Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree-Chapter 441: After the Battle

As the legion’s main force pushed forward like an unstoppable iron flood towards the direction of the fleeing stragglers, the noise of the chase gradually faded away.

Duke’s squad received new orders to stay put and assist the follow-up units in preliminary battlefield cleanup and alerts.

When he stepped onto this land again, which had just experienced the most brutal defense and final collapse, even though he was already accustomed to death, the scene before him still brought a heavy, nearly suffocating impact.

The ground was already completely covered with corpses, almost no bare soil could be found.

Corpses of Native Alliance Army soldiers, various oddly-shaped demons, and even more slave creatures were piled layer upon layer, reaching heights in many places that exceeded the height of an adult.

Blood had long since soaked into the soil, making the originally dark red earth more sticky and muddy. Every step sunk his boots into a discomforting mixture of bloody mud and shredded flesh, making a squelching sound.

The scent permeating the air was so strong it was almost tangible, a nauseating breath of death mixed with the rusty smell of blood, the stench of viscera, the sweetish putrefaction of corpses, and the burnt smell of energy residues.

Broken spears, shattered shields, twisted armor, remnants of crossbows blasted into pieces—the discarded gear of the Native Alliance Army lay everywhere like refuse.

Amongst them were quite a few losses from the legion’s side, with demolished golems resembling giant heaps of junk, their inner structures exposed and flickering with unstable energy lights.

The green-skinned Orcs’ dark green corpses were scattered here and there, often dying in the fiercest assaults.

Occasionally, giant remnants of floating airships could be seen, akin to the skeletons of steel beasts, thrust into the earth, still emitting wisps of black smoke.

The battlefield was not entirely silent; faint groans and anguished breaths occasionally came from the piles of bodies, belonging to those wounded who hadn’t fully succumbed.

There were both soldiers from the Native Alliance Army and severely injured, dying slave creatures.

Occasionally, legion’s wizards or logistics personnel approached, indifferently delivering the final blow to those native soldiers who lost value, or dragging away injured slave creatures that still had recovery value.

In some places, sporadic small skirmishes continued.

These were hopeless resistances by trapped, desperate small units of the Native Alliance Army, soon to be mercilessly wiped out by legion squads clearing the battlefield.

Duke could clearly sense that the energy field in this region was extremely chaotic and dangerous.

Energy turbulence left by powerful magic duels were like invisible whirlpools, occasionally erupting with dangerous energy surges or elemental fragments.

In certain areas, negative energy persisted due to mass deaths, forming a hazy, heart-stirring mist from which inhuman screams echoed faintly.

Those were newly formed undead creatures, wandering everywhere.

He even saw a corpse of a Native Alliance soldier suddenly stand up in a twisted manner, its eyes glowing with a muddled red light, roaring as it lunged at a nearby skeleton laborer cleaning the battlefield, only to have its head shattered by a vigilant green-skinned Orc.

Such low-level undead creatures naturally posed no real threat, as they had formed too swiftly and lacked substantial strength.

Meanwhile, the legion’s logistics units had already entered the battlefield like efficient worker ants.

They were not there to mourn but to harvest.

Golem remnants were marked and dismantled; valuable parts were transported back, while intact enemy weapons and armor were gathered, perhaps to be melted down and recast or allocated to subsequent vassal troops.

Even the corpses of slave creatures were gathered by specialized alchemy teams to extract potentially useful biological materials or convert them into low-level energy sources.

This cold efficiency starkly contrasted the prevalent misery and despair on the battlefield.

Duke walked silently through this hell on earth, his spiritual power highly concentrated, cautiously navigating potential energy traps or lurking enemies while meticulously observing and recording everything.

He saw a young Native Alliance soldier’s corpse, clutching tightly to a broken flag adorned with his homeland’s emblem even in death.

He also saw a large war demon, its belly completely sliced open, spilling entrails and attracting swarms of flies.

This was the most real, most unvarnished outcome of war.

No glory, only destruction.

No victors, only survivors.

He took a deep breath of that nauseating air, using it as a sobering potion.

Power, only absolute power, can prevent becoming just another part of this mountain of corpses and blood sea, can grant one the right to choose.

The resistance of the Devourer Plane was courageous, but before the absolute power and resource disparity of the Wizard Civilization, this courage ultimately turned into this more fertile plain of Sobbing Blood underfoot.

The gears of war continued to turn, and this battlefield would soon be cleaned, becoming another forward base for the legion as it progresses deeper into the Buren Continent.

All death and sacrifice would eventually be reduced to a few lines of numbers on a cold war report. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

The preliminary clearing of the battlefield lasted a whole day, the legion’s logistical machinery operating efficiently and coldly, like carrion vultures stripping and recovering everything of value from this blood-soaked land.

Corpses were gathered into horrifying, small hills.

Most of the Native Alliance’s remains were burned on-site, towering black smoke and the stench of charred protein persisting for days, a form of purification and disease prevention.

Meanwhile, slave and demon remnants were sorted; valuable parts extracted, the rest burnt or buried in situ.

Damaged equipment was gathered, intact items packed and transported away.

Duke and his squad members participated in some alert and energy monitoring tasks, walking across the gradually cleared battlefield, with the shocking feeling not diminished but transformed from primitive brutality into a more inhuman desolation processed by industrial methods.

Charred land, huge craters, residual energy radiation, and those indelible dark red spots all told of what happened here.

When the last batch of valuable loot was carried away, and the final corpse hill set ablaze, it was time for them to move on.

Duke took a deep breath, took one last look at this seemingly cursed plain.

Then he turned, followed the squad’s banner, stepping forward.

They crossed land compacted by golem feet yet still oozing dark red fluid, crossing an invisible boundary from the realm of death into the unknown, but inevitably smoke-filled future.