The expeditionary forces from the City of Gath reached the outskirts of the Lightless Tomb. The laborers began to set up camp while the army took charge of the perimeter guard duties.
Because of their nature, the skeletons rarely ventured from their dwellings without external disturbances, making the wooden fence around the camp seem a tad superfluous.
Once the temporary military camp was established, Doyle ordered the entire army to eat and rest, deciding to postpone the attack to the next morning to ensure their combat strength wasn't overly diminished.
Byron was somewhat surprised by Doyle’s decision. The inexperienced young man was known for his reckless charges when everyone expected caution, yet exhibited careful planning when everyone anticipated a bold move.
People have their sorrows and joys, which are not always shared. Each soldier harbored their thoughts through the eve of battle. The next morning, Doyle inspected his 2,500 troops in the camp, then laid out his battle plans:
1. Leave fifty men to watch over the five hundred laborers to prevent them from wandering off.
2. Distribute the soldiers armed only with ropes evenly amongst the squads to facilitate capturing skeletons.
3. The majority of the troops will form a semicircular encirclement, with small cavalry units deployed to lure out groups of skeletons.
4. Repeat the previous step.
Seeing no objections (none dared to object), Doyle grinned with full confidence, "Form ranks!"
While Doyle was elaborating his fishing plan, Murphy, who arrived at the Lightless Tomb in advance, was preoccupied. One last time, he stressed to the skeletal chieftains, "First, chase if others run; second, fight back if they attack; third, if your weapon breaks, turn tail and run! Anyone who disobeys gets ground into bone powder and sold to nobles incapacitated in affairs!"
"At your command!" the skeletal leaders responded in unison.
In the morning, Lightless Tomb, a flat expanse, was scorched by fierce sunlight. The skeletons seemed to be staggering around sleeplessly for three days.
Suddenly, a low-level skeleton lifted its head and looked afar. Although devoid of reason, instinct told it that direction held something desirable.
It started to jog towards that allure, but the object moved faster. Barely a couple of steps forward, and the sought-after target had already slipped by.
The skeleton turned and ran towards where the target had gone.
Its skull filled with the scent of humans, the skeleton did not notice that thousands like it were similarly drawn, fixated on the same lure.
Fifty cavaliers rode their horses gleefully through the Lightless Tomb, quickly incurring the bitterness of the bordering skeletons, who followed them in a rising cloud of dust, prompting the horsemen to start their return.
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In the no-man's-land, Doyle ordered his army to prepare as he watched the distant dust billow.
Soon, the first wave of skeletons, about three thousand strong, charged into Doyle's encirclement.
Most soldiers wielded standard weapons—a long spear with an iron head—cluelessly unaware that the best weapon against skeletons was actually a bludgeon.
They brandished their spears, knocking against the advancing skeletal forces, careful not to stab lest they be noted by the world's will.
The skeletons, undeterred, swung their corroded iron swords as they faced the undodging humans.
Dust filled the encircled air as the clamor of battle shouts rang out unabated. Doyle’s blood boiled with fervor. Handing command to Byron, he spotted a skeletal leader and charged on horseback.
Doyle, with a long spear in hand, pierced the leader’s armor, the tip threading through the rib gaps and out the back.
With a forceful heave, the leader flew meters away, his sword shattering to dust.
The skeletal leader scrambled to flee. Doyle laughed heartily, "Capture him!"
"Yes!" Two black-armored cavaliers, with ropes ready, advanced and swiftly bound the skeletal leader into a neat package.
Doyle patted their helmets with a chuckle, "All tied up! You plan to carry him back like that?"
Elsewhere on the battlefield, intense clashes raged on. The disarmed skeletons howled in their escape, and the impassioned soldiers pursued. Rookies with ropes shouted warnings not to accidentally finish them off.
But as Doyle's encirclement tightened, the fleeing skeletons could no longer gaze upon the distant Lightless Tomb and, like headless flies, were successively captured by the harmoniously operating soldiers.
The fierce battle concluded at noon. Aside from a few who managed to flee back to the Lightless Tomb, the rest, numbering over three thousand, were tied up and transported back to the expeditionary camp.
Following a "friendly" physical negotiation (quite the body language) with the captured skeletal chieftains, Doyle struck a makeshift deal: the captives must not bite, and in exchange, they will not be killed.
In Doyle's view, he wasn't planning to kill them anyway, so he felt like hitting a jackpot with this free buff that ensured silent skeletons.
The chieftains also felt lucky; after all, their overlord promised them a good deal.
In this win-win situation, Doyle's black-armored knights quickly recounted their troop numbers, revealing splendid news:
Casualties of the expeditionary force—zero. Injured—thirty-five.
Of the thirty-five, only four were injured due to battling skeletons; the others were trampled, caught in the chaos, or accidentally struck by friendly spears.
Delighted with the overwhelming victory but annoyed with the casualty report, Doyle ordered the friendly fire culprits to be caned twenty times each. Then, he decided to rest at midday before giving one final push in the afternoon.
Thus, in the afternoon, the seasoned expeditionary force, acting more like hunters stalking traps, skillfully surrounded, divided, gradually broke through, then captured their prey. They marvelled at how fragile the demons seemed, falling so easily. The battle ended before nightfall.
That night, with skeletal prisoners numbering six thousand—double the count of soldiers and laborers—the chill of the undead spread throughout the camp, resulting in a restless sleep for all humans.
The next morning, as Doyle emerged from his tent with dark circles under his eyes, Byron was already waiting outside.
"Doyle, we need to move quickly. If a skeletal underboss sends a message, we may confront the skeletal lord or other demons today."
"No worries, Byron. Think about everything that happened yesterday. We hit them one last time in the morning, and in the afternoon, we break camp and head back," Doyle said confidently, rubbing his face.