In a dimly lit wide room.
Eyes cold, a young man slowly wielded a sword. The sword was purely black in color, and there was a sleek look to its two meter-long body. Calmly, the young man walked forward and slashed the air. Nothing happened.
Eyes even colder, the young man slashed again.
"I want to kill."
His ravenous mutter was so cold one would shiver if they heard the tone.
He performed a dance. It was a dance of swords, beautiful and elegant.
"I want to kill!"
Nothing happened except for the cut wind and the parting of air for a brief second.
"Kill, I want to!"
"Die for me!"
Suddenly, the young man stopped and crazily laughed. In his abyss-like black eyes, there was a cold and calloused serenity that seemed to pierce through all flimsy emotions. He suddenly cocked his head, and the sword in his hand vanished.
