The bodyguard, as if thoroughly possessed by a demon, was overtaken by an increasingly frenzied desire to kill, his eyes filled with nothing but endless brutality and ferocity, each movement carrying the power of destruction.
His figure swift as lightning, the dagger in his hand whistled through the air as he swung it, the cold glint of the blade flashing non-stop. With every slash, it drew an arc of death.
In the flashes of cold light, screams of agony rose one after another from within the villa, as people continuously fell into pools of blood.
Warm fresh blood spattered like a fountain onto the walls, trickling down the delicate wallpaper, staining the originally elegant wall surface with mottled patches.
Furniture was also splattered with droplets of blood, those expensive ornaments and fine tables and chairs, now all shrouded in the scent of blood.
