Chapter 85: Return
Soren glanced at his attribute page and indeed found a newly added line of legendary degree data, indicating 1 point of Folk Legend. This legendary degree serves a rather unique purpose; it is hard to obtain but does not significantly enhance strength. Its main utility lies in influencing negotiation, deceit, and intimidation, with 1 point of legendary degree acting as 1 point of basic skill for effect stacking. The legendary degree truly begins to take effect only after entering the Legendary Domain.
And it plays a very important decisive role!
Soren looked at the battlefield before him when suddenly a sequence of data emerged:
“Unlocking battle records.”
“Automatically counting the current battle! … Data simulation count activated! …”
Before Soren could react, a new row of data had already generated, displaying:
“Legendary Battle of the Bone-Crushing Ogres: In the year 1675 of the New Moon Era, the Southern Duchy launched a campaign from White Horse City to expel the Bone-Crushing Ogres. You assisted the army of White Horse City in defeating the Bone-Crushing Ogres and killed an advanced Ogre Commander (Level 14) on the battlefield. The deeds of this battle will gradually spread, and in time, the entire South will know of this legendary battle. Legendary Degree +1.”
………
The soldiers began to clear the battlefield.
White Horse City suffered over six hundred casualties; war inevitably comes at a price. These professional soldiers had no time to mourn and, after a brief rest, started to collect the bodies. The corpses of their comrades needed to be returned intact, and those missing arms and legs should be searched for as much as possible, as they deserved a proper funeral for their brave efforts. The wounded needed to be returned for treatment; the effects of the priest’s divine technique are limited, high-level divine techniques are costly, and the lifespan of legendary priests is far shorter than that of other spellcasters.
Legendary Wizards can easily live for hundreds or even thousands of years, while legendary priests only live for less than two hundred years.
Even Druids can live for hundreds of years without much difficulty; both use divine techniques, and the disparity in lifespan must certainly have its reasons.
However, this reason is seldom mentioned.
After all, for true priests, returning to the embrace of their revered deities is a necessary journey.
The casualties among the adventurers were likewise significant, with most arriving with some injuries. Those with teammates helped gather bodies, while those without simply cremated on the spot and buried nearby. Cremation is the adventurer’s ritual; it’s not that they can’t be buried, as people of this era do value burial. However, in the wilderness, there are too many scavengers. If buried today, a body could be dug up and consumed by tomorrow.
Hence, most of those who d*e in the wild are cremated.
After all, these corpses should not be consumed by beasts; that is an end they definitely do not deserve.
With the help of others, Soren cremated the corpse of the half-elf ranger, wrapping the ashes in a piece of cloth before burying them in a hole. He wasn’t sure what to write on the tombstone, but since the person was a third-tier ranger, a person of such caliber shouldn’t d*e unheralded. At the very least, they should have a tombstone. He chopped a piece of wood and carved words on it with his curved blade laboriously, first inscribing the name before contemplating what else to leave.
“Yas. A brave half-elf ranger, defender of the Gray Hills battle, slayer of ogres. In his final moments, he defeated an Ogre Commander. May his soul find peace.”
Soren really couldn’t think of what else to write.
Thus, he simply left a short message on the tombstone and placed the broken longbow and cleaver inside the grave with him.
Weapons are a warrior’s second life.
These pieces of equipment should accompany him to the grave; it may be somewhat wasteful, but it’s a tradition of this world, and traditions should often be respected.
Just like the soldiers of White Horse City, those who died in battle would also be buried with their weapons and armor.
The City Hall has had disputes with the military more than once over this matter; politicians consider it a shameful waste, believing those weapons should be reclaimed and given to new soldiers. However, the military stubbornly refuses, with some hot-headed individuals even resorting to fighting over it. There’s no argument that silences them; they simply insist these gear used in life should be cremated with their owners. If they fall in battle as well, the weapons and armor accompanying them are worth more than any riches or jewels.
This might be the stubbornness of warriors.
Cleaning the battlefield took a long time, and the injured were arranged to return to White Horse City.
Many spoils were found inside the ogre fortress, but this had little to do with Soren; at most, the adventurers would receive some payment later. The unfinished fortress was engulfed in flames. To prevent other creatures from occupying it, the commander ordered everything to be torn down and burnt to the ground. Soren returned with the group, while others dealt with minor battles, such as the lizardmen emerging from the Black Mist Swamp.
If they knew the Ogre Tribe had been eradicated, they might retreat to other places.
If they didn’t, the army of White Horse City would drive them out. Dealing with the lizardmen would be much easier, leaving five or six hundred troops would suffice.
The journey back was fairly quiet.
Having crushed the ogres, the rest were minor issues; even if there were still scattered monsters, the guards of other merchant caravans could handle them.
Before reaching White Horse City, the army received cheers and welcomes, with civilians occasionally gathering along the roadside to marvel at the ogre corpses. These monsters, with arms as thick as their thighs, are seldom seen. Civilians near the city rarely encounter werewolves; at most they might catch a glimpse of goblin and dog-headed men. After all, the danger posed by werewolves is high. If they spot them in their territory, the defending militia and army will quickly mobilize.
The slightly less injured soldiers held their heads high and marched, for this was their moment of glory.
Their strength, their valor, and their sacrifices formed the relatively safe living environment around White Horse City; it was a mission they had to accept. With the sacrifices made in battle, there must be glory in victory. As they gradually approached the range of White Horse City, the welcoming crowd included some cries of grief. The army had selected warriors from nearby villages and towns, and such heavy casualties had left many people mourning their husbands and sons.
Soren remained silent throughout.
He simply observed, like a bystander, watching the surviving soldiers embrace their loved ones and seeing the elderly parents wail over their son’s corpse.
This was a common occurrence.
War does not necessarily bring wealth, but it surely leaves behind wounds. Perhaps he had seen too much in the past, and now he didn’t feel so many emotional fluctuations. White Horse City awarded him fifty Gindler as remuneration; it seemed that there were quite a few valuable spoils in the ogre fortress. As he cooperated with White Horse City in the battle, the City Hall also awarded him a medal. If he wished, he could become a citizen of White Horse City and settle there.
The medal is merely a bronze plate, more a matter of symbolic significance!
After receiving his reward, Soren left, casually tossing the medal into his Dimensional Bag. He had received over a hundred of these in the past, many of which included noble medals.
If he accepted it, he could become an honorific lord.
While this brings corresponding benefits and power, it also requires him to fulfill his own duties, essentially tying him to a particular faction.
Upon returning to White Horse City, Soren first turned in his mission.
Due to the difficulty in defeating the ogres, his mercenary rank was raised to E-rank, but there were no additional rewards or privileges; the mercenary guild merely acknowledged his strength. After handling some minor tasks, he sought out a physician; the bone in his right arm needed proper reconstruction since his medical skills were not high. After the bones were successfully set, Soren went to the temple area, spending thirty Gindler to ask a priest to perform a healing spell for moderate injuries.
Naturally, bones that grow back naturally might leave hidden dangers, so it’s best to use divine techniques for restoration to avoid affecting future battles.
It wasn’t until the morning of the next day that Soren finally saw Vivian, and a smile appeared on his face.
He lifted the little girl in the air and twirled around, kissing her tender cheek amid her crisp giggles.
He wasn’t sure if it was just a feeling!
The little girl seemed a little chubbier than before and no longer thin; her rosy cheeks showed a hint of baby fat, making her look very cute.
The Merchant Caravan Mistress gazed deeply at him; the news of White Horse City’s forces dispatch had circulated for many days, and many were keenly concerned about the outcome of the battle. The Soren before her was noticeably different from the first time she met him, his aura seemed sharper and more subdued, and he appeared significantly stronger than before. If he used to seem like a brash thug, he now resembled a warrior seasoned by the battlefield and bloodshed.
The more one kills, the more their aura naturally emerges.
Soren glanced at Gloria before him, smiled gently, and nodded; though he said nothing, the Merchant Caravan Mistress knew that he already entertained the idea of leaving with Vivian.
With a soft sigh, she wondered why Soren was so stubborn about leaving.
In this time, she had learned quite a bit from Vivian, knowing they were orphans without parents. She couldn’t understand why a human with a trace of half-elf bl**d was so insistent on going to the realm of those proud elves. After all, elves are known for their exclusiveness and do not treat true half-elves well.
Ultimately, she decided to make one more attempt.
But not at Soren right now; her gaze shifted to Vivian beside her. The little girl was truly clever; though she appeared innocent and adorable, she was not ignorant. The chaos and degeneration of the slums could not taint her pure heart. This is a rare quality; a pure heart signifies a pure soul.
This strength of spirit could help her go further!
………………
(ps: Inscription or something, it won’t be overly sentimental!)
