[ It's joy. Temporary, fleeting and hits like a brick to the skull. The monster's blood soaks his hands and lets out a guttural, vile sound as its death knell. He slices it over and over and over with a wild cackle, crystal chipping and giving life to a blood soaked ground.

And then it happens.

Kazuya attacks.

Akechi can't sense the origin of the skill or the type it is. Maybe it's curse. Maybe it's something special to a king alone. It's the vicious intensity - the merciless way they're all wrapped up in dark flames and reduced to nothing that makes him happy.

He brushes a hand through his hair in frenzied glee. ]

Damn, Kazuya! You wiped them out! That's what I love to see! Look at these pathetic things - oh wait - there's nothing left!

[ Don't mind him laughing like this is the best comedy he's ever seen in his life. It's fine. It's enriching. ]