one thousand sixty-one You are not Sakaar "My King!" When Amon's aide finally noticed where the blood was flowing, he jumped and abandoned his battle, wanting to see what was going on. With both his hands and feet on the ground, his face facing down and his claws digging into it, Amon opened his mouth only to gulp gulp. Amon's aide opened his mouth wide in shock at the sight, but he didn't dare approach his king. The massive amount of blood had formed a small sea around Amon. Summoning blood in this way was not exclusive to any specific demon; all of them had a spicific affinity for the blood path. Something simple like this was never a problem for them; in fact, they had been accustomed to doing it since ancient times to drain their victims' corpses of blood for storage. Eventually, it became a ritual they performed after every battle. Of course, each one of them would collect a few drops here and there, perhaps a few buckets to take back to their young. However, gathering blood on this scale could only be achieved by kings of Amon and Sakaar's level. But. Amon wasn't just collecting the blood. Gulp Gulp Gulp!
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