The once pristine white snow was sprayed and dyed red as death claimed another in his murderous haze. You were told stories about the madman who’d come once every hundred years, blinded by bloodlust, unable to distinguish between the innocent and the damned. Never in your natural born life did you expect to witness the rampage of Kamazo.

Frozen in fear, you watched the bandage-masked man release his victim, now lying in the red snow. Hidden from his sight, you hoped he would leave the area soon so you could return home, but fate was a cruel mistress.

The blonde lowly laughed to himself, lazily walking towards your hiding spot with his scythe dragging behind him. With bated breath, praying he would pass by quickly, you prepared to make your escape, only to stop. In less than a fraction of a second, the blade of his scythe became embedded in the building, nearly cutting off your nose.

Cackling, the grim reaper, Kamazo, stood before you, assessing what he’d do with his new prey. Taking this as an opportunity, you darted past him and ran before he could make his decision.

As your figure faded, Kamazo, no Killer, grimaced, not wanting to cause another harm but was forced to obey this urge as was his curse.