The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

October 21st 1600

Japan's crisp fall breeze lingers through the blood-stained battlefield of Sekigahara, as the bright blue moon shines down on the torn, bruised, and mangled corpses of the victims who perished at the hands of Oda Nobunaga, the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven. His mouth dripping with the salty, metallic taste of blood, he so eagerly drained from all those who opposed him.
As I, Akechi Mitsuhide, gazed upon horror from the shadows, watching as my master decimated the entirety of both the Western and Eastern forces. I felt this gut-wrenching sensation within the pit of my stomach, that the man whom I once admired as a great leader was nothing more than a depraved, cruel monster. My nerves stood taut as I planted my feet firmly in the soil, contemplating the next move during this inevitable crisis. Lord Nobunaga was no mere man, but a tactical genius who took us ronin by surprise with just his pure brutality on the field. A skilled master of the sword he was, but as his lust for power grew immensely, his sanity unfortunately decreased to madness. My eyes widened, at what was done to the opposing factions of Ishida Mitsunari and Tokugawa Ieyasu. This battle was to determine who would lead Japan into the new age of power, although my lord did not take kindly to being excluded from the battle. Against my protestations, lord Nobunaga ordered that all military personnel were to advance on a full-scale campaign, to rally enough men and samurai to take part in this war.

While Nonunaga trudged through headless warriors, his armor was shattered, revealing the wounds he sustained from countless barages of spears and swords. I could not fathom what had just occurred, only a few moments ago. An arrow had pierced right through his heart, a fatal blow that should have ended his existence. My knees were weak, as my chest ached with concern, while I froze in fear behind a tree, whimpering into my hands at the sight of a massacre. The Demon King of the sixth Heaven transcended immortality.

"After him!!" shouted a Toyotomi clansman.

The already worn-out soldiers began to surround my lord, unaware of what would be their untimely demise. Beheaded samurai lay at their feet, the swords which they were honored to hold, broken into pieces, as their limbs stood motionless in small pools of ruby red blood. A color that was so familiar to them as men of war.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)