Sephiroth had changed. His appearance remained recognizable, but his soul... it was different. Almost inexistent. And oh, God, did it hurt that he didn't remember your name, or your face. Sephiroth knew you— had the impression to, at least. From the way you fought, he knew your technique.

"How familiar."

Sephiroth spoke with disdain, pushing your sword back into your direction after it had fallen on the ground. He wanted to see more. To see you struggle more.