Final Fantasy
Prologue
Energy in it's most simplistic form is by it's very nature more complex than anything that we can ever hope to comprehend. Whether you believe that we were all zapped into existence by some infallible creator or we came to be through a series of complex coincidences there is nothing that suggest that energy is a force to be reckoned with.
From the dawn of time it is known that there are some things, no matter how hard you try, that cannot be tamed. Man has been in the presence of fire for thousands of year—but every day something is ravaged and destroyed by the same flames which cook and coexist with life.
Natural things belonging to the planet are impossible to tame because of the simple fact that the planet must fight. There is an ultimate will to fight buried deep in all things natural. Water that has been restricted to a more narrow bank because of damns and irrigation will often break out and take back more land that it had at it's prime.
Fire that is used to cook with in a camp will sometimes catch the wind and devastate the land around it.
These things fight back against anything that disturbs them, including people. But most people have the exact opposite response; push them and they give in. Push a little harder and they give up. Push the hardest and they let go of everything they held dear and fall apart. These men are not the ones that make history progress, because all they could do was follow behind that one that pushed the hardest. That one that pushed the hardest was a True Fighter. True Fighters affect the history of the world, whether positively or negatively. True Fighters push a little harder when faced with a challenge. True Fighters never give up, give in, let up, or let go…
But True Heroes do it all for the one they love and the ideas they hold dear—
From a distance the planet seemed to be a blue ball of total lifelessness. But from a distance it appeared at peace, the only struggle that could be seen was between the clouds and sky; water and land. These were peaceful struggles, the water lapped gently at the belt of the land. The clouds swirled across the clear sky like milky wisps of cotton—there was peace from a distance.
As the other stars are neglected and the focus becomes this small blue planet you can see what the true struggle is—man.
"I fought because fighting was all I was ever good at, but at least I always fought for what I believed in…"—Gray Fox (Cyborg Ninja) Metal Gear Solid One
Sixteen Years Earlier…On the southern plains of the eastern most island in the world there raged a battle like none before it. The battle over a way of life. Men clashed at the frontlines, slamming into each other with sword. Sparks flew from the blades and dropped back to the ground with burying themselves in the grass.
A great misty mix of gunpowder smoke mixed with fog rose over the battlefield as the sun emerged over the shore. The screams of pain filled the air with explosions and metal clashing.
Technology and mysticism mixed, Magic met sheer firepower. But one always seemed to outdo the other, because of one simple reason—Energy. It was the key the survival of man, energy from a seemingly unending source. The side that had this energy happed to be the Shinra. It was at the very start of the war that this became the case. Right from the first few scrimmages it was a sure thing who would take the prize.
The leader of the opposing Wutai Army knew this, as did the Shinra themselves. But pride and beliefs had started this war more than anything. And all that could come from it's end was proof undeniable who was right all along.
So many a man had to lose his life for pride, so many a woman had to tell her children what had become of their father as they cried. It was a dirty thing, but there were people who also didn't mind losing their life, people who had nothing to live for all along; people who were born to fight—who would die fighting. And all the time in between there would be a constant battle raging on inside of their heads and hearts.
This battle would tempt them with unimaginable things and could turn them against their fellow man. And as the Shinra Gelinka Arial Assaulters zoomed overhead punching machine gun rounds and bombs into the Wutai army, a lone swordsman led the charge headlong into the explosions made by his own side. The name of this great warrior is etched in the very fabric of history, intertwined with the destiny of the world: Sephiroth!
His form was tall and muscular, handsome and young. He had long white hair that almost shimmered silver and light blue eyes. His face had a complex and sharp bone structure. His chin was void of hair, as was his upper lip. His nose was pointed and thin, but not the most noticeable feature he had.
Down his long slender neck his body was cloaked in a black trench coat that covered all of his rippling muscular chest and most of his legs. He wore black leather pants stuffed into shimmering high black boots.
The weapon he carried was a long sword, too heavy for any normal man to carry. It reach well over Sephiroth's height and had to be curved as to not hit the ground. The blade was strong and tempered; allowing him to cast various spells through it and reflect certain ones back more easily. He truly was the greatest warrior there was, the greatest fighter that the world had seen.
And he was there the day that Wutai fell, the same day that he charged through the bombs and fought countless men at once with but a sword. Later that night, in front of the Wutai Dojo surrounded by fires that had once been the land governed in the dojo, Wutai's leader, Emperor Godo signed his city over to the Shinra; only to become a resort town.
Sephiroth and a group of about five had battled their way to the center of this place; Sephiroth himself had carried the pen and contract signed by Godo—he had changed the history of Wutai and the world…
…so many others had died trying…