Another person was severely wounded and had his arm severed by the Saxon chieftain's guards using long knives. He held a knife in his left hand, fought desperately, and managed to kill that elite chieftain's guard.

Kvito was considered the least injured.

He was part of the reinforcements joining the battlefield later on, accidentally hit by a few arrows. It wasn't a major issue, just flesh wounds that would heal with about half a month of rest.

Duncan was also slightly injured.

It must be said, the damned Duke of Dingtiger's lord armor is incredibly good. Duncan was hit by three arrows without any issues, as long as he protected his vital points. With his strong physical condition now, wearing this set of heavy lord armor, he'd likely be able to continue fighting even with over ten arrows embedded in him.

The Duke of Dingtiger suffered severe injuries in the front, the worst injuries from two arrows—one on the buttock and one on the lower back.

Severus and Kvito began to gather the troops and clean the battlefield.

In this battle, Severus was not injured because he already had two fingers broken, and didn't charge in the front. In this situation, it wasn't suitable to use the Transformation Technique, as his attention was all on Duncan. In case of any unexpected incidents, he could provide rescue at any time.

Field healing had to rely on him; the Druid's herbal medicine skills were advanced for this era.

Exeter.

The British Legion escorted the captured enemies over. A sea of heads, all disarmed and surrendered, knelt row by row on the muddy, blood-stained ground.

Duncan dismounted, emanating a murderous aura, picked up a cross axe, and walked up to the guards of a Saxon warband.

"Surrender or death?"

He lifted the recalcitrant warband guard's chin with the cross axe. The guard glared at Duncan, showing defiance and fear; this man was like a ghost god, slaying Hosa among thousands, making even the defiant Germanic warriors tremble.

His expression struggled, wanting to surrender, yet unable to let go of the pride of a Germanic warrior.

Thunk!

Without a moment's hesitation, Duncan swung the cross axe, directly embedding it into the man's skull.

Thud.

The corpse fell.

Duncan pulled out the cross axe and moved to the second person, a Saxon elite axeman. This man glared at Duncan and said hoarsely, "I will never yield!"

Thunk!

He didn't get the chance to utter a second sentence, and Duncan swung the cross axe, splitting into his skull.

This scene made everyone present shiver.

A devil!

Too brutal!

Only at the rear of the crowd, a hastily arrived merchant accompanying the army showed regret, muttering in a low voice, "All high-grade slaves, if not that, could at least fetch ransom."

"Why kill them all like this?!"

Duncan, expressionless, moved to the third person, a Saxon elite lance and shield warrior.

"I am willing to surrender! ... I am willing to pledge loyalty to my Lord! ..." The Saxon elite lance and shield warrior spoke tremulously, bowing his head and kneeling on the ground.

Duncan nodded calmly and moved to the fourth person.

That person was hesitating, his expression struggling.

Thunk!

Duncan swung the cross axe directly into his skull.

This scene scared another person beside him so much that they urinated, not even waiting for Duncan to come over to ask, hurriedly kneeling on the ground, burying their head deeply and said, "I am willing to surrender! ..."

A dead silence filled the interim training ground.

Duncan went from one to another asking, at first some were unwilling to surrender. He didn't waste words, exploded head with a direct axe, and then the attendants dragged the body away.

Initially, every few people, someone preferred to die rather than yield, later every dozen, someone had a stiff mouth and was killed on the spot, by the end, even those hesitating with rigid mouths were gone, not even waiting for Duncan to come over, hastily knelt to express submission.

Out of several hundred Saxon prisoners, Duncan went one by one, ultimately killing more than twenty right there!

Most of those killed later hesitated, being too stubborn with their mouths, they lost the chance to surrender.

Clang!

Duncan, under the gaze of all, pulled out the Oathkeeper longsword from his waist, holding it horizontally above the Saxon elite lance and shield warrior's head, solemnly intoning, "In the name of God and all the gods!"

"I, the Lord of Southampton, the slayer of the King of Kent, the beheader of the leader of the British Legion of Hosa, accept your surrender!"

"You will not become base slaves. I respect your warrior's honor. You will be treated as a vassal army!"

"From today, you will be their regiment commander."

Duncan ignored the surprised and bewildered elite Saxon spearman, directly waving his hand to order: "Someone, take them away!"

"Give them some food and water."

Not enough to be full, but not enough to starve, all weapons and armor must be removed, and everyone will be concentrated and detained, awaiting further reorganization, then driven to the battlefield as a vassal army.

The Middle Ages did not have such a strong concept of a nation.

A standard example, the Hun mercenaries, during the Empire's war with God's Whip, even helped deal with the elite riders of the Huns. The Saxon Barbarian Race developed from clan societies, with tribal resources concentrated in the hands of the upper nobility.

A simple analogy: you have fields, land, grain, houses, horses, and attendants, usually celebrating with a bunch of beauties. Most of the tribe's wealth is yours, and when war comes, you're handed a shield, a spear, a piece of shabby leather armor, and told to charge ahead as cannon fodder.

When the time comes, you can decide whether to slash or not to slash!

That's pretty much the idea.

Among the exiles recruited by Duncan, there were also Saxons. However, they were from humble origins, belonging to the lowest caste among the Barbarian Race. They would farm for noble warriors and graze horses, and during war, they were given some garbage equipment, being the lowest level Saxon spearman.

No matter Saxon or not, these Saxon-born exiles slashed the Barbarians with more ferocity than the other!

As long as they could have a good life, on the battlefield, they could whirl an axe so fast it leaves afterimages.

Loyalty!

Living worse than a stray dog, they wouldn't hesitate to draw their swords, whether against a Saxon Chieftain or even the emperor of the Empire, Augustus.

And that's how Duncan incorporated them.

As for whether they could be used, further observation was necessary, after all, they had just been captured and surrendered. There must be a combination of favor and might, with careful selection.

——Valkyries!

Unlike previous occasions, this time there were surprisingly three Valkyries appearing simultaneously.

One with a Bird-winged Golden Helmet, and two with Bird-winged Silver Helmets.

These three Valkyries busily soared above the battlefield. Mortals couldn't perceive their presence. They lifted the souls of fallen warriors one by one, before vanishing into the sky.

Undoubtedly, today the Heroic Spirit Hall's performance must be explosive!

"Is one person not enough?"

"Brought in two helpers?"

Duncan glanced around from his God's perspective and then began busying himself with his affairs. The soldiers had suffered heavy casualties, so he needed to offer comfort and consolation. Even though he couldn't share meals and lodgings with legendary generals from ancient times, he had to at least make a good show of it, while also winning over the people under Duke of Dingtiger.

Even though the battle was an epic victory, the casualties were still substantial, and the elite forces of the Britons were too few. At critical moments, they could only rely on human lives to hold back the enemy's fierce assault.

Without Duncan's morale boost, the British Legion would have likely already crumbled.

The dusk was as red as blood.

All three Valkyries remained busy until nightfall gathering the souls of the fallen warriors. Duncan himself couldn't rest and eat a bit until midnight.

"Aren't there supposed to be 9 Valkyries according to legend?"

"Are the others elsewhere?"

Duncan watched as the Valkyries vanished from his God's perspective. The last Bird-winged Golden Helmeted Valkyrie paused mid-air, giving Duncan a long, deep look before disappearing into the clouds above.

For some reason, Duncan felt the Valkyries' attitude towards him had changed!

At first, the Valkyries were indifferent towards him. Gradually, they paid more attention, eventually almost following his every move, and now even called for help, assuming one couldn't handle it alone. Duncan was likely boosting the Heroic Spirit Hall's performance, which might have inadvertently increased the Valkyries' favorability a bit.

Well, perhaps so, though uncertain, given that they were slaying those devoted to the Norse Pantheon.

The Norse Pantheon comprised a relatively loose pantheon alignment, holding a subtle attitude towards the secular world. They didn't care much for ordinary people and favored the warriors who died in battle, aligning themselves with an elite path, where the Heroic Spirit Hall is the core of the core. The barbarian invaders who first attacked the Empire, Western Goths, Franks, and others, were swayed by the church and many converted to the faith of Christianity.

Collecting the valiant dead promptly prevented future conversions to the church.

The Valkyries were indeed diligent and conscientious.

.........

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