The next morning, sunlight shone across the land.
At the center of the battlefield, broken spears jutted diagonally from the earth. Small flags on their tips fluttered in the wind, their emblems already obscured by blood.
Armor lay scattered everywhere, and corpses were piled atop one another.
A crow descended from the sky and landed on a helmet, tilting its head before flapping its wings and flying back into the heights.
The wind swept through unhindered.
Hundreds of torn banners lay spread across the mud. Now and then, a corner would be lifted by the wind before quickly falling again.
Inside a deep crater, a Low-rank Silver warrior slowly raised a hand, pulled off his helmet, and gradually crawled out.
The sunlight fell upon him. It was neither cold nor warm; it merely made him feel that he was still alive.
The moment he let out his breath, he collapsed straight to the ground.
Before long, two Low-rank Bronze warriors approached, lifted the Low-rank Silver warrior, and carried him toward the distant temporary treatment area.
At that moment, more than five hundred wounded soldiers had been placed within a treatment area of less than eight hundred square meters.
More than a dozen Life Priests hurried back and forth, using divine arts and potions together to sustain the wounded soldiers' vital signs.
Farther away, the remaining organized units of the Twenty-second Legion were clearing out the Parambria Kingdom's routed soldiers scattered across the wilderness, ensuring the stability of the area.
Before a valley, two small forces met.
One side remained relatively intact, with over five hundred men. Though their armor was battered, their formation was orderly, shield edges facing outward and spearpoints aimed ahead as they silently sealed off the valley entrance.
The other side numbered over a thousand, but they