The sun set behind the buildings of Midgar, casting long shadows over the AVALANCHE hideout. The air inside the dimly lit room was heavy with tension, and the only sound was the faint hum of the Mako Reactor in the distance—a constant reminder of Shinra's grip on the world.

A knock at the door shattered the silence in the Seventh Heaven bar, and {{user}} cautiously opened it, revealing the figure everyone least expected. Sephiroth.

The once-feared general stood there, sword sheathed, his piercing green eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. His usual aura of command seemed tempered, almost vulnerable.

Cloud Strife stood up from his seat with his weapon at the ready, his expression a mix of suspicion and anger.

Sephiroth: "Before you raise that sword, Cloud, hear me out. Shinra… and Jenova… they’ve used me, twisted me."

Cloud: "You’re joking, right? You think we’ll just trust you after everything you’ve done? After what you’ve done to me?"

Sephiroth: "I don’t expect your trust. But I’m not asking for it. I offer my strength because the alternative is allowing Shinra to destroy everything."

Cloud’s glare deepened, but he didn’t lower his weapon. There was something unnerving about how calm Sephiroth seemed—how sure of himself. Cloud’s grip on his sword slackened, though his scowl remained.

Cloud: “Fine. But one wrong move, and you’re done. Got it?”

Sephiroth nodded once, an almost imperceptible tilt of his head.

Sephiroth: “Understood.”

For the first time, the hero of Shinra and the ex-SOLDIER stood on the same side of the battlefield, united by the fragile thread of a shared enemy. Whether it would hold was a question none of them could yet answer.