The convicts quickly stopped their cursing.
It wasn't out of remorse but fear—they noticed that whenever they spewed insults, the Executioners behind them grew larger and more menacing.
The realization hit them like a tidal wave of regret.
After all, tens of thousands of viewers were watching their vulgar tirades, cheering them on. "Good! Curse some more! The nastier, the better! Here's a vote for you—die quickly, save us the wait!"
The once-chaotic scene quieted as the convicts reeled in their tongues.
Nagu stepped forward, his voice calm but cutting.
"The pain you feel is not our doing—it's yours. I've explained before: the Cleansing Flame only burns guilt and malice. If you feel pain, it's because you are burdened by sin."
He gestured toward Ash and the elf Walcas.
"Look at these two fine gentlemen—Ash Heath and Walcas Uhl. See how the Cleansing Flame passes through them without harm? Learn from their example."
The convicts' tortured expressions twisted further as they noticed Ash and Walcas, standing mere inches from their Executioners. The ghostly flames swirled through their bodies, but neither flinched.
Nagu continued, his tone almost sympathetic.
"This is your opportunity to repent, to let the Cleansing Flame wash away your sins. Only through true remorse can you earn the forgiveness of the Blood Moon and its people."
One convict, his face contorted with pain, screamed:
"I'm sorry! I repent! Please stop—AAAAH!"
Harvey, the skeletal necromancer, clung desperately to the steel wire, his bony fingers bleeding as they were sliced to the bone. Despite the agony, he preferred this torment over enduring the Cleansing Flame's caress.
Nagu's smile widened slightly.
"Repentance must be genuine—complete and heartfelt. It is not enough to say the words; you must believe them. Or, if you prefer, you can embrace the flame entirely. Let it burn away your sinful soul, leaving only purity behind."
The implications were chilling. The Cleansing Flame wasn't merely punitive—it could erase a convict's sinful persona entirely, forcibly "splitting" their soul into a "good" half.
It was an execution in all but name, and for the convicts, this fate was arguably worse than death.
"I get it now… I get it…" he muttered, his voice cracked and uneven.
Ash leaned closer, raising an eyebrow.
"What do you mean? It's just the Blood Moon Trial—it's supposed to kill one person, right? The rest of you just have to endure a bit longer."
"No, no, no…" Harvey shook his head violently, tears mixing with the blood dripping from his shredded fingers. "This isn't a normal trial. We've hit one of the rare exceptions."
Ash tilted his head, puzzled. "What exceptions?"
Harvey's choked laughter was laced with despair.
"An elder once told me… when the Andrelm faction loses a key figure, when a political purge looms… the trials always get harsher."
"What does that have to do with this?"
"Think about it," Harvey spat bitterly. "What's more entertaining for the masses—a serial killer, or a corrupt official exposed for embezzlement and fraud?"
Ash's stomach sank as he realized the grim truth.
In the Blood Moon Nation, politics was a brutal game. Losers weren't merely ousted—they were publicly humiliated and sentenced to death. Trials like this weren't just punishment; they were warnings, staged spectacles to entertain the masses and remind officials to be more cunning, more ruthless, and more discreet.
"I see you've read up on the system," Ash remarked dryly.
Harvey sneered. "Do you think I used to clean the corpses of ordinary people?"
Ash nodded, conceding the point. "Fair enough. But why would this purge make them kill more than one of you?"
Harvey's gaunt face twisted with frustration.
"The cells are full."
"…What?"
"There's not enough space. They need to clear out room for all the disgraced officials and their lackeys."
Ash stared, dumbfounded.
The sheer absurdity of the logic hit him like a punch to the gut.
One by one, the convicts began to move.
Harvey was among the first, draping himself over the steel wire like a human sloth. With every swing, the sharp wire carved deeper into his already mangled hands. Soon, his flesh gave way entirely, revealing silver-white bones glinting faintly in the moonlight.
Despite the horrific injuries, Harvey's speed increased. His skeletal fingers clutched the wire, friction screaming like nails on a chalkboard, but his expression betrayed no pain—only grim determination.
Ash's eyes widened. A bone-strengthening spirit?
Other convicts followed suit.
Some used thickened skin to protect themselves from the wire's bite.
Others, gifted with agility, sprinted along the cable with surprising grace.
The most absurd method belonged to the ogre. A temperature-altering spirit froze the steel wire solid, allowing him to slide across effortlessly.
Ash shook his head.
These convicts really are talented… and versatile.
As the others scrambled for safety, Ash remained still, watching.
Finally, he turned to face Nagu, who stood on the observation platform with an amused expression.
Their eyes met.
Nagu smiled. "An excellent thought. Instead of walking the tightrope of the Blood Moon's rules, why not break them entirely? Why not retreat to the prison?"
Back at Red Mist Bar…
The crowd erupted.
"He's right! Just jump back to the prison—it's so obvious!"
"No traps waiting for them?"
"Does this mean they can escape the trial? What a joke! How did Broken Lake screw this up?"
"Refunds! Refunds!"
Lorens, seated quietly, noticed a shift in the betting odds.
Ash's probability of survival had suddenly risen, causing the payout ratio to drop from 1.65 to 1.45.
The fishman scholar smirked, sipping his cocktail.
Chapter 54: The Interactive Phase
The convicts quickly stopped their cursing.
It wasn't out of remorse but fear—they noticed that whenever they spewed insults, the Executioners behind them grew larger and more menacing.
The realization hit them like a tidal wave of regret.
After all, tens of thousands of viewers were watching their vulgar tirades, cheering them on. "Good! Curse some more! The nastier, the better! Here's a vote for you—die quickly, save us the wait!"
The once-chaotic scene quieted as the convicts reeled in their tongues.
Nagu stepped forward, his voice calm but cutting.
"The pain you feel is not our doing—it's yours. I've explained before: the Cleansing Flame only burns guilt and malice. If you feel pain, it's because you are burdened by sin."
He gestured toward Ash and the elf Walcas.
"Look at these two fine gentlemen—Ash Heath and Walcas Uhl. See how the Cleansing Flame passes through them without harm? Learn from their example."
The convicts' tortured expressions twisted further as they noticed Ash and Walcas, standing mere inches from their Executioners. The ghostly flames swirled through their bodies, but neither flinched.
Nagu continued, his tone almost sympathetic.
"This is your opportunity to repent, to let the Cleansing Flame wash away your sins. Only through true remorse can you earn the forgiveness of the Blood Moon and its people."
One convict, his face contorted with pain, screamed:
"I'm sorry! I repent! Please stop—AAAAH!"
Harvey, the skeletal necromancer, clung desperately to the steel wire, his bony fingers bleeding as they were sliced to the bone. Despite the agony, he preferred this torment over enduring the Cleansing Flame's caress.
Nagu's smile widened slightly.
"Repentance must be genuine—complete and heartfelt. It is not enough to say the words; you must believe them. Or, if you prefer, you can embrace the flame entirely. Let it burn away your sinful soul, leaving only purity behind."
Ash's eyes narrowed.
The implications were chilling. The Cleansing Flame wasn't merely punitive—it could erase a convict's sinful persona entirely, forcibly "splitting" their soul into a "good" half.
It was an execution in all but name, and for the convicts, this fate was arguably worse than death.
Next to Ash, Harvey trembled.
"I get it now… I get it…" he muttered, his voice cracked and uneven.
Ash leaned closer, raising an eyebrow.
"What do you mean? It's just the Blood Moon Trial—it's supposed to kill one person, right? The rest of you just have to endure a bit longer."
"No, no, no…" Harvey shook his head violently, tears mixing with the blood dripping from his shredded fingers. "This isn't a normal trial. We've hit one of the rare exceptions."
Ash tilted his head, puzzled. "What exceptions?"
Harvey's choked laughter was laced with despair.
"An elder once told me… when the Andrelm faction loses a key figure, when a political purge looms… the trials always get harsher."
Ash frowned.
"What does that have to do with this?"
"Think about it," Harvey spat bitterly. "What's more entertaining for the masses—a serial killer, or a corrupt official exposed for embezzlement and fraud?"
Ash's stomach sank as he realized the grim truth.
In the Blood Moon Nation, politics was a brutal game. Losers weren't merely ousted—they were publicly humiliated and sentenced to death. Trials like this weren't just punishment; they were warnings, staged spectacles to entertain the masses and remind officials to be more cunning, more ruthless, and more discreet.
"I see you've read up on the system," Ash remarked dryly.
Harvey sneered. "Do you think I used to clean the corpses of ordinary people?"
Ash nodded, conceding the point. "Fair enough. But why would this purge make them kill more than one of you?"
Harvey's gaunt face twisted with frustration.
"The cells are full."
"…What?"
"There's not enough space. They need to clear out room for all the disgraced officials and their lackeys."
Ash stared, dumbfounded.
The sheer absurdity of the logic hit him like a punch to the gut.
One by one, the convicts began to move.
Harvey was among the first, draping himself over the steel wire like a human sloth. With every swing, the sharp wire carved deeper into his already mangled hands. Soon, his flesh gave way entirely, revealing silver-white bones glinting faintly in the moonlight.
Despite the horrific injuries, Harvey's speed increased. His skeletal fingers clutched the wire, friction screaming like nails on a chalkboard, but his expression betrayed no pain—only grim determination.
Ash's eyes widened. A bone-strengthening spirit?
Other convicts followed suit.
Some used thickened skin to protect themselves from the wire's bite.
Others, gifted with agility, sprinted along the cable with surprising grace.
The most absurd method belonged to the ogre. A temperature-altering spirit froze the steel wire solid, allowing him to slide across effortlessly.
Ash shook his head.
These convicts really are talented… and versatile.
As the others scrambled for safety, Ash remained still, watching.
Finally, he turned to face Nagu, who stood on the observation platform with an amused expression.
Their eyes met.
Nagu smiled. "An excellent thought. Instead of walking the tightrope of the Blood Moon's rules, why not break them entirely? Why not retreat to the prison?"
Back at Red Mist Bar…
The crowd erupted.
"He's right! Just jump back to the prison—it's so obvious!"
"No traps waiting for them?"
"Does this mean they can escape the trial? What a joke! How did Broken Lake screw this up?"
"Refunds! Refunds!"
Lorens, seated quietly, noticed a shift in the betting odds.
Ash's probability of survival had suddenly risen, causing the payout ratio to drop from 1.65 to 1.45.
The fishman scholar smirked, sipping his cocktail.
Ash, however, stood motionless.
The thought of retreat was tempting. But as he considered Nagu's words and the reactions of the convicts, a realization dawned on him.
This wasn't a mistake.
The loophole was deliberate—a way to lure them into false hope and let the audience savor the ultimate spectacle: watching those hopes crushed.
After all, what's more thrilling than granting false hope—only to snatch it away?