At the entrance to the room, dead bodies were piled up. The corpses of the Templar Knights who barged in here. There was more than 20 of them. Their heads and limbs were haphazardly severed off.
Crowley knew most of their faces. They were his former comrades.
He gazed at them.
The comrades that had managed to survive and return home alive from that war despite the odds, yet Gilbert had to struggle against an internal conspiracy and in the end got killed without any honor in this middle of nowhere place by a monster.