Barret, the heavy weapons guy.
Not the strongest. Not the weakest. But the cannon fused to his arm—that was what caught Sephiroth's eye. A weapon that could knock a dragon off its feet wouldn't kill him, but it could mess with his movement. That made Barret the first to go.
The battlefield was chaos. Everyone was scattering, dodging the massive blade waves crashing down from the sky.
Perfect timing.
Masamune hissed. One clean slash tore through Barret's alloy arm. The blade shot upward like a serpent, punched through his chest, and burst out his back. Sephiroth flicked his wrist—Barret's body flew a hundred meters and slammed into a shattered wall.
"Barret!" his teammates shouted.
Cid didn't hesitate. He lunged with his spear.
Too slow.
One clash—his weapon snapped in half. Masamune followed through, slicing off both legs. Cid screamed as he tumbled from the rooftop.
Two down in seconds.
Sephiroth stood still, blade lowered. A final drop of blood slid from the tip. The silver edge hummed softly, rippling like water.
"I thought about what to give you for this little reunion…" His aquamarine eyes gleamed, cold and clear. "How about a masterpiece I call... Despair?"
A roar split the air.
Cloud burst forward, wrapped in blazing blue energy. His greatsword spun like a cyclone, blade flashes blinding to the eye.
He was furious. Watching his comrades fall brought back everything—Nibelheim, the slaughter, the fire. Rage surged through him.
But Masamune was faster. Ghostlike. Precise.
Cloud knew it. His hundred-kilo sword couldn't match Sephiroth's finesse. So he charged in close, hoping to exploit the long blade's weakness in tight quarters.
But Sephiroth had no such flaw. Shinra had forged him for war. By his teens, he was already a legend.
He let Cloud come. Then—parry, lock, twist. A few clean moves broke Cloud's balance. Bam. A knee to the skull. Cloud shot backward, crashing through debris.
"You can fight all you want," Sephiroth said, voice calm and cold. "It won't change what's coming. This planet is doomed. Beg, and maybe I'll let you live."
His words rang out like a funeral bell.
"Boss, what now?" Golden Flash shouted from the rear.
"That lunatic summoned Sephiroth with his own body!" Lady Night cried. "And he's way stronger than in the movie. We need to fall back!"
Magnor's face was stone. "Fall back where? There's still over a day left in this mission. If Sephiroth's alive, he'll wipe out everything before then. Unless you've got a spaceship, we're dead. And even if we survive—do you have enough points and cards to pay off the penalty?"
"But he hasn't even used magic yet," Golden Flash said, shrinking back. "No One-Winged Angel form. And he's already at peak lower Gold-tier. He's not even trying. How do we fight that?"
Magnor narrowed his eyes. "We wait. There are too many wild cards. The Planet's will. The Life Stream. Aerith's White Magic. Hojo. Omega. Vincent's Chaos form. Lucrecia. Any one of them could shift the balance."
"…Or none of them," Golden Flash muttered. His voice faded. Right now, they didn't need truth. They needed hope.
The battle kept turning against them.
Red XIII took a hit—Sephiroth's Iaido technique. Blade shadows tore across his body. He crashed to the ground, bleeding, spine nearly severed.
Cait Sith tried to summon Knights of the Round. Too late. A single "Hell Gate" slammed him into the ground, exploding with brutal force. His body shattered. Luckily, he was just a puppet. The real operator was safe.
Yuffie got caught. She dodged Masamune's slash by luck, but Sephiroth grabbed her barehanded, twisted her arm until the bone snapped, then kicked her away. She hit the ground hard, barely conscious.
"Chaos Form!"
Vincent had no choice. Red light flared around him. His body morphed—bat wings, claws, a half-dragon demon. He launched himself at Sephiroth.
Now he was Gold-tier. Speed, power, defense—all boosted. For a moment, he held his own.
But Sephiroth wasn't backing down. A black wing burst from his back. He rose into the sky, pressing Vincent back.
Above the ruins, black and red streaks clashed like twin dragons. Blade and claw collided. Explosions echoed. Shockwaves shattered buildings. Debris rained down.
Then—blue light. Cloud returned.
A black wing had sprouted from his back. He soared upward, joining Vincent. The pressure eased.
Vincent fought up close—claws and guns, his body like steel. Cloud's greatsword split and reformed mid-combat. They covered each other, their rhythm tight. Stronger together than apart.
But Sephiroth was bottomless.
He moved like water. Masamune blurred—sometimes a sword, sometimes a whip, sometimes a spear. He deflected everything with ease. When he struck back, the blade flashed like lightning. Cloud and Vincent scrambled, barely keeping up.
And still—he wasn't focused.
His eyes drifted. A flicker of memory. A trace of longing.
Only one person noticed.
Jack Harper.
Hidden deep in Sephiroth's mind, Jack's consciousness watched.
Even now, Sephiroth was thinking about old friends.
Cloud had inherited Angeal's greatsword style. Vincent, though unrelated to Genesis, wore red and fought with both range and melee—just like him.
"You still miss them," Jack thought. "But it's too late. You can't bring them back."
Jack had sealed himself inside—a mental projection, taught by Professor X. Not strong enough to overpower Sephiroth, but skilled enough to hide. From within, he could observe. Influence. Wait.
Something was off.
Sephiroth's killing intent was weak. Was it Jack's body interfering with the Jenova cells? Or was Sephiroth still broken from the war two years ago?
In Advent Children, fans had noticed it. He held back. Stabbed Cloud in the shoulder, not the heart. Even in the Complete Edition, his "Eightfold Flash" left shallow wounds.
Now, even after Jack rewrote the story, Sephiroth hadn't killed anyone outright. Barret, Cid, Yuffie, Red XIII—all injured, but alive. Cait Sith was destroyed, but only as a puppet.
"In a movie, I'd blame the director," Jack thought. "But here? Something's causing this. And it might wreck my entire plan…"
The battle shifted again.
No one else noticed Sephiroth's distraction. But the veterans could feel it—he wasn't going all out.
While Cloud and Vincent kept him busy, Tifa moved fast. She reached the wounded. Except for Cait Sith, who'd been blown apart, the others were still alive. Silver-tier fighters, tough enough to survive. With healing materia and potions, they came to. Not at full strength, but ready to fight.
"Bahamut ZERO."
"Typhon."
"Hades."
"Phoenix."
"Alexander."
"Leviathan."
One by one, the summon beasts roared into the sky.
Knights of the Round was missing—its materia lost when Cait Sith was destroyed. Otherwise, it would've joined the fight.
Sephiroth watched the summons rise. His expression darkened.
"Pathetic."
He raised a hand.
Thirteen figures stepped out of the light.
The Dark Knights of the Round.
When Jack Harper absorbed the three Remnants, he gained their materia. Now, with Sephiroth in control, the corrupted All-Summon materia was stronger than ever. The knights he summoned weren't noble—they were monsters. Black mist swirled around twisted armor. They roared like demons and charged.
Summon strength depends on the summoner. Kadaj had borrowed Sephiroth's power once—but this was the real thing. These knights were twice as strong as the originals. They tore into the six summons, then turned on the others.
Barret and the rest had just recovered. Their weapons were damaged. Even with Lady Night controlling Flora's awakened form, they could only hold the line.
Magnor didn't wait.
He ignored the chaos and charged straight at Sephiroth.
Cloud and Vincent had lowered the fight to ground level. In the air, Sephiroth had too much advantage. On the ground, Magnor had a shot. Aside from the other two, he was the only one who could match a Gold-tier enemy.
"Black Tortoise Technique—Tenfold Invincibility!"
Magnor split into ten phantom forms, all rushing in.
His martial art was Gold-tier. He didn't have the chi to sustain it long, but for a burst, he hit just as hard as Cloud or Vincent.
Too bad Sephiroth had already seen it.
When Jack fused with him, he gave up all memory of Magnor's techniques. Sephiroth knew exactly what was coming.
"Void."
One gesture blocked the attack. Masamune flashed once.
Dozens of cuts opened across Magnor's body. His Silver-tier "Indestructible Body" couldn't hold up. He wasn't down, but he was bleeding badly.
Cloud and Vincent kept the pressure on, giving Magnor room to fall back.
But Sephiroth wasn't done.
He raised his hand again.
Twelve black lightning spheres appeared, each the size of a man's torso. They hovered around the trio, then closed in.
"Move!" Cloud shouted.
They could feel it—these weren't like Jack's Ice Apex Mahā. They wouldn't explode. They'd hit hard. Direct impact would be devastating.
And this was just the setup.
The moment their formation broke, Masamune gleamed.
"Too slow."
The blade shimmered. Its edge split into ghostly afterimages.
Sephiroth swung upward.
One slash. All three were caught.
Then came the second strike—midair.
And the third—before they could recover.
Three hits. Three bodies slammed into the ground, bleeding and dazed.
Vincent and Magnor had tough bodies. Cloud blocked with his oversized sword. But the force was too much. None of them could move.
Then came the real kill.
"Hmph. Let despair consume you all…"
Sephiroth raised Masamune high.
"Supernova—Abyssal Blade!"