protect the ones he loved. And he would. He wasn't going to just lie here and die. He didn't care what it took. He was going to beat him…he was going to destroy him… He was going to shove his insults down his throat…

The last bits of Ragnar's energy suddenly seemed to multiply within him and fill him. He suddenly felt his passions giving him more strength and power than ever before…and he suddenly felt mightier and stronger than he had the entire battle. His teeth were grit now…blood oozing from between his gums. His eye blazed with ferocity and anger. Taking his one good arm, he reached down and seized the hilt of Ragnarok again. Immediately, the golden blade burst into flame, as his aura found enough strength to call forth the power again.

Sephiroth had his back to him…and was still walking away. Seeing that, Ragnar took his chance. Seeming to suddenly be free from pain and exhaustion…he suddenly rolled forward and got to his feet. Standing firm and strong, he brought his blade over his shoulder with one hand, and then charged forward. Within an instant, he was closing on the dark man. Surging with anger and power, Ragnar brought the blade further back behind him, and poured all of his strength into his arm and weapon. The sword immediately blazed forth in greater flame than before, draining all the darkness out of the air and filling it with fire instead. Yelling out the full measure of his passion and determination, Ragnar reached the dark man and swung the blade down with his full force onto Sephiroth's back…intending to shatter him with one blow…

Clang.

Moment later…a jolt rippled through Ragnar's entire body as his sword struck metal.

Moving so fast he couldn't see it, Sephiroth had drawn Masamune again, swung it behind him, and guarded against the blow.

Now, he didn't move the slightest millimeter as he guarded against the flaming Ragnarok.

Ragnar's anger faded again. His jaw loosened, and he began to gape at this. His angry eye turned dim and shocked at how fast he had moved, and how steadily he held against the full sum of Ragnar's power. It was like he wasn't even pushing. His cry slowly died down in the distance…and his flames faded back into his sword. Sephiroth, totally still and silent, stood with Ragnar braced against him. The air turned cold…and dark…and at long last…fear fully penetrated into Ragnar's heart.

A dark voice spoke slowly.

"…You fool."

With that, Sephiroth spun around with such speed that Ragnar's blade was thrown off and back, forcing the youth away with it. Ragnar gaped and staggered back, staring at how fast this happened…and was powerless to move as Sephiroth swung his blade back behind him when he turned, and then brought it around in a slash with his own full force…

The Masamune cut a bolt of light across the air as it sailed across and impacted Ragnarok.

Immediately…the great sword of the espers…the Flame of Ragnar…shattered.

The impact was so great that Ragnar felt the bones in his own hand break…but he didn't see it. He only saw as the blade of Ragnarok was ripped out of his hand…and was shattered into a dozen metal shards. The great golden flame of Ragnarok suddenly turned dull…appearing to go from lustrous to a drab gray iron. As they lost their sparkle, he watched for a few brief moments as their fragments danced through the air, and slowly fell to the ground.

But then…he heard something crack…and then squish before cracking again.

Ragnar suddenly felt bitterly cold…as his pain faded from all over his body. He gaped once, letting out a gasp…but then could do no more. Something…stopped in him. And with it, darkness began to fall on him rapidly. His senses faded, and everything around him began to disappear… He didn't even notice when blood started to run out of his mouth. He turned his eyes downward…looking to the noise that was already fading from his memory…and saw it.

The end of the Masamune was protruding from his chest.

Right where his heart was.

Ragnar's eyes widened slightly…but then relaxed. He had no time to think or be surprised. A thought of Aerith…beautiful and perfect…flowed through his mind…and then was swallowed up into shadow. His arms fell, and the hilt of Ragnarok topped out of his hand. His memory vanished…his senses faded…and his head slumped down as the rest of his body went limp…and the world faded to oblivion.

His breathing ceased…and a moment later his heart, impaled along the length of the Masamune, beat its last.


Sephiroth's last look was that of coldness and darkness as he held the youth on the end of his blade. A bloody foot of the sword protruded from his back, where it had broken through his spine. Ragnar's lifeless body slowly dripped blood onto the ground as it hung there, mingling with the pool he had already left.

Then, snorting one last time, Sephiroth walked up to the edge of the pit, holding Ragnar's body on his blade as he did so. Once he brought it over the edge…he yanked it back once and snapped the blade out from Ragnar's chest. No longer suspended, the body spilled back, carried by the center of mass, and fell into the pit. Sephiroth drew his blade away, and watched as Ragnar's body left a graceful trail of blood in the sky as it fell deep into the darkness of the Dome. Then, it vanished, and so did the blood it left in its wake.

All was silent.

That done, Sephiroth calmly began to clean his blade off with the edge of his coat, turned around, and began to walk away.


To be continued...