He stares down at the scene he created.
At the creature with his katana he devasted.
He'd come looking for blood to spill.
His blood boiling with the chance to kill.
Disappointed by the lack of challenge his adversary offered.
He looked down at the woman he'd slaughtered.
His katana wet with her crimson blood.
His ears perked when her body had fallen to the floor with a thud.
His eyes dancing with excitement from the feeling of killing.
His lack of remorse so ice cold it was chilling.
He left an easy to follow trail.
Knowing someone would be close on his tail.
He hoped to find a worthy challenger to battle.
He was tired of cutting down humans for mantles.
He lay in the woods and awaits.
The battle that had become fate.
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