The moon was high, silver and cold. Its light spilled across the Colosseum, illuminating the battered stone of the stage. The cracks from the semifinals were no longer visible—scars of Kurai's abyssal glaive and Sephiroth's divine counter—but the arena was silent now, waiting. The crowd, gamblers, even Phil himself—all hushed. This was no longer sport. This was the final.
Helios walked out slowly, his steps deliberate despite the weight of his wounds. Four Curagas had been enough to get him standing, but not enough to hide the stiffness in his shoulders or the faint limp in his stride. Yet his eyes were steady. In his hand, Equilibrium shimmered into being, the twin-forged keyblade gleaming under the moon.
Across the stage, Sephiroth descended, every step measured, every movement precise. The Masamune slid free of its sheath, the impossibly long blade catching the moonlight in its edge. His wing rustled once, spreading slightly before folding close to his back. He did not look at the crowd, nor at Phil, nor even at the ruin around him. His gaze was only for Helios.
Phil raised his arms, swallowed, and dropped them. "Begin!"
Neither moved at first. The night air pressed heavy between them, silver light shimmering on steel. Helios raised his hand and cast a Curaga spell on both himself and Sephiroth, and the green energy of the spell seemed to work as they wasted no time and went for the strike.
Helios lunged, Equilibrium flashing in a clean thrust. Sephiroth stepped into it, Masamune sliding along the keyblade's edge in a parry so smooth it seemed rehearsed. Helios twisted, blade darting upward, only for Sephiroth's wrist to roll, Masamune's length angling down to intercept. Sparks burst between them, flaring against the moonlight.
The exchange spiraled instantly—strike, counter, parry, counter-parry. The sound of steel on steel rang sharp and constant, echoing against the Colosseum walls. Each clash was precise, every movement deliberate. Helios' footwork darted sharp across the cracked stone, precision driving his blade. Sephiroth walked through it with calm grace, every deflection a reminder of control.
Helios thrust again, Equilibrium darting for Sephiroth's chest. Masamune tilted barely, catching the blade and sliding it wide. Sephiroth's foot lashed out, catching Helios in the ribs and sending him skidding back across the stone. Helios coughed blood into the dirt, spun Equilibrium into guard, and lunged again.
The blades sang.
Helios cut low, sweeping to force distance. Sephiroth stepped through the arc, Masamune gliding across the keyblade's length, the tip flicking forward. Helios barely jerked his head aside, silver hair whipping as the sword passed within a hair's breadth of his throat. He retaliated, stabbing high—Sephiroth caught his wrist mid-thrust, twisted, and threw him across the stage. Helios rolled, boots grinding sparks as he caught himself, blood dripping from his lip.
"Reminds you of something?" Helios rasped with a smile as he raised Equilibrium again.
Sephiroth's gaze did not waver. "Training."
Helios smirked through the blood. "You mean when you cut me to shreds and told me to figure it out."
The faintest curve touched Sephiroth's lips. "And you survived. That was the lesson."
Helios chuckled bitterly, stepping back into stance. "I'm still figuring it out."
They clashed again.
Equilibrium darted in tight arcs, Helios' movements sharp and angular, sword technique adapted for blade combat. He feinted high, stabbed low, twisted the haft-like guard into parries Sephiroth hadn't seen in years. Masamune, impossibly long, flowed like liquid silver, every cut wide but controlled, each movement a perfect extension of its wielder.
Helios slashed for his legs—Sephiroth kicked the flat of his blade, sending the strike off-line, and countered with a cut so fast the crowd gasped. Helios dropped under it, his coat sliced open but flesh untouched, countering with a thrust meant to pierce Sephiroth's chest. Masamune slid into its path like it had been waiting. The impact cracked stone, the ground beneath their boots fracturing from pressure.
They broke, circled. Helios' breath came hard, his side screaming. Sephiroth's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with the faintest recognition.
Helios moved first. A flurry of strikes—slash, thrust, reverse cut, spin. Sephiroth parried each one with minimal movement, Masamune's tip whispering across Equilibrium like a teacher correcting form. He lashed out suddenly, catching Helios' wrist mid-swing, wrenching the blade wide. His boot slammed into Helios' chest, hurling him back.
Helios rolled, came up grinning despite the blood at his teeth. "Still pulling your kicks?"
Sephiroth tilted his head, almost amused. "If I weren't, you'd already be dead."
Helios barked a laugh and lunged again.
The moon lit their steel as the duel roared on. Helios drove forward with sheer will, Equilibrium a blur of radiant steel. Sephiroth matched with calm inevitability, Masamune sweeping aside every blow, countering with strikes so clean they seemed to carve the air itself. Sparks flew in showers. The cracked floor grew jagged with every clash, stones splitting, dust billowing.
Sephiroth lashed out with a wrist grab again, Helios twisting his body to spin free, blade flashing back at his mentor's throat. Masamune was already there, intercepting at impossible speed. Helios staggered from the counter, Sephiroth's foot sweeping his legs out. He hit the ground hard, barely dodging aside as Masamune stabbed down, carving deep into stone where his chest had been.
Helios rose with a hiss, blood streaking his face, and spun Equilibrium into guard. "You're still the same."
Sephiroth raised Masamune into ready stance. "And you are not."
The words struck harder than the blade. Helios' grin widened. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They met again in a blur of steel.
Masamune carved downward in a slash so fast the air screamed. Helios caught it on Equilibrium's haft, sparks exploding as the stage cracked beneath his boots. He twisted, spinning the blade to shove Sephiroth's weapon wide and stabbing forward in the same motion. Sephiroth leaned aside, the tip grazing his coat, and countered with a cut so close Helios' hair was sliced free, drifting silver into the moonlight.
Helios answered with a thrust aimed at Sephiroth's ribs. Sephiroth twisted his wrist, caught Equilibrium's shaft mid-motion, and with a flick sent Helios stumbling. He recovered instantly, slashing wide to regain distance, but Masamune pressed forward, relentless, every movement a lesson in inevitability.
The duel became storm.
Strike for strike, parry for parry, every clash of steel echoed against the night sky. Helios' breathing grew ragged, his wounds reopened with every exertion, but his eyes never wavered. Sephiroth's movements were as calm as they were deadly, his superiority undeniable, but Helios' defiance burned just as clear.
The crowd was frozen in silence. Even gamblers had stopped shouting odds. Every eye was on the moonlit clash—the master and the survivor, blades gleaming like twin stars colliding.
At last, they locked. Equilibrium braced against Masamune, both blades straining, sparks raining in silver showers. Their eyes met across the steel.
Helios grinned through blood. "Figure it out, huh?"
Sephiroth's gaze was cold. "Show me you have."
The moonlight bathed them both, blades trembling in deadlock, as the final duel pressed into its true beginning.