Disclaimer- Rurouni Kenshin is not mine.
That is the perfect description of Hitokiri Battousai's monstrous work.
There is no pause, no fatigue in his work. Only the hiss of the blade and the screams of the dying.
It is done dispassionately, almost contemptuously.
Most do not even have time to fight. All they hear is one noise.
One sound, a single sound heralds death.
The slight swish of the wind is the harbinger of his sword.
One more soldier falls to the blade.
Another soul lost fighting for this war.
A father, a son, a brother, none matters before the blade.
An endless, murderous melody of death, orchestrated by a sword. The screams of the dying his ovation, the thud of corpses striking the floor is applause, the rain of blood is the flowers.
A masterpiece of death, a symphony of murder.
He is truly a demon, Heaven's Wrath, the angel of death incarnate.
With every swing, every hiss of the wind, the Battousai slays another.
With every swing, every hiss of the wind, another man is sacrificed to bring about a revolution.
With every swing, every hiss of the wind, the humanity of Kenshin Himura fades away a little more.
All with the swipe of a sword.