Chapter 415 - 286: The Birth of a Conspiracy (Part 2)

After several rounds of systematic promotions, the Life Force of these Barbarians had become almost supernatural, especially with the help of a max-level "Medical Treatment" skill.

Despite injuries that would have been fatal to an ordinary person, they still had the strength to lie there and speak their minds.

But the immediate priority was to stitch up the wounds; otherwise, even their immense Life Force would drain away over time.

But now he was in a bind. In a desolate place like this, forget finding a medic who could stitch wounds—it would be difficult to even find a tailor.

He knew what needed to be done but had never put it into practice. Just as he was about to give it a shot as a last resort, Sam raised his hand in the distance, volunteering.

"Lord, do the wounds need stitching? I think I can give it a try."

The little old man’s face was pale, and he was panting heavily. He even needed Mier’s support to keep from collapsing. If not for the Stone Skin Technique he had cast with every last bit of his Magic Power, the Barbarians would have suffered far more severe injuries and might not have held on until now.

"You’ve studied this before?"

Levi ordered someone to prepare a needle and thread, asking in surprise.

"I was idle back at High Cliff Castle, so I picked it up," the little old man said humbly.

In reality, he had proactively sought to learn it after some careful consideration.

After deciding to throw his lot in with High Cliff Castle, he understood that to secure his position, he needed to make himself irreplaceable.

But in terms of Casting, there was that group of far more powerful Zor Elves. As for being a Warrior, he knew nothing of Swordsmanship.

After thinking it over, he realized he was often called upon to cast his Healing Technique on the wounded. With a flash of inspiration, he decided to take on the role of a field medic.

He had the Healing Technique for Magic, but he was clueless about actual medicine, so he learned the wound-stitching Surgery that was rather well-known in High Cliff Castle.

"Alright. I’m counting on you." Levi patted his shoulder with a grave expression.

The wounded Beastman’s injuries were quickly stitched up. Afterward, once Sam’s Magic Power had recovered, he cast the Healing Technique relentlessly. Granulation tissue started to form in the wound, wriggling as it connected, and the gaping injury began to close.

Time seemed to pass with exceptional slowness, but the wound was knitting itself back together at a thousand times the normal speed.

The Barbarians, who hadn’t even flinched at their gruesome wounds, now wore identical expressions of agony. Their hands gripped the stretchers beneath them for dear life, terrified they wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to scratch their wounds.

While the injuries were healing rapidly, the itch of new flesh growing was also magnified countlessfold.

"Tie their hands," the Lord said with a wave. "Take them back to rest and recuperate for a while."

The constant drain on his Magic Power was making it impossible for Sam to continue, and Levi wasn’t the kind of unscrupulous Lord who only knew how to work his subordinates to the bone.

The Barbarians were out of danger; there was no need to force Sam to cast more Healing Magic.

...

In contrast to High Cliff Castle’s forces, both the soldiers of the Thorn Corps and the Southern Soldiers under Damon’s command were in a far more wretched state. Many had fallen, their lives left behind on this battlefield.

"Old Fu, what are your casualty numbers?"

The Lord had started by tallying High Cliff Castle’s casualties but quickly realized it was pointless—only a handful of his people were injured. So, he wandered over to another faction’s area.

"It’ll probably be over a hundred," Fujero said, his expression calm as a soldier wrapped a bandage around him.

He hadn’t even blinked when the Thorn Corps suffered severe losses in the Wilderness before, so why would he now?

’A general can’t afford to be soft-hearted. For a man to become a Legion Commander, he obviously couldn’t be that type of person.’

A gash ran across his chest, from shoulder to abdomen. Levi gave it a quick glance; it was at least two fingers deep at its worst. ’If not for his excellent Armor,’ he mused, ’Fujero would’ve been cleaved in two.’

"I thought about giving you a hand, but you looked like you had it under control, so I stayed out of it," the Lord said casually.

He then went to check on the soldiers from Terror Castle, where the situation was much the same.

In war, once the gap in power between two sides reaches a certain point, the casualty ratio becomes astronomical. As it happened, High Cliff Castle’s Warriors were above that threshold. No matter how hard the Demons fought, the result was a pointless sacrifice on their part.

It was just like in Levi’s past life playing Mount & Blade: one hundred elite cavalry could mow down a thousand bandits without a single loss.

Unfortunately, while the other human soldiers were stronger than the Demons, the difference wasn’t decisive. Faced with such a massive numerical disadvantage, their heavy losses were inevitable.

Still, they had achieved their strategic objective in this battle. Mandela and the others had successfully pushed deep into the Hengduan Mountain Range. All that remained was to close the Teleportation Gate to the Abyss.

Then, they could deal with this horde of Demons at their leisure.

As the battle concluded, Levi led his troops back to their encampment at White Bone Fortress under the fading light of the setting sun to rest and regroup.

The other units were mourning their dead, silently licking their wounds after the battle.

Only in the High Cliff Castle camp did everyone begin lighting fires and cooking meals, their first priority being to fill their bellies.

Compared to the other somber commanders, the Lord was in a rather good mood as he looked at his system panel.

For others, this war brought little benefit beyond a bit of fame. For High Cliff Castle, however, the greatest reward of war wasn’t fame or fortune, but the massive amount of experience calculated after the fighting was done.

And as it turned out, the experience gained from fighting the Demon Army was on a scale the Lord had never before witnessed.

All remaining Tier Three "Centaur Gun Cavalry" were promoted to the Tier Four "Man-Man Horse Charging Heavy Cavalry." The Jackal Wolfman units did just as well: every single remaining Tier Three "Jackal Wolfman Rider" was promoted to the Tier Four "Jackal Wolfman Rangers."

The Demons lacked mobile units, so the Centaurs, who could use a Bow and Arrow, faced almost no serious threats. This allowed them to steadily reap lives and accumulate experience.

The same was true for the Jackal Wolfman Scouts. Though they couldn’t use a Bow and Arrow, the system enhanced their thrown darts, making them fly far and true, which also enabled them to attack enemies from a distance.

If the experience gained by the Centaurs and Jackal Wolfmen had surprised Levi, then the experience gained by the Beastman Barbarians and Feder Archers left him utterly speechless.

Originally, nearly half of the Beastman Warriors were the Tier Four Soldier, "Beastman Warrior." Now, however, they had all collectively upgraded to become the Tier Five Soldier, "Giant Axe Guard."

What was even more incredible was that the ranks of the Beastman Berserkers, which previously counted only two precious members, had now swelled by another ten.

All of the Feder Archers were promoted to the Tier Five Soldier "Feder Forest Ranger," just one tier shy of the max-level "Feder Ranger."

As the levels increase, the experience required for each promotion becomes astronomical. The fact that High Cliff Castle’s forces had improved so drastically was a testament to just how "hard" the Demons had worked.

This raised the overall strength of High Cliff Castle to a whole new level.

Night deepened. It was a dark, starless and moonless night—the perfect kind of night for conspiracies to fester.

While everyone else was either nursing their post-battle exhaustion or even holding celebratory feasts, a troop of grim-faced soldiers in exquisite Armor marched toward the city gate overseen by Damon.

"Halt! Who goes there?" Belle was the Guard Captain responsible for the west gate of White Bone Fortress. A troop of soldiers emerging from the darkness immediately caught his attention.

He barked the command, his hand on the hilt of his Sword, and cautiously advanced with his Guards, holding their torches high.

Soon, the faces of the approaching party came into view.

The man in the lead was an officer in full Plate Armor, which bore the engraved sigil of the Northern Martel Family. He had rugged features and a powerful build.

As it happened, Belle had seen this officer before with the Thorn Corps and had overheard his name in conversation. It was something like... Ri... Riclo. ’Yes, that must be it.’

"Sir Riclo, what brings you here so late at night?" Belle relaxed slightly upon recognizing him and asked the routine question.

’Although the high command and the Northern Territory were at odds, he was just a low-ranking officer trying to collect his monthly pay.’

’What did their conflicts have to do with him, anyway?’