The world was red.

Everything within sight was stained crimson.

Rational thought flickered, teetering on the edge of breaking entirely.

The stench of blood invaded my nostrils, and the suffocating bloodlust crawled over my skin like an unwelcome parasite.

A voice whispered in my ear.

It urged me to take my sword and strike them down.
To slaughter the enemies before me—mercilessly, ruthlessly.
To sink my fangs into their throats.
To wash myself in their blood and quench my thirst with it.

I let out a short, mocking laugh.