The corpse lord was swallowed whole by Drakewolf, who then bared his teeth in a satisfied grin.

"The little wolf really holds a grudge." Phield patted Drakewolf’s neck. The beast had taken a heavy beating to block Chica’s lethal strike. "You did well."

Drakewolf snorted, a low rumbling sound coming from its throat as if it were chewing something back up, then spat out a pale stone with a "ptui."

It flicked its tail and trotted away lightly.

"What is this?" Rosalia’s eyes lit up. "It contains very powerful corrupted energy. Not only that, this should be a consumable artifact."

Phield picked up the stone, wiped it clean with a handkerchief, and narrowed his eyes as he examined it. "It just looks like a broken rock with a faint glow. It almost got eaten by Drakewolf. Is this really an artifact? It looks ridiculously weak."

"You dare question me."

Rosalia was clearly annoyed. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I’m ignoring you. For thirty seconds."

"Why so long this time? Don’t be mad."

Phield tried to pat her head, but she swatted his hand away. A sly grin spread across his face. "If I can’t pat your head, then let’s try this."

He reached out and pinched her thigh, but her smooth, pale skin was so taut that his fingers slipped off twice.

"Hey, that’s too much!"

Like a startled cat, Rosalia jumped back in alarm. She almost kicked him, but remembering he was her lord, she held herself back.

In a soft, resentful voice, she muttered, "If you want to touch me, at least don’t do it in public. Have some decency."

"Alright, alright."

Phield was thoroughly amused. He knew Rosalia cared deeply about appearances. When alone, she could be wildly unrestrained, but in front of others, she stubbornly maintained her noble persona.

"Since it’s an artifact, let me try to claim it."

He cut his finger and squeezed out a drop of blood, letting it fall onto the stone. As the blood reacted intensely with it, information immediately flooded his mind.

Divine Relic: Minor Corruption Origin, no rank, small consumable, non unique

Source: Corruption Goddess

Effect: Gathers surrounding corrupted energy and rapidly accumulates origin life force for the user

Special Effect: When used by a corrupted Divine Chosen, permanently increases life strength

"Now this is good stuff." Phield was stunned. He had not expected such an ordinary looking stone to contain the very essence of corruption. He handed it to Rosalia generously. "You should use this."

"Huh?" Rosalia stared at it, then glanced at the others before speaking with a hint of pride. "I’m very fair. The spoils belong to everyone. I can’t just take it for myself."

"There’s nothing to argue about." Phield said matter of factly. "You’re the only corrupted Divine Chosen here. No one else can use it. When we get suitable artifacts for Ashina and the others, they’ll get theirs."

Besides, because of Crimson Ascendancy, Rosalia needed a large reserve of life force. The stronger her vitality, the greater the potential of her Bloodstained Fate.

"And what about you? You deserve a share too."

"You’re still thinking about your lord. I really didn’t treat you all for nothing."

Phield was genuinely moved, then immediately added, "Since you’re giving up your share, make me a pair of black stockings. Those long legs of yours would be wasted otherwise."

White stockings had been invented long ago, though their current texture was more like cotton.

Rosalia smiled faintly. "What are black stockings? I can’t create things with magic."

"It’s not magic, just clothing." Phield grinned mischievously. "Breathable long stockings. The thinner the better."

From his observations, Rosalia and possibly all corrupted Divine Chosen possessed a practical but not especially powerful ability.

They could weave clothing using divine power and life energy, meaning they never had to worry about their clothes being destroyed.

Rosalia still had no idea of his ulterior motives. She casually flicked her long hair and smiled. "Fine. I’m in a good mood, so I’ll grant your request. Describe it to me in detail."

"No rush. Let’s rest first. The remaining corpses aren’t a threat, but we’re all exhausted."

After defeating the corpse lord, Phield felt a wave of relief, but fatigue quickly followed, making him want to sleep.

"I’m tired too. I’ll go rest first."

Rosalia returned to the Greatsword of Gluttony. Phield slung it onto his back and stretched lazily.

"I shouldn’t show favoritism. I’ll reward you all as well."

He patted Ashina and Tisiana on the head one by one as encouragement.

"Hehe, my lord is the best." Ashina wagged her tail happily.

"Mm... Phield, it’s better not to touch casually. I used too much divine power. It feels like the curse is about to flare up again." Tisiana’s face flushed as she averted her gaze.

"And thank you for your contribution to Nightfall Domain. I will reward you, Miss Alice."

Phield nodded kindly at Alice.

Without this "mercenary," the battle would have been far more difficult. After all, Alice alone had held back a massive number of ordinary corpses as well as a fourth tier corrupted hound.

"You’re welcome."

Seeing that Phield only nodded at her instead of patting her head like the others, Alice felt an inexplicable sense of disappointment.

It felt like everyone else got candy while she got nothing. That imbalance was hard to ignore.

But she knew very well that she had not joined Nightfall Domain, so there was no reason for her to be treated the same.

She could only tell herself repeatedly, Who wants him to pat my head anyway? I don’t.

They returned to the city wall, where the soldiers had already gotten back on their feet, their eyes burning as they looked at Phield.

With trembling, exhausted hands, they raised the wolf banner of Nightfall Domain high into the air. The flag fluttered loudly in the wind.

The foul blood that had splattered during battle had dried on their armor. With the slightest movement, flakes of dried residue fell away.

"Long live Lord Phield!"

"Long live!"

All the soldiers cheered wildly. Even the officers had shed their usual stern demeanor. A mere hundred men created a roar like a tidal wave.

Phield knew that the soul of this army was beginning to take shape.

Before, they had only fought small battles. This victory over a powerful enemy would plant unshakable confidence in their hearts, turning them into relentless war machines who would no longer question the decisions of those above them.

On the city wall, they set up pots and cooked food, then collapsed into sleep as soon as they finished eating.

It was not until noon the next day that Phield woke up, holding his head.

"My lord, you should rest a bit more. I’ll cool the porridge before giving it to you."

Gogris stood before him, holding a bowl of ground oat porridge, with bread already sliced.

"I’ll do it myself. I’m not that tired anymore."

Phield gently patted the little fox’s head. Though she had not fought below the wall, she had exhausted every last bit of her divine power on the wall.

Gogris was not a combat type Divine Chosen, yet her will to fight had been remarkably strong.

Taking the bowl, Phield drank deeply, feeling his entire body relax.

"My lord, please rest well. Leave the fighting to us."

It was the first time Gogris had seen Phield in such a battered state. Normally, he was not overly concerned with appearance, but he always carried himself with calm elegance.

"It’s nothing. I can only rest easy after everything here is settled."

Phield dismissed it and asked in a low voice, "How many casualties did we suffer this time?"

"Thirty two soldiers from the First Army have left us. Nineteen of them died from infection. They did not last long enough to receive treatment." Gogris was already emotional, her eyes filling with tears. "Forty seven slaves died. Three of them were executed by Mr. Ben while trying to flee."

"...I see."

It was fewer than expected, but it still pained Phield deeply, especially the loss of soldiers.

These were elites among elites. Even in the Empress’s army, they would have been worthy of the vanguard.

The heavy losses among the slaves were mainly because they had no armor and were exposed to enemy ranged attacks. If not for the city wall being their last line of defense, they likely would have broken and fled after just a handful of deaths.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, a wooden stick struck the little fox on the head from behind.

"Mm... that hurts."