Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Destiny ❯ Destiny ( Chapter 1 )

(A/N: Howdy Y'all!!! K, so this is my first fic ever. I know it's not the bestest, but I'm working on it. ALL reviews are welcome!!)

 

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters. Don't make any money. (Searches pockets) Don't have any money anyway.

 

The General stood calmly as he surveyed the land. He turned his head slightly, his mako-enhanced ears catching the light sound of footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing his first officer, Zack, walking toward him. He stopped at the General's shoulder.

 

“The battle was well-fought,” Zack said quietly, the usual mirth gone from his voice.

 

Sephiroth gazed out over the killing field, reminding himself not to gag. He grunted softly, signaling his first officer to continue.

 

Zack's voice remained soft as he spoke. “The death toll and injuries were moderate,” he said. He closed his electric blue eyes. “I believe the Wutai forces did not fare so well.”

 

Sephiroth slid him a narrowed glance. “That is apparent,” he said darkly. He shifted his lightning green eyes over the dead bodies in the blood-stained grass.

 

Zack sighed deeply.

 

Sephiroth glanced at him. He was surprised to see a silver tear shimmering in his first officer's eyes. He masked it though, as he crossed his arms before his chest. “Care to indulge me in your thoughts?” he asked quietly.

 

He heard Zack gasp softly in surprise. He was not one to care for the feelings and emotions of others, but Zack's despair scared him slightly.

 

“It's nothing,” Zack whispered.

 

Sephiroth glanced at him. “There is a tear in your eye, Zackary,” he said. “Do not try to make me believe you are not in pain. I will not tolerate it.”

 

Zack brushed the tear away quickly, scowling. “I just don't get it,” he said fiercely. Sadness was evident in his voice. “So many promising lives, ended so quickly, and bitterly. What purpose does it serve? Why must we kill to gain what we desire?”

 

Sephiroth was silent as he contemplated Zack's words. He had wondered that many times as he slaughtered opposing forces. As he lay under the stars at night, as numerous as those he killed, he could still see the fear on their faces. Eventually the thought dissipated, turning from guilt to ones of superiority. He eventually came to feel that he was doing mankind a favor, destroying that which was imperfect, in hopes that perfection such as himself would take its place.

 

He tried to hide a smirk. That look, the one of plain and evident fear just before the final blow, never ceased to send a thrill through his body. The lust for blood was never truly sated, and he desired the role he had come to play. He would never get enough of striking fear in the hearts of the imperfect men sent to fight him.

 

He glanced at Zack, blowing a wisp of silver hair from his eyes. But Zack, he was not taught to be cruel. He was kind and gentle, sucked into this by mistake. He would never understand or enjoy the sight of blood or the thrill of war.

 

Sephiroth closed his eyes, thinking of Hojo and the scientists that made him this way. It was their fault that he always felt such rage and desire to kill. Every man he slaughtered was an attempt to cleanse his soul of the memories of his tortured childhood. He turned to face Zack squarely as the wind picked up. It blew the scent of death beneath Sephiroth's nose. He opened his electric green eyes.

 

Zack noticed that they flashed dangerously as he met the General's gaze.

 

“Why, Zackary?” Sephiroth asked darkly. “You wish to know why?”

 

Zack continued to meet his gaze, feeling as if he would dread the answer. He felt himself shiver under Sephiroth's deadly glare. Now he knew why the General was feared and avoided by even the strongest members of SOLDIER.

 

“Because,” Sephiroth said, his voice quieting to a dark whisper. “That's what we were created to do. When you joined SOLDIER, you sold your soul, damning yourself to become a killing machine.” He looked away, hiding the amusement in his eyes. “You are fortunate, Zackary. Hatred is not in your nature. But, as for the rest of us,” he chuckled darkly, “well, we feed on the despair we inflict on others.”

 

Zack was unable to keep from shivering again. The General truly was one to be feared. Even though the General's eyes were turned away, he could still tell that he enjoyed speaking about the terror he inflicted on others. It was in the gentle lilt of mirth in his deep, silky voice. He felt his body relax as the General turned away. `Poor, sick bastard,' he thought.

 

“Come, Zackary,” the General said after a moment's silence. He drew the Masamune. “There is work to be done.”

 

Zack sighed. “Yes sir,” he said quietly. He mulled over Sephiroth's words. `Well,' he thought stubbornly, `I am my own creator. I chose this life, and I'll choose what I will do after this is over.' He followed after Sephiroth. `Now that the war is ending, I'll find my own way through this life.' He watched Sephiroth's silver hair sway in the wind. `No one will stop me. No one…'