The platinum-haired warrior allowed a brief smirk to lift the corners of his mouth as he stepped out of the path of the diving Raziel and leaped into the air, swinging his sword. The Masamune cut a smooth arc through the air just above the vampire, cleanly severing a wing from his body. Raziel crashed to the ground on all fours, with Sephiroth landing behind him.
"You now bear the mark of one much greater than you," said Sephiroth, "you are not worthy." With that, he brought his blade down in a lethal finishing strike, but Raziel rolled aside just in time. The slash removed Raziel's remaining wing.
The pain did not even slow the vampire, although by now he was beginning to feel the first tug of the spirit world seeking to have him back. Raziel twisted his feet on top of the long sword's tip and sprang to his feet. Balancing on the edge of the Masamune, he used his opponent's weapon as a springboard to launch himself in a great leap. "I am the chosen champion of a god!" he snarled, Soul Reaver outstretched. "You cannot stand against me!"
Sephiroth kneeled just in time to avoid the leaping thrust, lifting his hand and mouthing the word, "Ice." The fallen vampire was frozen stiff as he hit the ground once again. "You are not my champion," Sephiroth said in an even tone as he walked toward his frozen foe, "And I am my mother's champion. You are the champion of no god." He closed his eyes in concentration. "Shadow Flare," he mouthed.
Tongues of flame as black as the night sky engulfed the helpless frozen body of Raziel. As the ice melted and then boiled on his skin, he let out a bloodcurdling cry. The spirit world's pull was nearly unbearable, and the pain was excruciating. And yet I live! The force within the Soul Reaver would not be vanquished, and it bound Raziel to this world. The dark fires faded, and he rose once more.
Raziel howled an unintelligible cry of primal rage as he charged headlong toward the son of Jenova, bringing the Soul Reaver down in a vicious slash. Sephiroth dodged to the side and counterattacked, but the vampire lashed out with his free hand, raking Sephiroth's chest with his claws. The Masamune came down on Raziel's shoulder. With a scream of pain, the vampire grabbed the long sword by its blade and pulled it from his body. He felt the pull of the spirit realm stronger than ever, but something was keeping him here.
The Soul Reaver willed itself toward the former SOLDIER, its twisting wraithlike shadow drawn inexorably toward the fighter's bloodied chest. Even in his state of dim awareness Raziel understood--he could feel it as well. Such power! This was not mere blood, it was infused with raw, unbridled, living energy. Through your soul it will be mine!
Raziel charged again. Sephiroth stepped aside again, this time grabbing the disfigured vampire's sword arm and pulling him into an excessive follow-through. The blue eyes glinted in the moonlight as he drove the Masamune through Raziel's exposed back.
This time, the wound was soft and subtle. The spirit world would not be denied. In time, he knew, he would awaken to the elder's fury at his failure. Raziel's vision shifted back and forth between a view of the blade protruding from his stomach and the ghostly parody of Nosgoth as he clung to his twisted unlife. Home?
The first drop of sweat ran off of Sephiroth's brow. He let it run down his face and drip from his chin, feeling the salty burn as it hit the scratch on his chest. The monster impaled on his blade still shuddered with whatever passed among its kind for life. He gazed into the stunned crowd once again, looking for the telltale signs of fear. He saw the failure and the Ancient clasping each other's white-knuckled hands and exchanging worried glances. They recognized his signature blow, of course, but other onlookers would require further intimidation.
He turned so that the moonlight would illuminate his confident smile and raised his voice. "Do you see the fate of your kindred, nightwalker?" With that, he jerked his blade upward, and twisted it out between the stubs where Raziel's wings once were. It emerged, blackened with blood, to a final rattling scream. Sephiroth smiled as the body fell into the dirt.
The spirit realm reclaimed Raziel.
Aftermath
Night had fallen once more, and darkness blanketed the stadium and the surrounding town. Many of the competitors were asleep. Some had stayed in their rooms, meditating alone deep into the night. Still others were at the Hero's Haunt, drinking, gambling, and making the most of whatever time remained to them in this dimension. One young man, however, stayed outside by himself this night, away from all the comforts of shelter and company, simply staring beyond the horizon and up into the night sky.
Vyse felt the cool, soothing grass that was supporting him whip around in the night breeze. He adjusted and zoomed his unique eye patch to get a better view of a particularly amusing constellation that, when you looked at it just right, spelled out a very obscene word. Getting a few moments of pleasure from this, he quickly leaned back once more and let out a heavy sigh.
The Blue Rogue had gotten to know the stars well during his stay here, and found great solace from his nightly stargazing. But he was getting restless. Constantly motivated by his curiosity and an unquenchable thirst for exploration, being cooped up in this place for so long had begun to feel like a prison sentence. The only thing that kept the Air Pirate going was his boundless confidence and desire to prove himself in battle.
Giving another enormous sigh, he allowed himself to sink further into the comforts of the smooth grass, and began to recollect, as he often did, his past adventures. Sailing the Delphinus, danger lurking around every turn, his friends always by his side...right now, he would give anything to be back in Arcadia once more. Despite his outgoing and friendly nature, most of the contestants seemed to want nothing to do with him. Of course he had found some companions, and from quite unexpected sources.
Just then, a smiling, furry face appeared directly over his head. Vyse lept up in surprise, rapidly drawing his cutlass.
"Wasting away your time looking up into nowhere, Vyse? You should be having some fun while you can," Fox McCloud smirked, amused by the young man's reaction.
The two had come to be fast friends, perhaps because they were both pilots, albeit of very different types of craft. More likely because of their similar qualities of leadership and unwavering bravery in the face of overwhelming odds.
"Sorry about that, Fox," Vyse replied, sheathing his sword once again. "You can't be too careful with some of the...things in this tournament."
Vyse recollected the previous match. He, along with most of the spectators, had been amazed by the raw, untapped power Sephiroth exuded as he fought. And next round, Fox was to face Link, the only competitor able to best the incredible warrior. While it remained unspoken between them, both knew that the Arwing pilot didn't have much time left.
"Quit acting so moody, that's not like you at all. Let's go," said Fox, motioning towards the lights and raucous of the Hero's Haunt. "Drinks on me."
At this, Vyse finally broke out into his characteristic grin. "Sure thing, I'll hold you to that!"
And thus the group continued to pursue the dreams of the champion’s chairt
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