Zack jogged toward the iron door, trying to thaw the freezing atmosphere that had suddenly descended upon the reactor.
"Sephiroth, let me introduce you!" Zack pointed enthusiastically, oblivious to the storm raging behind him. "This is Johnny and Aerith. They're the ones who helped me."
They were about ten meters apart. Close enough to see the details of a face. Close enough to shatter sanity.
Johnny's hand gripped the handle of the Dragon Slayer so tightly that the leather of his gauntlet groaned, threatening to burst.
"Johnny... what are you doing?" Aerith whispered.
Suddenly, Aerith clutched her head.
"Akhhh..."
It wasn't just a headache. The Lifestream around them churned violently, screaming in terror, responding to the wave of pitch-black trauma exploding from Johnny's soul.
On Aerith's shoulder, in Invisible mode, Puck and Ivalera trembled uncontrollably. They clung to Aerith's neck, burying their faces behind her hair.
"Boss... Boss..." Puck sobbed, tears spilling from his eyes. "It's Griffith... It's Griffith..."
"Why is he here?!" Ivalera stifled a scream. "The face is the same... that terrible aura is the same!"
Johnny's breathing became ragged. Erratic. His lungs felt like they were filled with shards of broken glass.
Huuuh... Hah... HUUUUH...
The world in Johnny's eyes narrowed. Zack's voice became a meaningless mumble. The background of the reactor faded into a blood-red darkness. The hole in the ceiling was no longer the sky of Midgar, but a Solar Eclipse dripping with blood. Sephiroth's face overlaid perfectly with Griffith's face during the Eclipse.
Only He was there.
No matter which angle he looked from...
Those facial proportions. The jawline that was sharp yet feminine. The perfect nose, straight and haughty. The thin lips that implied calm cruelty and absolute arrogance. The sharp, elegant brows. The gaze that pierced the soul, looking at him as if he were trash.
Sure, his hair was straight now, not wavy. His eyes were mako green, not blue. He was taller. But Johnny's soul didn't care; They were identical. Truly, utterly identical.
That faint smile on Sephiroth's face... it was the same smile Griffith wore when he sacrificed the Band of the Hawk.
BUMP. Johnny's heart hammered against his ribs with painful violence.
BUMP. Blood boiled up to his eyes, tinting his vision red. The phantom pain from his severed left arm and his blinded right eye stung him again, searing and real, even though his physical body in this world was whole.
BUMP. The taste of betrayal. The feeling of powerlessness. A hatred that transcended death.
Johnny no longer saw the "Hero of Shinra." He saw the "White Hawk." The White Devil.
His instincts screamed one name. The name that took everything. The name that sacrificed his friends.
BUMP. BUMP. BUMP.
The boiling blood rushed to Johnny's head.
"Johnny? What are you doing?!" Zack shouted, finally realizing the terrifying shift in his friend's aura.
But Johnny was no longer there. All that remained was Guts, consumed by vengeance.
"Griffith..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking.
Then, his sanity snapped.
"GRIFFITHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The roar was not human. It was the sound of a mortally wounded beast.
Johnny charged forward. Full speed. No technique, no strategy. Just a swing pure. The Dragon Slayer cleaved the air, aiming for the silver-haired man's neck.
Sephiroth didn't flinch. He didn't even shift his stance. His face remained flat, devoid of emotion.
When the colossal sword was only an inch from his face...
TING.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, Sephiroth raised the Masamune. The long katana blade parried the Dragon Slayer—a sword weighing hundreds of pounds—as if it were nothing more than a twig.
"Slow," Sephiroth murmured.
With terrifying fluidity, Sephiroth deflected Johnny's sword to the side, completely opening Johnny's guard.
Without needing to use his blade, Sephiroth drove the back of his right hand into Johnny's neck.
THUD!
The strike was simple, but it felt like being hit by a sledgehammer.
"KHAHK!"
Johnny's eyes rolled back. His legs gave out instantly. His massive body collapsed, crumbling forward to kiss the iron floor at Sephiroth's feet.
"Cough! Cough!" Johnny hacked up blood, trying to rise, but his body rejected the brain's commands.
Aerith fell to her knees as well, clutching her own neck, feeling the impact of the blow through the Bond.
On the cold floor, Johnny looked up. His vision was blurry. Above him, Sephiroth stood tall, looking down with cold, condescending green eyes.
This position.
Kneeling before him. Helpless. While he towered above like a god.
The trauma hit Johnny harder than any physical blow. The Lifestream around Aerith vibrated, rejecting Sephiroth's existence, as if nature itself knew this man was a dangerous anomaly.
Sephiroth raised the Masamune slowly, preparing for a follow-up strike.
"It seems your friend is possessed, Zack," Sephiroth said flatly. His tone was calm, yet filled with menace.
Zack panicked. He immediately jumped in, spreading his arms between Sephiroth and Johnny.
"Wait! Calm down, Sephiroth! Don't kill him!" Zack shouted desperately. "I swear, they're the ones who helped me fight Genesis and Angeal! He... he might just be in shock from the battle!"
Sephiroth looked at Zack, then glanced down at Johnny, who was still coughing on the ground, with a look of pure disgust—the look of an aristocrat viewing a sewer rat.
He sheathed his sword with a sharp click.
"In that case, get this wretch out of my sight," Sephiroth said coldly. "I will inspect the rest of the reactor."
That word.
Wretch.
The word echoed in Johnny's head, burning the remnants of his sanity. It was the exact same arrogance.
Sephiroth turned, his black leather coat billowing, and walked away without looking back, as if Johnny wasn't worth another second of his attention.
Johnny's hand trembled violently on the floor. Not out of fear. But out of unadulterated rage. Beside him, the Dragon Slayer lay heavy. Johnny's hand tried to reach for it, but his fingers were too weak.
Aerith crawled closer, her breathing also ragged. Tears streamed down her cheeks—a mixture of her own pain and Johnny's agony.
"Zack..." Aerith's voice was hoarse.
Zack looked at Johnny with worry, then at Sephiroth's retreating back. He was confused, but he had to act.
"Zack," Aerith repeated, holding Johnny's convulsing shoulder. "Can you carry the Dragon Slayer out of here? It's too heavy... I can't lift it."
Aerith looked at Johnny gently, channeling calming magic. "I will help Johnny walk."
Zack nodded quickly, his face full of guilt. "Of course. Let's get out of here."
Zack hoisted Johnny's giant sword—feeling the immense weight the man carried—while Aerith helped Johnny to his feet.
Johnny walked with a limp, his eyes still fixed on Sephiroth's back as it disappeared into the darkness. In his heart, a new oath was carved over old scars.