Ascendant of Shadows: The Monarch and The Eminence

The observation deck of the N Seoul Tower was a battlefield at the epicenter of a collapsing reality. The sickly green sky flickered violently, revealing the true, dark Seoul night like a faulty projector. The mirrored walls of the false throne room shattered and dissolved, replaced by the panoramic windows showing a city caught between two worlds. Below, the screams of the populace were slowly dying down as Jin-woo's shadow army finalized their protective evacuations.

Weaver-Prime-Five stood amidst the wreckage of its own kingdom, its regal, mirrored armor cracked and its aura of dominance frayed. It was like a king whose castle was burning down around him. But even a dying king is still a king. It raised its scepter, and the remaining reality-bending power in the area converged upon it.

A sphere of chaotic, churning energy, far more potent than the illusions it had used before, began to form at the tip of its scepter. This was not a subtle attack. This was a raw, physical annihilation bomb, designed to wipe the entire mountaintop from existence.

The two of them moved, not in response to each other's words, but with the perfect, ingrained synergy they had developed. They were two sides of the same shadowy coin.

Jin-woo became a bastion. He slammed his fist into the floor of the observation deck. "Domain Expansion: Shadow's Grasp."

This was not the full immersion of his personal dimension. It was a localized projection of it. The floor and walls of the deck were instantly coated in a layer of writhing, solid shadow. Tendrils of this shadow, thick as bridge cables, shot up and wrapped around the Weaver's limbs and its scepter, attempting to bind it, to smother the growing sphere of energy.

The Weaver struggled, its raw power pushing back against the shadows, its annihilation-sphere continuing to grow, albeit more slowly. It was a contest of wills: the Weaver's will to destroy versus Jin-woo's will to control.

While Jin-woo played the role of the immovable object, Cid became the unstoppable force.

He didn't charge. He didn't teleport. He simply began to walk towards the struggling Weaver, his steps calm and measured. With each step, the concentration of power around him grew exponentially. The air itself seemed to bend away from him, afraid of his presence.

"A king of lies," Cid said, his voice quiet but clear, cutting through the psychic roar of the Weaver and the groaning of the tower. "Your reign was built on fear. Your power, on despair. Your kingdom, on echoes of the past."

He raised his black slime sword, and this time, it began to change. It was no longer just a perfectly black blade. It began to absorb the very concept of the collapsing false reality around it—the flickering green light, the phantom sirens, the memory of the mirrored walls. His blade was drinking the Weaver's dying kingdom.

"But a true shadow does not need a kingdom," Cid continued, his voice resonating with a power that made the Weaver's struggles falter. "It does not need a throne, or a crown, or subjects to rule."

His sword was now a chaotic, shimmering thing, a vortex of corrupted data and broken reality contained in the shape of a blade.

"It needs only one thing." He stopped, now standing directly before the bound and struggling Weaver. "An enemy to erase."

He raised his sword, a weapon now infused with the very essence of his opponent's failed reality. He was going to kill the Weaver with its own dying dream.

"A true shadow needs..." Cid whispered, his voice dropping to a near-inaudible level. "...An audience."

"NOW!" Jin-woo roared.

The shadow tendrils binding the Weaver didn't just release it; they flung it forward, directly into Cid's path, throwing it off balance for a single, crucial moment.

The Weaver, suddenly free and hurtling towards its foe, tried to detonate its annihilation-sphere. But it was too late.

Cid slashed.

The blade, filled with the power of the shattered kingdom of lies, struck the sphere of annihilation.

There was no sound. There was no light. There was only... a cut.

A perfect, clean line appeared, bisecting the Weaver and its ultimate attack.

For a single, silent second, nothing happened. The Weaver hung in the air, a line drawn through its very center. Then, its two halves began to drift apart. The annihilation sphere, its cohesive energy severed, simply dissipated into harmless particles. The Weaver's single red eye widened in a final, silent moment of disbelief. Its story had been given an ending it could not comprehend.

The two halves of the Weaver didn't explode or turn to dust. They simply... faded, like a bad dream upon waking, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

The last vestiges of the false reality vanished. The sickly green sky was replaced permanently by the familiar dark blue of the Seoul night. The bone-like spires across the city crumbled into dust and blew away on the wind. The phantom sirens ceased. The oppressive psychic hum was gone.

It was over.

Jin-woo let his shadow domain recede, the observation deck returning to normal, albeit with a few more cracks in the floor. He was breathing heavily, the effort of containing a Grand Weaver, even for a few seconds, was immense.

Cid stood, his sword returning to its simple, black form. He gave it a single, satisfied flick before letting it dissolve back into his hand.

In Jin-woo's inventory, the Seed of the Void pulsed one last time, absorbing the final echo of Weaver-Prime-Five. It was now almost vibrating with a contained, complex energy. The forms of the four defeated Weavers could be seen within, kneeling before the shadowed throne.

The silence on the observation deck was broken by the arrival of their allies. Alpha and Zeta appeared in a flicker of motion, their own battles won. Beru and the other Marshals materialized from Jin-woo's shadow. The team was reassembled.

Alpha looked at the empty space where the Weaver had been, then at her master and the Monarch. She bowed her head deeply. "A magnificent victory."

"Hmph. Just taking out the trash," Cid said with a dismissive wave.

Jin-woo looked out the window at the now-peaceful city below. His people were safe. His world was, for the moment, secure. He felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but also of satisfaction.

But his work was not yet done.

"Iris Midgar and her knights will be waiting for us when we return," Jin-woo stated, looking at Cid. "We have vanished once more. Her suspicions will be at an all-time high."

Cid grinned, his playful, theatrical energy returning. "Excellent! The plot thickens! What will our excuse be this time? Alien abduction? A secret training mission from a forgotten god? Or perhaps..." His eyes twinkled. "...we tell her a fraction of the truth?"

Jin-woo considered it. A small piece of the truth, wrapped in a mountain of lies, was often the most effective deception of all.

"Let's go home," Jin-woo said. "I've had enough of this world for one day."

He began to concentrate once more, gathering the power to tear open one last Gate, the journey back to Midgar awaiting them, along with the consequences of their spectacular, secret war.