The world was breaking.
Zack braced his glowing sword against the Iron Colossus, its molten cracks spilling fire across the desert. Beside him, dunes bled into rotting forest, roots tearing through sand. Poison mist rolled in from Aerith's corrupted glade, choking the air. Lightning split the sky where Galuf struggled against his Chimera Cub. A shadow of wings blotted out the heavens as Noctis and the Wyvern clashed above. And far off, the Juggernaut roared, tearing stone into storm.
Each trial had failed. The barriers were gone. The realms had merged.
The ground beneath their feet fractured into a nightmare patchwork — desert craters, poisoned groves, storm-drowned caverns, and jagged mountain peaks jutting like broken teeth. Twilight bled through the cracks, turning the battlefield into a mosaic of ruin.
And the monsters did not stay separate.
The Iron Colossus bellowed, molten seams splitting wider. Roots from the Treant lashed around its arms, fusing bark with iron. Chimera heads sprouted from its shoulders, spitting venom and flame. The Wyvern's wings tore free from its back, veined with black fire that devoured the sky. Horns curled upward as void ichor from the Juggernaut poured into the seams, sealing the abomination with a foul pulse.
What rose from the twilight was no single creature but an amalgam — a monstrosity stitched from all five trials. Its body was a tangle of steel, root, venom, and flame. Its cry was five voices at once, a roar so loud it cracked the air itself.
The Twilight Behemoth.
Zack was the first to charge. "Everyone, together!" he shouted, throwing himself forward. His bastard sword blazed with holy light as he intercepted a claw strike before it crushed Aerith. The impact hurled him backward, boots carving trenches in the stone-sand.
Aerith staggered, staff raised, lilies blooming desperately around her. She tried to cleanse the poison seeping from the Behemoth's roots, but the sickness was endless. Every wave of light drained her body until her breaths came shallow. "It's too strong—my magic can't keep up!"
Galuf leapt from a fractured peak, fists glowing with chakra. He slammed into the Behemoth's flank, raining blows that echoed like thunder. Fire burst, lightning spat, venom sprayed — each strike forced him back, beard scorched and knuckles bleeding. Still, he barked, "Hah! You'll have to do better than that to kill me!"
High above, Noctis warped from cliff to sky, his spear flashing into the creature's wings. Black fire engulfed him, forcing him to dive again and again. His warps slowed, his body screamed, his arms shook. "I can't… keep up," he muttered, coughing smoke through grit teeth.
Reks buried his axe into one of the Behemoth's legs, void ichor spraying hot as blood. The monster swung a hammer-arm down, smashing him aside. Bone cracked, blood burst from his lips, and he staggered but did not fall. His axe was his crutch, his anchor.
Every strike they landed healed almost instantly. Every effort dragged them closer to collapse.
The Behemoth unleashed its storm. Venom sprayed across the battlefield, flame seared the sky, void roared through the cracks of reality itself. Lilies wilted. Shields splintered. The very air seemed poisoned.
Zack dropped to one knee, sword trembling in his hands. Aerith's staff shook as her vision blurred. Galuf's fists bled, his laugh broken by coughs. Noctis crashed onto stone, his lance buried deep, struggling to rise. Reks leaned on his axe, every breath a ragged growl.
The Behemoth loomed, five mouths yawning wide. A roar began to build — not sound, but erasure. A cry meant to unmake the battlefield itself.
Silence fell. Only five heartbeats thundered in the void.
---
Zack closed his eyes. In that silence he heard Angeal's voice, steady and stern: Embrace your dreams. Protect your honor. He remembered Cloud's wide eyes, Aerith's smile in the garden. He thought of every face he had sworn to stand before.
He rose, planting his sword in the fractured earth. His voice carried like dawn:
"My life for the lives of others. My sword is not mine alone — it is their shield!"
The crystal of the Paladin flared, sinking into his chest. Silver fire wrapped him, battered armor reforging into radiant mail. A white cape snapped in the storm.
The first bell tolled.
---
Aerith gasped, clutching her staff tighter. Midgar's slums bloomed in her memory — wilted flowers she coaxed to life, the children she had prayed for when no one else could. Zack's face, once lost, now stood alive before her.
Her voice was soft but unshakable.
"The flow of life is endless. I will nurture it, even at the cost of my own."
The crystal of the White Mage ignited. Lilies bloomed radiant at her feet, their glow unfading now. Her robes gleamed with threads of green and white, her staff crowned with a halo of Lifestream.
The second bell tolled.
---
Galuf spat blood into the dirt, shoulders sagging but eyes still fierce. He thought of Krile, of Bartz, Lenna, and Faris, of the world he had saved once already. He thought of the years stolen from him — and the chance given back.
"Body, mind, spirit — all one rhythm," he said through a grin split with blood. "Even if age breaks my bones, my will won't bend."
He slammed his fists together, chakra blazing. "Through discipline of body, I find freedom of spirit. My fists are the echo of my will!"
The crystal of the Monk pulsed within him. His fists glowed like suns, his stance flowing with ageless rhythm.
The third bell tolled.
---
Noctis dragged himself upright, lance shaking in his grip. Bahamut's decree echoed in his skull: You must die to save the world. His father's crown. His friends' sacrifices. His own walk into the crystal. His death.
"No more," he snarled. His voice rose into a roar that split the storm. "I rise to strike from the skies. My spear pierces fate itself!"
The crystal of the Dragoon fused into him. His eyes burned gold, aether wings unfurled for a heartbeat behind him. His lance shimmered azure, sharper than destiny's chains.
The fourth bell tolled.
---
Reks coughed red, his body breaking under wounds too many to count. Nalbina flashed in his mind — his body pierced, his brother screaming. He should have died. He had died. But here he stood again.
His voice rasped but steady:
"Pain is not my end. Rage is not my master. I wield both — and endure."
The crystal of the Warrior seared into him. His scars blazed crimson, his axe burning in his hands. His wounds no longer bled — not healed, but hardened into marks of endurance.
The fifth bell tolled.
---
The battlefield trembled. Five crystals pulsed together, weaving silver, green, gold, azure, and crimson across the twilight. Their exhaustion bled away, replaced by resolve etched into the air itself.
The Twilight Behemoth staggered back, five voices snarling in unison, uncertain for the first time.
Zack lifted his blazing sword. Aerith's lilies carpeted the fractured ground. Galuf's fists burned like twin suns. Noctis's lance gleamed with Bahamut's flame. Reks's axe glowed crimson, unbreakable.
They stood — not as broken fighters, but as Paladin, White Mage, Monk, Dragoon, and Warrior.
The Behemoth roared, shadows rising.
And the five answered, stepping forward together, their oaths blazing in the twilight.
The final assault had begun.