Sephiroth

He could feel the Lifestream incessantly trying to erode his spirit -- his experiences, thoughts, emotions, and memories. If he gave himself over to the pull of the current, everything he was would be subsumed, his existence dissolved into the great spirit energy that circled through the planet. He would not let that happen. The planet was there to be ruled. To give his own energy was to concede defeat.

He felt a surge in the Lifestream, a great upheaval -- a sign, he knew, of another defeat. When the Lifestream burst out aboveground, it meant Cloud’s victory was more secure than ever. Cloud had twice sent him into the Lifestream, and he would not allow it to happen again.

If only he could cling to the core of his consciousness, he could keep himself apart from the abyss and stay free of the planet and in its insatiable appetite.

He had made his decision. Cloud would become the nucleus. He yearned to tell Cloud this.

I have not forgotten you. You are still in my mind. You do not know this yet, but soon, you will.

When the Lifestream erupted from the earth, he let the planet have all those memories that no longer held any meaning.Memories of his boyhood, of his few-and-far-between friends, of battles he fought before knowing his true self, of his life in those bygone days -- he let them join the rushing torrent and dash themselves against Meteor. At the same time, the core of his spirit and the feelings that bound it swept across the land, through the hamlet and city alike, borne by the myriad spiraling tendrils of that great current. As the eruption caught people feeling in panic or frozen in awe, he decided to leave his own mark. Cloud would notice, he was sure, and then he would never disappear.

So long as Cloud remembers me, I will always exist. Within the Lifestream or on the surface.

Even if his own spirit were to disperse, the merest fragment of memory would be enough. It would flow through the planet on the living stream, and then one day, with Cloud’s memories to help him, he would regain himself.

Despite the panic and ongoing turmoil, life on the planet was returning to a normalcy of sorts. He saw something in the new spirits joining the Lifestream -- the shadowy places of the heart seemed to define them. It was pleasant to him, the persistent drifting darkness, especially when he realized it was his actions aboveground that had engendered it. Perhaps he would be able to do something amusing with it. Like, for instance, turn the entire Lifestream black.

Concealed within the planet’s own life force, he floated throughout the world, leaving his mark on people everywhere he found them. More and more of them with every passing day. The others found the rhythm of their lives shattered, despair taking hold in their hearts. He delighted in this, and he invited the darkness to grow and spread.

In time, another thought came to occupy him.

I want Cloud to know this is my doing. I want them all to know.

He would need a body. There were things he had to say with his own human voice, things he had to tear apart with is own hands.

I could use Mother’s power. If I had just a piece of her, I could forge another body for myself.

He tried to send his spirit above to walk the surface, but nothing came of it. The planet had consumed the memories of his own form, leaving him with no image on which to anchor his consciousness.

But then he found another memory in the Lifestream that would serve, and he bound part of himself to that image. It took the form of a young man, and he felt once again how the world of the living was unbearably confined and circumscribed -- nothing compared to the freedom he enjoyed as pure consciousness.

Still. He had a mission. He created two more bodies, and then there were three. The three who walked upon the planet’s surface were not him, and yet, they were. Created by the force of his will alone, deviations from the order imposed by the planet, they were at once real beings and fantastical monstrosities.

He thought about the future.

As they search for Mother, my servants will meet those who knew me, and their spirits will remind me what I once was. Once I have Mother’s power, I will exist fully in the living world. It will not be long now. Even if I am incomplete it will matter not. Cloud will be there. Cloud will complete me.

A burning hatred for everything in existence

A hero, fallen from grace and dragged to the depths of hell … This is Sephiroth. A burning hatred took root in his heart upon realizing the origins of his birth: JENOVA cells implanted in him were from the same being that once brought destruction and calamity to the planet. His passionate contempt was not only directed toward the Shinra Electric Company, who had condemned him to his horrible fate, but to everything around him, everything he had ever known, believed in or trusted, leading to the notorious Nibelheim Incident. His rampage of madness continued, driving him to plot the destruction of the entire planet and everyone on it, but his plans were foiled by the planet itself, which released its power like a defensive burst of anger.

However, his hatred for everything did not heal nor disappear over time, even with his apparent death, and he would drift through space to plan to create a future for himself on a new planet, as his “mother” JENOVA once did … What will become of his hate-filled tour of destruction and chaos?

Masamune

Sephiroth’s signature weapon is a katana named Masamune. It is most notable for the incredible length of its blade, which surpasses even the height of its wielder. Despite its impressive size, Sephiroth can swing the weapon with ease, and his swordsmanship is just as extraordinary as would be expected from a SOLDIER who is better than the rest.

I will...never be a memory.