Blades are beautiful. Why is that? Because they have only one purpose in existing. All things that live solely for a specific reason, thus abandoning all useless and trivial matters, are the subject of pure beauty. Genuine elegance. Swords themselves exist for one purpose as well. Killing.
When slashing at an opponent and penetrating the blade deep within their bodies, there are various positions and methods in which this can be done; each one yielding their own glorious sound and results. Cutting down hard and jagged, as if swinging a wooden club, the blood gushes out as a river that has conquered the dam blocking the flow. It falls onto the ground in large drops, but does so slowly, the opponent left to feel every chilling pain etched onto them. If lucky, some of it may even ascend into the air and fall somewhere on my body, so I too may relish in these actions. Hopefully, it manages to get onto my face. But in most cases, weak trash have such disgusting and sour blood. Not even worth trying. This happens when the opponent is a weak bug. There's no challenge, so you do your best to make sure to savor every moment of the fight by tearing away at their body and letting the blood gush out gradually in beautiful streams. It is important for a swordsman to make use of the opponent, regardless of their level of skill, so as to savor the very essence of all battles.
It also matters where you strike; the location on the opponent's body of which you slash. Arms and legs are boring. Not only does very little blood leave the body from these but such used dirty blood from the muscles is hardly worth anything. No, the true treats of the fight are far closer to the heart, where the blood is freshly pumped through the entire body. However, there is something special about stabbing the blade through the throat, deeply imbuing the tip of the sword and shoving it straight through as breath is the first to go... Listening to that gurgling sound made by the victim as they try to desperately to breathe, only to have their head filled with blood and subsequently leaking from their mouths as their deaths soon approach. Aiming for the torso, feeling the blade slicing through organs and veins as the life of the target ends in a storm of blood and guts...! Mmmurgh... It arouses me to no end. The feelings of orgasm as the blade pierces the skin and the blood follows in tremendous volumes... Simply indescribable pleasure. Even now, I manage to pleasure myself to such memories of the past. But even these situations are only second best.
Against someone stronger, which in these times is a rare find, a more proper slash is a precise and instantaneous cut through the body. Done right, the blood does something quite wonderful. Like a soft summer rain, the blood splatters and squirts outwards in a magnificent spraying motion, descending upon my body as I may bathe happily. Oh, how I love when moments such as the latter arrive. I always acquire my fill as I allow my beautiful body to shower in the rain of dark red fluids. Overwhelming a fierce enemy, forcing them to clash blades with me endlessly, it is a happiness that can not be described with words. A pleasure that so often eludes me as I search for it, but once I do happen upon it, joy does not even begin to define my adulation.
However, as I said, it is a rare find. And very rarely will such excitement manage to cross my path.