He'd been watching the woman crouched in the bushes for just over half an hour by this point. Given the layout of the battlefield, it was obvious she was an Ancient, although, surprisingly enough, he also recognized her from before the war had begun. She had been one of the three Ancients he'd come across during a scouting mission, who'd fled with the other girl while the man had remained behind to buy them time. He remembered that day all too well—it was the first time he'd taken another's life.

At the time, he hadn't considered it a very big deal. It had been more frustrating than anything else since his goal had been to capture, not kill. In the years since, however, as his body count had grown and grown with the endless, non-stop fighting, he'd started to question what the point of this all was. Some said they fought for honor and glory, for the future of the Human race, but he took no pride in slaughtering those weaker than him. Initially, when the war had first broken out, he'd hoped to find someone capable of providing a challenge, but even that had been nothing more than a wishful dream.

This woman was different.

She'd changed since he'd last seen her. Not in any discernible physical way, besides the natural progression of age, but rather in a way that gave her some kind of . . . presence. He wasn't entirely sure how to describe it if he were being honest, but it was the sole reason he'd been watching her for so long instead of attempting to capture her. It wasn't so much fear that held him back—at least from what he'd heard others describe that foreign emotion to be—as it was a sense of . . . excited caution. For the first time in his life, he found himself questioning his ability to beat someone.

Several mages had fallen before his blade already, and while their spells were certainly powerful and capable of immense destructive power, the same could not be said of the people wielding the magic. Which, as far as he was concerned, was what truly mattered. At the end of the day, magic was merely a tool, just like his sword, and if the wielder lacked the conviction to wield it properly, then its potential was severely diminished.

That was when the first seed of doubt had begun to grow within him.

The Ancients weren't cold-blooded killers, looking for a way to wipe every Human off the face of the planet—as much as his father and the President attempted to claim the opposite. They appeared to be nothing more than scared people, fighting to defend their homes, albeit ones with the ability to throw balls of fire or call down bolts of lightning from the sky. So, while this woman didn't strike him as someone with the aura of a killer, some deep, instinctual part of himself had urged him to watch and to wait. Besides, it wasn't like he was in any particular rush.

What she was up to remained a mystery. As far as he could tell, she'd been doing nothing other than watching the unfolding battle, although he supposed it was possible she was using magic in some way he couldn't recognize. It would certainly explain some of the wilder rumors he'd heard floating around the soldiers at times, but that seemed unlikely. Which only begged the question: what was he waiting for? While capturing her would be much more challenging, he had little doubt that he'd be able to cross the distance between them and impale her on his sword long before she'd have any hope of reacting.

A younger version of himself would be entirely focused on trying to capture her, specifically in order to fulfill his father's orders. Not so much anymore. He'd grown . . . frustrated, and the last five years had been particularly illuminating. While his father's praise and attention had been something he'd used to crave, once he'd gotten older he'd begun to question why those things had ever mattered to him. He'd considered his father to be a great man, but now knew he was anything but—discarding the notion that someone like him was worthy of respect, especially with the way he treated everyone else as beneath him, his own son included. At first, his father's frustrations over his supposed failures had made him try all the harder, whereas now they offered more amusement than anything else.

In a similar vein, he'd grown frustrated with how the Barrier had been shattered. There was no doubt in his mind that it had been the right thing to do—just seeing Midgar's explosion of growth in the following years had been more than enough evidence for that—but he felt there had to have been a better way. One that could have accomplished the same goal without needing to sacrifice an innocent to obtain it. Especially considering the damage it had caused to someone he'd hoped to see grow.

The faint sound of a boot grinding down into soil disrupted his train of thought and immediately captured his attention. He noted with some surprise that the Ancient appeared to have not heard the noise—that or she was impressively good at concealing her reaction. Considering where they were, it could only be another Ancient, so it was also entirely possible she'd already sensed their presence with whatever special ability they seemed to have in that regard. With his reluctance to engage her on her own, the addition of another opponent completely ruled out any possibility of confronting her.

He froze in genuine shock as the newcomer stepped into view. Zack was one of the last people he would have expected to find creeping around the forest, and yet here the man was, cautiously moving closer to the woman. Somehow, she still gave every indication of not being aware of his presence, which made even less sense. Had his intuition been so off? Was Zack going to just casually handle the situation he'd been contemplating for so long?

Except then the man stopped a short distance behind her and cleared his damn throat of all things. He would have groaned if it wouldn't have revealed his presence—that idiot's code of honor was going to get him killed sooner rather than later. The only positive was that Zack was almost certainly close enough already that it wouldn't matter in this instance, but if he'd decided to pull this stunt farther back then it might have been an entirely different story.

Or so he'd thought.

The woman spun around, her braid flying over her shoulder as her hand shot out in Zack's direction. A split second later, impossibly fast, a massive blast of wind crashed into Zack, sending him flying backward where he unceremoniously crashed into a tree. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, leaving him in shocked awe. He'd always considered magic's biggest flaw to be how slow it was to activate, but she'd cast one of the more powerful spells he'd ever seen in the blink of an eye. It forced him to reassess his earlier conclusion—he might not have been able to reach her in time from his position. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly someone special.

He watched as she slowly approached Zack's fallen form at the base of the tree. The man was still very much alive, although almost certainly unconscious, which left him in a very awkward position. After that stunning display of power, attempting to rescue Zack felt almost more like a death wish than anything else, especially considering the woman's guard was very much up now. She didn't appear to have noticed him yet, at least, so he remained hidden to continue watching from his position. While the Fangs had disbanded long ago, standing by and watching someone he'd trained die without trying to prevent it did not sit well with him at all.

Once she came to a halt a short distance from Zack's unconscious body, she prodded him gently with her boot several times, all while that hand of hers remained pointed and ready to unleash another spell. He took it as an encouraging sign that she wasn't just finishing Zack off, considering it would have been incredibly easy for her to do exactly that. It also served to further reinforce his doubts about the "murderous" Ancients out to get them claim. This was by far the most powerful Ancient he'd ever seen, and she appeared to have no interest in killing anyone.

Making the assumption that Zack was going to live to see another day, he slowly began to creep away, being sure to move with the utmost care and concern to make not even a hint of noise. The last thing he needed right now was for her to think she'd been surrounded and that her life was in danger. While some might have considered it an undignified retreat or even cowardly—his father would certainly view it as the latter—he didn't see it that way in the least. After all, when a thunderstorm struck, you didn't go outside and shake your fist at the sky, screaming for it to stop.

And as much as he knew his father would absolutely love to get his greedy little hands on this Ancient in particular, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

Oh, look! A mysterious figure was lurking in the bushes and was watching the encounter between Zack and the completely unknown Cetra mage. Who could this possibly be? This is a short little update, so sorry for that, but we get some insight into this mystery man's thoughts about the war and what happened to get here. Zack's appearance seems like it also prevented any attempted impalements, so that's certainly a plus. In the end, this strange new PoV falls back, leaving Zack at the mercy of the Cetra, which is where we'll be picking up this weekend.

Next Chapter: Seer