The death of the magician sent the morale of the Centaur Thief Brigade plummeting to an all-time low! Seeing that the situation was untenable, the centaur thieves, who had been entangled with the main force of the mercenaries, realized their heavy losses and began to retreat.
A series of urgent whistling sounds came from the right side of the wagon formation, and then this group of centaur thieves, led by a dual-axe-wielding centaur warrior, started to evacuate towards the eastern hillside.
Felix, having slain several centaur thieves, felt his bloodlust diminish slightly. He tore a piece of cloth from a centaur thief and wiped the fresh blood off his fine iron sword before sheathing it. He had few weapons at hand, and if not cleaned, the blood would quickly cause rust.
Scanning the area, Felix realized that the battle was nearly over. Except for a few thieves who had ventured too deep and were surrounded by the caravan's guards after their retreat, the rest were already finished.
Felix lightly jumped onto the wagon, casting a glance at Marina, who was slightly stunned by his exquisite killing technique. Looking around, he noticed something interesting. The human thieves retreated south, their original direction, while the centaurs headed east. The two groups did not mix; although they had arrived together, their retreat was clearly divided. This seemed intriguing.
As the battle ended, the merchants in the wagons breathed a sigh of relief, and some first-time combatants cheered joyfully. This incident would surely be a topic of bragging in the taverns for some time.
The Northern Mercenaries did not pursue the thieves, with only a few leaders remaining alert outside the wagon circle to prevent a surprise attack from the centaurs. The rest were busy moving the wounded inside the circle for treatment.
The casualties of the Northern Mercenaries were minimal. Thanks to the mid-level professionals in the group who took on the brunt of the attack, only three unlucky souls were bisected by the centaur warriors, while the others suffered superficial wounds.
Once the wounded were cared for, some reserves from within the wagons, likely part of the Northern Mercenary backup, were dispatched. Their task was to scour the battlefield, collecting anything valuable. For these mercenaries, living on the edge of the sword, anything that could be converted into hefty silver coins was worth salvaging.
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Soon, the battlefield outside the wagons was littered with stripped corpses. Broken or fragmented weapons were prioritized by the mercenaries for collection, hauled by a mule at the end of the convoy.
The dead were buried on the spot, their clothes packed up to be given to their families when the mercenaries returned home, as a token of remembrance.
Despite the end of the battle, the atmosphere remained somber. Life at the bottom rung for mercenaries was not as glamorous as depicted in third-rate knight novels. For those who wandered year-round, a proper burial was sometimes a luxury.
To be able to bring their ashes back to their birthplace for burial was a blissful thought for these drifters.
The battle brought Felix and the Northern Mercenaries closer, as they had fought side by side.
Felix's elf-style killing techniques earned admiration among the skilled members of the group. It was an art form of killing, reminiscent of the flamboyant and brilliant moments preferred by elven rangers, whose style was more akin to highly skilled assassins. In human adventuring teams, an elven ranger was always a welcome addition.
"Not bad," complimented 'Silver Fox', a mysterious woman who hadn't spoken to Felix before. She glanced at Felix's pale, slender fingers with an intriguing look, initiating their first conversation.
Felix didn't respond. He slightly raised his head, casually glancing at the delicate woman before him, then turned his gaze back to his pale hands.
Although he hadn't used Frost Power in the recent battle, some elemental force had seeped into his hands.
"Such beautiful hands, perfect for playing the piano," Silver Fox whispered near Felix's ear, giving a seductive smile and a breathy chuckle, provocatively thrusting her ample chest forward.
The woman's repeated provocations stirred a slight anger in Felix.
"Play the piano? Here?" Felix's handsome face broke into a playful, mischievous smile.
He rubbed Silver Fox's huge and firm breasts with the back of his hand as if unintentionally, and then in the woman's slightly astonished eyes, he bent his middle finger and flicked hard at the raised point of his chest!
"You!"
The woman who had always teased Felix in the shadows jumped up like a cat that had been scalded. She stepped back abruptly as if Felix's playful retort had hit a sore spot.
"What's the matter?" Felix continued trimming his nails with his single-handed sword, acting as if nothing had just happened.
During his time with the caravan, he had been repeatedly teased by this woman. Now, having teased her back, he felt a great sense of satisfaction.
What puzzled him, though, was the skillfulness of his teasing; it seemed instinctive, almost as if he was a natural. The transition from being teased to teasing was seamless, feeling entirely natural. Could it be that he had a past of flirting mischievously with respectable women?
...
Just as everyone was slightly relaxing their guard.
Unnoticed by all, the corpse of the magician, who had been carefully stabbed in the heart by Silver Fox with a dagger at the start of the battle, suddenly moved. The magician's body, hunched over, started crawling towards the eastern hillside...