The room, once filled with a sense of sanctity, had become a slaughterhouse. Roars and screams rang out from time to time, along with the tremendous crashes of heavy objects colliding.
In the end, only a dozen or so prisoners remained, each cowering like a quail, not daring to lift his head.
The Rose Knight still stood on one leg, balancing on nothing but his toes, without having moved a single step.
The stronger prisoners, those with some fight in them, had all died. Their bodies lay smeared across the floor, with parts hanging from the Rose Knight, making his thorn-covered armor look as though it were blooming with gorgeous roses. This was probably where his knightly title came from.
For that very reason, the remaining criminals refused to attack no matter what. Fighting meant certain death, while doing nothing let them hold out a little longer.
"Whew..."
Mosen, the Rose Knight, let out a long breath and slowly shook his head, lowering his raised foot as though he had grown tired of standing.
"Couldn't you be a little stronger? Is this really all you've got? I even prepared equipment for you."
He spoke helplessly. All manner of grotesquely twisted weapons littered the floor, but no one dared pick them up anymore.
Only after confirming that none of them intended to move did Mosen speak again.
"All right, you've had your chance. Your time for repentance ends here. Now comes the time for atonement."
He set down the Giant Flail in his hand. He seemed particularly fond of this type of weapon, enjoying the feel of smashing people to pieces.
Then he reached for his helmet, apparently intending to lift his visor, but it was rather tight, and several attempts failed to open it.
Seizing the opportunity, one criminal fled,