The last piece of their world had been destroyed.
And now here he was on what he aimed to be his last mission, other than finding and gutting Cloud Strife where he stood, to find the one responsible. In a man like Sephiroth fear was a commodity that he'd been trained to sever from the rest of him when he was only eight years old - he was the most perfect, well oiled, brilliant killing machine that had ever lived, or ever would most suspised, and he would be damned if some other bastard would take over the same world that he was attempting to destroy only two years previous. If it wasn't for that god forsaken clone of his, he might've succeeded and this poor excuse for a military general might never have lived long enough to manipulate those around him.
If he wanted competition, a challenge, he had it. Sephiroth lived, breathed and spoke in military - the tactics, the procedures, the strategies, the entire scope - with the added effect that he was indeed something built from some of the earliest beginning cells of violence that ever existed. If anyone naively thought they could stand up in his path and not be buried beneath the rubble in his wake, they were despairingly wrong. There was no joy in it, no pride, no feeling whatsoever. Just the solemn knowledge that he had to wipe out the threat to his plans before the threat wiped out the entire world. For the first time since his final run in with Aeris, and then Cloud, he didn't want it to end. Maybe he was losing his touch. Afterall he loathed every last thing on this planet now, as they hated him, so what purpose was there to keeping it? To sustain a bunch of parasites?
You know why. Don't play coy with yourself, you'll always lose.
The trenchcoat rustled with the frigid wind, but he didn't draw it up tighter to him the way most people would to ward off the intrusion of the cold. It never hurt him. Seems nothing did anymore. All the better for when he finally narrowed in on Cloud after his arrival to this odd General's front door. Tomorrow he would leave Marina and continue on his way to the legendary city of Centralis and they would let him in, or he would make them. Such things weren't worthy of the time he spent thinking upon them, and so he leaned back, his leg still dangling, and shut his eyes.