Title: Storm
Fandom: Star Ocean 3
Author: Rebelliouswhitequeen
Pairing: Heavily hinted and implied Luther/Fayt
Rating/Warning: PG13 for violence and hintage? O.O
Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off s03.
Summary: AU. There was only one, just one who had always survived it all.
A/n: Inspired by many things. This had to go through several major changes, in terms of plot, content, sentence structure, etc, etc. So yeah, I’ve restarted this many many times and I’m frankly sick of it now.

***

The arena was absolutely stunning.

There were the floors of glass, decorated with intricate, shining symbols; there were the brilliant, silver clocks hanging around the arena; they ticked and tocked and swung from side to side. There was the sky above it all, a black sea of sparkling stars, and at last, there was the wonderful audience; they were waiting in anticipation.

The tension was high, crackling like electricity.

The tournament had lasted for days.

There was only one, just one who had always survived it all.

And that very one was Fayt Leingod.

Luther had been watching Fayt for a while now. Even though he had seen Fayt win each battle and had seen the full extent of Fayt’s destructive powers, Luther still felt that he needed to see more of him-- in person.

The very thought of a confrontation, usually associated with irrational hostility, sounded appealing to Luther; it was like sipping the coffee Luther had this morning -- bitter, warm and yet oddly satisfying.

***

Luther blended with the arena perfectly. Like the other contestants, he had donned himself in a special kind of attire -- an armor of black, white and gold. He held up his white-gloved hand and then as it materialized, he felt the cool surface of his favorite weapon -- a long silver spear.

He lifted his head and turned his gaze to the winner of the tournament. Fayt Leingod was truly an interesting person. His hair was bright blue, shining like sapphires. His eyes were green like emeralds, but his very face-- he was young, all too young. Perhaps he was eighteen or nineteen, but obviously, that didn’t deter Fayt from being in here.

And despite the deceivingly simplistic clothes that Fayt wore -- a sleeveless white top and a pair of large, baggy and armored blue pants and boots -- Fayt was just as poised and prepared as Luther.

“How does it feel?” Luther asked softly and slowly, he raised his spear and pointed the sharp tip at his opponent. Luther saw how those same eyes stared at him in confusion and then as Fayt saw the glaring tip, his eyes widened in shock. Luther smirked and then he asked again: “How does it feel to be here, at the very top?”

***

Fayt took only one step forward and then he had to breathe in and out as he gathered the little strength he had left to summon his weapon. His sword felt heavy in his hands, but he was used to this. What he was not used to was the very Owner standing in the arena and challenging him to a duel.

“It feels great,” he said finally. He wanted to be more formal and respectful, because it wasn’t everyday he was in the presence of Luther Lansfeld, but it simply wasn’t in him to act like anybody else. “It really does, to come this far, and still, all for fun.” He was smiling now and he didn’t care. He really had a blast being here.

But he was tired, oh gods, he was tired.

And then he saw that devilish smirk and let out a gasp as Luther suddenly vanished, only to appear right behind Fayt. The proximity was too much. Fayt could almost feel the warmth of Luther’s breath on the surface of his ear and the intoxicating power radiating off him in waves.

“Show me what you can do,” Luther whispered and his voice was deep, like all of Fayt‘s favorite sweet things -- warm honey and hot, melting chocolate. “Or are you already at your very limit?” He chuckled darkly and then, he finally and swiftly pulled away.

“I’m not weak,” Fayt said in a soft voice, even as he slammed the tip of his sword against the glass and leaned against it heavily, using it to support himself and keep himself from falling to the ground. He was glad that he was able to meet Luther, but he was so tired. He wanted to go home.

When he thought of home, he thought about his parents and his little sister and how worried they must be for him. He would always disappear from them at least once a year; it was all for the thrills of this tournament and to finally catch a glimpse of the well-known Owner.

And then he felt something strange, something so warm, pulsing in his blood. Symbols appeared all over his body and glowed, energy crackling around him. This had only happened once in his life and he braced himself as bright angelic wings materialized from his back.

Luther was smiling at him now.

But why?

***

As the weapons clashed and grinded against each other, there was a loud screech. The audience cheered and booed around Luther and Fayt; they always wanted more and more. It was almost appalling.

Luther retreated again and then rushed forward and swung his spear against his opponent. Fayt evaded him easily as he leapt into the air and flapped his wings. Then he dove down, thrusting his sword towards Luther. His entire body was glowing blue and Luther watched in awe as pieces of the glass floors broke and rose into the air.

That was when he came upon a realization.

This battle was over.

He leapt into the air and swung his spear again, knocking the sword out of Fayt‘s hands. The sword landed on the ground with a loud, heavy clang and then, it dissipated like the participles of data that had created this entire simulation in the first place.

With a wave of his hand, the rest of the simulation faded away. They landed swiftly on the ground; the power had left Fayt at last and now he was lying in Luther’s arms. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t dead. His soft lips parted as he continued to breathe.

Luther placed his hand across Fayt’s chest and felt the steady beat of his heart. He smiled in fondness and stroked the blue strands of Fayt’s hair. He always liked this one; he liked this one quite immensely.

Luther couldn’t wait for the next simulation of the next tournament. All he had to do was wait for Fayt to recover and then he could test him again. He would perfect Fayt Leingod. He would make Fayt his very equal before placing him into the unpredictable simulations of the Eternal Sphere.

Fin?

***

A/n: I’m gonna go and bury myself somewhere now. I think this is the hardest one-shot I’ve ever written in my entire life. D: