Two Days Later —
Knock… Knock…
The door creaked open slowly, followed by two distinct, deep voices calling out in unison:
"My lord."
Robin's eyes lit up at the sound, and he stood without hesitation.
"Amon, Sakaar, you both ca haha— co in!" he exclaid warmly. As he extended his arms wide in welco, a soft flick of his fingers summoned an additional seat in front of him.
Step… Step…
The two newcors entered with a deliberate grace, the kind born not just of confidence, but of power earned through conquest. They moved like sovereigns and warriors of legend. Every step they took was heavy with presence, with a gravity that seed to shift the air around them. Yet with each pace forward, Robin's brows rose increntally, curiosity sparking in his golden eyes.
The sight before him was striking. Both Amon and Sakaar were clad in full suits of armor, deep crimson like dried blood, polished to a deadly sheen. The armor covered them completely — from the tips of their horns, down to the soles of their feet. Their faces were concealed behind featureless masks, smooth and cold, revealing nothing. Their long, spiral horns were sheathed in scale-like plates, subtly reshaping their silhouettes and obscuring even more of their identity.
But it wasn't just the armor's appearance that surprised Robin. No — it was what he didn't sense. Their demonic aura… was gone. Or rather, it was so deeply suppressed that even with his sharpened perception, he couldn't easily detect it. All he could feel was an unsettling undercurrent of bloodlust.
"How very... intriguing," Robin murmured, his voice laced with both amusent and fascination as he gestured for them to sit. Amon and Sakaar took their seats across from him with solemnity.
"Did Zara make these for you two?" he asked, already half-knowing the answer.
"More or less," Amon replied, settling back with ease. "Brother Sakaar provided the designs to the lord's daughter. She handled the rest with great care."
"Sakaar gave her the designs?" Robin's eyes narrowed as he briefly activated his Golden Eye of Truth. Within monts, his expression shifted with recognition, and his brows shot up.
"Oooh… That's brilliant."
The armor's interior was a marvel of craftsmanship. Woven into the lining was a complex network of thin, tallic tubes that mimicked blood vessels — and within them, real blood was flowing. But it wasn't demon blood. He can since mutants and beast blood from in them!
"My only request to the lord's daughter was that she make the armor fully enclose the body and include these specialized tubes. As for the rest of the specifics, she took the initiative, I only said an idea and she did everything else. She ensured the final product rivaled — no, even surpassed — the standard of the First Army. A fair and capable girl, much like her father — the great lord," Sakar said with respectful firmness, placing one hand atop each knee.
Robin let out a soft breath, clearly impressed.
"This is still an ingenious idea, Sakaar. Hiding your aura and scent by circulating the blood of other races through your armor — it's beyond clever. If you both keep these armors on at all tis, no one will be able to trace your origins easily."
He smiled faintly. "Sakaar, oh Sakaar… every ti I try to define the limits of your intellect, you find a way to exceed them. You really are a wonder."
"All my ideas stem from a single instinct, my lord — survival. Whether in the past or now, I act only to ensure my continued existence," Sakaar replied with quiet composure, his tone calm yet resolute.
Robin nodded, smiling wider now. He understood. Perhaps Sakaar had co to terms with his own limitations long before anyone else had.
Whether it was his legendary ability to store blood, his cunning strategic mind, or his tendency to hide behind the blood and presence of others, every one of Sakar's thoughts, plans, and actions served a single, unwavering purpose: to survive. He could co up with the idea for an armor that masked identity — but he lacked the kind of creative intellect to actually build it.
Robin's gaze then shifted toward Amon, his expression becoming slightly more serious.
"…The speed at which blood circulates through your body is terrifying, Amon. That's what keeps your body in this near-boiling state," he said thoughtfully. "I noticed it during the coronation a hundred years ago. But this ti…"
Robin's eyes swept over Amon again. Wisps of smoke rose from several parts of his armor, as if his body's heat was pushing against the suit's limits. And more notably, Amon's physique had grown significantly — he was now bulkier, heavier, and far more imposing than Sakaar.
"…This ti, it feels even more dangerous."
"It's simply that I've learned to store larger quantities of blood to support my transformation, my lord," Amon responded with a wince, as if the process was still uncomfortable. "Once I grow accustod to handling this amount, I'll begin training with even more. That's the next stage of my evolution."
"Oh? And just how large can you grow now?" Robin's eyes widened in anticipation. He still rembered Amon's transformation during the siege of Hope City — a monstrous display of power. In that mont, Amon had beco an army unto himself.
"My current maximum height stands at thirty-six ters, my lord," Amon said with a deep breath, his voice tinged with a faint note of frustration. It was a significant milestone, but in truth, it was still only around ten percent of what he had once achieved during that fateful day when he had truly unleashed his full potential.
"However," he continued, a flicker of pride beneath his composed tone, "unlike before, I now possess absolute control over my transformation at that height — no instability, no side effects. Just power, fully harnessed."
"Thirty-six ters… that's roughly the size of a twelve-story tower," Robin remarked with an impressed whistle, leaning back as he visualized the sheer scale. "That's still more than impressive. With that level of height, mass, and your combat strength — and at level fifty, no less — you could easily crush an entire formation of seasoned War Lords like stepping on dry twigs, nice!"
A wide, satisfied smile crept onto his lips.
"So tell ," he said, folding his hands before him, "how are things progressing with my second army?"
"That's for you to decide, my lord," Sakar replied in his usual calm and composed manner. "Our beginning was slow, as you know, due to a lack of personnel and resources. But as the war against the Great Serpent Empire ended, and with the abundance of food left in its wake, we were able to accelerate the nurturing of several new generations of soldiers. As we speak, we have successfully subdued or are actively engaging in battles across twenty-seven different planets."
Robin nodded slowly, clearly impressed by the scale of their progress.
"Not bad at all," he said with a smirk. "Especially when I rember that your army was essentially wiped out during the Battle of Hope City… and yet, here you are, not only rebuilt, but surpassing even the Third Army. You're always impressive — and just as serious as ever."
His tone suddenly shifted to sothing more firm and probing as his gaze narrowed on Sakaar's face.
"There haven't been any… incidents, have there?"
"You may confirm with the Shadow Swords and the Light Swords if you doubt us, my lord," Sakar responded without hesitation, his voice firm and unwavering. "There were a handful of isolated cases — minor, and handled imdiately. But aside from those, everything has gone precisely according to your decree. We have not killed a single soul who surrendered. Not a civilian has been hard. No trees were cut needlessly, and we do not — and will not — lay a finger on any child or woman."
Robin raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Oh? And the demon forces accepted these rules so easily?"
"It is not for them to accept or reject," Amon said with force, his voice carrying a thunderous authority. "Their only role is to obey. We enforce discipline. That is the law."
Sakaar continued with a slow, thoughtful nod.
"Recently, I implented a new system, with your blessing — one we introduced after our army reached a significant size. From now on, our primary food source will be beasts. They're enough to satisfy hunger, but they do not provide any enhancent in strength. As for the corpses of intelligent lifeforms — those are now considered rewards. They are distributed as honors to warriors who demonstrate exceptional contributions on the battlefield, or as resources to young soldiers with natural talent. So far, everyone has agreed to these rules — and accepted them willingly."
He added, "And for those whose hunger for strength surpasses the norm — they can always make the journey to Orphan's Blood, the planet where the Hunt Gas are still ongoing. In fact, the Gas have expanded — now including not only criminals from across your empire, but also ambitious power seekers from both your conquered and rebellious worlds alike."
Robin raised both eyebrows in mild amusent and surprise.
"Oh? I had almost forgotten about the Hunting Continent on Orphan's Blood."
"That's understandable, my lord," Sakaar said respectfully. "After all, you originally created it as a temporary solution — a way to manage the bloodthirsty and battle-hardened inhabitants of that chaotic world. But your rule has expanded significantly since then, and with it, the number of races under your banner — many of whom possess a deep thirst for bloodshed and combat. And the number of individuals inspired by your concept has grown so large, it's reached a point where the continent can barely accommodate them all."
"That's why," he continued, "the Third Supre General recently enacted new regulations and tightened the rules. For instance, everyone who enters the continent is now required to carry all their belongings with them — anything they own becos potential loot for whoever defeats them. The body of the slain is considered the rightful property of the slayer, to do with as they see fit. Other rules include the prohibition of large alliances within the continent, to preserve fairness, and the organization of grand combat tournants. These are now broadcast across all the worlds under your dominion, broadcasting major battles there."
Sakaar folded his arms as he added, "We currently have a significant number of demons participating in the Hunt. Each one fights alone, relying solely on their own strength and cunning. But I believe the Gas will soon outgrow Orphan's Blood. A relocation is inevitable — to a new planet, one designed specifically for hunting. Not only to expand the arena and allow for greater bloodshed, but also to move the demons away from a strategic world like Orphan's Blood, which, as you know, is the holand of the Third Supre General."
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