“Hey Seifer, are you going to eat that, or just glare at it?” Seifer looked up to regard his companion and even friend, Jath Bridger. He was not nearly as tall as Seifer, though his build was much heavier. His longish black hair, brilliant green eyes, and mild features often gave him an aura of harmlessness. Pity the foe who made that mistake, for he would end up much the same as the foe of Seifer himself. It was a new experience, he reflected, having a friend. And in some ways it could be difficult, more difficult than simply relying on yourself.
After his recovery stay in the hospital, Seifer had resumed his training. He had hoped to reach peak physical and mental condition again, so that the next Field Exam would guarantee him a position as a SeeD. He had, unexpectedly, discovered a kindred spirit amongst the students of Balamb Garden. Jath Bridger was a supremely confident and skillful fighter, primarily at home with fighting claws on his hands. He was around the same age as Seifer, although he would be taking the Field Exam for the first time in just three days. Finally, Seifer’s mind returned to the present and he glanced back down at the unappetizing, almost offensive, hot dog.
“…Help yourself,” Seifer said, vaguely wondering what he himself might eat. It was unimportant. Jath slumped in the seat across from Seifer, seizing the hotdog and taking a largeish bite off it. He chewed thoughtfully, regarding Seifer and taking some reading of his mood. When he spoke, it was the deliberate speech of the utmost sincerity, the kind of open honesty that was difficult to find in people.
“You do not need to be nervous about the Exam. I heard about last time, but…you are the best fighter at the Garden.” Jath said around a mouthful of hotdog. Seifer would not disagree, for surely he was the best of them all. Doubt in himself was really the furthest thing from his mind. He knew that he had failed on the last Exam, but his fellows had also failed. It was not in himself that he lacked trust, but rather in others. They did not train as hard as he did, they did not possess his skills, and they did not possess his lust for battle. Only Jath Bridger, the claw-fighting prodigy, held any esteem in the eyes of Seifer.
“I’m not nervous,” Seifer sneered. “You don’t have to worry about me. It’s the enemy that had better worry. Give me a Gil for every enemy I’ll kill, and I’ll never have to work again.” Across the table, Jath laughed. It was not the mocking laughter that had haunted Seifer for so very long, but rather a sound of pleasure. Of course, it must be pleasing to have a friend like me, Seifer thought to himself. I’m the best, after all.
“We will destroy them together, you and I. It would take an army to bring either of us down, and together…we are unstoppable, no?” Jath polished off the hotdog, and let out a tremendous yawn. “At least, we will be after I get some sleep.”
“So rest up. Don’t forget that we have training later.” Seifer leaned back in his chair, various memories of glorious battle floating to the surface. And one memory of a battle not won, a battle with unstoppable tides of enemies, and only a few Cadets to take them on. He forced it out of his head with an inward snarl, that could never happen again. He was stronger now, more than a match for any monster, or any man.
“Ah yeah, training…it will be good to practice up with the Exam so close. In that case, I think I will take a nap. If I am not there by the appointed hour, send a rescue team.” Seifer barked a laugh as Jath straightened and stood up, shuffling off towards the exit to the cafeteria. He paused to make a quip to a female student which Seifer did not catch, and then he was gone. Seifer let his gaze hover on the female for a moment, she was pretty enough in her own way he supposed, with shortish blonde hair and long, tan legs accented by the skirt of her uniform. He had heard she was supposed to be some sort of prodigy herself, well on her way towards becoming a SeeD, though he could not even recall her name.
Oh well, Seifer said to himself, she’s not my type anyway. Probably one of those real hardcore student types. Who needs ‘em? He stood slowly, stretching and scratching a persistent itch on his left arm. An old wound, it always started itching when there was a battle on the horizon. He straightened his long, gray overcoat, and made his own way out of the Cafeteria, his mind already on the training ahead.
Battle was what made life interesting. Without combat, there was no reason to hone oneself to such a fine edge of physical perfection. There was no need to spend endless hours meditating to improve one’s focus. Without combat, for Seifer Almasy at least, there was simply nothing. He had discovered his passion for fighting a long time ago, and had indulged it at every opportunity since. And it was with this same unlimited passion for fighting that Seifer attacked his training out in the afternoon sun west of Balamb Garden. Sweat glistened off his finely-toned body and the sunlight glittered along the razor-honed edge of his favored weapon.
The Gunblade was often regarded as the most difficult weapon to use in all the world. Not use, Seifer corrected himself, use properly. It required a fine edge of control to strike the target just right with the blade, and then it required an even more finely-tuned skill to trigger the revolver at just the right moment. Seifer had done it so many times, it had become like a routine for him. The results, however, were more impressive each time he won a victory. His accuracy improved, his strength, his damage. He had once been unbelievably clumsy, he reflected, in comparison with what he was today. At his last Field Exam, he had been a pathetic amateur, so unskilled as to be defeated by a pack of unthinking monsters. Then, he had been considered good with the Gunblade, by now he was a master.
His instructor in the Gunblade had been the enigmatic Sandoval, the Gunblade Master of Balamb Garden. Soon after Seifer’s failure at the Field Exam, Sandoval had vanished. No one had bothered to offer Seifer an explanation, but he continued to blame himself. It was his weakness which had caused Sandoval to leave. He was no longer weak, and he knew that when he succeeded, his mentor would know of it. And, he hoped, his mentor would be proud. Approval was not something Seifer sought, indeed he barely regarded it, but the approval of his mentor was a prize indeed. It was something he had never felt, and it was something he had surely failed to earn.
Snarling with self-constructed rage, Seifer executed a slash through the air. There was no need for an actual target, he could visualize one being torn in half as he depressed the trigger and felt the familiar recoil as a round was discharged. Seifer had fashioned himself into a weapon, a tool of war, a fighting machine. He executed a lightning-fast pivot, his weapon already rising in a tight arc through the air, the revolver of his Gunblade discharging another round at exactly the right instant. He spun again, his foot connecting with an imagined foe who crumpled under the force of Seifer the fighting machine. His Gunblade arced through the sunlight again, and he was rewarded with the feel of his invisible foe’s head leaving its body, and of glorious victory once more. It was just then that Jath Bridger arrived, perfectly on time for their scheduled training, and yet already two hours late for Seifer’s own regimen.
“Hey, Seifer. I knew I would find you right in the middle of things,” Jath said, looking quite different in his battle garb. Gone was the SeeD cadet uniform he wore inside the Garden, and instead he wore unremarkable gray street clothes, which he chose for total freedom of movement. Each of his hands was now adorned by a heavy glove, custom-made by Jath to bear wicked steel claws. Each claw was a blade several inches in length, serrated so as to tear at an opponent’s flesh when pulled out, and honed to a razor edge.
“Hail, Jath. I wasn’t doing anything important,” Seifer said easily, driving his Gunblade point-first into the soft earth and leaning upon it. He took a deep breath to relax himself, and exhaled slowly, coming down from his truly incredible battle-high. “Just a little training of my own, I want to be in top shape for the Field Exam.”
“You already are, my friend. It is inevitable that we should become SeeD, no other cadet has half our skill at combat.” Jath said, a cocky smirk flashing on his mild features.
“Maybe so,” Seifer agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t get better. And as long as I can get better, I will.”
“Fair enough. Shall we begin then?” Jath stretched out his fingers, fully displaying the devastating weapons which were his specialty. Seifer nodded slowly, drawing his Gunblade out of the ground and hefting it. The two moved off, in search of monsters.
Four hours, and hundreds of monsters, later, Seifer and Jath made their exhausted way back towards Balamb Garden. Seifer was very impressed with the lethal effectiveness of his friend’s claws, and his performance with his own Gunblade was, of course, exemplary. Seifer felt stronger with each enemy he defeated, with each victory he attained. Somewhere in the midst of battle, he had felt the true connection with his weapon, where the Gunblade became merely another part of his body. Another part of the finely tuned weapon that was Seifer Almasy. He knew, in those instants, that he could never be defeated again. There was simply no question.
“The hunting was good today,” Jath remarked with a grin, his own performance worthy of a great deal of confidence. Seifer nodded slowly, once again calling up memories of his own glorious victories.
“The hunting was very good. But, I think I would like to continue to train. You wanna come to the training area with me?” Seifer asked, somewhat confident that his friend would agree. He was eager to try to take down a T-Rexaur or two, they were very tough, and gave a good fight. Jath, however, hesitated, and when he responded it was not at all what Seifer had expected.
“I would love to join you, however I have a prior engagement. I am taking one of the female students out to dinner. She is in your class, I believe. Perhaps you know her?” Jath sounded only half-apologetic. Seifer struggled through the memories of combat to the various female students he knew or at least knew the faces of.
“That girl from the Cafeteria earlier?” Seifer asked.
“That is the one.” Jath replied, his eyes lost somewhere. Seifer imagined with an inward sneer, that he must be daydreaming about this girl. His memory failed him, which irritated him greatly, and he sighed.
“I dunno her name,” Seifer said finally, resigning himself to a night alone in the training area. There was no reason for him to fear, for no monster could match him, but still it was nice to have companions.
“Quistis,” Jath provided. “She is a very good fighter in her own right. Perhaps she and I will join you later this evening if you are still in the training area?” At this suggestion, Seifer brightened somewhat. Three of them would be able to kill any monster, defeat any foe.
“I plan on being there for quite a while,” Seifer replied. “If you wanna come down, feel free. I got a beef with the monsters in there.” Jath laughed at this.
“The only question, then, is how long they can hide from you, for in the end your wrath shall consume them to be sure. In that case, my friend, I shall seek you out later this evening. Good hunting.” Seifer hadn’t even noticed as they had drawn all the way up to the checkpoint. He held up his student ID and Jath did they same, and they were admitted into the Garden. Jath headed off, presumably to his own quarters to change, and Seifer headed directly for the Training Center. His blade a thirst for the blood of enemies, and for the glory of victory.
Seifer had never been quite as far into the Training Center as he was that night, his Gunblade flashing in dangerous arcs as he cleaved monster after monster apart. They kept on coming, only to be destroyed by the powerful tool of Garden that Seifer had fashioned himself into. He was merely awaiting the arrival of Jath, and Quistis. Together, they would be able to defeat anything. Seifer knew that he still had some weaknesses, but for now they could be overcome by his allies. Soon, they would disappear entirely.
“Hail, Seifer,” A soft voice called over the din of battle. Seifer rotated on the ball of his foot, his Gunblade ripping into the soft flesh of a monster even as he depressed the trigger, blowing the monster apart. He turned to regard the source of the voice, a man standing on a rock behind him and leaning casually against a tree, Jath Bridger. He was dressed in full battle-gear, including his most fearsome set of claws. Quistis stood next to him, carrying what looked like a coiled whip. Seifer had never considered her particularly attractive, but she certainly was not unpretty, and Seifer bowed his head to acknowledge their presence.
“Jath, Quistis. You are just in time to join me,” Seifer said, coolly holstering his Gunblade. “The three of us together will be equal to any challenge.”
“Confident as always, I see.” Jath replied with an easy smile. “I agree, perhaps we should look for a challenge, then.”
“If any are to be found which can test our mettle,” Seifer replied haughtily. He shrugged and started to move deeper into the Training Center. Just as he passed a tree he thought clear of monsters, a pair leaped out, attaching themselves to his back and driving their claws towards his vulnerable flesh. Seifer barely had time to react before he heard the whip crack, and felt the weight of one monster collapse off of him. Jath had the second an instant later, impaling the smallish parasite on his lethal claws and discarding it into the woods.
“Indeed. Let us be careful, oh fearless leader.” Quistis said with a laugh. Seifer was burning with embarrassment and anger as he continued to lead the way into the depths of the Training Center. Rumor had it that some truly horrible monsters had evolved deep within the Center, and Seifer intended to find them.
“Seifer and I are training to become the most formidable fighters in the history of SeeD,” Jath quipped as they walked through a denser section of the forest. “So far, we have already become the most formidable warriors in our class.” His tone was not gloating, Seifer reflected, but rather a simple statement of fact. There was some pride in their accomplishments, of course, but he might have been talking about the weather.
“I know. I’ve seen you two training,” Quistis replied. “Sometimes I wonder if you ever do anything else.”
“As if there were anything else to do,” Seifer said, seriousness evident in his tone. “Balamb Garden exists to train us to become the greatest fighting force in the world, and that’s what we intend to do.” Seifer’s voice rose with conviction, and a gleam appeared in his eyes, as he spoke, visions of glory and battle flashing through his mind’s eye.
“I don’t know about that, Seifer. There are other worthwhile pursuits.” Jath cast a significant glance over at Quistis, which Seifer missed entirely.
“Perhaps,” Seifer agreed, a bit reluctantly. The party continued on in silence for a while, encountering no monsters. Seifer was beginning to grow bored, there was not a particularly large amount of ground left to cover. It was chance that led him to turn astray and come into the next clearing, where just the monster he had been looking for awaited.
It was not exactly as Seifer had pictured it, although it certainly appeared formidable enough. It was a massive, shelled creature, with four arms. Each arm ended in a four-fingered hand, and each finger was tipped with a long talon. It had two heads, each with a single eye and a mouth full of horrific gnashing teeth. Standing a good fifteen feet tall, and massing at least eight times as much as any of the three cadets, it was an impressive sight to behold. Seifer struck first, his Gunblade glinting in the light as he attempted to strike straight for one of the heads. The monster proved more nimble than he had expected, leaping easily out of the way.
“Careful, Seifer!” Jath shouted, as a thick tail which had been hidden by the creature’s body whipped around. Seifer could see that it was tipped by a barb glistening with some sort of black fluid. He had a sudden horrible flashback to his first Field Exam, and the railroad-spike sized claw which had embedded itself in his back. He simply froze in place, unable to make any effort to dodge. Jath, however, was already in motion. His claws moved once, in a blur, and the tail’s progress was arrested as it caught upon the razor edge of Jath’s blade. The monster snarled horribly and lunged the rest of its formidable bulk at the claw-bearing warrior, only to be driven back by a lightning crash from Quistis’ whip upon its left head, and a simultaneous slash from Seifer into its gut. The monster snarled again, drawing back from them and lowering itself onto its two legs and four arms. Both mouths opened simultaneously, and a blueish mist sprayed in quantities from both open maws. Seifer was the first to react, vaulting onto the creature’s back and avoiding the mist completely. Quistis was right in its path, but Jath, too, was already in motion. He tackled her legs out from under her, and she fell hard to the ground with a thud just as the mist began to pass above her.
“Too close,” Jath muttered. Seifer barely heard him, as he fought desperately to maintain his place on the creature’s back, despite its attempts to throw him off. Then, in one perfect instant, he found the alignment he needed, and the Gunblade was driven through the top of one skull and out the jaw, and then Seifer depressed the trigger. The explosion was a violent one, bone fragments and bloodied tissue flying everywhere. The creature finally succeeded in throwing Seifer off in its violent reflexive reaction. Seifer fell to the ground, and before he could roll away, found one of the creature’s massive legs slamming down onto his leg.
Seifer felt incredibly lucky that the bone didn’t snap clean in half, he supposed the stomp must have been a glancing one as he rolled desperately out of the way. He swung his Gunblade in an arc through the creature’s knee, cleaving off the bottom part of the leg. He heard the crack of the whip again, and the creature recoiled away from him. He also saw Jath, moving in close to the creature and engaging in what reminded Seifer of a hideous mockery of boxing. Both combatants armed with terrible weapons, and with an intent to kill. Still, Seifer’s money was on Jath, and he was soon proved right to have such faith, as Jath landed three devastating stabs in a row to the creature’s chest. Seifer finally regained his feet, moving to melee range with Jath and waiting for just the right moment. He didn’t have to wait long, as the creature attempted to bring its remaining head into alignment with Jath, presumably to blow more gas, Seifer struck. The blade shimmered, and the gunshot was loud, and the creature’s head was no more. Seifer snarled, breathing hard, his blade stained with blackish blood. Another day, another conquest.
Seifer swung his Gunblade with all the violence he could muster, cleaving an unfortunate monster cleanly in half. No monster could stand against him. The events of the previous night were eating at him, at the very worst possible time. Jath and Quistis had come down, just as Jath had said they would. After the battle in the clearing, however, things had changed. Seifer could see the interaction between Jath and Quistis becoming more…involved. He had felt left in the dust the entire time, he supposed. Seifer swung again, decapitating another creature and then bringing his blade back down in one smooth arc, crippling a third monster. These monsters posed no challenge, and ordinarily Seifer would not have bothered with them. Today, however, he felt the supreme desire to kill something.
Jath and Quistis, that was what it had been all. Oh, of course, they had been polite enough, but they had been very much interested in each other and not in him. They had been very much interested in each other and not in training, not in fighting. Not in pursuing that art which was most sacred to Seifer, and should have been most sacred to them as well. Jath obviously was not concerned about the Field Exam, as he took training so lightly. But then, Jath had not had the humiliating experience of having failed such an exam. Neither of them had failed the way Seifer had failed, and that made it all the more important that he surpass them.
Love, that was not something that Seifer understood. Someday he hoped to feel it, perhaps, but he despaired of ever understanding it. But anger, that was a simple one, a more base emotion. Anger was what allowed him to fight better than he had ever fought before, and it was what drove his blade now. It was not Jath that Seifer found himself angry at, and it was not Quistis either. More than anything, it was anger at himself. Perhaps he felt the desire to experience something like what Jath had, he reflected. Or perhaps it was merely the upcoming Field Exam. He knew that he must not fail ever again. He had vowed to himself, recovering from his weakness for so many weeks in the hospital bed, that he would never fail again. That vow still held true.
“Seifer, your technique is exceptional, however you must learn to control yourself. In battle, dispassion is the safest state in which to remain.” Seifer found his precious concentration broken by the sudden, unwanted, input of the SeeD that happened to be intruding upon his practice. He supposed that the SeeD was supposed to be some sort of instructor, he had never bothered to look into it. He knew that he was being evaluated in some way, and it did not particularly worry him.
“Dispassion?” Seifer sneered. “If the monster makes me angry, then I’ll get angry. If that puts me “at risk”, then I’ll be at risk. The monster is more at risk, I’ll tell you right now. Don’t tell me how to fight, I can get along on my own” The SeeD did not look impressed, his face an impassive mask.
“Seifer. You have a Field Exam in two days. You must learn to control yourself to present yourself as a true SeeD. If you act so unprofessionally, you certainly will not even be considered for the position of full SeeD.” Seifer groaned inwardly, it was yet another lecture about the proper attitude for a SeeD. It was combat he wanted, not this ridiculous lecture again. He had heard it a thousand times from a dozen different instructors. Instructor Sandoval had proved the same point through a vastly different and more effective means, by showing that through combat a SeeD establishes how professional he is. That was the lesson that Seifer trusted in, and the only one that he would need.
“It is not our emotions, but our fighting skill which proves us as SeeDs,” Seifer replied, remembering well his lessons under Sandoval.
“No, Seifer! It is everything that establishes us as SeeD. Not merely our ability to fight, but also our ability to maintain the aura that a SeeD should have.” The SeeD spoke slowly, as if to a small child.
“And who determines what attitude that is?” Seifer shot back. The SeeD remained unruffled.
“Right now. You are angry, and I am not. You are like a child, and I am like a SeeD. That is the difference. You will learn this, or you will fail. You do not take me seriously, but remember well my words. Emotions will not fail you out of the Field Exam, but if you do not control yourself completely, you may be overlooked in favor of other cadets. If you let these emotions influence your actions, if you let your pride control you, then you will certainly never be a SeeD.” Seifer barely even heard the SeeD as he spoke. He knew that he was destined to become a SeeD, his combat skills certainly justified the position.
“As you say, sir,” Seifer said with a sarcastic sneer. The SeeD shrugged and said no more. Seifer sheathed his Gunblade, the monsters all having been destroyed some time before. He began to walk away before the SeeD spoke again.
“Seifer.” The SeeD said quietly, and Seifer stopped walking, turning to face the instructor. “After the debacle of your last Exam, you were stripped of the Guardian Force Shiva. It will be returned to you on loan now. Contact your Homeroom Teacher to acquire it. That is all, dismissed.” The SeeD did not move, and Seifer continued to move away, sneering to himself at the thought of having to speak to the useless dullard - Kavlin. Kavlin was one of those instructors who had become an instructor through academic ability alone. He could retain an impossible amount of worthless knowledge, and though he imparted no combat skills, he certainly taught his students which books to avoid at all costs. Namely, those which were his favorites. Seifer knew, however, that he needed the Guardian Force to enhance his performance at the Field Exam. Jath was using the Guardian Force Quetzcoatl, and he had trained with it enough to where his enhanced skills surpassed Seifer’s un-enhanced abilities.
“Thank you, sir.” Seifer bit out, already looking ahead to the trek back to Balamb Garden, alone and undisturbed.
“Ah, Seifer. Good to see you.” Instructor Kavlin peered over his spectacles to regard the student slouched against a desk before him. “I thought you should know that you passed the Final Examination, and you are at the top of your class in combat skills, and you will be participating in the SeeD Field Exam.” Seifer had already known this, and he had little patience for Kavlin, who spoke in a dreary monotone and tended to remain completely inanimate save for the occasional blink of the eyes.
“Yes, sir.” Seifer replied instead, keeping his personal feelings to himself. He was known as outspoken, but he also knew how to get what he wanted.
“You are here to pick up your Guardian Force, are you not?” Kavlin inquired, tapping a pencil thoughtfully against his teeth.
“Yes, sir.” Seifer replied, his impatience bleeding into his tone. The Guardian Force should never have been taken from him in the first place, because clearly he would not fail again.
“Very well. It’s currently stored in your terminal.” Kavlin nodded slowly. “Good luck on the Field Exam, hopefully this time you will become a SeeD, Seifer.” And with that, he was back to grading assignments. Seifer slumped over to his terminal, if Kavlin’s uselessness was the greatest trial he had to face, then he would already have been a SeeD.
“Students of Balamb Garden, my name is Instructor Inia Saln,” The voice was a strong, clear alto, amplified by the microphone that the instructor carried. She wore her formal SeeD uniform, though she carried no weapon. Seifer didn’t feel the least uncomfortable under her glare, nor the glare of the dozen or so other faculty standing on the elevated dais before him. “And you are here today to embark upon your SeeD Field Exam. This is a necessary part of the initiation process for all SeeDs. My purpose is to give you your orders. The situation as it stands is a desperate one. In the midst of the ocean south of here, a passenger ship has been ambushed by an unknown quantity of enemies and seized. The enemies also have not been identified. This information came into our possession just forty minutes ago. You SeeD candidates will be dispatched by boat, and you will retake the vessel and then escort it back to a safe harbor in Balamb.” She stood aside in the at rest position as Headmaster Cid stepped forward to speak.
“If the operation fails, SeeD members from Garden will finish the job. They will not fail, they never do. Remember that a withdrawal order takes priority over any other standing orders. The interested parties in this operation have been most generous in their offer of payment to SeeD, and thus we will be dispatching you within the next few minutes, and we do not expect a withdrawal order to be issued. Remember, you must operate within the mission guidelines and follow SeeD regulations if you expect to become a member of our elite fighting force. I am very proud of each one of you, and I wish to see you succeed, and I know that each one of you has the potential to do so. Whether or not you will succeed, well, that is up to you. That is all, dismissed.”
Headmaster Cid stepped back, and the various SeeDs standing on the platform behind him leapt down into the crowd, issuing orders to the various squads. Seifer heard vaguely that he and Jath Bridger were to be assigned to Assault Ship 3, such matters were not his concern. It was his concern to become a SeeD, to achieve the ultimate victory. No matter the cost.
The leap was a good one, carrying Seifer up and over the railing, his weapon already at the ready. He was eager to draw blood, and he would not be disappointed. Barely had his feet touched the ground, then he felt rather than saw two gunmen lining up for a shot. Moving with the speed of a honed, well-oiled machine, Seifer leaped aside behind a lifeboat, hopelessly obstructing their view. Then, he did what they did not expect, leaping onto the lifeboat itself, and then lunging in one swift motion, his Gunblade driving into the throat of the first gunman. The man staggered backwards, doomed, but Seifer knew it had taken too long, and he prepared himself for the hail of bullets to enter his body.
“Watch yourself,” Came the calm voice instead, and Seifer knew that Jath Bridger had entered the fight. He was not surprised to see the second man’s throat cut. He was also not disappointed to note that at least a dozen more enemies were being engaged by various SeeD candidates.
“Let’s go!” Seifer roared over the din of battle, his Gunblade shimmering as he ran to the fray. Jath was right beside him as they defeated enemy after enemy. The entire battle was as a blur to Seifer, and he knew that he had reached the peak of physical excellence that he had always desired.
The next thing that he truly knew, he and Jath were preparing to descend to a lower deck. The top deck was reasonably secure, but Seifer was certain that some of the enemies had to be hiding out below decks. That kind of close-quarters fighting was extremely dangerous, but Jath was a close quarters specialist, and Seifer was skilled enough that he was confident he could handle himself with the slightly more awkward Gunblade.
Their worst expectations, however, could not have prepared them for the carnage that they found as soon as they descended to the first level below the top deck. There was a terrific stench of death pervading the still air in the absolute darkness of the depths of the ship. Jath was the first to find a light switch. He switched it on to reveal what both of them had feared, there were passengers everywhere, butchered and torn apart. Various human parts littered the floors, and splattered against the walls. Almost everything in the room they found themselves in was soaked with blood.
“What kind of sick monsters would kill civilians like this?” Jath wondered, sounding positively bitter. Seifer shrugged.
“I don’t know. It’s our job to kill them, so let’s get to it.” And with that, he was off down one of the corridors. Jath followed behind, a little cautious, perhaps hoping not to step into any human entrails. If that was his intention, Seifer reflected, it was probably doomed to failure. He wondered if anyone on the entire ship was still alive, as they continued onward.
“Seifer, I do not like this.” Jath muttered. “Whatever killed those people sure as hell was not a gun, and I would rather not end up like that.” Seifer sighed heavily and turned to regard his friend.
“Do you really think it’s somethin’ we can’t handle?” He demanded. Jath shrugged uneasily, but said no more. Seifer peered at him for a moment, and then shrugged, and they were continuing on once again.
They searched the entire deck, plowing through more than their share of dismembered corpses, and had yet to see a single enemy to fight. Three times Jath had been certain he had heard a most disturbing noise, and all three times Seifer had sneered and said there was nothing to be afraid of.
“I suppose we should continue down to the next level,” Jath said quietly. “Are there even other members in our squad?”
“Yeah,” Seifer said. “I haven’t seen them since we got off the boat.”
“Maybe we should fi-“ Jath was cut off in mid-sentence by a cry from somewhere below them. He turned instantly, noting there was a staircase headed down to the next level. He started towards the stairs. “Somebody down there is in trouble,” He had taken only a few steps, when a booming voice sounded from the corridor behind Seifer.
“At last I’ve found you!” The voice roared, and both fighters turned to face the source of the voice. “…we’ve been looking everywhere,” The voice said, sounding somewhat more relieved, and Jath saw two other SeeD candidates approaching.
“Yeah? What do you want?” Seifer asked, sheathing his Gunblade and approaching them. Jath didn’t move.
“Several SeeD candidates have already been killed on the level below this, and we have yet to even determine how they died. One entire team has disappeared, and the mission is to be counted as a failure. The withdrawal order has been given,” The lead candidate said calmly.
“Which team?” Jath asked, an odd sound in his voice.
“Team 6.” The candidate replied. “Come at once, we have only twenty minutes to comply with orders.” He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, already headed back towards the top deck of the ship. Seifer snarled and bashed a hand against the wall.
“This is ridiculous! We just barely got here. There’s nothing on this whole ship that we can’t handle!! I can’t believe it…and…what’s wrong?” Seifer turned, finally noting his friend’s odd silence.
“…Quistis is in Team 6.” Jath replied softly, an edge of worry creeping into his voice. Seifer’s eyes lit up.
“Really. Well, suppose we go and rescue her.” Jath’s reverie was broken as he contemplated Seifer’s words.
“We will fail the exam if we do not meet the withdrawal order.” He said, but Seifer shook his head violently.
“They don’t fail heroes. If we bring her back in one piece, they’ll have to admit that we’re the best.”
“…Thanks.” Jath said, his voice still quiet, as he started down the steps. “Let us hurry.”
It took nearly ten minutes to search the next deck down. They encountered a number of slaughtered SeeD candidates, as well as some slaughtered passengers, and quite a few dead gunmen of the same sort they had battled on the top deck of the ship. Jath was beginning to get hopeless, and even Seifer was considering turning back, when they happened to hear a terrific crash from the room next to them. Casting barely a glance at each other, they dashed into the corridor and opened the next chamber over, entering into a well-lit dining room. The tables were laid out with food, but the people in the room all seemed to be dead, with the exception of three. There was one gigantic man wearing black, a very-frightened young lady huddling in the corner, and Quistis with her whip facing off against the man.
“Quistis!” Jath shouted, and she looked up. A mistake, for in that instant the huge man rushed her, gripped her in one massive hand, and hurled her brutally against the wall. His other hand swung into view, and Seifer and Jath knew exactly what it was that had dismembered all those people. The man’s entire left hand was replaced with a mechanical claw, with razor-sharp blades instead of fingers. Jath looked down at his own gloves, and bit off a cry, charging at the huge man.
Seifer was barely a step behind his friend at the start, and they reached the huge man at the same time, Jath’s right claw glancing off the apparently armored back of the gigantic man. Finally, the man turned, and Jath’s second strike was broken off by a gasp of horror. The man’s face was simply gone. A few burned and tattered remains of flesh clutched vainly at the blackened and cracked skull. One eye was a gouged, bleeding mass of pus. The other was bloodshot and angry, almost colorless, and focused squarely on Jath as the gigantic man struck with his left hand. Seifer, however, was faster. His Gunblade struck the arm, deflecting it from its course, but having little effect on the apparently armored limb.
Jath struck next, with a kick to the man’s jaw that caused him to stumble backwards. Taking advantage of his sudden imbalance, Seifer surged in for the kill, his Gunblade seeking the man’s stomach. At the same time, Quistis escaped from behind the man, heading for the young lady in the corner. Seifer’s Gunblade met flesh this time, and he triggered a shot, but was not rewarded with so much as a grunt from the huge man. Instead, he felt himself being physically lifted from the ground, and hurled back. He hit the wall with a solid thud, the impact knocking the wind out of him. The big man was already in motion, his fist crashing straight into the side of Seifer’s head, and the left arm swinging up for the kill. It was difficult to retain consciousness, but Seifer managed it somehow, and darted like a snake to avoid the slash of the claws. He kicked savagely into the big man’s stomach, hoping to drive him backwards. But this time, the man simply shrugged off the attack and brought his claw up again.
“Seifer!” A voice, calm and lethal, rang out from behind the big man. Jath Bridger leapt to the attack, literally leaping onto the man’s back and sinking both of his claws into the flesh somewhere around the shoulders. The man was wearing a metal collar of some sort, Seifer saw, and it would be difficult to kill him from the throat. The huge man let out a feral snarl this time, whipping himself around and dashing straight back into the wall, intending to crush Jath between his weight and the metal of the wall. Jath leapt clear at the last second, landing before the big man and holding his claws up and at the ready.
He was too slow. The big man was already surging forward, throwing both Jath and Seifer aside like ninepins. He turned his attention back to Quistis, who was trying to bring the young lady in the corner back to her senses. He advanced almost silently, and Quistis was quite surprised when she felt the tremendous force of the huge man’s fist connecting with her head. She collapsed on the floor, and remembered no more. The young lady was the big man’s next target, and he slashed ruthlessly with his claw, splattering the walls with more blood and fragments of internal tissues.
“Gotta stop him, Seifer…” Jath spat out blood and rose to his feet, his claws up and at the ready as he charged to the attack again. Seifer was slower to regain his feet, as he too rushed at the huge man. The man whirled away from Quistis, his claw striking hard against Jath’s raised claws, and forcing him to back away again. Seifer snarled, seeking a way through the big man’s defenses with his Gunblade, but it was no use. He was just too fast, and the damage they had already inflicted simply was not slowing him down, even though they could clearly see blood oozing out of the wounds on the huge man. They both attacked at once, seeking to strike the man down, and despite several minutes of trying, they accomplished little more than winding themselves. The huge man finally struck back, knocking Seifer aside once more with his right fist. His left claw however, also found its mark.
Jath’s head exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments, as Seifer watched in disgust from some distance away. The claw had reduced his friend to a lifeless sack of meat. Seifer bellowed, flames dancing along the edge of his Gunblade as he rushed the big man again, swinging wildly. His blade burned with a hot fury, and inflicted wound after wound on the huge man, but he kept taking more abuse and started to pound on Seifer with his fist. Seifer availed these blows not, and as the claw started to rise, he snarled and swung his Gunblade at it, slicing it cleanly in half, such was his anger. The big man seemed startled at this, but Seifer’s Gunblade was swung too far out of line, and the big man knocked him aside again. He slammed against the wall, but regained his feet almost immediately, the hope of final victory blazing in his mind.
“Shiva!” He cried, and was rewarded. For this time, he had remembered to junction his powerful Guardian Force. She appeared there in the dining room, in her icy glory, and Seifer shivered as the temperature of the room dropped drastically. Her fingertips extended, and chilling energy erupted in the form of a shower of blue dust directly at the huge man. He was caught completely off guard, and thrown back himself under the onslaught. Seifer watched, and gloated, as the big man was frozen solid by the onslaught. Shiva vanished as Seifer himself roared again, his blade still fiery, as he swung through the ice block. It shattered into a thousand fragments, littering the deck, and Seifer snarled again at the empty air, for he was victorious again.
Victorious but not a SeeD, he reflected from the familiar setting of the infirmary bed. The withdrawal order has priority. Jath was dead, Quistis’ memory of the incident had vanished with her own knock on the head. Seifer had explained it to her, and in many ways that was worse. She had been broken up for weeks. But at least she could still walk. Seifer’s own injuries were very severe indeed, and he had been well on his way to death when the adrenaline had died down. It would be months before he could do much of anything. He could already feel his combat edge eroding. He had failed, he sighed wistfully. And now he had only himself to rely on. But he still had his dreams, there were still chances in life for a young, powerful man such as Seifer Almasy. Quistis had become a SeeD, but he had not. Life was unfair, and someday he would have revenge. And he would never fail again...