Walking through the village a few hours later, Sephiroth observed the people working alongside their resurrected Arrancar servants to reconstruct their homes. The hollow-born warriors demonstrated their immense strength and tireless endurance to their neighbors, hauling stacks of logs and supplies to the construction sites with little difficulty or strain. Aizen had even taken it upon himself to aid the villagers, his spiritual pressure precisely cutting through wood effortlessly and accelerating the building process.
As Sephiroth paused to watch, several men and an Arrancar hoisted stacks of wood planks up to a young boy who hammered away at the roof structure. Keeping an eye on their collaborative efforts, Sephiroth reflected on his days in this place.
I've been isekai'd into a world where the game physics of Yggdrasil are reality—with warring nations, real people, and civilizations. Where monsters, famine, and political intrigue are the certainties of existence. But where do I fit in all this? Why was I brought here? In most isekai stories, at least the few good ones, they start with the protagonist being given some monumental quest or mission. So what is mine?
Sephiroth's mind grew quiet as it searched for answers.
After a moment of silence, a man with a bushy beard walked past, giving a smiling nod to the silver-haired angel and his dark-winged armored companion. Sephiroth waved in acknowledgment, grateful to be pulled from his thoughts.
Perhaps my mission is exactly what I've been doing—learning, spreading my influence, instilling ideas and traditions that benefit the world as a whole. Bringing about Peace in Our Time...
Albedo stood at her master's side, also observing but watching the humans work with obvious disgust. Taking note of her disdainful body language, Sephiroth placed his gloved hand on her armored shoulder, somewhat startling her.
"Ah! Yes, Lord Sephiroth?" she asked, looking up at her master.
"Do you hate humans?" Sephiroth inquired carefully.
"They're weak creatures. Lower life forms. I think of how beautiful it would be to crush them like insects," she replied honestly. Her answer neither insulted nor disturbed Sephiroth, as he had mostly expected such a response. Nevertheless, he patted her shoulder and sighed.
"Albedo... I cannot argue with your assessment of their physical limitations—your opinion is your own. However, I believe your view of humans is clouded by ignorance and prejudice," Sephiroth stated wisely, gazing upon the village as it worked diligently.
"What do you mean?" Albedo asked, turning to her master—not at all offended, but curious.
"What do you know of humans besides their lack of power compared to us?" Sephiroth asked in return.
The succubus commander thought for a moment before looking back up at her master. "Not very much, my lord."
With an amused chuckle, Sephiroth responded, "Exactly. What you need to understand is that humanity's strength doesn't come from magic, the sword, the arrow, or diplomacy, but from what they have in here..." He pointed to his head. "Intelligence. Millions of years of evolution and natural selection have bred into humanity the fundamental drive to survive by any means necessary. The weapons they build, the tribes they form, the laws they make, the wars they wage—all serve that one essential task: live to see another day. They use their intelligence to build weapons and cities to facilitate survival. I know of humans who created weapons capable of leveling entire cities, killing millions and making millions more wish they were dead... in a single strike."
Albedo's eyes widened in shock beneath her helmet.
"I cannot ask you to change your opinion of them, but I warn you—when push comes to shove, never underestimate the human drive for survival."
Albedo looked down, processing the information, almost lost in thought as her master's wisdom confounded her preconceptions.
With that, Sephiroth patted her shoulder affectionately before striding over to a group of villagers surrounding the village chief, worry plastered across their faces.
"Is there an issue?" Sephiroth asked, hands clasped behind his back as he approached with grace.
"A-ah, Lord Sephiroth!" the village chief exclaimed in relief. "It seems knight-like people are heading toward the village."
Aizen walked up, having already overheard the situation. "What's the order, my lord?"
Sephiroth hummed, placing his fingers to his chin in thought before turning to see a house on the hill—the chief's residence. High, fortified position. Would be out of the way of a potential attack force...
Turning back to the chief, Sephiroth spoke. "Have your people gather at your house. It's elevated and out of the way. The chief and I, along with my associates, will remain in the village square to await these knights and determine friend from foe." He turned to some Arrancar. "Should the worst come to pass, use your hollow powers to defend your newfound families and homes."
One Arrancar nodded in acknowledgment, the villagers looking even more reverent toward Sephiroth for taking charge.
---
Around half an hour later, Sephiroth stood firm and dignified, his back straight, arms behind him with one hand resting on the other's palm. His head was held high with pride, his stance radiating power and prestige as if his silver hair and black wing didn't already command awe. Aizen stood to his master's right, the village chief between them, and Albedo to his left. They stood prepared for potential conflict, the chieftain fidgeting nervously.
The rumble of approaching horses shook the ground and filled the air. Armored men approached on their steeds, led by a gruff, bearded man wearing steel armor with red leather straps. The armor design seemed to put the chief at ease and intrigued the One-Winged Angel.
Approaching on his horse, the bearded warrior introduced himself.
"I am Gazef Stronoff, Chief Royal Warrior of the Re-Estize Kingdom," he said, eyeing Sephiroth and his companions carefully, unnerved by the otherworldly presence of the silver-haired figure. "I have received orders from the king to hunt down Imperial knights who have been wreaking havoc in this area by attacking villages."
The revelation made the village chief visibly less tense as he sighed in relief. Noticing this, Gazef continued.
"You must be this village's chief. Who is... the silver-haired man beside you?" he inquired, looking at Sephiroth with a mixture of suspicion and awe.
"A-ah, this is our lord and savior, Sephiroth," the chief began.
Gazef looked confused. "You refer to this man as if he were some kind of god."
"Well, you see..." the chief started before Sephiroth interrupted, raising his hand.
"That is because I am, Sir Gazef. A being beyond your comprehension. It is a pleasure to meet you, Royal Warrior. I have been dormant for ages, and I doubt your species remembers me. When I awakened, I found this village under attack and decided to assist in purging the sinners who dared spill innocent blood on this land."
Sephiroth's smooth, commanding voice—melodic yet carrying an undertone of immense power—sent a chill down Gazef's spine.
Despite this, Gazef dismounted and stood before Sephiroth. "Thank you for saving this village. Mere words cannot fully express my gratitude," he said genuinely. Though he didn't believe the silver-haired man was truly divine, Gazef was fair and would give credit where due, holding respect for the mysterious figure for saving innocents.
"Your thanks are unnecessary, Head Warrior. However, I believe you have more pressing duties to attend to?" Sephiroth said, looking toward an armored man running toward them.
"Head Warrior!" the soldier yelled. Slightly out of breath, he explained, "Unknown figures have been spotted around this area. They've surrounded the village and are approaching as we speak!"
Gazef's eyes widened in shock, but he remained steadfast. Sephiroth tilted his head, curious to see how the man would handle this revelation. Pleasantly surprising the One-Winged Angel, Gazef gathered his men into buildings where they wouldn't be visible, allowing them to observe the enemy's formation without being spotted.
"You're right... They've surrounded the village with equally spaced individuals," he remarked, studying the enemy line while Sephiroth observed from behind.
"Magic casters... I wouldn't have used only them in a full battle without cannon fodder to defend them, but... to each their own," Sephiroth muttered, analyzing their formation.
"Friends of yours?" Sephiroth asked with subtle amusement.
Chuckling slightly, Gazef responded, "Hardly... These men are from the Slane Theocracy. Only they could deploy this many magic casters at once... and they're part of the special operations unit directly under the head priest. It must be one of the Six Scriptures."
So my hypothesis may have been correct... The Slane Theocracy is orchestrating this. But why? Why would they conduct such a manhunt with this much loss of life for no apparent reason? Gazef, you are either very important, anti-war, or both...
"It seems they may have attacked the village to draw you in. You're fairly well-known, unless this village has more strategic value than I initially thought," Sephiroth observed.
Gazef shook his head. "You were right the first time, Lord Sephiroth... This is quite the problem. To think even the Slane Theocracy is after me..."
Sephiroth hummed in acknowledgment while scanning the field. Hmm? Is that an Archangel Flame? I suppose I found their cannon fodder! He noted with amusement—the summoning spell being one of the weakest summons in the game, yet they were displaying them as if they were powerful. How could Sephiroth not be amused?
"Lord Sephiroth," Gazef said, drawing the angel's attention. "I would like to hire you. I will ensure you're rewarded as you wish."
With a soft chuckle, Sephiroth responded, "A kind offer, Sir Gazef, but I'm afraid no earthly reward you could provide would be worth my time."
Gazef sighed and looked down, disappointed. "I see. Well then, take care of yourself, Lord Sephiroth. And thank you for saving this village." He grasped and shook Sephiroth's hand firmly. "I am truly, genuinely grateful... I know this is selfish, but please protect them once more. I have nothing to give you, nothing you'd want, but I beg of you."
He began to kneel in supplication before Sephiroth stopped him.
"I'm not a deity who requires worship or begging. Simply asking from the heart would have sufficed. I will protect this village as I have already sworn to do." Sephiroth grasped his shoulders and helped him stand. "Now stay on your feet and hold your head high, Chief Warrior. If you die today, you die an honorable death defending innocence. And for that? You will be remembered."
"I suppose I have nothing to worry about then... I'll focus on the enemy before me!" Gazef declared with determination blazing in his eyes.
Sephiroth's expression seemed to soften with approval. "Good man. But before you go, take this." He held out a black feather, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. "A token from my wing. It will protect you when the time comes."
"A gift from one such as yourself? I accept it gratefully," Gazef said, taking the feather. As he held it, he could feel a subtle warmth emanating from it. He carefully tucked it into his chest plate. "Thank you, Lord Sephiroth, and farewell."
As he began walking toward the door, Sephiroth called out, "Remember this and take heed! When killing a snake, aim for the head!"
---
When Chief Gazef mounted his horse, he and his men began riding toward the enemy—and perhaps their own demise. Sephiroth walked up to his two subordinates as Aizen adjusted his glasses, analyzing the situation with calculating eyes.
Soon the village chief and his wife ran up to the trio. "Why is the Head Warrior leaving?" the chief asked, confused and worried.
"He is their target. He and his men are going to confront this problem head-on. But do not be concerned—your village is under my protection. None of you will die this day," Sephiroth reassured them.
---
Away from the town, rushing toward the line of enemies, the armored cavalry charged forward. At their head rode Gazef, his eyes steeled with determination, his bushy eyebrows angled down in defiant fury. Opening his mouth and shouting over the thunder of multiple hooves breaking ground, he commanded, "Break through their line and lead the enemy away from the village, then retreat!"
His men shouted "OORAH!" in unison.
"Do not miss the timing!" he continued. "Now go! Cut them down!"
Taking his bow, Gazef pulled the string and loosed an arrow, which was blocked by a magic shield erected by a Theocracy mage. Growling in frustration, he cast the bow aside and drew his sword.
Another Theocracy mage cast a spell on Gazef's horse, forcing him to dismount. One of his soldiers exclaimed, "Head Warrior!" while extending his hand to help his commander mount behind him.
Suddenly an Archangel Flame swooped in, attempting to strike them down. However, Gazef blocked the attack with his sword and attempted to cleave the summon in half. The monster's form was too resilient, and it began regenerating the damaged area. With a yell of fury, Gazef slammed the angel into the ground with his blade, but it wasn't enough to destroy the creature. It rose back into the sky like a puppet on strings.
The last of his men passed him on their horses, leaving Gazef alone against the Theocracy forces. If they wanted him, they would face him.
Sephiroth's black feather emerged from beneath his armor, emanating a soft glow as he focused on the angel and gripped his sword.
"Martial Art..." he said, his blade now glowing red. The angel charged to slash him, but Gazef raised his sword and exclaimed, "Focus Battle Aura!"
This time his swing cleaved the angel cleanly in half, causing it to disintegrate into glowing yellow particles.
Standing straight, he looked toward the line of magic casters to see that their supply of angels was like the great Hydra—cut off one head and three more took its place.
"Typical magic users," Gazef commented indignantly. "Bastards..." he cursed, then grinned. "But this is all according to plan."
"Lord Sephiroth... I'm counting on you," he muttered, noticing that the feather had grown brighter in response.
Glaring toward his enemies, prepared to fight and live or die trying, he heard the distant cry of men and rumble of horses. In the distance, his troops had circled back and were returning to fight beside him, screaming valiant war cries.
"Stay by the Head Warrior's side until the end!" the lead rider screamed to those behind him. The cavalry yelled in agreement.
"I told you to retreat once you had their attention! You're all idiots..." Gazef said, looking on in disbelief before a grin spread across his face. "Idiots I'm truly proud to fight beside!"
The mages turned in shock before casting disorientation spells on the horses, forcing several men to dismount where they were skewered by the angels' swords of light. The men fought valiantly against superior forces.
Seeing the carnage and bravery, Gazef declared, "We are at a complete military disadvantage..." Then he looked toward the back of the enemy line, at the man in black robes controlling the angels. "When killing a snake... aim for the head."
With a bellowing war cry, Gazef sprinted through the battlefield, weaving through engagements. As he approached, six angels blocked his path. Gazef's sword glowed red again.
"Martial Art: Six-Fold Slash of Light!"
Four of the angels burst into yellow dust while two remained. One began to charge as Gazef gripped his sword and shouted, "Martial Art: Instant Counter!"—slicing the angel in half.
"Flow Acceleration!" he yelled, jumping into the air and spinning like a top, bisecting the remaining two completely.
His men watched in awe, their morale boosted by their commander's display of power and skill. Panting from exertion, he grinned at his subordinates.
But this moment was interrupted by the Theocracy commander...
"Impressive! To have mastered so many attack skills, but it's not enough." The commander's voice dripped with condescension. "Summon the next set of Angels. Focus your magical attacks on Stronoff!"
His mages began summoning their Angels from the ground, the holy beings rising with ethereal light. Gazef's men watched in mounting fear for their commander, their morale crumbling, but Gazef himself stood strong against the overwhelming odds.
Meanwhile, Sephiroth had gathered the villagers in the village's storage house—chosen for both its positioning and size. The Hollows waited at the doors, ready for any attack. Not that they lacked faith in their new master, but they wanted to reassure their frightened neighbors.
Nemu gripped her sister in terror, Enri hugging her tight, stroking her head and whispering, "It's alright..." Sephiroth observed them all for a moment before raising his hand and casting a subtle spell to calm their fears. All the while, he turned back to the pulsing Shikon Jewel in his other hand, watching the battle rage through Gazef's perspective.
---
Back on the battlefield, all but Gazef had succumbed to the Angels. The head warrior stood firm among the corpses of his fallen men. His hair was disheveled, his armor dented and burned, the left shoulder plates shattered completely. Bruises lined his face, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. Though fatigued and trembling, he held his head high.
The Theocracy mages fired balls of flame from all directions. Those he couldn't dodge, he deflected with his sword or absorbed with his armor. The jewel fragment—the Shikon Jewel shard around his neck—offered some small protection, even a little regeneration. Despite Sephiroth's rejection of his oath, the fallen angel was still watching over him.
Looking up at the sky, a legion of Angels glared down with holy swords gleaming in the fiery dusk. They charged, and one by one, Gazef blocked or destroyed them. A few managed to slash his shoulder or side as he fought valiantly, cutting down two Angels for every wound he received.
Then an Angel's blade pierced clean through his abdomen from the side, slicing through one kidney, barely missing his aorta, and nicking the other kidney as the holy steel emerged from his back. The summon withdrew its sword, and blood gushed from both wounds. Gazef collapsed to his stomach, the Shikon fragment glowing brighter to slow the bleeding.
"Finish him!" the Theocracy Commander ordered. "However, don't attack with just one—ensure his death with multiple angels."
His mages raised their arms, and the Angels closed in like puppets. But Gazef refused to die lying down. Fueled by rage, he gritted his teeth and gripped his sword for one last stand. Adrenaline surged through his blood, giving him strength as he slowly rose, screaming, "Do not... UNDERESTIMATE ME!"
He stood defiantly. The Commander remained unmoved.
Holding his sword before him, Gazef locked eyes with the commander. Fiery embers of determination blazed behind his grey eyes. "I am this kingdom's head warrior! I love and protect this country! There is no way I'd die to bastards who want to defile this kingdom!"
The Commander chuckled darkly. "You will die here precisely because you spout such nonsense! Gazef Stronoff, what can you do in that state? Once we kill you, we will massacre the villagers. Stop this futile resistance and fall quietly." A victorious grin spread across his face. "As an act of mercy, I will make your death painless."
To this, Gazef smiled wide and began to laugh—though it was painful and cough-filled, he laughed nonetheless. The sound wiped the condescending grin from the commander's scarred face, replacing it with confusion.
"What's so funny?" he demanded.
"You're a fool," Gazef said, a confident smile on his bleeding and burnt face. "There is one in that village far more powerful than I am. Maybe more powerful than anything you could throw at him."
The commander's grin returned. "A bluff? Ha! Angels, kill him!"
Gazef's face hardened back to a scowl, his muscles coiled for the final fight. The Shikon fragment floated before his eyes, glowing with ethereal light as Sephiroth's voice emerged from it, smooth and calculating: "I think it's time for a change of scenery."
Gazef's vision went dark. When he opened his eyes, he stood in a large house surrounded by villagers.
"Th-this is?" Gazef asked in disbelief.
His surviving men lay on the ground before him, being tended by the village's Arrancar servants. The dead rested respectfully in a line against the wall, their swords upon their chests, hands clasping the hilts. A symbol was written on their foreheads, and around their necks hung the same jewel fragments as Gazef's—though these no longer glowed.
Gazef looked down at his own necklace, now pulsing with spiritual energy instead of its original blue.
The village chief approached. "This is the village storage house. Lord Sephiroth has placed a protective barrier here. Your men were brought in a few minutes before you."
Gazef realized Sephiroth had used him as a distraction to save his soldiers—an action that earned even greater respect from the warrior. "Where is Lord Sephiroth?"
The chief shrugged. "He suddenly disappeared, and you appeared in his place."
Now the glowing fragment made perfect sense. "I see..." Gazef responded with a grin before fainting into the arms of a towering Hollow.
---
Back at the battlefield, wind whipped across the plains as the Theocracy commander stared at three newcomers, confused and intimidated. He had never seen anything like them.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
Sephiroth stepped forward, his silver hair flowing in the wind, single black wing unfurled. "How interesting. Men of the Slane Theocracy." His voice was smooth, almost musical, but carried an undertone of menace. "I am Sephiroth. I doubt mortals of this era would remember the old legends, but that matters little. You see, I have taken an interest in this village, and your presence here... displeases me."
His cat-like green eyes surveyed them with cold calculation, the Masamune at his side gleaming with an otherworldly light.
"The old legends? Ha! You're nothing but a pretender. You only came to beg for their lives, haven't you?" the commander sneered.
Sephiroth's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Beg?" He tilted his head slightly, almost amused. "No... I'm afraid you misunderstand your position entirely." His wing spread wider, casting shadows across the battlefield. "Tell me, do you know what despair feels like?"
The Hōgyoku embedded in his chest pulsed with dark energy, and the very air around him began to shimmer with spiritual pressure.
"You see, I overheard your conversation with Sir Gazef." Sephiroth's voice remained calm, conversational even, as his spiritual pressure began to manifest visibly. "Something about massacring innocent villagers under my protection. How... disappointing."
The mages began to sweat, feeling the crushing weight of his reiatsu.
"DISAPPOINTING? Big words from some winged freak!" The commander spat, trying to hide his growing unease. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Sephiroth's expression didn't change, but his eyes grew colder. "I'm going to give you a choice. Kneel, beg for forgiveness, and I may grant you a swift death. Refuse..." He paused, drawing the Masamune with fluid grace. "And I'll show you why they called me the perfect being."
Enraged, the Commander yelled, "Angels, attack him!"
Two Angels charged forward, holy swords aimed at Sephiroth's heart. Without moving from his position, Sephiroth's wing swept forward, and both Angels were bisected cleanly, their forms dissolving into particles of light.
"Angels?" Sephiroth's voice carried genuine curiosity as he examined his blade. "How curious. These constructs are quite different from what I remember." His gaze shifted back to the commander. "Shall I show you what a real angel looks like?"
"All angels attack at once!" the commander shouted in desperation.
"Aizen," Sephiroth said calmly, not even turning to address his companion.
Sōsuke Aizen stepped forward with his characteristic gentle smile, adjusting his glasses. "Of course, Sephiroth-sama. Though I must say, calling these crude imitations 'angels' is rather insulting to the concept."
The Angels surrounded Sephiroth, diving in for coordinated strikes. With movements too fast for the human eye to follow, Sephiroth's blade became a silver blur. Each swing created crescent waves of energy that carved through multiple Angels at once. In mere seconds, the entire squadron had been reduced to fading light.
Sephiroth landed gracefully, not a single silver hair out of place. "Disappointing. I was hoping for more entertainment."
The mages frantically began summoning more Angels, their faces pale with terror at the casual display of power.
"How tedious," Sephiroth mused, raising his free hand. "Allow me to demonstrate the difference between your parlor tricks and true power."
Black energy gathered in his palm. "Shadow Flare."
Dark explosions erupted around each newly summoned Angel simultaneously, the concentrated negative energy completely annihilating them before they could even fully materialize.
"Impossible..." the Commander muttered, then Gazef's words echoed in his mind: There is one in that village far more powerful than I am.
His men began muttering: "Monster..." "Demon..." One who sensed Sephiroth's overwhelming spiritual pressure fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the presence before him.
In desperation, the others began casting spells: "Holy Ray!" "Poison!" "Shockwave!" "Fire Rain!" "Confusion!" Each spell simply dissolved upon contact with Sephiroth's spiritual pressure, like raindrops against a mountain.
How primitive, Sephiroth thought, observing their techniques with clinical interest. Their understanding of energy manipulation is elementary at best. Still, the fact that they can use magic at all in this world is... intriguing.
When one mage attempted to throw a rock, Albedo stepped forward, but Sephiroth raised a hand to stop her.
"There's no need," he said softly. With a slight gesture, the rock reversed course and struck the caster with lethal force. "Violence should be proportional to the threat presented."
Aizen chuckled softly. "Such restraint, Sephiroth-sama. Though I suppose insects hardly warrant your full attention."
"Indeed. Though I confess, I'm curious about something." Sephiroth's gaze fixed on a larger Angel that had survived his attack. "You there, the one cowering behind that construct. What do you call that particular summon?"
The commander, trying to regain some semblance of authority, pointed to the armored Angel. "Principality of Observation! Show this pretender true divine power!"
The Angel raised a massive mace and charged with surprising speed. Sephiroth didn't move until the weapon was inches from his face, then caught it effortlessly with two fingers.
"Interesting design," he mused, examining the weapon. "But the spiritual composition is flawed."
"Heartless Angel."
The technique's name was spoken like a death sentence. The Angel's form began to wither and decay from the point of contact, its holy light corrupting into darkness as it crumbled to ash.
"One technique? That's impossible!" the commander screamed. "There's no way a high-level angel could be destroyed so easily!"
One of his men asked shakily, "Captain Nigun! What should we do?"
Nigun, Sephiroth noted, filing the name away. How... ordinary.
With desperate triumph, Nigun pulled a crystal from his coat. "We will summon the ultimate Angel! This will show you the true power of the gods!"
Sephiroth tilted his head, studying the crystal with interest. A sealing crystal. Primitive, but it contains considerable energy. This should be amusing.
He gestured to Albedo. "Step back. I'm curious to see what they consider their ultimate creation."
"Behold the divine form of Dominion Authority!" Nigun proclaimed as the crystal shattered, releasing a brilliant figure into the sky.
The Theocracy casters gazed in awe at the massive winged being, some prostrating themselves in worship.
Sephiroth observed the summon with the analytical eye of a scientist examining a specimen. "Fascinating. The energy pattern is significantly more complex than the others." He paused, then smiled with genuine amusement. "But ultimately, still flawed."
"Are you afraid, false angel? When exposed to true divine might, even demons must—"
"False angel?" Sephiroth's voice carried a note of genuine curiosity rather than offense. "How interesting. Tell me, what do you believe makes an angel 'true'?"
"The blessing of the gods! The purity of—"
"I see." Sephiroth raised his hand toward the Dominion Authority. "Then allow me to show you what lies beyond your gods' comprehension."
"Supernova."
The technique name was spoken quietly, almost casually. A miniature star formed in Sephiroth's palm, growing larger as gravitational forces began warping the air around it. The Dominion Authority was drawn inexorably toward the celestial body, its form stretching and distorting before being consumed entirely in nuclear fire.
When the light faded, nothing remained but empty sky.
"Your gods..." Sephiroth said conversationally, lowering his hand, "are children playing with forces they don't understand."
"What... what are you?" Nigun whispered, his faith cracking like brittle glass.
"I told you already. I am Sephiroth." His green eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "Though if you require a more specific designation... I am what your gods fear to become."
A spell shimmered and broke in the sky above them.
"Ah," Aizen observed with interest, "it seems your superiors were watching through scrying magic. How unfortunate for you that they witnessed your failure."
Nigun's face went ashen. "The high priests... they saw everything..."
"Indeed." Sephiroth's voice carried mock sympathy. "Tell me, what is the penalty for failure in your organization?"
"Please!" Nigun fell to his knees. "Lord Sephiroth! I'll serve you! I'll convert the entire Theocracy! Just spare my life!"
Aizen and Albedo exchanged glances, both speaking in unison: "How presumptuous."
"To assume Lord Sephiroth would accept the service of those who threaten innocents under his protection," Albedo continued coldly.
"The depth of your arrogance is almost admirable," Aizen added with his characteristic smile. "Almost."
Sephiroth drew the Masamune again, its blade singing as it cut through the air. "You offered Gazef a painless death as mercy. I wonder... do you deserve the same consideration you showed him?"
"Wait, please—"
The blade moved faster than thought. Nigun's plea was cut short as his head separated from his shoulders, the cut so clean that blood didn't begin to flow until his body hit the ground.
The remaining mages stood frozen in terror—all save one who had fallen into prayer.
Sephiroth considered them for a moment, then made a decision that would illustrate an important point about human nature. With a gesture, three black feathers fell from his wing, transforming into obsidian blades as they struck the earth.
"I will spare three of you," he announced calmly. "Choose among yourselves who will live."
The effect was immediate and brutal. Fear overrode all bonds of loyalty and friendship as the mages turned on each other with desperate savagery, fighting for the right to survive.
"How predictable," Aizen observed, watching the carnage with clinical detachment. "Fear strips away all pretense of civilization, doesn't it?"
Sephiroth nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's important to understand the nature of those you seek to rule. Fear, hope, despair—all tools to be wielded with precision."
After the violence subsided, three bloodied figures remained, gasping over the corpses of their former comrades.
"Aizen," Sephiroth said quietly, "please demonstrate why mercy from me is not the same as safety."
Aizen's smile widened as he stepped forward, his zanpakutō already drawn. "With pleasure, Sephiroth-sama. Kyōka Suigetsu."
The three survivors looked up in confusion as their perception of reality began to fracture, unable to distinguish between illusion and truth as Aizen's blade found its mark.
"Mercy," Sephiroth observed as silence fell over the battlefield, "is not the absence of judgment. It is simply the choice of when and how to deliver it."