After delegating tasks to the skeletons, Murphy returned alone to the City of Gath.

Pepe was left behind in the Lightless Tomb, as she had lately taken up the dark art of summoning skeletons. The Lightless Tomb provided a place where she could practice unreservedly.

Another reason was Murphy's lack of trust in the skeletons' brains, thus, he cast a one-to-one messaging spell on Pepe, ensuring that after the skeletons' preparations, she could perform a basic check and report back to him. It would save him a lot of trouble.

That’s what you call the right use for an unlucky apprentice.

A week later, Pepe sent a message: ten thousand skeletons were ready, as per Murphy's request.

The brains of those skeletons, concealed in Slime of the same rank, their tattered but still intact clothing or armor, and the rotting weapons in their hands almost begging to shatter with the slightest swing, made clear that these were elite among the elite.

They replaced the roaming lower-level skeletons, creating a defensive barrier on the outskirts of the Lightless Tomb.

With the demons ready, it was humanity's turn to march.

Murphy informed Byron, who found Doyle overseeing the soldiers’ training.

"Now, we march?" Doyle frowned, eyeing the listless soldiers on the training field below. "Do you think they are up to it?"

"They're not getting any better with more training. These past days have brought no progress. It's better rather to finish early," Byron helplessly stated. "Besides, summer is coming, and they'll like wearing armor even less."

"Kind of makes sense. Should we scout out the demons?" Though Doyle had never truly seen battle, his family education lent him some strategic insight.

"No need for scouts; Mr. Murphy has just been around the Lightless Tomb these past few days."

Doyle perked up, "What did Mr. Murphy say?"

"Mr. Murphy reports about ten thousand skeletons loitering around the perimeter of the Lightless Tomb. As long as we divide and surround them, there's no worry of being outnumbered."

"I've read somewhere that one human can at least take on two skeleton soldiers of equivalent level," Doyle said, excitedly.

"Right, we could play it safe, encircle about three thousand at a time. Three goes and we can clear out the cemetery outskirts before any higher-level monsters arrive."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

After some thought, Doyle declared, "We set off in three days! Don’t kill them; remember to bring ropes, we're taking those skeletons alive!"

---

Doyle's orders quickly made their way down the ranks. With almost everyone aware of the Holy Peace Treaty, the soldiers showed no obvious skepticism towards Doyle's commands.

However, within the ranks, some were pleased, others were not.

The atmosphere was electric in the City of Gath Guard (now led by a viscount) and the Black Armored Guard detachment; their regular training was intense, and now they were thrilled to have a mission.

For those without even cotton armor or a proper iron-tipped spear, this battle seemed like a death sentence, casting a gloom over the camp.

Two nights later, despite the city's blacksmiths working overtime, about five hundred men were still without proper weapons.

As elite troops, the Black Armored Guard and City of Gath Guard had no obligation to share surplus weaponry with ordinary soldiers. Thus, each of those five hundred men received only a large bundle of rope and some pre-cut shorter lengths for binding skeletons.

The short ropes were for tying up the skeletons, while the long ones were for stringing them together.

The following morning, as dawn broke, Doyle delivered a fiery speech, and the City of Gath's excursion force of two and a half thousand soldiers, plus five hundred conscripted civilians for logistics, set out.

Soon, all too soon, Doyle's inexperienced shortcomings were clear for all to see.

Despite the grand roads of the kingdom, the disparity between the mobility of the cavalry, infantry, and civilian laborers was immense.

Within half a day's journey from the city, a significant disconnection between the cavalry, infantry, and laborers became evident.

Doyle at the very front was oblivious.

In truth, Byron was aware but unconcerned—a skeleton that cares about humans is just nosy, right?

At nightfall, Doyle decided to set up camp only to discover his "army" was scattered everywhere.

Doyle nearly snapped his riding crop in frustration. He ordered Byron's City of Gath Guard to rest on the spot and then led his Black Armored Cavalry squad up and down the grand road, physically pushing the straggling foot soldiers and laborers.

By the time complete darkness fell, Doyle finally had a hot meal by the campfire.

While Byron pretended to wolf down dry biscuits hungrily, he said, "At this marching pace, we're ten days from the Lightless Tomb. Is this..."

"Indeed, it's a bit slow." Doyle put down his bread, "Should we consider having the cavalry help the laborers speed up by giving up their horses?"

Little did Doyle know horses aren't meant for cart pulling, and Byron, with no inclination to remind him, just silently nodded.

So the next day, the cavalry's horses were all used to transport the heavy supplies and logistics. Yesterday's whipped laborers now praised General Doyle as a good man.

But by evening, the detachment happened once again.

Doyle, fuming, turned to his disjointed Black Armored Cavalry, and the brave deputy took the initiative, "Captain, our armor and weapons are much heavier than the regular soldiers'. Without the horses, we can't move as fast."

Doyle found some logic in it and glanced at Byron on the side: help a brother out!

Byron immediately got the message and suggested, "I think the Earldom Guard and Black Armored Guard could take off their weapons and armor during the march, loading them onto the supply wagons. Let the laborers and horses handle the transportation, and we'll travel light with essentials only."

Doyle pondered and then passed down the orders.

Byron's suggestion worked well.

Five days later, the expeditionary force reached the lawless zone between the kingdom and the demons.

Another day and a half later, the scruffy General Doyle at the head of the lamenting expeditionary force caught sight of Lightless Tomb's dark purple soil from afar.