His first encounter had been with a young woman and her child walking through the stone corridors. They had been so innocent and unassuming -- perfect victims.

The woman had been the first. She had screamed loudly, shrilly, and her choked-on death cries still echoed through the huge passageway long after she had been beheaded. His blade had moved instinctively.

The babe, wrapped in swaddling cloth, met a brutal and sudden end as it was picked up from where it had fallen and thrown quite violently to the floor.

Even amidst the blood and carnage, the materialized creature shivered and threw back its head to laugh. He looked at his flesh and blood fingers, the long tendrils of hair dangling in front of his face that shone with sweat. A glance at the black symbol etched on his left hand confirmed his suspicions.

True Runes could bestow their powers even to monsters.

The instinct to kill was not a new thing; it had been a mindless mantra all of his life, and would more than likely be forever. The ability to be unfazed by the utter brutality was not new, either.

What was new, however, were the feelings that were now coursing through his mind.

Delight. Excitement. Satisfaction.

Love.

He loved to kill.