The Colosseum trembled with anticipation. Repairs had been finished, the dust settled, and the crowd packed back in, louder than before. Torches burned high along the stone walls, throwing shadows across the freshly restored stage.
Phil's voice bellowed through the arena. "Alright, folks! Next up in the Advanced Cup—give it up for a rookie and a legend! Our very own golden boy, Hercules—versus the one-winged nightmare himself… Sephiroth!"
The stadium roared as Hercules strode out onto the field, chin high, nerves masked by a brave smile. He raised one hand to wave, the other tightening into a fist at his side. The cheering gave him courage, but his stomach still knotted.
From the opposite tunnel, Sephiroth emerged.
The noise changed. Excitement turned to awe, awe to unease. He walked with measured grace, each step deliberate, the long black coat trailing behind him like the shadow of a falling star. The Masamune glinted, impossibly long, reflecting torchlight in a line sharp enough to split silence. His cold green eyes swept the Colosseum once, then settled on Hercules.
Hercules inhaled slowly. 'You've beaten Hades. You've wrestled monsters. Just another fight. Just another fight…'
Phil clapped his hands together. "BEGIN!"
Sephiroth moved.
The Masamune sang through the air in a flurry too fast to track. Hercules barely had time to bring up his forearms before the first slash struck, then the second, the third. The blade carved sparks from his bracers, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. By the sixth, Hercules had been forced three steps back, his boots gouging furrows in the stone.
"Fast!" Hercules gasped.
Sephiroth vanished.
The next blow came from behind, grazing Hercules' side as he twisted at the last moment. He countered with a wide, heavy punch. Sephiroth caught the fist on the flat of the Masamune, redirected it, and slashed upward in the same motion. Hercules stumbled back, sparks flashing across his chestplate.
The crowd gasped, unsure whether to cheer or scream.
Hercules gritted his teeth. Alright. No holding back.
He charged, head thrust forward in a Headbutt Rush. His skull met only steel. Sephiroth slid aside, blade angled down, and Hercules' momentum carried him into a punishing counterkick that knocked the wind from his chest.
The boy hero staggered. Sephiroth didn't press. He waited, calm, poised, studying him with detachment.
Hercules planted his feet, anger pushing back the ache. He leapt high and crashed down with a Detonation Attack. The impact shook the ground, cracks splitting the repaired stone, dust billowing upward.
Sephiroth stood untouched, a blur beyond the edge of the shockwave. His voice drifted, smooth and cold. "Clumsy."
Hercules bristled. "We'll see about that!"
He spread his arms, summoning golden fire into his palms. Twin spheres of radiant aura flared and hurled forward. Sephiroth's blade cut once—twice—and both Aura Spheres split apart, bursting harmlessly into sparks.
The Masamune snapped forward in the same instant, its reach impossible, and grazed Hercules' cheek before he even realized Sephiroth had moved.
Blood welled.
Hercules' heart hammered. He raised his hands, calling on the one defense that never failed him. Golden radiance erupted, covering his body in a shimmering dome. Aura Guard. For five heartbeats, he was untouchable.
Sephiroth tilted his head, intrigued.
Then he tested it.
The Masamune struck the dome once. Twice. Thrice. Sparks cascaded, but the barrier held. Hercules smirked. "Not so easy now, huh?"
Sephiroth's smile was faint, predatory. "Interesting."
He vanished again. Blades of light carved against the golden aura from every direction, faster and faster, a storm of slashes hammering the invincible barrier. The Colosseum gasped as the golden shield shone under the assault.
And then it flickered.
The crowd screamed.
Hercules felt sweat bead on his brow. 'He's testing it. Trying to cut through…'
The invincibility faded, golden light dispersing. Hercules had no time to recover before Sephiroth struck. The Masamune carved a line across his shoulder, shallow but burning, followed by a brutal kick that sent him sprawling.
Hercules crashed to the floor, coughing, his vision blurred.
Sephiroth walked, unhurried, the tip of his sword dragging lightly across the stone. "Temporary invulnerability. Impressive… but limited."
Hercules pushed himself up, shaking. "I'm not done yet!"
He charged again, fist glowing, and slammed a Punch into Sephiroth's chest. The hit connected—but the one-winged angel barely moved, the golden bracer on his arm catching most of the blow. He retaliated instantly, blade grazing Hercules' side in a slash so clean it barely left blood.
The crowd shouted encouragement, but it was nervous, faltering.
Sephiroth raised his free hand. Orbs of darkness spun into being—Shadow Flares. They circled Hercules, homing, darting in from every angle. He swung, batted some away, but the rest exploded against his body in searing fire. Smoke filled the ring.
When it cleared, Hercules was on one knee, armor scorched.
The hero roared, standing again. His aura blazed gold once more, barrier reforming. He hurled another pair of Aura Spheres, forcing Sephiroth back. For a moment, the crowd found hope again.
Then Sephiroth lifted his blade skyward.
A wall of fire erupted in front of him, massive pillars twisting upward—Firaga Wall. It roared like a furnace, sucking air and stone into its heat. Hercules' Aura Spheres vanished against the flames.
The Masamune slid through the fire like a serpent, tip piercing the golden dome and shoving Hercules back another step.
Sephiroth's eyes gleamed with quiet hunger. "Can it be broken?"
Hercules gritted his teeth, pressing forward, both hands against the blade. The aura still held, but every strike rattled him to his bones. His breath came harder with each blow.
Sephiroth stepped back, lowering his sword. His hand extended once more, energy gathering into a terrible stillness.
"Heartless Angel."
The words cut the air like a curse. A dark halo shimmered above Hercules, draining his strength, his magic, his breath. His knees buckled, aura flickering. 'No—can't—'
The crowd roared in panic. "Stop him! Stop him! Come on, Hercules, I bet on you; you better not let me down!"
Hercules, gasping, pushed through the haze. His last reserve of willpower surged, fist glowing gold. With a desperate roar, he lunged forward, punching the Masamune aside before the spell could complete. The halo shattered.
The stadium erupted in cheers.
Sephiroth only smiled faintly, intrigued rather than frustrated. "I guess you really are part god. You can resist."
He vanished again. The Masamune's edge raked Hercules' back, then his chest, then his shoulder, faster than the crowd could follow. The hero staggered under the rain of blows, each blocked punch or kick countered by a slash.
Still, Hercules refused to fall. Every impact he absorbed, every stumble he corrected, the golden aura returning in flashes, protecting him for precious heartbeats at a time.
Sephiroth circled, relentless. The Masamune sang again, carving sparks, pressing closer, probing for weakness.
Hercules braced, fists raised, jaw clenched. His aura flared again, blinding gold. For five seconds, he was untouchable. He charged with a roar, fist slamming into Sephiroth's chest, then another, then another, punches raining down like hammers.
For the first time, Sephiroth's feet slid back across the stone.
The crowd roared in triumph.
But then the aura faded.
And the Masamune answered.
One slash cut across Hercules' arm. Another carved sparks from his armor. A third split the stone beneath him. Sephiroth flowed around each punch, each desperate counter, his strikes sharper, faster, merciless.
Dust clouded the arena as the two titans clashed, gold and silver light flashing in bursts.
When the haze cleared, Hercules stood bruised, bleeding, panting, fists raised but trembling.
Sephiroth's coat didn't have a scratch. His blade gleamed immaculate. He tilted his head, calm, eyes narrowing with fascination. "So even you… cannot endure forever."
The crowd held its breath.
Phil stomped at the edge of the ring, bellowing, "C'mon, kid! Don't let him get in your head! Remember your training!"
But Hercules already knew. He wasn't winning. He just had to survive as long as he could so as not to be a laughingstock. He had bad luck to be paired up with the reigning champ.
The Masamune rose again. The golden aura flickered once more. The match raged on.