The familiar scent of stale beer and cleaning supplies, mixed with a faint metallic tang from Barret's gun-arm, filled the comforting dimness of Seventh Heaven.
Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge were sprawled on the worn couch, trading tired jokes.
Tifa, ever the gracious host, bustled behind the bar, preparing food and fresh drinks. Barret, surprisingly quiet, nursed his potent bottle, his formidable gun-arm resting on the polished counter.
Arthur, still holding Aerith's hand, felt the last of the adrenaline drain away. The gentle hum of the Lifestream through her touch was a steady, calming presence.
He knew he'd done something incredible, something that had saved them all, but the explanation he'd given was just a tiny piece of the truth.
He couldn't tell them about Dragon Gods or other realities; it was too much for their world. His "energy manipulation" story was the best he could do to protect their understanding.
Cloudia, however, remained a silent observer by the dartboard, her massive Buster Sword leaning beside her. Though the tension around her eyes had eased, her gaze was still sharp, watchful.
She'd seen what Arthur could do, and her mind was clearly working, trying to fit this new puzzle piece into her own fragmented memories.
As the night wore on, the general chatter of Seventh Heaven became a low hum, a backdrop to Cloudia's swirling thoughts. The exhaustion was a dull ache, but it was nothing compared to the persistent, haunting fragments of her past.
The mission had stirred something deep inside her, something tied to the power she'd seen in Arthur. It wasn't the same, not exactly, but it had a similar, impossible feel.
Her mind replayed images: a flash of silver hair, the gleam of an impossibly long sword, a voice both chilling and strangely familiar. Sephira.
The name was a whisper in her mind, a shadow stretching across her memories. She was supposed to be dead, a legendary SOLDIER hero who had fallen.
Yet, these fragments, these flashes of white-hot power and chilling determination, felt undeniably real. They were like broken pieces of a mirror, showing a terrifying truth she couldn't quite grasp.
She remembered Sephira's movements, the sheer, overwhelming power she had. It wasn't just brute strength; it was something else, something almost unnatural.
Watching Arthur today, deflecting bullets with an invisible force, disarming an enemy without touching them—it echoed that same impossible, otherworldly quality. It made her question everything she thought she knew, to wonder if her own memories were reliable.
She glanced at Arthur again. He looked tired, but there was a quiet strength about him, a depth she was just beginning to understand.
He was holding something back, she knew it. Something big. Part of her, the SOLDIER part that craved answers, wanted to know. But another part, a more human part, understood the need for secrets, for protection.
Meanwhile, unknown to the others in Seventh Heaven, a different kind of encounter was unfolding in Arthur's mind. As he leaned back, the last of the mission's adrenaline fading, he felt a familiar, unsettling shift in the air around him.
It wasn't a physical feeling, more like a ripple in reality, a disturbance only he could sense.
Suddenly, a swirling, formless presence appeared just beyond his vision, like a distortion in space itself.
It was a Whisperer, one of the guardians of fate.
Its form was indistinct, a shadowy cloaked figure with glowing eyes, radiating an unsettling sense of being from another world.
The Whisperer didn't speak with a voice, but with a presence that resonated directly in Arthur's mind, a cold, unfeeling message. Fates diverge. Anomalies persist. Correction must occur.
Arthur felt a chill, despite the comforting warmth of Aerith's hand. He knew what the Whisperers were. They were enforcers of destiny, beings that made sure events happened as they were supposed to.
His very presence, his powers from another reality, was an anomaly. He was an unpredictable element, a wrench in fate's gears, and they were there to push things back onto their "correct" path.
He didn't reply aloud, but his thoughts were defiant. I won't let you dictate our fate. We choose our own path.
The Whisperer's presence grew stronger, a silent pressure pressing down on him. Interference will be met with resistance. The flow of the Lifestream... must be preserved.
Before Arthur could push back, the Whisperer flickered, its form wavering. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving only a lingering chill and the unnerving feeling of being watched.
No sooner had the Whisperer vanished than another, far more powerful presence made itself known in Arthur's mind. This time, it wasn't a ripple, but a roaring tide of energy, grand and ancient.
[This is getting interesting, I thought there would be no danger to you. But now there are.]
A beautiful voice, resonant, echoed in his thoughts, a voice that rumbled like thunder and flowed like molten gold.
It was Great Red.
Her essence was vast, cosmic, encompassing all of creation. She had been protecting Arthur, as she often did.
Then, a second voice, cold and smooth as silk, joined in.
[They are... persistent. A nuisance.] said Ophis.
"They want to correct things. To erase me."
Great Red's thought-voice boomed with beautiful wisdom.
[They are guardians of a specific causality. Your existence, your powers, are... outside their algorithms. You are a variable they cannot compute.]
Ophis's voice was sharp.
[You are an anomaly. They will continue to seek your removal. Your path here complicates their 'natural order'.]
"So what do I do? Fight them?"
Great Red chuckled.
[To fight them directly is... inefficient. They are not beings of individual will in the way you understand. They are extensions of a cosmic directive. Like the current of a river. You cannot fight the river itself.]
Ophis offered a more practical, albeit chilling, solution.
[You must adapt. Like water flowing around an obstacle. If you cannot be removed, you become... part of the flow. Or you eliminate the source of their directive.]
Her words were delivered with a detached, almost scientific tone.
"Eliminate the source? What does that even mean?"
Arthur wondered, a knot forming in his stomach.
Great Red's thought-voice softened slightly.
[You have a unique connection to this world's life force through your destined mate in this world, the Lifestream. And to the girl. This connection grounds you, makes you less of an 'outside' variable to their limited perception. Strengthen that connection. Become more entwined with this reality.]
[And learn to hide your true nature,]
Ophis added.
[The more you reveal, the more they will pursue. Your 'energy manipulation' is a good start. Keep it vague. Keep it... human.]
The implications settled heavily on Arthur. He was a cosmic anomaly, a disruption to the very fabric of fate, and powerful beings from other dimensions were either watching him, trying to erase him, or giving him cryptic advice.
"So, I have to be careful not to be too overpowered or not to be nerfed,"
Arthur thought, his grip on Aerith's hand tightening almost imperceptibly.
"And I have to get even stronger than this within the scope of this world reality. That is just insane, not just for Avalanche, but to protect... everything."
[The path you choose to walk is always fraught with peril]
[The Whisperers will come again. Be prepared. And remember... stillness can be a powerful shield.]
They then went silent after saying that, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts, the hum of the Lifestream, and the comforting sounds of his friends in Seventh Heaven.
He opened his eyes, looking at Aerith, who was still smiling softly, oblivious to the cosmic conversation he had just had. Her innocent warmth was a stark contrast to the chilling realities he now faced.
He was no longer just a member of Avalanche; he was a pivotal piece in a much larger game, caught between the will of fate and the boundless power of entities beyond human comprehension.
The quiet evening in Seventh Heaven was just a momentary calm before the storm. He knew, with absolute certainty, that their fight was far from over, and his role in it was only just beginning to unfold.
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