Broken

When the blade first entered Kefka's abdomen, he didn't even feel it.

He assumed it was because of the euphoria high he had been feeling beforehand. Not only were the Warring Triad there and for The Empire's taking, but those blasted do-gooders that had thrown the metaphorical wrench in his plans far too much looked like they were about to be killed by a "friend"! He hadn't noticed he'd been laughing the entire time leading up to the sudden rush attack from Celes.

He stopped laughing once the dopamine-fueled adrenaline sputtered off and the burning-hot pain of steel puncturing through flesh erupted through his body. Breathing instantly became an incredible chore and, as soon as Celes tugged the sword out from his abdomen, he felt his legs give out, sending him to the rough, gnarled ground of the continent. 

A meek-sounding "Ouch!" came from his mouth, Kefka not knowing he had even said it at all. It was something you would expect a child to say after scraping a knee or bumping their head on a roof, not a grown adult getting their insides jabbed through with tempered steel.

Of course, Kefka essentially had the mental age of a toddler. A serious injury like that wouldn't register to him like it would for another. Perhaps it also explained why he reacted the way he did when he looked down at it.

"B-Blood!?" he sputtered, an aching feeling wracking through his entire body as he began to panic and flail around on the ground in an exaggerated display. Thousands of thoughts rushed through his shattered mind, all of them being nearly incoherent...except for one.

Hatred.

"You...you vicious BRAT!"

He hadn't noticed when he stood up, it just seemed to skip by him when he did. All he knew is that, for once in his life, he had finally achieved a steady thought that didn't slip out of his broken mind. Maybe he should have celebrated, maybe not, all he knew is that it was his driving force now, and he would live by it as long he himself lived.

He hated life. All of it.

His legs gave out once more and he fell to the ground again, shaking violently from the pain-filled bursts as the ex-general and the emperor watched the display. They had seen many sides of Kefka: Insanity, Childishness, Violence, even Sadism. But they had never seen Kefka ever truly Enraged. He had tantrums before, no denying that, but to see genuine, chaotic rage from the Jester was so uncharacteristic, it was like he was a different person. It...scared them.

"I hate...hate hate hate hate hate hatehatehatehate...HATE..." Kefka began speaking again, starting as a weak whisper before increasing in volume until his voice seemed to violently explode out of his vocal cords in a crescendo.

"HATE YOU!!"

To the Returners and even Emperor Gestahl, this sounded like it was directed at Celes. Even Kefka thought it was. But then, as he thought about it more, he realised this was more than just hatred for a traitorous general or hatred for the Returners, it was hatred directed at the concept of life and a new, deciding belief yanked the control of his body away from his soul. 

Kefka no longer thought about his actions, he only knew that the tide of Nihilism had taken the helm and it would never leave him.

The pain seemed to stop hurting Kefka, despite the fact it hadn't gone away. Ignoring his body protesting the use of his legs, he managed to stand back up and grin. He grinned wider than he ever had before. In an instant, he had turned around and staggered his way to the Warring Triad.

His plans had changed. He originally was going to play long-con: Wait for Gestahl to get the world in his grasp only to backstab him at the right time, taking the power the Triad gave him and becoming a new, chaotic ruler with unbridled magic. Now, he was taking action and matters into his own hands. He would awaken the Warring Triad, he would absorb their power, he would crush everything that dared continue living.