High-Spirited

Having an extra skill was ultimately a good thing. Although he didn't know the specifics, Hudson's intuition told him it was related to the compass devouring Soul Fire earlier.

Before this, his archery skills could only be described as rudimentary. With the arm strength of a Knight, he could draw a strong bowstring to its limit. His accuracy was limited to within fifty meters; anything further was a matter of luck.

Now, with his keen perception, he could easily lock onto targets. It was a shame that while the bow and arrows in his hands were of good quality, they were merely ordinary items. If he had special arrows from the Elves, the rebel commander would definitely not have escaped today.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh..."

With his blood up, Hudson immediately entered rapid-fire mode. Anyone he found displeasing was met with an arrow, and in an instant, dozens of people fell dead.

It was like a real-life battle royale, just with bows and arrows instead of rifles. But this didn't detract from the experience; it was even more thrilling, walking the line between life and death.

After exhausting an arrow quiver and calming down, Hudson immediately instructed the guards beside him, "Shout with me."

"The rebel commander is dead! Surrender quickly if you don't want to die!"

"The rebel commander is dead! Surrender quickly if you don't want to die!"

First dozens, then hundreds, and finally thousands of allied soldiers joined the chant. The deafening shouts threw the rebel soldiers into disarray.

"Don't listen to the enemy's nonsense, how could the High Priest..."

Before the emergent rebel leader could finish speaking, he was hit by an arrow that Hudson had snatched from an Archer, instantly perishing.

This was just the beginning. Any rebel leader who showed their face to stabilize morale would receive special attention from Hudson's arrows.

As long as they were within range, it was almost always a one-shot kill. In exchange, Hudson had already broken two of his strong bows.

With no one to direct the overall situation and their morale shattered, the rebel soldiers stopped their advance, looking everywhere for the "High Priest."

But where could the Grey-robed Elder be found now? Not only was the commander missing, but even the leaders who normally commanded the rebel army were now dead or wounded.

Seeing this, many rebel soldiers with fragile minds collapsed on the spot. It turned out that the Courage Potion was not a panacea.

As the prelude to collapse began, except for a few stubborn elements, most rebel soldiers lost their will to fight.

Hudson, being cautious, didn't rush to order a full attack. Instead, he quietly waited for the rebel soldiers to make their decision.

At this stage of the battle, whether they surrendered or not was no longer important. As long as he could hold out until the potion's effects wore off, everything would be over.

In Hudson's opinion, the rebel soldiers before him were like people who had taken opium. They were high-spirited and their combat power surged at first, but they became listless once the effects wore off.

Perhaps the Skull Society's method of controlling the rebel soldiers was even more potent than opium, but it was ultimately not a respectable method.

If it weren't for the limited combat enhancement and the numerous restrictions, and if there were only some side effects, the noble factions with more resources would likely have started imitating it long ago.

Hudson didn't have to wait long. Deserters began appearing in the rebel ranks, one, two, three, four... soon triggering a chain reaction.

Watching the rebel soldiers throw down their weapons and flee in all directions, Hudson, who was about to order a pursuit, finally softened his heart.

They were all unfortunate souls; why kill them all? More importantly, they had thrown away their most valuable weapons, so there would be no spoils of war to collect by chasing them.

Unlike the supplies in the camp, these spoils of war were his legitimate income, which he could openly take with him.

Commanding other people's private armies to fight for his own merits and spoils, while the original owners bore the casualties and losses, felt incredibly satisfying.

The game rules were like this; on the Aslant Continent, serf soldiers had no human rights, and any military merits earned belonged to the nobles.

As the sole commander of this battle, Hudson naturally had the right to claim all the merits. As for his colleagues in the Fifth Army, they would have to explain to the allied command why they abandoned the supply train and went out to loot.

If they had brought their elite troops to escort the supplies and then stepped forward to claim military merits, it would have made some sense for them to want a share.

Unfortunately, they had all taken their elites out to loot, leaving only serf soldiers behind. In this context, even if they had the nerve, no one would acknowledge their claims.

Hudson had even thought of the battle report. The victory in this war, which had secured the Noble Allied Forces' supplies, was primarily due to: the brilliant command of Knight Hudson and the bloody battle fought by the Coslo Family's private army.

As for the other serf soldiers who participated, they were purely there to make up the numbers and could be briefly mentioned, no need to waste parchment.

"Pass down the order: the supervisory team is responsible for collecting the wounded and maintaining vigilance; the first to one-hundredth squads are responsible for clearing the battlefield and collecting spoils; the eleventh to twentieth squads are responsible for collecting firewood; the twenty-fourth..."

Hudson gave his orders with great spirit.

The immediate priority was to clear the battlefield as quickly as possible and burn the bodies on the ground to prevent the enemy from exploiting any opportunities.

With the Silver Skeleton appearing, who knew if any fleeing rebel mages would return and use the bodies on the ground to cause an undead scourge.

Of course, this was just a possibility. If an undead scourge were that easy to create, the Aslant Continent would have been ruled by Necromancers long ago.

As far as Hudson knew, mysterious Necromancers were not much different from ordinary Mages; they simply had an extra skill to summon undead creatures.

In theory, undead creatures could be summoned infinitely, provided one had enough mental power to suppress the undead creatures they summoned.

This suppression wasn't against a single undead creature, but against the combined mental power of all the undead creatures summoned.

Once the critical point was exceeded, they would suffer a backlash from the undead creatures. A significant reason why Necromancers were rare was the backlash from undead creatures.

After all, summoned undead creatures could advance by devouring the flesh, blood, and souls of living beings. Once the mental power of an undead creature surpassed that of the Necromancer, it could break free from the contract's constraints.

As undead creatures of honor, to repay the kindness of being summoned by the Necromancer, they would naturally want to keep him by their side forever.

In contrast, followers affiliated with some powerful figure in the undead realm were much safer.

If their own mental power was insufficient, they could borrow power from their patron through specific rituals or incantations.

Of course, the power that could be borrowed across worlds was very limited. Otherwise, what they encountered earlier wouldn't have been five Silver Skeletons, but a sea of skeletons.