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Blood sat on a demolished gravestone, a droplet of sweat falling down his face. the freezing air froze the sweat as it fell, and a dirty hand passed over his face, leaving a streak of dust over the man's face. He looked down at the gravestone, the chucks of debris falling off of it. Blood blew feircly into the gravestone, large amounts of dust began to fly off of it, causing a coughing fit. After blood stopped coughing, he looked back at the grave and examined the name on it. The grave stone said in one word 'farewell'. Blood laughed heartfully and then walked slowly away from the graveyard, dragging his large feet slowly across the dirt, his eyes watering from the dust that caused him to cough just recently.

Blood walked into the field, his large blade held onto his back. The dull cracked blade was pulled slowly out of the large black sheath, and the dull look of the blade seemed to scream out in pain, unheard even by its master. Blood began to clench his fists and then a small dose of darkness began to luminate out of his fists, causing the darkness to form into the shape of a ball. The ball was launched out of his fist and then landed onto the ground, causing a small tremor. The force knocked Blood onto one knee, and his blade was thrusted into the ground, in a way to support his body. The ball of darkness began to rise into a figure, and it stood next to him.

"Do you really wish to unlock its true power?" The dark figure spoke after a few minutes of agonizing wait. Blood then peered into the figure and spoke quietly, his hoarse voice echoing across the graveyard, scaring away crows that sat on the graves. "Yes, I need your strength Akuma." When he finished the sentence the figure lunged forward and then absorbed itself into the blade. The assimilation caused a large blast of darkness out of the sword, sending Blood to the ground. He got up and dusted himself off, then picked up the sword off of the ground, where it luminated darkness.