Intent to murder. That was what blazed in Aron's eyes. Very slowly, without the slightest tremble or sound, he unsheathed his sword.

A faint crimson glow emanated from the blade. Under this slight light, Aron's figure gained faint details; his left hand curled to claws, the hand holding the sword a ghostly white, trembling lips.

All this was not privy to the man at whom this intent was targeted. The last thing he saw was the slashing of a streak of faint crimson, a pair of eyes ablaze with fury and a ghostly face.

His head tumbled and bouts of blood spurted and coated the walls, the blade, as well as Aron's body. Once the deed was done, the red of blood far outshone that of the blade.

Aron bit his lip, lamenting the quick death of the object of his hatred. Once again, his emotions had gotten the better of him.

At this moment, the door to the room opened. A man who's wrinkled face betrayed his age and devotion, elegantly stepped into the room. After a glance over the surroundings, however, he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground.

"I've already dealt with the perpetrator" Aron's raspy voice informed the butler, closing the latter's mouth.

The butler's face had fallen ashen and had the last of its colours drained. Hearing Aron's words and flicking a look towards the bloodied sword, he nodded slightly.

Trembling legs hoisted the old man's body and he limped out as fast as his cowardly legs could carry him.

Aron's rage however did not dissipate. It accumulated more and more the longer he stood, until he could no longer bear it.

A blade flashed. A face bisected. Aron continued like this until the gore was too fine to cut. With a dissatisfied expression, he did the same to both arms, legs and then the torso. No part was left uncut.

At this point, blood had already swept the entire room, even flowing forth under the door. Two lifeless bodies, clothes long saturated with blood, pointed their agape mouths at the ceiling.

They too were no small contributors to the bloody flood that had appeared, their bodies cold despite their recent passing.

Aron walked to the window, shoes slurping as he went. The curtains pulled aside and the window opened, revealing the crack of dawn.

A few hours passed as Aron sat on the windowsill and allowed the morning sun to bake the blood to his skin and clothes.

As the sun rose ever higher, cold winds explored the bloody room, bringing the stench of death outside.

At noon, Aron did not have to suppress his hunger as the scene behind him robbed him of any such notions.

After another while, dust clouds rose on the horizon. As the dust drew closer, Aron could make out the silhouettes of people appearing amidst the fog.

"A force from the capital?" Aron let his thoughts speak, though learned that his throat fared no better than it did a few hours prior.

No fanfares sounded and no extravagant flags were hoisted when the procession finally arrived at the gates to the mansion.

An old man with an ashen face went out to greet the procession. An insignia flashed and the butler's face brightened. Quickly, the gold-ornamented double doors were pulled open and a few people with gold and red armour followed inside.

The rest of the 200 strong group stayed outside.

Aron watched this scene unfold with curiosity. His good butler should have informed the guards in the capital of the murder of his parents. However, what would they do? He had already dealt with the perpetrator to such an extent that further punishment would be quite difficult.

Soon, the doors to the bloody room opened once more. The butler was leading the three guards with the highest rank through the doors. Once the guards saw the room, their faces distorted and lost a tinge of colour.

The gold and silver decorations that had previously graced the room had all been covered, at least in part and at most in full, by the blood and gore that dominated the room.

The three guards squinted their eyes, trying to remain unaffected. They had no training as detectives and were purely soldiers. As such, seeing Aron's figure still clasping a bloodied sword, the two lifeless bodies on the ground and the absence of any other person, their conclusion was clear.

Unfortunately, Aron had cut the body so finely and swung so fiercely, that none could guess that a fourth person had visited the room.

Blades were quickly pointed and warnings issued. Soon after, Aron was dragged out of his own home, arms bound to his body and sporting an expression of surprised anger.

The soldiers quickly mounted their horses, Aron secured on a saddle in front of the bulkiest of the captains. Thus, they set off towards the capital.