Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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This should be a fun fight. Or they'll have fun at any rate
I knew mine was a special existence
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Sephiroth listened to the waves. They were cool, calm, crashing. A flock of seagulls lingered nearby, cawing in slow spirals. He felt the rustle of the wind. Tasted harsh salt at his lips. His breath came slow and controlled.
For now, there was only this moment.
It had been weeks since he’d been dropped here -- or had he been abandoned? Even now, he couldn’t say for certain or even hazard a guess. Shinra had broken his mind. Zack and Genesis had convinced him of that much though his memories refused to surrender the circumstances. Genesis insisted he’d died. Something about a mako reactor, but that wasn’t so unusual. Shinra had a policy of declaring their mistakes as fallen heroes rather than deserters. Angeal, for instance.
His balance wavered, and panic struck him for an instant before he managed to right himself. He still hadn’t quite mastered the art of flight. He could on occasion will his jumps higher, his falls lighter, but it was nothing like Genesis soaring about like the seagulls that circled not forty feet away. No matter how they’d acquired this skill (an image of Hojo swam behind his eyes and he quickly banished it), it was something to use even as it disgusted him. He’d come to the coast where the plentiful monsters would ensure his solitude and had settled himself in quiet meditation in the sand. With his mind clear and focused, levitation came naturally. Now he hovered weightless nearly three feet from the ground.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Something cracked from the foliage. Footsteps. Sephiroth opened his eyes and glanced cooly towards the wood brush behind him. He readied himself to snatch the sword that hung from its harness on his back. Whatever approached moved on two legs -- not four -- and with the clumsy purpose of a man rather than a beast. There were few people competent or foolish enough to travel this far down the coast. Had it followed him? The odds seemed likely.
Still Sephiroth waited without so much as turning his head. His senses were honed, his sword hand ready. This was nothing more than a distraction.
The only thing dependable about the future is uncertainty.
That quote bounced around in Amarant's head as he had traversed this world, looking for those he had called 'ally.' Just when he thought he had no longer a need to work alone, to depend on only himself... something like this happens. All alone in an alien world with nothing but the weapons on his back, the items in his inventory... and the skills he had acquired looking out for number one. Civilizations and governments in this world were few and far between, bounties either too minuscule a challenge to be worth hunting after or the jobs they DID have played against Amarant's code of honor... He could not seem to find a way out (not an obvious one anyway) and the world here did not seem to need someone like him as often as Gaia...
...So... What else could he do but revert to the man he used to be?
Amarant leaned against a tree at the far edge of the beach before him, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the silver-haired man facing the ocean. It didn't take excessive feats of strength or ability for Amarant to see the power he possessed. It was a skill he had to develop early in his life, a survival technique to make sure he didn't bite off more than he could chew... Now it was being used to seek out strong foes to hone his own power... To sharpen his claws to their absolute limit. Zidane, in all likelyhood was gone... and that had haunted Amarant in a corner of his mind. No, he did not mourn the fact that little monkey had bit the big one, nor was he even remotely nostalgic over the many battles they had shared together. No... He was mad that his rival was now taken from him! He felt as if the world had torn away a major driving factor in Amarant's training: to get even with the Genome! Now that score would never be settled... and all he could do now was fight harder and harder battles as if it would somehow narrow the gap between the soft-hearted thief and himself.
...And so here he was, watching as the man, who had now noticed him, turned his way. Pushing himself off his perch, the red-headed man approached his target, his Rune Claws already hanging from his knuckles.
"You look like a good opponent." He remarked flatly, lowering himself into his fighting stance, half crouched, leaning slightly forward with one side! "Come at me. Let's go."
The man’s footsteps were muffled by sand. He approached quietly, slowly, deliberately, and still Sephiroth did not turn to face him. It wasn’t worth breaking his concentration.
”You look like a good opponent. Come at me. Let's go.”
Sephiroth paused. ’Come at me?’ He didn’t know that voice. He hadn’t noticed himself being followed. An assassin he would have understood, but that did not appear to be the case. No, it seemed this man had no other intentions than to pick a fight.
”And if I refuse?” A smirk played at his lips. Who was this strange wanderer? Had he purposefully found him or did he seek combat aimlessly and hope to stumble upon those he deemed worthy? Sephiroth uncrossed his legs and slowly descended, landing lightly on the sand. He had known soldiers like him before. They’d always challenged others rather than themselves, too blinded by aggression to learn control. He had easily put them in their place.
Sephiroth turned, and his eyes caught on the man’s strange coloration. Blue. Sephiroth’s brows twitched into a furrow. That color, it was unnatural on any human form. He hardly noticed the wild hair, the pointed face, the hunched mass of muscles at the man’s shoulders. No, there was only that blue. It reflected back at him in the sun, shimmering a dull turquoise that made his head throb. Why did it feel as though he’d seen it before?
A sickly green glow pulsed behind his eyes. He smothered it and forced his mind sharp. This was not the time.
”Your fight is pointless.” Sephiroth’s smirk flickered into place. He pulled his sword from its holster and held it ready at his side. ”Do you have something to prove?”
Amarant didn't respond when his target challenged his call for battle, the mercenary simply waiting for the man to come and face him! He did not come here simply to be rejected now... not after detecting someone of his ability. His warrior's heart required a battle unlike no other to satisfy him, someone who could push him to his absolute limits... and inevitably fall to his claws in order for him to be content. If it came down to it... and the one-winged swordsman rejected his challenge, he would have to make sure he understood that this was a choice that had only one answer. Amarant wanted this fight... and he would have it.
Slowly, drawing his blade, the silver-haired angel would turn to face the red-headed man, indicating that he had accepted... It did not take words between two warriors for them to communicate. Men of action had no use for the sloppy, imprecise expressions of themselves through words... only through their actions. That wouldn't stop Sephiroth from criticizing the challenge he had been roped into, questioning if Amarant had something to prove!
"..."
Though his expression didn't show it and his posture did not change, Amarant was shocked at how quickly he had been seen through. It wasn't something he'd admit to anybody but yes, he did have something to prove... but to nobody but himself. His first memory was staring down a foe much larger than himself, beating them into the dirt just because he was strong enough. There was no moral motive, no need for self-defense or the defense of others... Amarant fought for his own strength and sense of purpose and that was enough... Who did this guy think Amarant was, Zidane? A little monkey chasing the affections of any girl that stood next to him...?
That's a laugh.
"I don't care what you think. Shut up and fight me."
...And like that... Amarant seemed to split into several different beings! More accurately, multiple afterimages of the mercenary shot out from where he stood, the man using his extreme speed to disorient and throw off Sephiroth! They seemed to lunge at him from all frontal directions, 6 different after images rushing him... While the real Amarant LEPT high and attacked him from above! the mercenary would bring his Rune Claws in a downward arc as he fell atop Sephiroth, aiming to rend open his chest with the cruel blades that were attached to the Bandit King's wrists! Whether or not it connected the way he intended it to, Amarant would waste no time following up with a quick, strong flurry of cuts and stabs at his shorter, silver-haired foe's head and stomach, aiming to test his strength and speed... before he began the battle in ernist
Sephiroth’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before they narrowed again. For the briefest moment, he lost sight of his target, but it was only a feint. Six feints in rapid succession to be more precise. While the method was careless, there was a certain rhythm to it that Sephiroth couldn’t help but acknowledge. His senseless attacker might very well have had the strength for SOLDIER -- perhaps even a Second Class.
’I don't care what you think. Shut up and fight me.’
A Second Class and nothing more. There was a special confidence that rested squarely between competence and mastery. It spoke highly of itself but rested on a tower of glass. How long would it take for that pride to shatter? It was nothing more than a symptom of mediocrity.
Sephiroth effortlessly sidestepped a blow from above. Metal spikes whistled past his ear. Punching daggers? Sephiroth laughed quietly under his breath.That would explain his reliance on speed and distractions. A flurry of blows followed -- all practiced but lacking control. He dodged them easily. They were rushed, forward, predictable. For a time, Sephiroth said nothing, did nothing, and refused to even lift his sword. His inaction spoke more clearly than any unsaid words.
’You aren’t worth the effort.’
Sephiroth watched him closely for openings of which there were many. Bold. Thoughtless. Sephiroth bided his time. It wasn’t enough to put the man in his place and be done with it. No, he would make his point and grind that ego into dust. Only once his inadequacy had been accepted could his challenger ever hope to improve.
Frustration etched deeper into the man’s expression. His movements teemed with careless aggression. Sephiroth smirked. In a single motion, he stepped into his challenger’s range, twisted in place, and struck once while the man’s arm was extended. The force of the blow thrust his challenger several feet back into the sand, bleeding heavily from the chest. Sephiroth had made certain not to pierce anything vital or even to cut that deep. It was a lesson. Nothing more and nothing less.
With his point made, Sephiroth lowered his blade and watched him, head tilted and amusement obvious. If nothing else, this distraction had entertained him.
Amarant's mouth curled downwards in contemplation as his attacks seemed to miss... and miss often! Sephiroth's movements were minimal as he drifted between each of the taller, bigger man's punches, his thin, snake-like body shifting in and out of position only as far as he needed to, as quickly as it took. The red-headed man could read the control he had over his body, like a master of martial-arts could over his own. He could make his form move the way he wanted with exact and perfect precision...
...and strike with only as much force as he intended!
Suddenly and unexpectedly, the mercenary felt the cold edge of steel BITE into his tunic and chest, the slice that accompanied it possessing enough force to send the arrogant warrior TUMBLING back in the sand, a long trail of blood staining the once pristine white beach! In fact, Amarant would've continued tumbling backwards if he hadn't DUG his claws into the loose earth ahead of him, stopping his roll and slowing his momentum backwards to an inevitable end... several meters from where this battle had begun!
Amarant did not dare take his eyes off his foe... but he did his own quick assessment of how hurt he was... Sephiroth had cut him deep, a gash in his chest that had artistically avoided any vital organs, bones or even arteries, the slice being superficial overall... in all forms. The Mercenary didn't need this man to explain his motives for him to understand... This was a message, a warning that he could end Amarant any time he pleased... This cut...? It was merely a demonstration of his superiority.
...The pompous bastard...
Quick as a flash, Amarant brought his hands together in a quick flash of hand-signs, a warm, bluish Aura covering his skin, the light slowly knitting his flesh back together with the regen effect! What was more, he felt as if his second wind was just on the horizon, Autolife prepared to give him a second chance! A small dribble of blood ran down Amarant's lip, the taste of coppery redness touching his tongue. If all it took was one stroke to do this to him... He couldn't afford to mess around...
Suddenly, Amarant threw his hands out in rapid thrusts, almost a dozen throwing daggers being Thrown at the silver-haired warrior in under a second! The moment the last one left his hand, Amarant leveled a hand right at Sephiroth, CLENCHING his fingers into a fist just as a DARK hole, Demi Shock seemed to open up around the one-winged angel, threatening to consume and crush him in it's gravity!
And lo, the first post where Sephiroth says absolutely nothing.
I knew mine was a special existence
Sephiroth raised an eyebrow as his would-be challenger gathered himself up from the sand. No matter the circumstances, no matter the weakened foundations of his resolve, he refused to admit defeat. What might have been admirable in the field proved nothing but tactless outside of it. Triumph here would mean nothing. Defeat would mean nothing. The only strategy left would be a swift retreat.
He didn’t recognize what the man did next. Some kind of materia activation? A healing aura came over him when he’d finished, and Sephiroth eyed him carefully from where he stood. Materia had always been a wild card. He straightened on instinct, readying himself in a way he hadn’t deemed necessary before.
It came in half a second. The flash of a hand movement, the glint of blades, and then a rain of daggers. Sephiroth thrust out his wing on instinct and leapt above them, just missing the tip of a blade below his boot. Before the daggers could land, his challenger was already dashing forward. He levied a punch towards him that couldn’t connect and clenched his fist in the space between them. Sephiroth felt the force before he saw the whirring darkness beneath him. Demi.
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. Weightless, he had almost no defense against the gravity’s pull, and he wasn’t skilled enough yet to fight it. His eyes flicked from the spell to the caster and then to the space beneath him. With the magic rapidly expanding, he had no other options. He thrust out a hand, calling on his own materia to send a crackling bolt of lightning at the man from above before he shoved his sword straight into the sand and used it as a javelin to lever himself six feet away from the Demi’s sphere.
It wasn’t a smooth escape. His blade slipped in the shifting sand, and that combined with the spell’s pull unbalanced him. With the distance made, he yanked out his sword before he could crash below and landed unsteadily only just out of range. He immediately brought the blade before him ready to block any attacks that took advantage of the opening in his defenses. Sephiroth had taken the chance to test his new abilities and had paid for his false confidence in kind. He would not make the same mistake again.
He moved defensively, but this time he kept his blade ready, blocking rather than dodging. With materia in play, he didn’t hesitate to attack when an opening presented itself, and he kept himself only on the edge of restraint. He struck one, twice, and then thrust him struck him hard with the dull side of his blade. It was a sparring blow rather than a deadly one, but he wouldn’t toy with him again.
Sephiroth's attempt to escape the oncoming dagger assault was impressive... or would've been had gravity been on his side! Amarant was one who possessed the power to control such cosmic forces at his whim, punching a whole of magically compressed space right beneath the foot of the one-winged angel! As the daggers Amarant threw whizzed harmlessly beneath their intended target, the dark hole INSTANTLY pulled them back in, the metal contorting and CRUSHING within it's unstoppable gravitational pull! Metal twisted, the wooden handles snapped, their shapes unrecognizable as they were crushed in from all directions before being completely eaten by the black...
Before Amarant could bring himself to preform some kind of counter attack while Sephiroth remained unbalanced in the air, magic FILLED the sky as lightning CRASHED down on the warrior from above! Smelling the ozone, watching as the sky above him turned dark... Amarant knew just what kind of magic his target was summoning long before the bolt of destruction had fallen upon him!
With a FLASH of voltage, Amarant was seemingly CONSUMED by the blast, the force of the lightning strike leaving NOTHING but a massive, glassy, smoking crater where a serene, sandy beach once stood... but no body.... The Red-headed man stood a few meters behind where the crater now rested, but he wouldn't linger for long, ZIPPING to the side a few dozen feet, a NEW bolt EXPLODED where he stood... and the lightning simply kept coming! With the mercenary's speed, dodging moves like Thunder and Thundara were hardly any threat, much bigger spells the man had survived. In fact, the mercenary saw this as nothing more than a trivial matter, the man's arrogance feeding itself as the super-soldier THREW his sword into the dark hole... actually piercing it and giving Sephiroth a LONG stand to perch upon! With a quick hop off the pommel of his blade, Sephiroth YANKED it from the uneven sandy floor, landing upon the glass-covered beach just as Amarant's Demi-Shock came to an end!
Amarant stood ready to face Sephiroth who approached him through the glass-filled craters where his lightning had struck, his boots crunching the razor-sharp material like it was nothing more that cheep window glass! Still, the warrior didn't dare give an inch, simply waiting down his foe... and nearly missing the blade was it SLICED across his chest!
...Rather, it RAKED against his skin, the dull side of the blade still cutting into his flesh, but more unevenly and less cleanly than it would-have should Sephiroth had used his weapon correctly! The second cut was caught quickly, Amarant's emerald eyes following the stroke as he lifted his claws up to intercept, the dull edge of the blade SLAMMING against the flat metal faces of his claws! Sparks FLEW, metal RANG... Amarant bringing a hand back by his side, energy collecting in his palm... Slowly, ball of light would grow between his fingers as Sepherioth JAMMED his blade into Amarant's stomach, the dull edge blasting a great amount of air... and even blood from the warrior's mouth, buckling him forward a bit... BEFORE AMARANT THREW THE ENERGY SPHERE RIGHT AT his target's face, a NO MERCY attack that had felled the god of Death Necron!
Lets see how he deals with that! Amarant muttered to himself, hopping back away from his foe... clutching at his wounded abs!
His sword landed once, twice, three times, and while Sephiroth expected the recoil, the grimacing, the blood spewing from his lips, he did not expect him to clench his hands together and gather magic to them.
Sephiroth’s eyes widened. He was in short range. Point blank range. He caught the faint smell of ozone and then a spark of light. He didn’t have time to think, no, his body moved on its own. The spell released. The light was blinding. The energy crackled like lightning past his ear and then came searing pain and an acrid, burning smell. Sephiroth didn’t stop to consider it. His body was already in motion, and even half-blinded he knew his mark on instinct. While the man’s arms were extended, he sidestepped around him and spun himself around to aim a kick directly between his shoulder-blades. The blow connected and the man was thrust forward face first into the sand.
Sephiroth didn’t wait for his opponent to recover. Instead, he planted a boot into his back and pressed down hard. With the flurry over, he took count of his injuries -- or rather, injury. While he’d reacted in an instant, the blast had been too close to miss entirely. If his attacker had kept his aim low, Sephiroth might very well have been incapacitated, but once again the man’s overconfidence had been his undoing. He’d tried for the head, a much smaller target, and instead Sephiroth was left with nothing more than a searing streak down his cheek. He knew the smell better than he would have liked to admit. Singed hair. Sephiroth glanced towards the damage and caught the rough, blackened edges of his uneven bangs.
His eyes narrowed. He had shown leniency for long enough.
”Why do you fight?” Whoever this man was, he had aimed to kill. He glanced from the man’s blaring red dreadlocks to his mottled blue skin. Had they fought before in that nebulous space that Sephiroth couldn’t quite remember? Had Sephiroth stolen away something dear to him? With a look like that, Sephiroth doubted it.
Whatever had attacked him wasn’t human. Perhaps one of Shinra’s experiments sent to take his life? If not, he was only a madman driven to self-destruction. Either way, Sephiroth felt only disdain as he ground him into the dirt.
Amarant HURLED his attack straight at Sephiroth, a blast strong enough to take out a whirling ball of Dark Energy, a blast that had been strong enough to wound a Tranced Kuja, a blast that had taken the wind out of the sails of an ancient entity of death...
...And watched as the ball of energy RIPPED right past it's target! Amarant's eyes shot wide, energy draining from him faster than his Regen bonus could recover, the cuts along his chest and stomach as well as the wind being taken out of his sails wounding the man greater than any spell could recover from! Sephiroth's agility and speed were FAR greater than his own, slipping behind the much bigger and (arguably) stronger man before landing a SWIFT and strong kick right between his shoulder blades, sending the mercenary GRINDING facedown in the glass-mixed sand! Jagged, brittle glass RIPPED into his flesh as sand too found their way into his wounds, the mercenary letting out a frustrated grunt as he attempted to PUSH himself up...
...before falling back down to the ground in a heap! His body disobeyed his commands to lay sprawled out, his muscles cramping and clenching him in ward as he curled up in agony, fresh blood running over Amarant's lips and through his wounds as they were ground deeper and harsher into his body with sharp shards of glassy sand...
...But that was just the wounds he could bare...
Amarant's pride had suffered a far more ugly beating than anything the white-haired swordsman could've ever hoped to inflict with his blade! In truth, Amarant had been riding high ever since the defeat of Necron at his hands, believing that he was the strongest being on Gaia with the badge of Death-Slayer in his trophy case. That did not mean there weren't challenges afoot upon his homeworld but he never had a doubt in his mind they were nothing he could not handle...
...Sephiroth shattered these notions... Shattered them with as much grace as a boot stepping on an ant... Much like this metaphorical boot, the one-winged angel only GROUND it in more in both a literal and figurative sense, the man's boot PRESSING into his spine... and with a declaration that he meant NOTHING to him... Not as a warrior... Emotions of shame and embarassment FLOODED through Amarant, frustration and anger chasing soon after! They built and grew upon each other, seeming to replace the man's blood with pure emotion as energy began to flood through the downed mercenary! Amarant's body glowed brighter and brighter as a dark, purple light seemed to consume the figure of the red-headed man from the inside out, a force SHOVING Shephiroth away as a very certain transformation began to take place...
Trance...
With an EXPLOSION of light blasting away, Amarant was revealed, his light blue skin now a DARK, almost black shade of purple, a white glow highlighting his outline:
His claws were replaced with massive, long-nailed fingers, his clothes replaced with an almost ape-like dark shade of fur covering his torso and legs. Spikes grew out from his shoulderblades and his hair seemed to grow hard... unflowing... Slowly, the man turned to face Sephiroth, his once green eyes now hidden amongst the purple energy that had transformed him into this...
