Modesty did not affect the outcome. The results were right there for all to see; no one cared how the victory had been won.
The Underworld Races had no cavalry. That was no secret.
Everyone knew this weakness, yet only Hudson had seized upon it. That was what capability looked like.
As darkness gradually fell, only scattered pockets of resistance remained on the battlefield. The routed allied forces farther away had no time to concern themselves with them.
Let those who wanted to run, run. An enemy whose backbone had been broken was no longer worth worrying about.
After racing here at full speed and then fighting bitterly for an entire day, the allied forces were starving as well.
Wiping out the remaining enemy quickly and letting the troops rest was the proper course of action.
"Pass down the order: search the battlefield for any enemies that slipped through the net, then collect our dead. Leave the rest to the cleanup battalion!"
Hudson gave the order decisively.
Finishing off wounded enemies after the battle was somewhat dishonorable, but on a racial battlefield, it was the most normal thing in the world.
The "cleanup battalion" was a temporary unit Hudson had created, composed mainly of necromancers and specifically responsible for handling enemy corpses.
Leave professional matters to professionals. Ever since this unit had been established, cleanup had ceased to be a problem.
Not only was it environmentally friendly and pollution-free, it also cut off the spread of plague at the source.
As the great battle came to an end, the rank-and-file officers and soldiers returned to camp to rest, while the allied high command became busy.
Tallying achievements, counting casualties, and calculating military merit was a complicated undertaking.
Seeing that everyone was busy, Hudson immediately announced that the victory banquet would