Chapter Text
[Kalm
Grasslands
Abandoned Dock
Later…]
The world around them lay shrouded in a veil of thick, encroaching fog, the kind that swallowed sound and blurred distance, curling over the riverbanks like breath exhaled from the earth itself. In the distance, the woods loomed half-visible, their skeletal trees rendered ghostly and pale in the murk. Every branch seemed to stretch like bony fingers into the gloom, vanishing into the low-hanging mist. The sky above had turned a flat, lifeless gray, choked by brooding clouds that strangled the sun into silence, casting the land in a weary, pallid light that barely reached the ground. It felt like standing inside the lungs of a dying world.
The dock was no more than a memory of its former self. Once perhaps a bustling river port, now it sagged pitifully beside the sluggish, silt-choked river, its water a dull, iron-hued mirror broken only by the occasional ripple of something unseen beneath the surface. Moss and lichen blanketed the rotting wood, creeping over the planks in uneven blotches. Half-submerged boats listed at awkward angles, tethered to rust-flecked posts with ropes more frayed than thread. The bridge that once extended across the channel had long since collapsed into splinters and twisted metal, its remnants jutting upward like the ribs of a drowned carcass.
Barret led the way, his heavy boots crunching over gravel and brittle twigs. His eyes swept across the desolate scene with the practiced, ever-suspicious squint of a man who had learned the hard way never to trust silence. He grunted under his breath.
“No sign of Shinra.” he muttered, though the words held no relief, just wary observation.
Red padded to a halt beside him, his crimson fur rippling in the soft breeze that rolled in from the water. His golden eye gleamed as he studied the decaying riverbank. “Looks like an old Republic landing.” he murmured, low and steady. His voice was thoughtful, tinged with quiet unease.
Barret turned slightly and gestured downriver, thick finger stabbing the air. “Could borrow a boat—make our way across. Then cut through the mines on the other side. Keep pushin’ till we hit Junon.”
Cloud, standing just behind them, didn’t answer. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing beneath blond bangs as he examined the ruins, the boats, the slow murk of the water. The subtle hum in his throat was less a sound and more a shift in pressure as though thought had weight and it settled heavily in his chest. He said nothing, but the others had come to read him well enough by now to know he was calculating.
A beat passed.
Red’s tail flicked once, low and restrained. “You’d trust these rotting hulks?” he asked flatly, his gaze lingering on one particularly waterlogged skiff that had collapsed halfway in on itself.
Aerith stepped forward, wrapping her arms around herself against the damp chill. Her eyes skimmed the boats, then the broken dock, then back to the others. Her voice was uncertain, tinged with hope struggling to stay afloat. “I mean… we could…” she offered, trailing off as her brow furrowed. “If we’re careful.”
Jessie scoffed softly behind her, arms crossed tight under her chest. “Careful?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “We’d be lucky not to end up on the bottom of that river, floating belly-up like one of those poor boats.”
Biggs gave a small nod, hands in his pockets. “Looks like even Shinra gave this place a pass.”
Wedge hunched over to squint at the nearest skiff. “I dunno, guys. I’ve seen more seaworthy sandwiches.”
Barret groaned, clenching one hand into a fist and rotating his shoulder. “Then maybe…” he crouched slightly, thrusting both arms forward like he was back at the Gold Saucer pool. “We swim it!”
There was a beat of silence.
Red turned to him with a deadpan stare that spoke volumes. “You’re joking.”
Barret straightened up with a defiant snort. “Hey, I float fine. Might even enjoy the swim if it wasn’t for all this damn fog and—ya know—the monster-infested swamp.”
“You say that like it's just a little mud and a leech or two,” Jessie replied, smirking. “Not the home of the infamous Midgardsormr.”
Tifa had wandered over toward a leaning structure half-consumed by creeping ivy and time. The cabin sat in near-collapse at the edge of the dock, its wooden walls dark with moisture, nails rusted to streaks of crimson. A warped sign was nailed unevenly to the front, its paint cracked and weathered.
Tifa leaned in, reading aloud with a touch of disbelief in her voice.
“This swamp is home to the deadly Midgardsormr…” She looked up at the others. “...beware.”
They turned as one.
Wedge blinked. “Wait, like... the Midgardsormr? As in—giant serpent thing that eats people whole?”
“Sounds like fun.” Biggs muttered, dry as sandpaper.
Aerith moved beside Tifa, brushing dirt from another, more intact sign. The writing there was a little more playful—rhyming, even.
“But even if you’re slow.” she read aloud, voice soft but musical. “You can rent a chocobo who’ll see you safely past, being nothing if not fast…”
“Oh!” Jessie lit up instantly. “Wait, wait—there’s more.”
She skipped forward, brushing her gloved fingers over the faded lettering.
“So just give Bill the word…” she recited, the corners of her lips lifting into a grin.
“...and he’ll pick you out—” she paused dramatically.
“A bird!” Aerith, Tifa, and Jessie chorused in perfect unison.
Their laughter broke the fog like sunlight piercing through the clouds.
Aerith gave a delighted twirl, hands clasped. “Please tell me that means what I think it means.”
Jessie turned with a flourish, fingers pointing finger-gun style. “Chocobos, baby. Our fluffy yellow saviors.”
Tifa smiled and looked between them, a flicker of joy cutting through the gloom. “So…”
“Can we?” Aerith asked, eyes sparkling.
Jessie tilted her head and gave her most exaggerated wink. “Rent some birds?”
Wedge brightened. “I mean, that does sound way better than drowning.”
Biggs chuckled quietly. “Definitely more feathers involved.”
Barret grumbled, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Long as it keeps us dry and snake-free, I don’t care what we’re ridin’.”
Cloud had remained quiet through it all, standing at the edge of the dock, arms loosely crossed, eyes flicking from the signs to the river to the sky beyond. He didn’t smile. Didn’t join the laughter. But the tension in his shoulders had eased just slightly. And when he turned to face them, the fog seemed a little less heavy.
.
..
…
Some Things Can’t Be Erased
Chapter Two
“The Creature in Bog”
…
..
.
[Kalm
Outer Wall
Meanwhile…]
The sun hung high and undisturbed in the vast sky above, casting a clean, harsh light over the rolling fields that stretched beyond the stone walls of Kalm. The old town slumbered behind its iron gates and crumbling watchtowers—its people sheltered within cobbled streets, unaware of the shadow passing just outside their borders. Birds fluttered from rustling trees, and the distant chime of bells from a merchant cart echoed faintly from within the city walls.
But the world beyond the gates had shifted.
A single figure moved across the worn path that veered away from the main road; calm, deliberate, and entirely silent except for the faint hum that followed his every step. He did not rush. He did not sneak. He walked like a storm on legs, inevitable and unfeeling.
He strode past a small Shinra checkpoint nestled near the town’s perimeter, the guards stationed there barely glancing up. Those who did swiftly looked away. No salute. No greeting. None dared speak. His presence alone was command enough. The troopers stiffened unconsciously as he passed, weapons held tighter, postures sharpening with the primal instinct of prey recognizing a predator. Townsfolk glimpsed him from a distance and whispered nervously, ducking away into alleys, closing their doors with quiet finality.
Zeta did not acknowledge any of them.
His spiked black hair caught the breeze, the long lock that framed his face swaying across his respirator mask like a dark pendulum. His cloak, heavy and battle-worn, trailed behind him, brushing dry grass and dirt as he walked. The high collar of his suit gleamed faintly in the light, its carbon-thread fabric shifting with every movement. Tubes along his mask hissed softly; mechanical exhales that gave rhythm to a man no longer bound by breath.
And his eyes.
Twin reactors, cold and calculating, glowed beneath furrowed brows. Their intense electric blue radiance shimmered unnaturally in the daylight, ringed with iridescent green—the light of mako not coursing through veins, but embedded in the soul. They moved constantly, scanning the horizon, the terrain, the faint scuff marks left in the soil from hurried boots. No detail escaped them.
He walked until the walls of Kalm were behind him, until there was nothing but the wild plains ahead and the long wind that tugged at the grass like invisible fingers.
Then he stopped.
Without fanfare, Zeta raised his left arm. The metal-plated bracer on his forearm hummed quietly, and with a light tap of his gloved fingers to the inner wrist, a panel slid open—revealing an embedded interface: high-grade, encrypted Shinra tech. A pulse of energy passed through his fingers, and a soft chime sounded.
From his palm bloomed a holographic projection—a semi-transparent digital screen hovering just above his glove, the display steady despite the wind. The light from the interface cast a faint glow on the underside of his faceplate.
Lines of scrolling data flickered briefly, then resolved into a black ops directory:
Fugitive Log: Level Omega
Classification: Active Threat – High Priority Retrieval or Termination
Eight individual windows populated the screen, each frame snapping into place with an audible ping.
[WANTED]
Name: Cloud Strife
Affiliation: (Unregistered) SOLDIER – First Class (Presumed rogue), Member of the eco-terrorist group AVALANCHE
Status: Armed – Dangerous – Unstable
→ Image: Cloud’s stoic expression, eyes glowing faintly, Buster Sword visible behind him.
[WANTED]
Name: Aerith Gainsborough
Affiliation: Suspected Cetra Ancestry
Status: Under protective surveillance – now fugitive
→ Image: Aerith smiling softly, faded background of Sector 5.
[WANTED]
Name: Tifa Lockhart
Affiliation: Bar Owner – Resistance Ally, Member of the eco-terrorist group AVALANCHE
Status: Martial Capability – High
→ Image: Her crimson eyes narrowed, gauntlets glinting.
[WANTED]
Name: Barret Wallace
Affiliation: Leader of Avalanche
Status: Lethal – Hostile – Tracked
→ Image: Barret mid-shout, gun-arm raised.
[WANTED]
Name: Jessie Rasberry
Affiliation: Engineer, Tech specialist, Member of the eco-terrorist group AVALANCHE
Status: Explosives Expert – Evasive
→ Image: Jessie mid-wink, helmet off, smoke in background.
[WANTED]
Name: Biggs
Affiliation: Member of the eco-terrorist group AVALANCHE
Status: Marksman – Tactical Support
→ Image: Biggs in profile, goggles reflecting light.
[WANTED]
Name: Wedge
Affiliation: Member of the eco-terrorist group AVALANCHE, Avalanche Logistics
Status: Minor Combatant – Recon Watchlist
→ Image: Wedge laughing awkwardly.
[WANTED]
Name: Red XIII
Affiliation: Subject C-X13 (Experimental)
Status: Unknown – Possibly Allied with Cetra
→ Image: Red’s piercing eyes and burning tail.
Zeta’s gaze moved over each file, expression unreadable behind the cold metal of his mask. A faint click sounded from deep within the respirator, a calibration pulse aligning the HUD with internal tracking systems. Symbols blinked briefly in the corners of his vision.
One by one, he reviewed the files. No visible reaction. No emotion. No hesitation.
Only assessment.
Only parameters.
His right hand moved slowly, swiping the list into archive mode with a sharp flick. The hologram dissipated in thin strands of light, folding into the bracer on his wrist like drawn breath.
He turned his head to the open plains ahead—toward the faint scarring in the grass where someone had recently passed. His reactor-eyes narrowed.
Boot prints. Multiple sets. Varying weight and stride length.
Zeta’s breath hissed through the mask—click-hummm—and his hand dropped to his side. He began to walk again, unhurried and alone, moving with the steadiness of inevitability.
.
.
.
[Grasslands
Abandoned Dock
Moment Later…]
“It took a while, but now we’re all here!” Jessie called out with infectious relief, lifting one arm skyward from atop her chocobo as the group assembled at the edge of the murky swamp. Her mount gave a cheerful wark! in response, stamping its clawed feet on the damp soil. The fog still clung low around the reeds and shattered pylons, ghosting across the water in idle wisps that curled around the decaying posts of the dock. The air smelled of damp wood, algae, and distant rain. Overhead, the sun strained through thick, dappled clouds, casting only the palest light, just enough to make out the glimmer of the marsh ahead, a sluggish sheet of greenish-brown water stretching across the old riverbed like a scab.
Wedge leaned forward in his saddle, eyes narrowing as he peered across the gloom-choked swamp. “I just hope we don’t meet the Midgardsormr,” he mumbled, as if saying the creature’s name too loudly might summon it. The instant the words left his mouth, Biggs groaned audibly behind him.
“Dude.” Biggs said, pulling back on the reins slightly as his chocobo bobbed in irritation. “Seriously?”
Jessie twisted around in her saddle and shot Wedge a theatrical glare, her brows lifted in exasperation. “Why would you say that out loud?” she demanded, her shoulders slumping as she tossed her arms up. “Great. Now we’re definitely going to run into it!”
“Quiet down.” Barret rumbled, riding up beside them on a larger, darker chocobo that seemed to match his size and temper. His expression was stern, one hand loosely resting on the harness strapped over his chest while the other steadied the reins. “Ain’t the time to be talkin’ monsters.”
The trio muttered apologies, exchanging guilty glances but obeying. Cloud, who had been surveying the terrain in silence, finally nudged his chocobo forward and spoke over his shoulder, his voice low but clear. “Let’s move.”
One by one, they fell in behind him, forming a loose line of riders as they made their way down the ruined slope of the dock and toward the sluggish, mist-veiled river. The chocobos chirped and crooned, their talons sinking into the soft mud before they splashed into the shallows. With instinctive grace, the birds began their specialized swim-run, strong legs paddling through the swampy waters while their feathered bodies floated just above the surface.
They moved in uneasy silence for the first few minutes. The only sounds were the muted splashes of water, the occasional bird call from the dense thickets, and the soft, metallic clinks of gear shifting. The landscape was strangely quiet—too quiet. Every broken tree trunk and half-sunken pillar loomed like the spine of some long-dead giant, and the fog seemed to thicken with each minute they pressed onward.
Barret broke the silence with a grunt. “So... we sure this is safe?” His voice was gravelly with suspicion as he glanced around the bog with narrowed eyes. “Heard pockets of this place are damn near bottomless. One wrong step and you’re gone.” He grimaced. “Plus, there’s that giant man-eatin’ serpent lurkin’ around.”
Jessie sucked in a breath and gave Wedge another sharp side-eye. “If we do get eaten, I’m blaming you, Wedge. You jinxed it.” Her voice was tart, though there was a nervous undercurrent to her words that made her grip the reins tighter.
Wedge hunched a little in his saddle, sheepish. “I didn’t mean to.” he muttered. “It just slipped out.”
Tifa, who was positioned near the front of the group, looked over her shoulder. Her red eyes were calm but focused. “Bill assured us the chocobos could handle this route. They’ve done it before.” she said, her voice a little louder to reassure the group.
Biggs made a skeptical noise. “Yeah? How long ago was ‘before’? Because this place looks like it’s been abandoned since the Wutai War.”
Barret grunted but didn’t argue. Red XIII walked alongside the birds on a raised strip of land, keeping his paws dry. His golden eye swept the water like searchlights, watching the surface with silent, wary suspicion. Occasionally, his nostrils flared, catching whiffs of unseen threats that made the tip of his tail twitch.
Aerith sat comfortably in her saddle, her pink ribbon fluttering in the breeze. “Have some faith in our feathered friends.” she said cheerfully, patting her chocobo’s feathery neck. Her voice was light, almost melodic, a deliberate attempt to ease the mood.
“Pew!” chirped Sasa, her chocobo, as if in agreement. The golden bird gave a little flutter of its wings and picked up speed slightly, splashing past the others with gentle enthusiasm. Cloud, who was riding Piko, remained silent, his eyes scanning the distant fogbanks, every muscle taut with quiet vigilance.
Jessie adjusted her gloves and looked around at the decaying swamp landscape. “Okay, real talk.” she began, feigning a casual tone that didn’t quite mask her wariness. “How big is this bog? Because we’ve been riding—swimming?—for like half an hour, and I don’t see a single sign of solid land yet.”
Just then, something massive loomed through the fog; ancient brick-red pillars, crumbling and crooked, jutted from the water in the near distance. Covered in moss and vines, they were all that remained of a forgotten bridge, long collapsed into the marsh. The sight was both promising and foreboding.
“There.” Cloud said, pointing.
The group pressed onward, the sluggish current swirling around the legs of their swimming chocobos as they guided their feathered steeds through the tangled ruins of what must have once been a bridge or outpost long surrendered to time and nature. Massive red-brick pillars, half-sunken and eroded by years of water and decay, jutted crookedly from the murky depths like the broken ribs of a long-dead beast. The terrain around them grew more treacherous; small islands of land were visible, but narrow and deceptive, no more than slippery mounds barely peeking above the dark water. Some had already begun to sink, dissolving into the bog like sugar into tea. Gnarled, skeletal trees leaned in from the surrounding swamp like mournful sentinels, their trunks warped, their branches drooping low and heavy with moss that trailed like ghostly veils across the water’s surface. A constant haze of moisture clung to everything, giving the air a damp, cloying weight.
Their chocobos trudged forward, swimming where they must, stepping carefully where footing could be found. The creaking harnesses and the occasional splash of water were the only sounds, save for the distant croaks of unseen swamp creatures. Weariness lined every face. Jessie muttered something about how they seemed to be going in circles, while Wedge’s gaze flitted nervously to every ripple in the water. Barret, ever gruff, urged them forward with clipped commands, though even he couldn’t hide the tension in his jaw.
Suddenly, Aerith perked up in her saddle. Her eyes brightened and she leaned forward, squinting through the distant fog. “Is that dry land I see!?” she called out, her voice cutting through the gloom with a hopeful lilt.
Tifa, riding close beside her, sat up straighter. “Where?”
Jessie twisted in her saddle, eyes wide with cautious optimism. “Finally.” she muttered under her breath, her hand unconsciously gripping the reins tighter. Wedge let out a relieved exhale. Even Biggs, usually composed, smiled faintly. Red lifted his head with renewed interest, ears twitching as he sniffed at the shifting air.
Cloud remained still, seated upright on his chocobo, his expression unreadable. Mako-glow pulsed behind his narrowed eyes as he focused on the distance ahead. He gave a single nod. “Let’s go.” he said calmly, his voice low but firm.
The group urged their chocobos forward, anticipation fluttering in their chests. The creatures chirped and squawked with excitement, splashing ahead toward what appeared to be a moss-covered rise—solid ground, or so it seemed. The moment their chocobo talons touched the silted edge of the “island,” the earth beneath them shuddered.
Barret’s eyes widened as his chocobo gave a startled cry and bucked beneath him. “Whoa! Easy there!” he barked, pulling at the reins. The bird thrashed in place, clearly spooked.
Wedge yelped, gripping the saddle horn like his life depended on it. “Uhhh, guys?!”
The trembling intensified. A deep, unnatural groan rumbled through the waterlogged terrain, resonating from below like the heartbeat of something ancient. Tifa gasped, nearly thrown from her chocobo as it stumbled and sidestepped frantically. “What the—!?” she shouted, trying to steady herself.
The others watched in growing alarm as the ground beneath their mounts writhed—not solid earth at all, but something alive. Something massive. Scaled, ridged, and slowly undulating. Pale, grey-green plates like ancient stone shifted beneath their chocobos’ talons. Jessie uttered a sharp curse under her breath as her mount began to buck. Biggs swore louder. Barret growled in frustration, wrestling his reins.
Red’s fur bristled, and his claws dug into the soft saddle padding as he fought to stay on. “This… this is no island.” he growled, voice grim. “It’s a creature. It disguised itself.”
Cloud’s gaze sharpened. He leaned forward, eyes tracking the long, serpentine movement beneath them—coil upon coil slowly rising, revealing itself. Just as he opened his mouth to warn the others, the chocobos, panicked beyond control, let out shrill squawks and bolted. Saddles twisted. Reins snapped taut. Then, one by one, the party was thrown; tossed off their mounts and landing hard onto the warm, scale-like surface.
Cloud hit first and rolled, immediately rising to a crouch. His hand already went to the hilt of the Buster Sword slung across his back. The moment he was on his feet, he scanned the surroundings, his stance already braced for battle.
Barret sprang up next, shouting at the fleeing chocobos that were now swimming away at full speed, feathers fluffed and wings flapping in panic. “Hey! Get back here right now, you stupid overgrown chickens!” he roared, but it was useless. They were gone.
Wedge groaned from where he landed, pushing himself up with trembling arms. “I… I’ve got a really bad feeling about this…”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the creature shifted again—violently this time. A surge of water fountained up around them, and then a massive, serpentine form uncoiled itself with terrifying speed. A head rose from the water—long, crocodilian, with bone ridges and piercing yellow eyes that gleamed like lanterns in the fog. A gaping maw opened wide, rows of dagger-like fangs dripping with fetid swamp water. The beast threw its head back and let out a deafening roar that split the air, echoing across the desolate swamp like thunder made flesh.
Jessie shrieked. “Wedge, you totally jinxed us!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Wedge replied, scrambling backward on the monster’s scales.
Biggs drew his weapon and muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Knew it. Knew this was gonna happen.”
Barret, not even hiding his exasperation, grumble. “Just once I’d like a mission where somethin’ doesn’t try to eat us!”
Cloud stepped forward, his expression hardening, the Buster Sword now gleaming in his hands. He narrowed his eyes at the towering, coiled behemoth looming above them, water cascading off its immense body.
“Get ready.” he ordered, voice sharp with command.
The Midgardsormr roared again—low, guttural, and hungry—its coils rippling across the landscape like tidal waves of muscle and fury. The fight had begun.
The murky, tremulous bog had transformed into a battlefield of chaos and fury.
The colossal serpent—the Midgardsormr—reared its monstrous head, uncoiling from the swampy waters with scales that shimmered like tarnished iron and glistened with the rot of the marsh. Its elongated body curved high into the air, casting an enormous shadow over the group as if eclipsing the sky itself. The air trembled with its guttural roar, shaking the loose sludge beneath their boots. Clouds of moisture erupted as it thrashed, lashing the sodden ground with its sinuous tail.
“Watch out for that tail!” Jessie’s voice cut sharply through the cacophony, just as the reptilian appendage swept across the battlefield in a blur of motion. Biggs barely dove in time, mud splashing across his goggles as he hit the muck with a thud.
“Dammit, that was close!” Biggs shouted, pushing himself up while coughing on swamp gas.
Barret raised his arm cannon with a mechanical hiss and unleashed a rapid series of blasts, each one erupting in plumes of crackling energy against the beast’s armored hide. “How the hell are we supposed to kill this scaly bastard when bullets just bounce off?! I’ve fought machines, mutants, and mako-fried psychos, but THIS?! This is a whole new level of bull—”
“Careful!” Cloud barked, his Mako-glow eyes narrowing. He pivoted mid-step, bringing his Buster Sword down in a precise arc to sever a chunk of the creature’s jagged underbelly. “It’s already pissed off enough!”
“Already?!” Barret spat, squeezing off another round with booming recoil. “This sonuvabitch was born pissed off!”
Red lunged through the air in a blur of crimson and claws, slashing across the serpent’s flared gills with a snarl. Tifa weaved around a crashing coil and delivered a roundhouse kick to one of its eyes, the impact making the beast flinch but only barely. Aerith stayed near the back, casting protective wards and healing bursts through her staff’s luminous head, her expression strained with growing concern.
As the battle raged, the Midgardsormr suddenly froze in place. Its scales shimmered oddly, and steam began to hiss from its nostrils and the slits in its gills. The color of its throat darkened like hot coals.
“Uh… guys?” Wedge stammered, paling as he pointed. “Is that… is that fire?!”
“Oh, come on!” Jessie bemoaned, staggering back, her boot catching on a root submerged beneath the brackish water. “It breathes fire now?! That’s cheating!”
Biggs grimaced, drawing a bead with his rifle but hesitating. “Where the hell is the rulebook on this thing? ‘Do Not Touch the Flaming Swamp Dragon?’”
Barret glared as the creature’s throat puffed like a bellows. “Y’all better MOVE—unless you feel like being roasted like a Sunday roast!”
Cloud’s expression shifted. Calm, serious, but edged with urgency. He leapt back just in time to avoid the first burst of fire licking the earth in a stream of scalding red-orange flame. The blast lit the sky, incinerating the skeletal tree limbs and sending waves of blistering heat across the group.
“Back! Everyone, keep your distance!” Cloud shouted over the roaring inferno. His command cut through the confusion like steel.
They all obeyed without hesitation, diving, rolling, and sprinting for cover behind whatever broken columns and fallen husks the ruined bog provided. The flames hissed as they met water, erupting in gouts of steam that burned to breathe. And then, as suddenly as it had attacked, the creature coiled downward and vanished beneath the swamp again, leaving only ripples and the sickening gurgle of displaced water.
“Where’d it go?” Jessie breathed, turning in frantic circles. “Where the hell did it—”
A sudden eruption behind them—its gaping maw lunged from the depths, teeth bared and breath still smoldering. Everyone barely scattered in time as the massive jaws snapped down, sending waves of swamp water cascading over them.
“This asshole’s not gonna stop until he eats all of us!” Barret roared, blasting once more into the serpent’s face. Wedge floundered through the muck, trying to help Biggs to his feet.
They kept moving, kept attacking—materia flaring with magic as fireballs, lightning strikes, and icy spears pummeled the Midgardsormr’s hide. Red launched like a crimson streak across its back while Tifa punched her way across its spine, her fists glowing with chakra-infused strength. Aerith’s eyes blazed with power as she summoned protective barriers between the group and the creature’s strikes. Jessie rolled into position to launch a shockwave grenade, yelling. “Try THIS on for size, you overgrown eel!”
The battle crescendoed. The serpent, now wounded and furious, shrieked with a sound that cracked the air like shattering glass. Its great length began to undulate, pulling away toward a deep pit of bubbling mire at the swamp’s edge.
“It’s backing off!” Biggs shouted with hope in his voice.
“Is… is it gone?” Wedge asked, his face slack with disbelief.
“Don't trust it.” Red warned, his golden eye glinting. “These creatures are more cunning than they appear.”
Aerith looked over at the rippling water, her hands still tight around her staff. “I hope that means we’re done…”
“I doubt it.” Barret growled, pacing the edge of the bog. “Nothing ever dies easy out here.”
Cloud said nothing. His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, mud slick on his boots and his sword glinting with blood. He was scanning the waterline, alert, the warrior’s stillness before another storm.
Then the world exploded.
The Midgardsormr surged from the water again, faster than before. Cloud barely managed to twist aside—rolling to avoid the creature’s massive jaws. But before he could counter, the beast whipped its sinuous body around him like a vice. With terrifying speed, its massive coils constricted around Cloud’s torso and arms, crushing breath from his lungs. His blade clattered from his grip, swallowed by the mire. The serpent's tail lashed outward like a hammer, smashing through the group.
Jessie, Biggs, Wedge, Barret, Aerith, Tifa, and even Red were flung like ragdolls across the bog, their bodies slamming into swamp-mud and rotted trees. Water sprayed high into the air, drowning out their cries with splashes and gasps.
“Cloud!” Tifa screamed, voice raw with panic.
Aerith’s eyes widened in horror, hand clutching her chest. “No…!”
Barret swore explosively, trying to push himself up from where he’d landed. “Shit—Shit! It’s got him! It’s got Cloud!”
The Midgardsormr’s body coiled tighter, and with a monstrous hiss, it dove into the bog’s depths, dragging Cloud beneath with it.
In a moment, the water stilled—bubbling, dark, and silent.
The others were left stunned, scattered and breathless in the muck. The air hung heavy with dread.
And Cloud was gone.