Listen, I've been playing FFXIV and it's a really fun game; I've also been a longtime fan of FFVII, so I got an idea that wouldn't just leave me alone: what if Zack, upon his death, were to find himself in Eorzea?
And here we are.
As always, thank you to my supporters on the website which shall not be named. Link's at the bottom, along with a more in depth thank you to supporters!
Merry Christmas!
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Wayward Soldier
Prologue
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He had failed. Fallen.
The relentless downpour drenched his worn and battered body, but for once, he welcomed it.
The cold raindrops felt like a soothing balm on his battered flesh, easing the searing pain that had tormented him for what seemed like an eternity.
His vision blurred, and the sounds of battle faded into distant echoes. The sound of the few remaining ShinRa bastards that got him leaving was a mere backdrop to his fading consciousness.
Zack's thoughts were fragmented, memories of his journey flashing before his eyes.
He remembered friends and comrades who had fought alongside him, their unwavering loyalty and shared dreams, but…
So much grief, so much loss and pain.
Zack couldn't remember their faces anymore. He knew that something with him was terribly wrong, but it was so hard to concentrate.
He winced as a flare of agony coursed through his body. He thought of Aerith's smile, the touch of her hand, and the love she had ignited in his heart, hoping it would stem the tide somehow.
But now, in this moment of desperation, he was sick of the pain, both physical and emotional. He had fought with all his might, but the odds had been too great.
As the rain continued to fall, washing away the blood and grime, Zack's breaths started to grow shallow. He closed his eyes, finding solace in the soothing rhythm of the raindrops for a few moments.
A faint, yet strengthening sound of rustling, intruded upon his fading consciousness and brought him back.
He couldn't help but wonder if it was a vulture or predator, ready to claim a good meal after the battle had taken its toll on him.
But then, through the haze of rain and pain, a familiar voice pierced the darkness. It was a voice he had heard countless times, a voice that held memories of camaraderie and shared struggles.
"Z-Zack..."
With great effort, Zack turned his head toward the source of the voice, and there, through the curtain of rain, he saw him— Cloud Strife, his friend and comrade.
Cloud's face was a mask of exhaustion and confusion, but his eyes held a flicker of recognition.
In that moment, Zack's heart surged with a mixture of relief and determination.
Cloud was moving and talking; that was good. His friend had been pretty much catatonic ever since they'd left the lab. He still looked a little worse for wear but Zack knew that Cloud could still make it out of here.
Despite the darkness that threatened to claim him, Zack held on, finding renewed purpose in Cloud's presence.
"For the both of us…"
"Both of us…?"
"That's right. You're gonna…"
"You're gonna…"
Zack pulled Cloud's head down to his chest, a gesture devoid of grandeur, giving the younger man his honest plea. "Live. You'll be my living legacy."
Cloud remained there for a fleeting moment, his head resting against Zack's chest before coming away, blood covering his hair and cheeks.
As Zack's body continued to weaken, he felt a profound numbness in his falling left arm, and the encroaching darkness threatened to consume him again.
He refused to yield, however— not until he was done. He turned his attention to the Buster Sword, his only remaining gift from Angeal.
His mentor wouldn't appreciate that the weapon was now covered in scratches from hilt to edge, but it was proof of all of the battles that Zack taken part of.
Dreams and honor…
Using every last ounce of his remaining strength, Zack mustered the energy to lift the massive sword, holding it up with surprising steadiness, the rain-drenched metal glistening in the dim light.
"My honor, my dreams." Zack said, his voice strained but filled with the intensity of a man who knew his time had come. "They're yours now."
Cloud reached out to take hold of the weapon.
"I'm… Your living legacy."
Zack smiled, a sense of fulfillment washing over him. He knew that his friend would carry their dreams forward.
With a final, contented sigh, Zack let go. He closed his eyes as the world around him and his senses faded completely into the encompassing darkness.
And yet, darkness was not what greeted him moments later. It was light, beautiful light.
He opened his eyes wide, seeing feathers of white upon a clear, expansive blue sky.
"Those wings…" He said, realizing that it no longer hurt to speak. "I want them too."
The light from above brightened, but he didn't shy away from it. Instead, Zack raised his hand up to the sky, feeling something grasp it.
"It feels… good."
The last thought he had before his consciousness faded into Genesis' often spoken of bliss was. "Would you say I became a hero?"
In that tranquil moment, as Zack's consciousness slipped away, he felt an indescribable sense of peace.
He found himself in a realm of serene beauty, a place that resonated with a deep and ancient wisdom. The promised land of the Ancients— the Cetra, he corrected himself, though he did not know how he knew to do so.
Somehow, he just knew.
It was the same way he knew that he was in the Lifestream, a place deeply connected to, and yet beyond the chaos of their world.
Everything made perfect sense now. In this ethereal realm, Zack found answers to questions he had never even known to ask.
However, amidst the serenity of the promised land, Zack found himself in a paradoxical state of both peace and turmoil.
Aerith's gentle words echoed in his mind, a reminder of a promise made in another time and place.
I'll be here.
He knew, on some level, that he needed to let go of that memory, to embrace the paradise that was within his fingertips.
Fingertips… In this ethereal realm, he wasn't even certain if he had a body anymore.
No fingers, no body, and no pain; only peace and serenity.
Yet, a nagging sense of dissatisfaction gnawed at his being. He had met an ignominious end, outnumbered and overwhelmed.
Cloud had taken up his mantle, his legacy, but could Zack be truly satisfied with that? Could he find peace knowing that his heroic journey had ended so cruelly, with so much left undone?
As the promised land beckoned with its promise of eternal bliss, Zack found that he could not heed its call.
He had failed every step of the way in his life. He was not going to fail her, too.
She deserved better.
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Minerva, Avatar of Gaia
She allowed herself a moment of sadness.
Zack Fair's death was a deeply regrettable occurrence. Minerva had observed his journey and actions, and she had weighed his worthiness in the balance.
His heroic battle against, and subsequent triumph over Genesis had been a testament to his courage and strength, and it had initially seemed to be proof enough that he possessed the qualities the planet sought.
A man who had faced the Calamity Jenova's avatar, Sephiroth, and lived; one who had not succumbed to that creature's influence, though he carried much of her within him.
However, his journey had come to an abrupt end— killed by those upstart leeches who thought they could amount to even a hundredth of what the Cetra were.
Still, even in death, Zack had done what he could to ensure that the next best candidate was prepared for the trials that lay ahead.
This boy, this… Cloud Strife; he was more unstable than his protector, but Minerva felt that he would do splendidly. He, too, had faced Sephiroth and lived.
And so it was that Zack returned from whence he came, welcomed back to the Planet with open arms.
However, there was a lingering dissatisfaction within him. Minerva supposed she understood.
She had been mortal once before, when the Planet was young. The thought of such a pointless death would have made her own blood boil.
Still, he had not been the first person to die in such a way, and he would likely not be the last, from the way things were shaping up.
Hopefully, he would soon understand and accept his fate.
Yet, he did not. Stubbornly, he persisted in expressing himself, his voice overpowering the myriad of voices around him and dropping a dissonant note in the symphony of the afterlife.
The Planet stirred in familiar unease. Minerva would have sighed if she were prone to such mortal affectations.
Indeed, it had witnessed this phenomenon before. Whenever a member of SOLDIER met their end, the intricate balance of the lifestream was disrupte ever so slightly. It was the consequence of their unique status as beings enhanced by mako and infused with the Calamity's cells.
Mako, the life force of the planet itself, had also been harnessed to enhance the physical and magical abilities of SOLDIER members. This infusion of energy into their very beings made their passing different from that of ordinary humans.
It was as if their essence resisted returning to the lifestream, clinging to the material world.
The presence of Jenova cells only added to the complexity. Those dreaded organisms carried their own discordant energy, foreign— and dare Minerva say, toxic and vile— to the Planet's natural order.
For the Planet, each instance was a challenge to rebalance itself, to absorb and integrate these unique energies back into the lifestream.
It was only a matter of time, but Minerva couldn't help but be impressed by the man's sheer sense of determination.
She was sure that, had he lived, he would have reunited with the last remaining Cetra girl.
It was a true shame that—
Minerva paused, feeling something at the very border of her senses, and then she moved.
A microsecond later, she stood upon a small planetoid, suspended within a vast and reddish nebula, a celestial island in a sea of cosmic wonders and horrors.
Her presence was ethereal, her form both captivating and mysterious. She appeared as a luminous figure, her silhouette draped in flowing robes that shimmered like liquid starlight. Her golden hair cascaded, resembling the auroras of distant worlds.
Around her, the nebula painted a tapestry of hues, casting an otherworldly crimson glow upon her presence. Stars twinkled like distant gems in the vast expanse, and cosmic winds gently tousled her celestial attire.
As Minerva gazed out towards the edge of creation, her divine senses perceived a subtle yet unmistakable disturbance.
It was a phenomenon imperceptible to any other being but her— it was a Call, a beckoning from beyond this realm.
While she'd been aware of the fifteen other realms beyond this one, she had never once been in contact with any of them, or even anything from the outside, for that matter.
Hence, it had to be something unimaginably powerful to be able to try and draw forth a soul from her own realm. Minerva's attention was immediately seized.
Attuned as she was to the Call, Minerva sought to decipher its intent. The impressions and images flowed into her consciousness, like fragments of a cosmic puzzle falling into place.
"Fourteen shards within one realm. Divided." She whispered, her celestial voice echoing through the cosmos. The concept resonated in her understanding— a source and thirteen reflections, each bearing a unique essence or destiny.
Calamity after calamity flashed before her, like visions of worlds in turmoil, heroes struggling against insurmountable odds, and a recurring theme of failure and despair as each of the shards joined with the source one by one.
The desperation of the entity on the other side of this Call was palpable as the link between worlds began to weaken. Minerva could feel the yearning for salvation or even the slightest glimmer of hope.
A kindred entity. My counterpart.
Minerva, guided by her profound cosmic awareness, seized the weakening Call with a determined purpose.
With but a light touch, she revitalized the beckoning force, infusing it with renewed vigor and clarity.
If it's a hero you require…
The cosmic energies responded to her divine command, and she summoned forth her most recent righteous soul— the departed hero, Zack Fair.
I happen to have one available. Still fresh.
She was certain now. This was Destiny.
As the man's soul took shape in response to her summons, Zack appeared before her in a state of peaceful slumber, suspended within the cosmic currents and naked as the day he was born.
He retained the form he had when he was alive, a testament to Minerva's ability to breathe life into the ethereal.
His spiky black hair, reminiscent of midnight, framed his face with an air of determination.
Zack's expression, even in slumber, was marked by a hint of the confidence and vitality that had defined his life.
"A righteous soul you requested, and a righteous soul I give unto you, kindred." Minerva said, guiding him into the rift she had created. "See to it that he comes back in one piece, would you?"
Minerva felt a flood of gratitude from the other side before it closed.
She stared at the now empty spot for a moment before turning her gaze back in the direction of her own quarry.
The Planet had its own problems to deal with, after all. Though, fewer now that she'd rid herself of a small, yet not insignificant amount of Jenova cells before they could try to corrode the Lifestream.
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Zack Fair
He floated, unconscious yet aware, through a rift that transcended space and time. His senses were muddled, and his consciousness swirled in a haze of disjointed sensations.
He felt as though he was adrift in an ocean of vibrant energy, currents of light and shadow washing over him.
Each wave carried with it whispers of memories, fragmented and elusive, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to be assembled.
Get it together, Zack. Nice and easy.
The sensation was disorienting, akin to the rush of wind against his face during a high-speed sprint, yet also like the gentle caress of a breeze on a tranquil day.
It was a paradoxical experience, and Zack's gut instinct told him that he was traversing the boundaries of existence itself.
He didn't know how he knew this. He supposed it was just like how he now knew who the Cetra were.
Death was strange like that.
A moment, or an eternity later, something seemed to pull at his very essence, as if beckoning him toward an unknown destination.
As Zack's consciousness began to reassert itself, he became aware of the sensation of life coursing through him once more.
It was an unfamiliar feeling, and he couldn't quite discern how long he had been in this state. Already, he could feel the vast knowledge and serenity he'd experienced fading away, like the remnants of an old dream.
Attempting to move, he found himself immobilized, unable to even twitch a muscle.
Panic threatened to rise within him, but before it could fully take hold, he heard a faint whisper in the recesses of his mind.
"A second chance, to be the hero you've always aspired to be."
The words echoed like a cosmic decree, and before Zack could fully comprehend their meaning, a sudden jolt told him that his body had been flung somewhere.
It took everything he had, but he managed to force his eyes open, if only slightly.
A wave of vertigo swept over him instantly, and he closed his eyes.
What was that? It was as if he'd seen the very fabric of existence warping, shifting and swaying, even as his body was swept away at mind boggling speeds.
The overwhelming sensation of dizzines intensified, and Zack once again succumbed to the depths of unconsciousness.
An unknown amount of time passed before he came to, once more.
Amidst the disorienting haze of his awakening, Zack became acutely aware of the sensation of coldness and dampness enveloping him.
His first instinct was to move, and as he attempted to roll over, he was met with an unexpected shock— a lungful of water.
Coughing and sputtering, he expelled the water from his lungs, his senses jolting back to life.
With determination overriding his confusion, Zack fought through the disorientation that clouded his mind.
His surroundings gradually came into focus, revealing a forested landscape and the glimmering expanse of a large lake that had nearly claimed him.
Gasping for breath, he realized he was now in the water, the forest reflecting in its mirror-like surface. Panic threatened to surge, but his instincts took over.
Desperation drove him to swim with all his might, his limbs pushing through the water as he sought the sanctuary of the shoreline.
As he neared the edge of the lake, the forest floor beneath his feet offered the solid purchase he craved. Zack dragged himself onto the earth, gasping for breath and shivering from the cold. He had emerged from the depths of the unknown into a mysterious forest.
He tried to get to his feet so that he could get a better read on his situation but a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him, pulling at the edges of his consciousness.
He blinked rapidly, fighting to stay awake, his mind clouded by a relentless weariness and his vision blotted out by spots of black.
"Can't lose consciousness..." Zack muttered, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.
Determination burned in his eyes as he attempted to muster the strength to push himself off the ground.
With great effort, he tried to rise, his muscles straining against the weight of fatigue. But despite his resolve, he faltered, unable to summon the necessary energy to lift his body.
As Zack's strength failed him, he crumpled onto the moss-covered forest floor with a pained groan. His body protested the effort, and the world around him faded into darkness.
The last coherent mumble that escaped his lips before he succumbed to unconsciousness was: "Aerith..."
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Hope you like it!
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