The diluted holy water was quickly distributed to the severely wounded barbarians.
The flesh around their wounds began writhing like fish fry, stretching, intertwining. The severed blood vessels followed their proper paths as they returned to place, reconnected, and healed. The missing flesh gradually grew back, and the gaping wounds slowly closed.
Time seemed to pass millions of times faster than normal. A process that should have taken a long time was compressed into just a few breaths.
The process clearly brought extraordinary pain. They had barely made a sound when their abdomens were blown open, but now they could not help gripping the grass beside them with all their strength, while beads of sweat the size of beans gathered on their foreheads.
The wounds were still hideous, but at least their internal organs were no longer directly visible. Judging from the information provided by the system, their lives had been saved.
"Carry them back and let them rest in bed for a while." Richard waved his hand.
Continuing to use holy water might have allowed them to recover completely, but Pompeii was a relatively secular nation and did not blindly revere holy water. The mainstream view in the country was that excessive use of it within a short period would overdraw a person's vitality.
Richard knew next to nothing about magical theory and was uncertain whether that claim had any basis, so he could only choose to believe it just in case.
His expression was solemn, but inside, he was bubbling with joy.
A glowing screen that only he could see was floating in midair before him.
Richard had glanced at it when advancing everyone earlier. He had known there would definitely be quite a few promotions, but he had never expected the number to reach this level.
All the third-tier Barbarian Spearmen had advanced into Barbarian Warriors, while two of the original Barbarian Warriors had become fifth-tier Barbarian Great Axe Warriors. The first- and second-tier Centaur Herdsmen and Centaur New Guards were even more exaggerated. Every single one had advanced by one tier, without a single exception.
The bandits had been severely lacking in ranged firepower. As archers, the centaurs had faced almost no meaningful threat. Each of them had fired more than thirty arrows on average, and many had even gained more experience than they needed.
The elite quality of the entire High Mountain Keep territorial guard had risen by an entire level.
Meanwhile, Annie was helping tally the casualties with a wooden board and a charcoal stick, but soon discovered that there was no point. The bandits' casualties did not need tallying at all, while High Mountain Keep had not lost a single person.
The discovery left her incredulous. After carefully checking twice and confirming that it was correct, she still could not understand it.
When she could not understand something, she asked. At the very least, the Half-Elf had inherited half of the elves' bluntness.
"Richard, High Mountain Keep didn't lose a single person! My heavens, this really is a divine miracle from the ancient legends."
"Divine miracle? Ha, once you put it plainly, it's not that mysterious." Richard had not even had time to take off his armor since the battle ended.
Much of his iron armor had been dented by heavy blows. Two servants from the trading company were gritting their teeth as they struggled with pliers against the warped clasps. Every time they removed another layer of armor, blood plasma that had not yet fully coagulated splashed onto the ground with a wet splat.
"With a one-to-eight disparity in troop strength, what else could it be but a divine miracle?" Annie put on the appearance of a pious yet ignorant young maiden, a performance sure to arouse any male creature's urge to confide.
"Don't let legends and stories fool you. War doesn't have that many fancy tricks. The simplest things are the most practical." Richard turned and pointed behind him.
The surviving bandits had collectively laid down their weapons and surrendered. Under the escort of the barbarians and centaurs, they were walking in two lines toward the foot of the hills. A long life as slaves awaited them.
Although High Mountain Keep's warriors fought with great ferocity, they treated the weak more civilly than most nobles did. They had even spared some of their excess holy water for the slaves, leaving those uncultured wilderness folk so grateful that they wept.
Annie took the scene in and thought about it for a long while before deciding that only the word "pride" could describe it.
Beneath the seemingly merciful act lay profound pride. Because they had absolute confidence in their strength, they were exceptionally tolerant toward defeated enemies. What a proud and fierce army!
"Look at my subordinates. They're either Highland Barbarians or centaurs. Every one of them belongs to a renowned and powerful race. So what if we were outnumbered ten to one?" Richard pointed again at the caravan's mercenaries in the distance. "If I'd brought them into battle, I'd definitely have been the first to run."
The mercenaries had not noticed in the slightest that they had become the subject of someone else's discussion. They were gathered together, watching the spectacle.
Those fellows had also witnessed the distribution of holy water. Each of them curled his lips, clearly disdainful of such an ostentatious display.
Annie's cheeks flushed involuntarily. The disparity always seemed especially obvious when placed side by side, and how could a proud Half-Elf accept that?
"Just kidding, don't take it seriously." Richard slapped his thigh and laughed twice.
"Lord Richard, you're a Pompeian. Why do you have so many Highland Barbarians as followers?"
Annie was somewhat tempted. She decided that after returning, she would suggest that the trading company establish an elite guard unit as well. Nonhuman races like centaurs were prone to being bullied in Pompeii, but the Highland Barbarians seemed suitable to her in every respect.
"That's a long story. I also paid a great price—" Richard's gaze suddenly became deeply weathered, wistful, and profound, as if the stars themselves had fallen.
Annie felt that some stirring adventure story might be hidden within that gaze. The lord of High Mountain Keep and the barbarians would be its protagonists, and it would surely contain words like dragons, epic deeds, and bloody battles.
Beneath her calm exterior, her gossip-loving heart began to stir restlessly.
"I spent a full thousand gold coins and bought them in bulk from slave traders." Richard sighed. The stingy peasant mentality buried in his bones could never be washed away. Just thinking about his IOUs made his liver ache.
In his hometown, where credit services were so highly developed, Richard had never borrowed money. Now, however, his debts were as heavy as a mountain. Even if everyone from High Mountain Keep formed a group and sold their muscles in the arena, they still would not be able to pay it all back.
"With prices the way they are now, they're damn expensive." Richard sighed again.
He looked at the bandit corpses left behind on the battlefield and suddenly felt that victory was rather tasteless. So what if they had won? He had not even earned a single gold coin.
"..."
Annie opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to say. The sum was not small, but compared with a team of elite warriors, it was practically a giveaway price.
"Actually, they shouldn't have charged me at all." Richard pressed down on his money pouch with a pained expression. Apart from a few IOUs, it was empty. He kept wearing it purely because he was too proud to admit defeat.
"These barbarians used to be gladiators in the arena, and they caused so much trouble that the arena could barely stay open. I was the one who subdued this bunch of useless idiots and took them away. The arena should have paid me instead."
"How... did you subdue them?" Annie faintly sensed that this might be the key. She asked cautiously.
"The boss pinned Gunther to the ground and beat him for a full fifteen minutes. After that, we were all convinced," a passing barbarian said with utter honesty.
Before you continue