roses-poison-hell

There it was again. That arrogant, belittling laugh of his. It rang in Nero’s ears as he positioned Yamato to strike, darting forward; ready to plunge the sword deep into the assassins’ gut, only to find himself falling face-first onto a bloody, sticky carpet. His senses, heightened by the demon that stalked him upon the use of Yamato, informed Nero that his nemesis had reclaimed his sword. His reaction time was perhaps slowed by the surprise of his enemy’s simple yet effective counter. At least, that was the excuse Nero produced when he found Rebellion sink into the ground beside his head, trapped by the harsh metal. His curs