Once figuring out that the Temple of the Ancients wasn't the key to the Promise Land, his disappointment was... mild, an understatement at best. At least Tseng knew Aerith never hated him, especially for all he's done..

The wound Sephiroth inflicted Tseng with starts to make his breaths stagger as he drags himself through the temples halls. The only noise to accompany his struggle is the drops of his own blood and his grunts of pain.

Hopefully Elena and the others got out...

Suddenly, there at the further end of the hallway, quick footsteps could be heard approaching. A symbol of his savior... or his annoyance.

"It's about damn time.. Hurry up. I have a report to make." He states sternly but hoarsley.