On the fifth night after River Valley Village fell to the skeleton horde, a team of fifteen men entered the bone-strewn valley. They searched the village and its surroundings thoroughly—and soon found the retreat route of Ryan's skeleton unit: the Wama Grassland. Without hesitation, they gave chase.
More than ten minutes after the team departed, a thin, tall middle-aged man in a purple-black robe—his complexion unnaturally pale—stepped onto the battlefield. He searched alone for a moment, then followed the same direction.
Ryan, however, knew nothing of the pursuers behind him. He lay behind a grassy mound, secretly observing a human settlement a thousand meters away.
"No more than a hundred people. This must be the smallest tribe." Lord Karenval's voice echoed in Ryan's mind. This method of communication was called Soul Speech—a skill only Battle Bones and higher could master. Ryan was still a Red Bone and couldn't use it; he could only move his stiff jaw joint and make a grunt of agreement.
After Uhtred's death, the skeletons—on Karenval's proposal—had detoured south. But the grassland was dotted with tribes like stars in the sky. Instead of avoiding human settlements, they clashed with humans more and more frequently. Coupled with nearly ten hours of blistering daytime heat, the skeletons suffered heavy losses. The fragile Gray Bones had dwindled to less than three thousand.
Just when all the skeletons thought this was a dead end, Karenval proposed the unthinkable: take the initiative. Raid a human tribe.
A crazy idea—but a good one.
Human Life Essence was the best evolution agent for skeletons. Wiping out an entire tribe would yield hundreds of Life Essences—enough for many Gray Bones to evolve into Red Bones. And Red Bones were far more resilient than Gray Bones. The other Battle Bones raised few objections; ordinary skeletons only knew how to follow the strong.
So Karenval took Ryan and spent hours secretly scouting the three nearest tribes along their route, selecting the easiest target. The first two had nearly three hundred people each. This one was the smallest. They had no choice but to strike.
"I've heard grassland men are born warriors. Though this tribe has less than a hundred people, there must be at least forty men—forty warriors. We have only fifteen Battle Bones. Our strength is less than half theirs." Karenval's voice carried helplessness. "This will be tough."
Ryan knew Karenval spoke truth. In battles against humans, even Red Bones couldn't be considered real warriors—let alone Gray Bones. So despite having thousands of skeletons, their actual combat power was pitifully weak.
'If only we could poison their water.' Ryan thought of Zama's tragic end after drinking the poisoned pool water.
"You want to let them drink your bathwater again?" Karenval's voice held a bitter laugh. "Impossible. Look—there's a water source right in the middle of their tribe. They live around it. How can you jump into the water right under their noses?"
Ryan looked. Sure enough, several human women washed clothes around a pool in the center of the mushroom-shaped tents and flocks of livestock. Karenval was right; poisoning the water was impossible now. Even if they did, the humans would never drink it again.
"Then should we detour?" Ryan asked dejectedly. If they couldn't fight and couldn't poison, why not slip away?
"Detour?" Karenval's voice remained helpless. "We've only just stepped onto the edge of the Wama Grassland. Never mind whether the Apprentice Mage who died in River Valley Village attracts pursuers—the sun alone for the next dozens of days will roast us alive. I have to attack humans to survive. Capturing this small tribe is our only way out."
"Alright. Then what's your plan, Lord?"
"Feint and main attack. The success of this battle depends on you, my loyal Red Bone." Ryan heard the cunning in Karenval's voice again.
---
In the early morning, when night was darkest, strange wails suddenly echoed around the Soye Tribe. A group of six or seven Gray Bones howled and charged toward the tents on the tribe's northern side.
Men burst from their tents bare-chested, grabbing sharp scimitars from beside their beds. Before the Gray Bones could reach the first tent, nearly a dozen strong young men charged out and hacked them to pieces. True—grassland men were born warriors.
But just then, splashing rang out from the pool on the tribe's southern side, followed by a scream: "AH! Skeletons jumped into the pool!"
Realizing they'd been tricked, the warriors rushed toward the pool—but two animal-shaped Gray Bones were already swimming merrily in it. The pool was ruined. Generally, it would be unfit for humans and animals to drink for at least half a year. Despair and anger crept onto the herdsmen's faces.
The enraged young men beat the Gray Bones in the pool to pieces with willow sticks. Without a water source, they'd have to migrate—meaning weeks of hardship, and a large number of livestock dying from drinking untested water. If they didn't find a suitable source within weeks, their entire tribe might die of thirst. They could take refuge with larger tribes—but the other side might make unreasonable demands. Like seizing their youngest, most beautiful maidens.
The tribesmen, blinded by anger, searched everywhere. There shouldn't be only a few Gray Bones; these skeletons always appeared in hundreds or thousands.
Sure enough, they spotted several clumsy, thin figures staggering in the moonlight about a thousand meters to the south. Those weren't human movements—they were clearly skeletons.
Without a second thought, more than thirty tribesmen mounted their horses and charged toward the skeletons like the wind. The women of the Soye Tribe stayed behind, crying as they fished the Gray Bones out of the pool. The sooner they removed these damned things, the sooner the pool might return to normal—so that after surviving a winter, they might reclaim this water source.
The few elderly and children in the tribe were also awakened. They looked confusedly at the weeping people by the pool, not even understanding what had happened.
At that moment, thousands of ferocious skeletons were slowly approaching the Soye camp from the north.
---
The more than thirty Soye men galloped across the grassland like the wind, chasing the fifth group of Gray Bones. These Gray Bones were strangely scattered across the grassland. Before the humans approached, they would only wander aimlessly—but they always moved just after the humans killed the previous group. Howling and charging, then shattering under horse hooves.
Each group was small—four, five, sometimes even only two—but they were as stubborn as weeds, springing up one after another.
When they killed the thirteenth group—about sixty Gray Bones—the Soye men realized something was wrong. By then, they were several kilometers from the tribe, no longer able to see the torchlight in the camp.
But they didn't think too seriously about it. Doubt was just a faint shadow hanging over their hearts. They still urged their horses forward, chasing the next group out of habit.
Finally, they saw a skeleton unlike any other—a Red Bone, standing alone on a high grassy mound, as cold as a statue.
Ryan stood in the cool night wind, feeling fear and excitement stirring every bone in his body. Facing more than thirty strong human warriors alone—was this the task Karenval had given him? It was damn thrilling!
The more than eighty Gray Bones along the way were all his subordinates. Following Karenval's suggestion, he had successfully lured the Soye men out. But the pool-jumping trick earlier was his own improvisation. Later, Karenval admitted that without Ryan's brilliant double ruse, the Soye men wouldn't have been so enraged—and the Battle Bones' sneak attack wouldn't have been so easy.
The feint and main attack plan was a complete success. In a sense, the Soye Tribe was already finished. Now Ryan had to figure out how to make himself—this decoy—survive.
The best horseman in the Soye Tribe charged toward Ryan, eyes blazing with anger. Behind him, older tribesmen looked suspicious. Ryan was no different from other humanoid skeletons—but a strange feeling stirred in each of their hearts. *This Red Bone is not simple.*
"Want to save your loved ones? Then you'd better not kill me!"
Ryan's indistinct voice carried on the cold grassland night wind, reaching the ears and hearts of the Soye men. The thirty-odd hearts wrapped in anger froze instantly. The unease that had lingered in their minds released all at once. Almost everyone guessed—it was a feint and main attack.
"NEIGH!" The young man charging at Ryan jerked the reins. His tall grassland horse—coat slightly red—snorted and reared up on its front legs, but its body continued forward several paces due to inertia, finally stopping in front of Ryan. If the young man hadn't turned the horse's head, the falling hooves would have crushed Ryan to pieces.
Feeling the strong wind from the horse's hooves brush over his smooth skull, Ryan thought: 'Karenval was right. That sentence really can make humans stop.'
"What did you say? What about our loved ones?" The young man on the horse looked only sixteen or seventeen. Bare-chested, his strong abdominal and pectoral muscles showed his strength and coordination. A scimitar covered in broken grass proved he'd been on the front line—many Gray Bones had presumably died by his hand.
"Your tribe has been occupied by Lord Karenval." Ryan raised his head. Now that it had come to this, there was no point in begging. "You'd better take me back to the camp quickly—otherwise Lord will kill all your loved ones."
Their worst fear was confirmed. From the mouth of a skeleton.
The young man's eyes turned red. He almost crushed the scimitar's hilt. But his trembling arms swayed slightly in the dark, and he finally couldn't bring himself to swing the knife and split Ryan's skull. In the end, he gritted his teeth, bent down, grabbed Ryan by the arm, pressed him hard against his chest, and shook the reins—galloping back to the tribe as fast as he could.
The other men, like the young man, hurried back anxiously. No one spoke. Each heart was filled with worry, regret, and fear.
---
There was no suspense. The Soye Tribe had become a sea of skeletons.
Thousands of skeletons formed a half-moon shape, waiting for their return. Several bodies lay sprawled on the ground. About thirty elderly, children, and women were tied up like dumplings, with bone weapons pressed against each of their necks.
"Let them go, or I'll kill him!" The young man escorting Ryan was the first to rush into the tribe. He lifted Ryan with one hand, pressed his scimitar against Ryan's cervical spine, and shouted.
Not a single skeleton responded. Karenval only smiled.
Ryan snorted coldly: "No need to use me as a hostage. Among skeletons, there is no emotion. Even if you chop me into pieces and boil me into soup, the other skeletons won't even blink."
The young man was stunned. He looked at a maiden in the crowd whose neck was clamped by a Red Bone—and two lines of tears streamed down his face.
At that moment, a steadier man shouted to Karenval from a distance: "Why haven't you killed them on the spot? Do you have some other scheme?"
"Why would I kill them?" Karenval shrugged like a human. "Their vitality is weak; I don't need them. As long as you voluntarily disarm and let my subordinates kill you, I'll let these women and children go."
"Skeletons have no honor!" The man shouted angrily, not believing Karenval would let them go.
Karenval looked indifferent: "You have no choice. Either I kill them first—then we all fight to the death?"
After speaking, Karenval raised one forelimb, making a gesture to order a massacre.
"Wait!" The man immediately shouted to stop. He looked at a four or five-year-old child in the crowd, his face filled with heartache. Finally, he sighed: "How can you guarantee you'll let them go?"
"Can the women and children on the grassland ride horses too?" Karenval raised both forelimbs high, raising one claw on each. "For every one of you who dies, I'll let one of them go on the spot. They can ride your horses away—one for one. No one loses."
The man stared at Karenval, his face twisted with anguish. He looked at the young man holding Ryan—at the maiden in the crowd—at the child—at his fellow tribesmen.
Finally, he dropped his scimitar.
"Do it."
The first warrior stepped forward. A Battle Bone's claw pierced his chest. He fell without a sound.
Karenval nodded to a Red Bone, who released an elderly woman. She stumbled forward, eyes wide with disbelief, then ran to a horse and mounted.
One by one, the Soye men laid down their weapons. One by one, they died. One by one, the women and children were freed.
Ryan watched from the young man's grip, his empty eye sockets fixed on the scene. He had helped plan this. He had executed the feint perfectly. And now, thirty human warriors were dying so their families could live.
'Is this what victory feels like?'
The young man holding him trembled. His scimitar pressed harder against Ryan's cervical spine—but he didn't strike. He was the last. His maiden had already been freed, had already mounted a horse, was waiting for him with tears streaming down her face.
"Go." Ryan's voice was quiet. "She's waiting for you."
The young man looked at Ryan—at the skeleton who had helped destroy his tribe, who had killed his comrades, who now spoke words that sounded almost like mercy.
He threw Ryan to the ground, turned his horse, and galloped toward the maiden without looking back.
Ryan watched them ride away into the darkness.
Karenval approached, his crimson eye sockets gleaming. "Well done, Ryan. Your first command—and a flawless victory."
Ryan said nothing. He watched the last horse disappear over the horizon.
"They'll come back," he finally said. "With more warriors. With vengeance."
"Probably." Karenval shrugged. "But not tonight. Tonight, we feast on Life Essence. And tomorrow... tomorrow we'll be stronger."
Ryan turned away from the horizon, following Karenval toward the pile of fresh corpses—toward the power that awaited.
But in his hollow chest, something stirred. Not the blue crystal's warmth.
Something colder.
'They'll come back. And next time, I'll be ready.'