A demon. That was what he had been to them. 
The thought made him laugh, they did not know how right they were. 
The laugh caused the pain to return. A stinging ache that felt like a thousand needles was slowly establishing itself from the inside of his chest. However, he was used to it by now. He no longer sunk down on his knees, overwhelmed by the aching blazes of pain. 
He had indeed grown stronger. Nevertheless, the price had been high. 
He raised his head and the wind gently stroke the strand of crow-black hair from his scarlet eyes. 
The expression in his pale, almost white like parchment face was apathic and non-saying as his gaze swept around the burning village. 
However, inside, his mind was burning...just like the village. 
The fair-skinned man looked up, as he realised that he would die if he stayed here any longer. Even though that was his strongest wish, his mission had still not been carried out. There was one thing remaining.  After he had taken revenge on the beast, the reaper with a soul as black as his cloak, he could finally rest.
As he turned his beautiful features upward, you could for a brief moment discern reflections of the chaos and death that were forever struggling to break free from the mental barrier that the ex-Turk had trapped it in. 
Vincent picked up peacemaker, his trusted pistol and stood. His purple-red cloak played in the wind and the bloodstained bandana that had been tied around his forehead was the only thing that kept his long, pitch-black hair out of his face as he started to make his way out of the burning village. However, he found the muscles of his legs, which tried to brace him, were painfully weak from years of disuse.
The southern part of the village was already engulfed in flames and the fire licked now licked the wooden houses facing the mountains. 
Valentine could still hear the screams of the villagers that had been unable to escape the flames and had been burned to death. They were the blissful ones...
Every fibre in his body burned with pain as he forced himself to keep going. As he found himself unable too hold back the darkness inside him and walk at the same time, he fell to the ground. 
The raven hair lay scattered over his shoulder blades and the arm with the metal claw that Houjo had attached dug furiously into the soft dust of the ground. Unable to move, he hoped that he had not worn himself out. He had to remain conscious so that he could keep the darkness from reaching his mind. 
As Valentine closed his dark eyes once more, the flashes of the apocalypse continued with new strength. However, he had no energy left to fight it. If the pale eyelids had not hid his dark-rimmed eyes, you had been able to see that chaos and death had engulfed almost all of them.  
Vincent used the last strength in his useless muscles to raise his slender hand and tare off the bandana, still warm from the blood. The pain from the muscles was replaced by the stronger pain from the chaos growing stronger, shredding the barrier, just like it had only moments ago. 
The last, tormented thought that Vincent thought was that he was better off burning to death here. 
That way, he would be forever unable to spread the curse any further. He would rather die than live in this unending penance. 
The slim fingers were still clasping the bandana, drenched with the blood of those saved from the flames. 
He had been waiting for them as they tried to escape the burning village. The dark eyes had become even darker and claws had replaced the nails of each finger. He had hunted them down from above. Carried by his demon wings he had slashed them all, one by one, and eaten their flesh, accompanied by the sounds of desperate voices screaming. The screams had reached a crescendo as he greedily ate the flesh straight from their chests before even bothering to kill them first.
They had been merely prey for him. 
No mercy, no pity had been given by the demon as he continued to hunt. Until no one remained. Then, he had let out an inhuman howl and collapsed on the ground. 
As he woke to the burning village and the blood, he had yet again been reminded of the beast that had invaded his heart. 
Vincent had come to stop the reaper from burning Nibelheim, but instead he had helped him. He had killed the ones that managed to escape the cruel fate that the silver-haired man had given them. 
The green, lake-like eyes had glimmered with sadistic pleasure as he had pierced his curved longsword into Valentine, causing him to transform into a, if possible, even crueller cold-blooded killer than the reaper himself. 
A smile of confidence and contempt had parted his lips, causing a condescending laugh to emerge. However, it was drowned in the sound of Valentine's painfilled screams of hate. 
The dark cloak had swirled, and the wind had lifted the silver-white hair from his back as he put his sword back and turned on his heels, leaving Vincent to take care of the survivors. 
He was the one who would call down the meteor, the one who would bring about the death of everything on the planet, the one who had caused Valentine to wake up screaming during the endless nights in his velvet-lined coffin. 
He was Sephiroth, the reaper. 
The mere thought of him made Vincent's dogged teeth let out a hate filled groan. He felt the muscles in his back suddenly seize in an agonizing spasm and the groan grew to a loud roar as the darkness consumed the last part of his sanity. The barrier had been broken and as Valentine's fragile body alone was not enough to keep the beast away, the beast tarred through. 
Engulfed in pain, Vincent lay immoveable on the ground as every muscle in his body tensed in paroxysms. 
He could feel the blood run down his fingers as claws once again replaced his nails. His back muscles screamed in pain as the dark, demon-like wings yet again emerged from his very spine. 
The pain remained locked into his throat, since his muscles forbade his jaws to be separated from each other and the only thing hissing through the vampire-like fangs that had taken the place of his teeth were inhuman snarls of hate and pain. 
Luckily for him, this time he was too exhausted to complete the transformation and with one last roar of pain, he collapsed onto the ground. His chest heaved underneath the black, tight-fitting shirt which also had been drenched with blood. After a while, his breathing returned to normal and he felt the wings grow back and the feral claws return to fingers. 
The transformation had taken away what little strength he had and he knew without trying that it would be useless to try to stand up again. His body was too tired to feel any pain; Vincent was for the first time completely without pain. The dreams of the apocalypse were tolerable, he reassured himself. 
Thus, the dark-rimmed eyes were clear. For the first time completely at peace. 
For he knew that everything would be all right. He had seen it in his predictions, a blond man with transparent eyes....mako eyes. 
He would never let Sephiroth get away with this. 
A smile parted Valentines lips even so little before closing his scarlet eyes for the last time, returning to his nightmare of death and chaos. 

He was already asleep as the first flames started licking his black boots.