About three minutes and thirty seconds later, the God of Black Blood shamefully left behind 1000 gold, and was carried out on a stretcher by the chief physicians.
"Three minutes and thirty seconds, Extreme Mortal Phase Two, Spirit Realm erosion spreading across the entire field, each strike of the Giant Sword corrodes and lands critical hits, the mechanism, as monstrous as it is, bleeds us dry. All out effort yet still unbeatable!"
The God of Black Blood was analyzing the recent battle, like many others sometimes due to nervousness and various other psychological factors, external factors prevent one from performing at their best.
When the dust settles, re-analyzing everything, one would keep saying "I shouldn't have said it like that" feeling self-irritation, wishing there were some sort of "redo" potion and believing that their performance next time will surely be better than their last.
That was the current situation of the God of Black Blood.
