Four Months Later

Commander Torunga had reached the conclusion at this construction area that all the other workers had realized long before him, due to their actual manual labor compared to his "supervision".

Hell wasn't hot…it was cold, dry, and windy.

He was reminded of that fact this morning. As he stepped out from the "temporary" barracks they had erected near the summit of the mountain, he felt an icy dry breeze blast him. His face was already raw and his lips chapped to the point of bleeding from being on this mountain for so long. It didn't matter that he constantly used sealant and ointment on his lips and face. They were blasted dry anyway. Both his face and everyone else's here. He grit his teeth as he moved his gloved hands together, squeezing them as he did so. They were still icy cold from last night, and had failed to warm up. It didn't help that they had no permenant power source out here.

And to think…I used to believe that I had it rough building the Dome…

Torunga looked around at the view from where he was. The ground he was standing on was still roughly hewn. The molds for the concrete steps wouldn't go up for months. In front of him, down the side of the mountain a short way, were the mess, supply, and medical tents. The medical tent had gotten another rip from the fierce winds that the construction crew was constantly subject to, and the staff was struggling to tie it down again. The winds had only grow worse with the onset of winter. Well…technically it wouldn't be winter for a bit longer…but when you were this close to the roof of the world it hardly mattered.

To his right, resting inside the colossal invagination they had blasted and dug out of the side of the mountain, lay the half-completed sphere that was the focus of his work. The inner machinery was only just starting to be seen, but the sphere was coming right along. In another few days, the first of the internal rollers would be complete, and it would actually be able to move somewhat. Underneath it rested an odd assortment of machinery creating some sort of metallic tunnel. Torunga called it that instead of its proper name, a mako reactor. That was because he hadn't seen high nor hair of its power capabilities since they began construction. It was supposed to be operational by now, so that they wouldn't have to rely on separate power sources and could actually wake up warm instead of freezing for a change. Of course, like everything else on this site, it was not working.

Lastly, Torunga turned his head back down to the path in front of him. His crew was running around, going about their morning quotas. However, he noticed a new person had arrived. He stuck out easily, because his own winter overcoat, snow glasses, and officer hat were smooth and new. Everyone who worked here had long since gotten theirs worn, torn, cracked, and stained with no less than three chemicals. That was just his clothing, however. Torunga knew this man even better to be a newcomer by the way he dimly regarded the area. No one who worked here did it like that…but only the people below who thought that the only difference between progress and lack of progress was lazy workers. And where that idea prevailed, there invariably was tongue lashings. That's about all they ever came up here to do nowadays…

Knowing that he would receive yet another, Commander Torunga nevertheless sighed and decided to get it over with. He proceeded to walk down to the higher officer. On looking over him as he approached, he saw that it was another man of high rank: a commander, and one above him. But this one looked newer…one that hadn't been isolated up on this ice cube for months and grown tired not only of construction, but of the war itself…

When Torunga finally arrived in front of the commander, the new officer gave a salute out of pure custom.

"Commander Torunga." He addressed.

A bit tiredly, Torunga saluted as well and nodded. "Yes sir." He responded. "Commander, I would love to give a detailed progress report, but as you can see we are way behind schedule, and-"

"We are well aware back at Headquarters how far behind schedule you are." The commander cut off, not too gently. Torunga groaned inwardly, knowing this would be a bad one. "And frankly, the General is not pleased with your lack of progress. We were supposed to start shipping the barrel segments to you by now, and I see that the turret is only half complete. It makes us wonder what exactly you are doing up here. Enjoying the fact that you aren't under direct observation?"

If Torunga wasn't perpetually tired, he'd love to slug this upstart pencil pusher in the nose. His men had been working themselves to death up here…and some of them had indeed died. Two from altitude sickness and one from exhaustion.

The foundation of this current construction project had been struck almost a year ago now, back in the first month of the current year. At that point, the Planet Protector Army had been driven from the Northern Continent, but they were still far from defeated, and rebuilt themselves stronger than before. Realizing that they managed to hold themselves well during battles on their own territory, General Leers had begun formulating an alternative plan to deal with them assuming that they were incapable of being defeated by "conventional" warfare. Originally, the General had wanted to hold off construction of this project until after the war was over, but with viable enemies having already presented themselves, he wanted to be ready in case they managed to gain real power.

And that led to the job of rebuilding the ultimate weapon of the former Shinra.

Only this time, the General wanted it to have a permanent installation. He wanted it to be able to fire multiple shots, not just one powerful blast. To do so would require a geologically stable piece of land great enough to withstand its recoil. The gun itself was nearly as large as a city, so that was no small task. An even more daunting one was making a turret for the weapon, so that it could adjust its course and fire at different targets. It would be nothing short of an engineering miracle.

And to Commander Torunga fell the dubious honor of making this miracle happen.

It was a nightmare from the start. First, the ones in charge picked a site that was good for their purposes, but impractical for construction. They found a mountain so solid that it would be able to withstand the concussion recoil of a gun of that size. They made it near the top, so that the gun would have range to move around and have a clear path the entire way. Finally, they placed it to the west of the Dome itself deep within a mountain range, making it all but inaccessible from air. Torunga's first question to that was, "Then how do we get out there?" He was told to figure it out for himself, in so many words.

They started with the sorely underequipped and undermanned crew of a hundred, who were dropped into icy weather in the middle of a sleet storm. They didn't even give them a portable heater. Five men got lost in the first two days, and nearly died of exposure. Another ten got altitude sickness, having not been acclimated to the weather. After three days, they were forced to leave, having only performed one initial blast. It wasn't for another three weeks that Torunga finally managed to get the higher officers to give him proper equipment and staffing, ones that had been acclimating themselves during that time. After that, blasts had proceeded.

But it was still horrible. Every so often, another man would succumb to altitude sickness or the cold. The precise work needed in placing the explosives involved lots of bare fingers, which later were removed from frostbite. They slept in tents for months, where it was still so cold some nights that your coffee would freeze before you could drink it. With no wood for fire, they were entirely dependant on outside sources, and sometimes those got locked up. It was a horrendous few weeks before they finally got enough supplies to erect real barrack tents with some heat inside them. By then the blasting was nearly done, however, and Torunga had to place in calls for more heavy equipment and supplies to be brought up to erect the foundations. The officers complained to him of taking up so many of their resources, and Torunga felt like snapping at them for having suggested he build the damn thing in the first place, and then nagging him that he was taking too slow.

More people arrived too, and then real work began. Fortunately summer came, giving them some relief. It was still very easy to exhaust yourself. And Torunga could only very slowly place the foundation for the massive turret. Having to possess a sphere indentation was a nightmare for engineering, and it required slow, precise work. In the meantime, other things had to be built. The foundations for the command and control tower had to be placed. Currently, that was looking well, although it had no heat or power. It needed a bay for safe storage of ammunition, which was currently just a muddy trench in the ground. It needed a reactor for independent power and for providing the "trigger" to the mechanism, and although they had been working hard on it, the only thing they had achieved so far was lower life expectancy from mako leaks. There was no life up here to collect and use for mako power, and so the New Shinra was experimenting with a later design that would extract mako power from condensated sources, like materia. In theory, a single orb of materia should have powered the entire facility for a month. In reality, all they had managed to make it do was cough up bits of mako waste so far. Reactors needed specialist engineers, scientists, and a lot of calibration. All they had were half frozen, oxygen-starved, sluggish-brained army engineers. The latter part was true. The higher you went, the less your brain was capable of doing. It was small wonder there had been so many blunders trying to get it operational.

"You're six months behind schedule. You don't have a turret. You have a mess." The officer barked at him.

Torunga rubbed back some of his hair with a long sigh. "…My estimate that I gave for completion was only a rough estimate. I appended it clearly to say that this time was within a three month window, and we're already delayed three months from the early blasting…"

"Maybe if you spent less time giving yourself more slack and more time working, then the Gauntlet of Zeus would be completed by now." The man cut off roughly.

The commander sighed again. "Sir…we've had a hell of a time getting this initially put in. Now that it's there, the work should move much faster…"

The officer ignored this. He turned his head over to the construction area, and after looking around a bit, he turned back to Torunga with another frown. "Where are the energy displacement rods, Commander? I don't see a single one set up. From the looks of it, you haven't even broken open the crates we shipped them to you in."

Again, the commander frowned and rubbed his brow. "Sir…we haven't had the time or manpower-"

"You were sent twenty additional men for the sole purpose of erecting those rods!" The officer nearly shouted in cutting him off.

"And right after you sent them to us, you gave us an order to up security." Torunga answered.

The officer formed a scowl at this. "Are you being insubordinate to me, commander?"

"No sir. I'm just pointing out that in order to keep up security, we had to send most of those men to security detail. Those who were left were insufficient, and we couldn't spare anyone without falling further behind schedule."

"You must have the most incompetent, laziest work crew in the New Shinra Army." The officer snorted in response. "I came here expecting to see the rods at least half erected, and I see nothing. The General will end up making you pay for it, however, so it's really no skin off my nose."

Torunga swallowed, and forced himself to raise his head and level it at the man. "With all due respect, sir, both to you and the General…this is impractical. An approximate sphere was able to be constructed for the Dome, but this is totally different. We have no relays to make a dome shape. We have to go for a jagged cone. It's an unnecessary waste of resources and time."

"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before filing your report to the General that said a single breach in the stability of the completed structure would cause the entire weapon to collapse." The officer simply replied. "First you say we need protection, then you don't. You should make up your mind."

Torunga inhaled rather than sighed, because he was running out of breath at this point. This was going to be the ultimate weapon of the New Shinra. As a result, every security measure known was being employed. No one was a worker out here who hadn't already belonged to the old Shinra Corporation's army. They had to go through three checkpoints every day before they could start work. Each one of their tools had to be accounted for at the end of each day. They even had their blood sampled once a month to determine that they really were who they were when they started. This place was remote as it was, but there were still ways to get in. As a result, a lot of their staff were security detail. Their sole purpose was to shoot anyone, PPA, NSA, neutral, civilian, or (a recent addition) WGN. Their bodies would be left to freeze in the mountain valleys. But not before any equipment they had was confiscated and obliterated.

However, that had not been sufficient when Torunga had revealed that the turret would have to be a work of perfect balance. There were numerous places on it that, if impacted by an explosive, would cause a disruption of weight that would bring down a large portion of it. If while operational, it might trigger a self destruct. Not wanting to leave their weapon vulnerable, General Leers had ordered Torunga to do the same thing to this weapon that had happened to the Dome. That was to build one of their geometric shield generators around it to protect from bombardment. This delicate, precise work, which would be almost impossible on this terrain and with a far weaker shape, was an inconvenience Torunga didn't have the time for.

"The shield will be completed…but it demands too much of my time and energy. Once the main barrel is installed, we will be able to…"

"To what, Commander?" The officer snapped. "To see our weapon on the brink of completion and then watch it be destroyed by an enemy weapon because you were too slow in setting up our defenses? Our new combined enemy is developing new weapons all the time. They have spies everywhere, which we are now beginning to discover. Although we have been trying to tighten our shore defenses to a redundant point so that your men can afford to waste time up here building nothing, it is only a matter of time before the enemy develops a weapon that can strike this area. The General will take no more excuses. I'm here to give you new orders."

Torunga looked puzzled at this. "New orders?"

"You are to devote all manpower, regardless of what their current duty is, to making the shield fully operational."

The engineer frowned again. What a waste of time… They could get the turret finished and finally have them lug their precious cannon up here, but now he was going to have to spend his energy doing this. The man groaned a bit in response, but then nodded.

"Very well, sir. The shield should be operational in about three weeks."

"That's not good enough." The officer sharply answered.

Torunga raised his head at this, surprised at how crossly he had been responded to.

"The General is accepting no more delays." The officer continued. "You have one week."

The engineer's face immediately widened. Where frozen coffee hadn't stirred him, this sudden request brought his senses to bear.

"A week?" He echoed. "Sir…achieving correct placement and testing of the rods required a mandatory ten day check for the Dome alone. This is a far more fragile and precise design. The reactor isn't up yet, and the electronics haven't even been installed in the command center…"

"Well then." The officer simply answered. "I suppose you have a lot to do in seven days."

Torunga had to struggle to repress the urge to smash this little man's nose into a bloody mash.

"This is impossible. Even if I had the entire engineering corp of the New Shinra Army up here, I couldn't get it done any sooner than two weeks."

"You had better rethink that estimate, Commander." The officer darkly answered. "Because the General is getting fed up with your lack of progress. If you do not complete the shield within one week, you and your entire work crew are to be removed from this construction area and transported to the most polar regions of our occupation. There, you will likely be put to work digging latrenes for the remainder of the war."

Torunga felt his raw, chapped fist tighten. As if there was a single engineer in the army other than him that knew more about this project or its specifications. If they replaced him with anyone else, they'd be delayed by an extra three months before they discovered that the new guys could do no better than the old ones. The stupid high officers just didn't understand the complications that were arising. This was like giving them Shinra No. 27 and telling them to build a lunar base that could drop missiles from orbit. They thought that they could simply order something and it would be done. And yet…Torunga dared not defy them. The General was neither patient nor forgiving. He had executed the commanding officer of every single army that had been beaten by the PPA, starting with Colonel Zed and most recently Field Marshal Steele and Captain Barbeau. The former for cowardice, and the latter for mutiny. What he said went, regardless of how much blood had to be squeezed from a stone to get it. And he realized if he wanted any future in this army, and if his work crew wanted to not have suffered all of this asphyxiation, frostbite, and heat exhaustion for nothing…then they would have to do as commanded.

Grudgingly, Torunga inhaled deeply, and relaxed his hand.

"…Aye-aye, sir."

As Commander Torunga moaned over his latest bit of ill fortune, he didn't suspect, and neither did the visiting officer for that matter, that about a hundred meters outside of the construction area was yet another recent visitor. Had this been anywhere else and any other time, one naturally might not have noticed this individual either. But this was deep within the Northern Continent…and it was in the middle of a war.

There was an adjacent peak to the construction area. It was up this peak that a parka-clad hiker ascended. She had a walking stick and lots climbing gear dangling from her belt, and her hood was pulled low with snow glasses over her eyes. She looked fairly casual enough as she climbed up. It was possible to assume that she was some hiker that had escaped detection of the New Shinra so far. After all, there were some isolated settlements up this far, and not just in Icicle Inn.

At any rate, huffing and wheezing from her climb, her ice cleats crunched the last bit of snow that stood between her and the cap of this mountain, and brought her up to it. Taking a stop, the woman halted here and looked around on the horizon. From this high up, it was a marvelous view, with ice-covered peaks stretching for miles in all directions. However…it didn't take long for her to zero in on one of the tallest. And it took even less time for her to notice that something rather big was being built in the side of it.

On seeing this…the hiker reached into her pocket. She emerged a moment later with a cellular phone. She flipped it open and held it in front of her. She hesitated for a second, but then began to dial a number.

She only made it to the fifth digit when a loud pop went out, echoing across the vast mountain valleys all around her. Abruptly…a red dot appeared in the middle of her forehead, and her body snapped back somewhat in response. But after that…her grip loosened, and released both her stick and her phone. Her body, now limp and lifeless, fell to the ground, and began to slowly roll down the peak it had just ascended…until it fell into some crevice to stay there until some distant generation found her frozen body. Unfortunately for her…she had never realized that there was another there, far away around that construction area, one who was paid to spend all day looking for people like her to reveal themselves…and then be greeted with a bullet to the brain. And this man had assumed correctly when he fired…that she was indeed no simple civilian hiker, but was a spy for an outside organization.

Yet what he hadn't known is that the woman wasn't just dialing a number.

The camera in her phone had been taking pictures, and even now as it lay on the frozen tundra of the mountain summit, it was carrying out the last wishes of its user…relaying the images back to command.

Knock-knock-knock.

Reno waited for a reply before pressing any further. However, he heard no response. That was strange. Had she left earlier? He tried knocking again, a bit louder this time.

"…Uh…what?" He heard moaned from the other side.

"It's your favorite person. Can I come in?"

"…Fine…"

Reno reached over and pressed the button that triggered the metal door in front of him. It slid aside immediately, revealing the dark recesses of the room on the other side. He walked right in without any further hesitation.

All of the Turks had received a room like this. It was pretty basic. Everything was metal on the floors and walls. It had a small bathroom area and a bed with no aesthetically pleasing qualities whatsoever, but that was pretty much it. Just the essentials, kind of like some cheap hotels Reno had been in…except colder. With everything in the Dome made of metal, it was impossible to ever get that warm in here, especially now that winter was nearly on them. Still, this was far nicer than some of the accommodations, namely the barracks.

The overhead lights were out. The only light that was on in the room was on a special shaded light panel on one side of it. The Dome itself had no windows. In order to keep the personnel working on a regular day/night schedule, these panels dimmed and lit up according to what time of day it was, simulating that the sun was rising and falling outside. Currently, it was at one of its brightest levels, and rightly so. It was noon by now. Reno himself was already fully dressed and groomed, and this was after having done all of his morning exercises and grooming routines.

However, the woman that he saw still lying in bed as he entered was a different story. Krystea had pulled out the thicker blankets and had them closely wrapped around her as she curled up in her bed. Opening the door had given her unwanted light, and, half exposed from her pillow, Reno saw her cringe deeper into her covers and wince. Reno grinned and snickered at this, and walked forward to her with his characteristic smile.

"I wondered when you would finally wipe yourself out." He commented as he stepped forward. "You've been showing us up for so long, it's good to finally see you sleeping in until lunch."

Krystea moaned a bit from where she was, and shifted again in her bed. "…I don't feel good…" She slowly murmured.

"'Bout time." Reno simply answered as he came to a stop next to her bed, crossing his arms and looking down on her. "You've been feeling great even after nights we go out drinking…"

"…I'm not kidding." She grumbled up from her spot. "I feel terrible…"

Reno crouched in answer to this. He gave the woman a look over. He couldn't see much from where she was, but she had a few basic signs. Pale face…feeling cold (obviously)…sleeping all day… It didn't take him long to infer what was going on.

"Don't know how with how sterile they keep everything in this stainless steel fortress…" Reno remarked as he looked at her. "But I think you've come down with something. Probably the flu."

Krystea groaned again. "…I feel the flu in my head… I'm feeling this all over my body…"

Reno answered by raising his hand and placing the back of it on Krystea's brow to check the temperature. When he did…his smile faded. The Turk was no doctor…but he realized heat when he felt it. It was so hot that he nearly withdrew his hand on touching it, fearing that he would get burned. Of course, he didn't…but he could feel that she was very, very warm. He could almost feel the heat radiating off of her brow…

The Turk hesitated for a moment, now feeling a bit more uncomfortable. He looked down again to Krystea, who didn't even seem to notice he had checked.

"…How can you stand to be in all that? As hot as you are?"

"What are you talking about…?" Krystea moaned. "I'm freezing. My teeth were chattering a moment ago…"

Reno, for a rare moment in his life, began to show a concerned look. "…Let me feel." He answered. He proceeded to reach for the edge of her heavy blanket, and pulled it back and off of her upper body. She groaned and griped as he did this, obviously hating her sudden exposure. But Reno didn't pay attention to that. He looked down at her body.

Even in the dim light…he immediately saw something seriously wrong. Her skin was pale…so pale that he could actually see the outline of blood vessels underneath it. He only saw this in people who had lost considerable body temperature. When he reached down and felt her skin, it was cold and clammy. She began to shiver soon after, and her teeth started to chatter again. She weakly began to reach out for her covers to pull them back around her body again.

"Come on…I'm freez-" She began to protest.

However, she got no further. Suddenly, she winced and let out a groan. Reno saw this, and immediately looked to her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I…I feel sick…" She groaned in response, beginning to arch and reach for her stomach. "Uhh… Man… Uh... God…it hurts… I… Oh…!"

Reno stepped back just in time, before Krystea suddenly came to life and put her head over the bedside. When she did…she vomited. She retched while doing so, emphasizing her sudden need to get it out. She didn't seem to care that it got all over the floor either. Once she had finished, she continued to dry heave for a moment, before turning back around and throwing her body back on the bed.

"…I thought I'd feel better…but…it hurts even more…"

Reno wasn't listening to that. His eyes were focused entirely on what Krystea had just thrown up…and now manifested true fear.

Her vomit was filled with blood.

Reno immediately put his hand into his coat and emerged with his cellular. He flipped it open, dialed a number, and then put it to his head. After ringing a moment, a voice picked up.

"Dome emergency line."

"I need a paramedic crew in Room 4309! I have a medical emergency!"

Concentrate…let it flow naturally…

Ragnar tried to remind himself of this as he stood his ground. It was hard to pull this off when he was tensed. He could do it on the battlefield as a reflex…but when he was warmed up and had his heart racing during just a practice session, he had to somehow calm himself down enough inside to make it come forth on his own. But he was determined to control this power, and make it instinctive. Therefore he began to take deep breaths as he held his eyes closed.

There were special areas in the camp that were delineated for sword practice. However, Ragnar and Cloud trained alone, alternating use of this particular site. It was a local empty lot, not far from the Seventh Heaven. It was covered with blacktop, and prior to the arrival of Meteor had been a basketball court for the local inhabitants. Now there weren't enough kids present to make use of it, and not enough people around this part of the city to even notice it. That left Ragnar with a nice, flat, open area with even ground to train on. Both he and Cloud found it useful for their purposes.

Ragnar had already gotten his stretches, preliminary exercises, and his combat exercises out of the way. He was soaked with sweat at this point. Despite how chilly the city was, and the biting breeze that managed to find its way into the lot where he practiced, he had stripped down only to his white sleeveless t-shirt. His cape, which had become thicker in the recent weeks, and tunic were lying somewhat disheveled on the side alongside his towel and water bottle. Right now…he stood in the middle of the court. Across from him was a single empty metal trash can. Behind him were three others. He stood alone in the middle, with his feet in a ready stance, and Ragnarok held up and in front of him in the first position. His eyes were closed, and he breathed deeply and slowly to calm both him and his senses down.

Ragnar had gotten quite good at this by now. It was easy for him to still his mind, and to let the power that he was growing more and more familiar with seem to come from out of the world around him and flow into him. When it did, he felt his mind able to talk to it…beckon it to come into his blade. As he stood there and focused, his sword shimmered in the gray light of the day like a flickering flame. Yet when he began to call to it mentally…the sword suddenly made a ringing sound, before, in a crackling spark, it erupted into flame, becoming a sword of living fire.

The youth opened his eyes, and saw the result of his work. He was no longer enthused by this…which was good. A breaking of focus from enthusiasm would make him lose this. However…he was able to maintain it now, keep the blade within its fiery form. Burning like this, the atom edge on the blade became even stronger, able to slice through almost anything…if not anything. And yet…this was only the most basic thing he could do now. He was expanding his repitoire…

Maintaining his focus on the blade, he looked up ahead of him. The first trashcan stood stationarily in front of his blade. Sometime, he would have to rig some sort of moving target into this. He had never practiced this in battle. However, for right now, he just wanted to make sure he could pull it off. His grip tightened on the blade…and the flames seemed to leap up around it as it did. Focusing his full attention on the trash can…seeing only it and nothing else around him, he brought his blade back over his shoulder, and swung it forward. As he did, he called out again with a new request to the power around him.

Again, it obeyed. As he swung the blade down…an arc of fire was cut into the air. This immediately pulled off of the blade and remained as it passed, forming a great arc line that burned before Ragnar. Yet no sooner had it formed than the arc took off, shooting across the ground and headed straight for the trash can. The tail end of it scraped the ground, and Ragnar saw a burning trench cut into it as it sailed for Ragnar's intended target. A moment later, it connected.

On doing so, the flaming arc sank into the can and exploded into a ball of fire. The trash can was immediately obliterated, being blown into a hundred molten fragments. They scattered everywhere…save toward the one who had caused this. The eruption was focused out from him, based on how his arc had been thrown. As a result, the force of the blast moved out. Within a few moments, the arc vanished as well, and all that we left in its wake was a smoldering, melted bottom end of a trash can, surrounded by bits of fire.

Ragnar truly had to repress his enthusiasm here. This was the fifth time in a row he had managed to pull this off during practice sessions. He was truly getting a grip for this ability. It was similar to the Blade Beam technique that Cloud had perfected. Only this wasn't some projection of Ragnar's own aura…at least, he thought it wasn't. This was coming from that unknown source of power that seemed to seep out of the very ground he stood on every time he used it. And now, it looked as if he was truly mastering this technique as well.

However…this still left one more, highly difficult one.

Ragnar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply now. He struggled to redouble his focus, to devote all of his energy to this coming technique. This would take everything he had. He couldn't just focus on the target this time…but on multiple targets, as well as the weapon itself. Initially, he wasn't even sure if this attack was possible. However, as he continued to train himself…he almost felt like he heard his "mysterious benefactor" telling him to perform it, just as it had told him to read the Cetra words until he understood…

Ragnar slowly exhaled. He paused for only a moment longer to push out all else from his mind, and then acted. Abruptly, he spun around to the three cans behind him. As he did, he extended one arm, holding onto Ragnarok, and flung it out from his body. There was spin on the sword, and immediately it began to rotate as it traveled away from his body, turning into a great flaming cutter.

The sword was not aimed at any can in particular, and in truth was flying away from them. However, no sooner had Ragnar thrown his blade, then he turned his body completely around and aimed an open palm at the rotating sword. He stretched out his senses and focused, and locked onto it and the three cans. When he did…the sword stopped lowering. It speed seemed to slow. It began to arc a bit more in the air, coming back toward the cans. Ragnar held like this only long enough to believe he had a hold on his weapon. Then, he turned his eyes to the cans, and swept his open palm forward.

In response…Ragnarok, still spinning, moved to the right, seeming to follow his hand. It was a hard struggle to maintain control of it…but Ragnar kept guiding it. As he watched, the fiery blade sliced right through the first can, turning it into flaming metal shavings. He kept guiding it…exerting a bit more effort now, and led it to the second. He made it go through…but he felt his focus starting to break as it did. He had one less target now, and adjusting his full focus to think of only two was hard, and required speed he didn't have. By the time the blade cut through the second can, it was moving much slower, rotating slower, and losing altitude. It was in danger of fizzling out again. Ragnar stretched his arm and struggled to maintain it…but it was too late. His irritation and desperation to keep it moving clouded his calmness, and broke his link. By the time the sword reached the third can, the flames were dying, and it had become a normal projectile again, beginning to fall to the ground. It did hit the can before it finished, and its edge did embed it partially into the side…but it lost all force after that and halted. There the sword stayed, held up by where it had struck the can.

Ragnar sighed and let his hand fall. Groaning to himself, he reached up and wiped his brow. Exactly like last time. To be able to keep the blade moving, he had to forget about the target the moment it was destroyed. But between the heat and blast from each explosion, and the fact that it was already locked in his mind, that was almost impossible to do. As a result, the sword couldn't follow a bold path but was torn between returning to targets it had already destroyed and destroying the new ones. After destroying two objects, Ragnar was so muddled he couldn't send it to the third. And frankly, even if he could…he wasn't sure how he could make his blade return to him without having it treat him like a target as well. This technique would be great to master…but he still had a lot to figure out about it.

Frowning, Ragnar began to walk forward to claim his blade from the trash can. He didn't have much to be angry about. In five months, he had taken his reflex phenomenon and had turned it into a viable, reliable source of strength. He even perfected a second stronger attack. And that was just personally. The war was going much better. Isuzu Industries was expanding again, the third time since its conception. Mobile artillery units were beginning to come out, and they had enough artillery to keep the coast well guarded. The Wutai Gold Navy had finished a shipyard, so they were able to service their own navy here indefinitely. They had combined their own experimental designs with Isuzu technicians to produce a new type of fighter, one that was truly airborne and not grounded to the ocean as the Bismarks were. A third airship was now available for their use, making their "air force" now consist of the Sierra, the Highwind A, and the Excalibur. The Horizon had been returned back to Rocket Town for use on more domestic runs to keep Cid's business alive. The New Shinra hadn't made a move in months, and seemed to fear the defensive power of the new allies. They now spent most of their energy and resources rebuilding the fleet and turning their already well-defended Northern Continent into an impregnable fortress. It was still a bit too soon to say whether or not the New Shinra would strike back, but at the moment…it appeared as if the Planet Protector Army was winning the war.

Yet Ragnar couldn't enjoy this…knowing what had happened four months ago. Sephiroth was still out there, doing who knew what to the world. Ragnar had no idea when he would strike again, or if he would target his friends or his army once more. The thought infuriated him. He had never wanted to make someone pay so badly for what he had done. That was one of the reasons he was training himself so hard. He wanted to make sure he could vent his full range of abilities on him if he ever met up with him…

"Ragnar?"

The voice from behind the youth caused him to break out of his irritation, and turn back behind him. He softened a bit when he did. It was Aerith. She was walking onto the court, and giving him a smile in greeting. She was still dressed in her normal pink slip and brown jacket, but she had the jacket pulled tightly around her, and was burying her arms in it. Her neck seemed to be withdrawing too.

"I don't see how you can stand to train out here wearing only that." She commented aloud. "I'm freezing as it is… I'm going to have to get a winter coat pretty soon."

Ragnar, forgetting about his frustration for a moment, merely shrugged. "I get used to it. Remember where I'm from. This is a mild day back in Icicle Inn. Running around as much as I do helps." He paused a moment here, and then stiffened slightly. "Then again…having a cold breeze move by my wet skin doesn't really help…" With that, he began to walk over to his towel and water bottle.

There was one other good thing about the past few months. With the disappearance of the New Shinra, the only real activities going on didn't require his command. As a result, he had more free time not only for training…but also for dating. He went out with Aerith twice a week now. In truth, it was the only way he could get to settle down. He had first tried to brush it off. During the first month, whenever he wasn't working, eating, or sleeping, he was training out here. But that made him more uptight and brittle, until it started to become a hassle to try and live with him. Aerith nudged him to try and go and out and have fun occasionally. He refused initially, until Tifa and Cloud started to remind him about how they had taken some "time off" themselves even when they had been on Sephiroth's trail. He eventually agreed, and it soon began to grow on him.

Part of it was that he could relax there. He enjoyed stepping out to the garden with Aerith and try to listen to the world as he used to. That was always relaxing for him…and he could almost swear he could hear things better now. However…another large part of it, he found, was that he enjoyed spending time with Aerith just for the sake of doing so. He always felt happier and more at ease with her around. He felt even better with it as time went on. He found himself taking up his old habits of bringing her flowers or candy, and taking time out to greet her and talk to her every day. Aerith still surprised him at work every now and then. But he found himself starting to come home early some days and surprise her as well. Both of them seemed to be more playful around each other than with anyone else.

As Ragnar reached his towel and began to wipe himself off, Aerith stepped in a bit closer. She cast her eyes around, examining the area and what had happened, before turning back to him. "Still working on that technique?"

Ragnar sighed a bit as he finished wiping off his brow. "Yeah… I still haven't gotten it though." He admitted.

"I'm sure you'll get it eventually." Aerith encouraged. The young general exhaled in reply, and shrugged a bit. He gave no other answer than that. He finished wiping himself off after a moment, and began to go for his tunic. As he did, the Cetra walked forward a bit more, until she found an exceptionally large piece of debris resting against one of the walls. She sat down again this. It helped block some of the wind, but mostly she just did it to rest her legs.

"I'm still amazed that you can do it at all." Aerith continued after a moment.

Ragnar looked to her a bit strangely at this, but then turned back to his tunic as he pulled it over his sleeves. "Seriously? Cloud, Tifa, Yuffie…even Cid…know how to focus their ki into attacks."

"Yeah, but from what you've told me about how it happens, it doesn't seem like just ki." The woman answered. "It sounds like you gather the energy from around you in some way, and then focus it into your sword." The Cetra paused, and then shrugged. "To tell you the truth, it's similar to what I do, or at least sounds like it…"

Ragnar merely smiled at this as he started to button his tunic. "Well good." He answered. "Maybe that means you're right, and that I do have a bit of Cetra somewhere inside me."

Aerith smiled a bit at this. The two were silent again afterward for another moment. Ragnar finished buttoning his tunic, and went down for his cape next. As he picked this up, he turned back to the Cetra. "How are the kids today?"

Aerith's smile faded. On seeing that, Ragnar's own look grew a bit darker. It had been four months, the same amount of time that they had known him…but the kids still weren't over what had happened to Azure. Ragnar himself wasn't sure what to think. He knew what Cloud had said, and what had happened in the end. But he didn't know whether he should pity the boy…or to hate him as much as Sephiroth for letting it happen to him. He himself wasn't that upset about it. He had barely known him. However…Aerith was different. From the first time he had come in, she had shown him love. She accepted him just as he was when he arrived. And she seemed to believe from what Ragnar had gathered, unlike the rest of the adults, that there had been a good side to that boy…and that it had not wanted to engage in the evil he finally succumbed to. As a result, she bowed her head now, and looked morose and quiet.

"…Marlene's helping around the house and playing…but she hasn't smiled today either." The Cetra explained. That was a small wonder. Marlene rarely smiled now, unlike how she used to be. The same curse of misery that had fallen on her father fell on her now, and she knew what it was like to feel lasting pain. Another brutal crime committed by the world...loss of innocence.

"…Denzel went practicing today…but he stopped halfway through it." Aerith finished.

Ragnar paused, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. He stopped midway through fastening his cape. Denzel had been hit the hardest. For the first two months…the boy barely ate. He lost ten pounds. Tifa eventually had to practically force him to clean his plate. Even now…he was slower in everything he did. He was mechanical whenever he played, as if he was just going through some motion without emotion or care. He spent most of his time in his room, just reading or lying on his bed…staring at where Azure's cot used to be. He had finally gotten enough will to start practicing again last month…but he was slow and gave up usually before the exercises were over. He had no more will to do it without his partner. He was quiet…barely ever saying more than twenty words a day to Ragnar or Aerith.

The youth began to fasten his cape again. As he did, his thoughts turned...and made his eyes narrow and his jaw tighten. That was another thing he had to hate Sephiroth for. He was responsible, one way or another, for scarring these kids with sadness and depression. It was just another thing he longed to enact revenge for.

"I wish there was something I could do…" Aerith finally mentioned aloud. "But I'm not their mother. And the only thing I can offer is ways to try and make them feel better. And those haven't exactly worked out that much…"

Ragnar finished fastening his cape, and shook his own head. "…When I saw my sister die, and heard my mother was dead, I turned all of my sadness into anger." He responded. "That's how I was able to deal with it. I don't know if that was a good or a bad thing. There were still gone after I vented my rage…and I guess you could say I might be weaker for not wanting to feel bad, and instead trying to substitute something like that for it."

Aerith folded her own arms and exhaled. "…I'm sorry to say I can't relate to them either. I lost my mother, yes…but even now I can hear her if I try. Not only her but the whole of the Cetra race that has died over hundreds of years. The kids have no such privilege. And until the day that Sephiroth is dead…I can't tell them what Azure's spirit might be saying."

Ragnar tightened his fist again as he put the clasp down on his neck chain. It all came back to him once again… Not only was he a source of grief for the children, but for Aerith as well. That only insensed him further. He wanted to do something to help the kids, but he wanted to do something to help Aerith even more. And it always went around to Sephiroth again… Ragnar barely even knew him, and already he was becoming a curse on those around him as he had been to Cloud long ago…

A ringing sound broke both people from their thoughts. Ragnar's radio suddenly began to call. Both Aerith and Ragnar looked up and turned to the source out of distraction. On seeing it, Ragnar immediately reached down for his waist and removed it. He quickly adjusted the volume, and then raised it to his mouth and depressed the call button.

"General Ragnar speaking."

"This is Captain Staniv, General." A Wutai-accented voice answered on the other line. "We need you to assemble your tacticians and other General and meet us at your operation's center. We have a problem."

Ragnar felt his own lips already curl into a frown at this.

'We have a problem' is going to become my least favorite expression by next year…

To be continued...

PERSONAL NOTE: If you think what happened to Krystea is impossible, with the blood becoming so cold that you can see it in the vessels under the skin, I can personally tell you that it is possible. It happened to me one time when I was sick.

Bahamut returns to the story after the next chapter!