Echoed Lands

The darkness was brief, so brief it felt like Colm had only blinked. One moment he was surrounded by the hilly terrain, the distant roar of a ravine echoing faintly in his ears, and the next, that world had vanished. In its place loomed the familiar gloom of the decaying woods. Gnarled trees twisted skyward, their branches clawing into each other to form an oppressive canopy that swallowed the light. The air was thick with damp earth and rot, the kind of place where every step felt like a trespass.

"Oh shit!" a voice blurted from ahead, causing Colm to jolt. His head snapped toward the sound to find Dorian standing wide-eyed, then chuckling.

"Sorry," Dorian said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Forgot how Morvyn's eyes glow in the dark. Spooked the hell out of me." He laughed.

Ves sighed, arms crossed. "Dorian, sometimes you can be such an idiot," she muttered, though her tone held more fondness than frustration. Dorian only grinned wider.

Colm let the banter fade as he took in the surroundings again, scanning the gnarled horizon until a distant silhouette caught his eye. "Clayfell?" he asked, his voice cautious.

Jerry followed his gaze and gave a firm nod. "Yeah. I brought us a little ways out. Didn't want us getting swarmed right at the edge."

Colm nodded slowly, unease settling into his gut. Jerry turned to him, his face more serious now.

"From here on out, you're on your own," Jerry said. "Some of the sentient undead in this region? They're intense. We're pushing ahead to clear a path, and with luck, Brimhope will send backup soon. But time's not on our side. They probably already know we're coming."

Colm swallowed hard. "Understood."

"Good luck," Jerry added. "And try not to die."

"Thanks again," Colm said, glancing at each of them in turn. "For saving me."

Ves nodded silently. Dorian gave a two-finger salute. "See you on the other side, Colm!"

With a flicker of motion and a swirl of shadows, the three of them vanished. Almost immediately, a thunderous roar echoed from deep within the stone walls ahead, rattling the air like distant drums of war.

Colm exhaled, lips curling into a wry smile. Those three are something else.

"Well, let's get this started," Colm muttered, cracking his neck as he eyed the shadows beside him. His phantoms stood silent and ready: Carver, Lance, and Robin, a trio of spectral allies that never strayed far. The sight of them brought a faint grin to his lips. "Awfully kind of Jerry to bring you all along too," he chuckled, warmth mixing with the chill of anticipation.

He straightened his stance, his voice shifting to one of purpose. "Carver. Lance. Robin." Their names carried weight in his heart. "We're going to make our mark here. Clear out as many undead as we can. This quest, rewards vary, right? Well, we're aiming for the best of the best."

Without thinking, he thrust his arm forward, fingers spread in an old, familiar motion, one he hadn't used since his high school sports days, rallying teammates before a game. It was almost instinctual.

To his surprise, the phantoms responded in kind.

All three raised their translucent hands in unison, mirroring his gesture with eerie synchronicity. Colm's eyes went wide.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but something about it felt different.

* * *

"Colm, over here!" a voice called from across the field, clear and urgent. Without hesitation, Colm pivoted and sent the ball flying with a sharp, controlled kick. It arced beautifully, spinning through the air with practiced precision.

Time seemed to slow as the ball sailed toward his teammate, lining up with the goal like it had a mind of its own. His teammate drew back their foot and struck—a clean, powerful kick that sent the ball rocketing past the keeper and straight into the net.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Colm sprinted toward his teammates, a wide grin stretching across his face. The adrenaline, the joy—it was all electric.

"Great pass, Colm!" someone shouted.

"That was perfect!" another added, followed by a flurry of praise and claps on the back.

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Colm could only laugh, breathless and beaming. There was a special kind of magic in that moment, in the seamless flow of movement, in the unspoken understanding between friends on the field. It wasn't just a game. It was a connection. A rhythm. A fleeting reminder of what it meant to be part of something greater than himself.

* * *

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, eyes lingering on the three phantoms before him. "I sometimes forget how personal you three are." Their hands remained raised, holding the gesture like a pact unspoken. Colm looked up at them with a mix of awe and gratitude. "We're a team. We rely on each other. Thank you, all of you."

Their silence said more than words ever could.

Colm straightened, a small but resolute smile spreading across his face as he turned his gaze to the city ahead. Shadows clung to the crumbling spires like ivy, and the oppressive sky above felt heavier the closer they got.

"Carver," he said firmly. "Ready?"

Carver nodded, his spectral form pulsing faintly with anticipation. Colm inhaled and activated Phantom Harbinger, the surge of energy slamming into him like a tidal wave. Power coursed through his limbs, wrapping around his senses in a haze of ethereal strength.

"I'm at the threshold now," he thought. "I can keep this form active permanently, so long as nothing knocks me out of it prematurely."

He turned to Lance and Robin, his confidence solidifying. "Let's go!"

They charged. Trees blurred past, the forest parting around their momentum. Within moments, the decaying skyline of Clayfell emerged, and a cold breath escaped Colm's lips.

"This isn't like Brimwhistle at all."

* * *

Luke stood shoulder to shoulder with Tessa at the edge of the guild square, the two of them slowly weaving their way through the organized chaos. The crowd buzzed with energy: shouts, clanking armor, hurried steps, and though abilities were banned within city limits, it did little to slow the frenzy. Adventurers moved with purpose, the air thick with anticipation and determination.

"I've never seen anything like this," Luke thought, his eyes scanning the sea of people.

Earlier that morning, the system quest and the guild's subsequent announcement had lit a fire under the entire city. Teams were forming on the spot, strategies were whispered between veterans, and lines of adventurers were already funneling out in waves. Everything moved with surprising coordination, like a machine that had long been waiting to awaken.

The highest-tier fighters had gone out first, their presence unmistakable. Luke felt the weight of their power just by being near them. It sent a chill down his spine.

"That's the level of power I want to reach," he thought. "No, beyond that. I want to surpass them. To protect her."

His grip tightened around his staff, the resolve hardening within him. He could still hear the words of the guild leader echoing in his mind: "Today is the day. Today, we free the Isle of the Undead."

"Can we really do it?" he wondered, casting a glance around.

Just then, he saw a man stumble in the crowd, nearly trampled, until a high-level adventurer reached down and pulled him up without hesitation. Luke smiled at the sight. That small act, that unity.

"Yeah. We can do it."

* * *

As Colm sprinted toward the crumbling city wall, the distant clash of steel and echoing bursts of power rang through the air, a chaotic symphony that could only mean one thing: the trio was already deep in the fight, carving their way through the undead ranks. "Can't let them have all the fun," he thought, grinning despite the weight of tension building in his chest.

But as he neared the ruined gate, his pace slowed. A dense cluster of undead stood idle just beyond the archway, unmoving, like grotesque statues waiting for a silent signal.

"Interesting," he thought, brows furrowing. "Why are they just standing there? Did someone put them on guard duty?"

He faltered for a moment, instincts on edge, and quickly activated Analyze.

Undead Walker (Level 2; Mindless) - Undead

Undead Berserker (Level 103; Mindless) - Undead

Undead Walker (Level 5; Mindless) - Undead

…

Undead Berserker (Level 102; Mindless) - Undead

Colm blinked in surprise as the Analyze result flooded his vision with far more information than he was used to. He stuttered slightly, thrown off by the detail. "Damn, forgot it upgraded to Tier 2," he scolded himself. The skill had advanced, and he hadn't accounted for the increased information.

A chorus of hollow howls snapped him back to the present. The undead had noticed him. One by one, their heads turned, eyes glowing faintly in the shadowed light as they let out low, guttural groans. He pushed the distraction away. Focus. He steadied his breath.

Lowering his head, Colm stopped as his phantoms stood by his side. He looked at each one and smiled. "Carver, Lance, and Robin," he thought with respect as he gazed toward the crowd in front of him. Then he gritted his teeth and said quietly, "Charge."

From the gate, a group of Undead Berserkers surged toward them, their thunderous steps rattling the cracked stone beneath them. In a blink, they collided with the phantoms as Colm activated Phantom Harbinger. As the massive phantom appeared, its form slammed into the oncoming horde, stopping the line of berserkers with ease.

Colm smiled as he felt the strength from the presence of the harbinger surge through his limbs. He glanced at his phantoms as they crackled with energy, watching as Carver raised its blade high, spectral light coursing down the weapon in jagged pulses.

The air shimmered blue.

Ripping Cleave activated.

Carver's blade came down, and an arc of spectral energy tore through the ground, blasting through the front ranks as the resultant tidal wave crashed through them. Undead flew like broken dolls, slamming into walls and toppling over each other.

Then, a volley of arrows whistled past Colm's shoulders, embedding with sharp cracks into skulls and spines.

He grinned, drinking in the rhythm of battle. Off to the side, Lance's spectral spear ignited with that same blue glow, and a new wave surged forward, crashing into the chaos already spreading across the gate.

Colm braced himself as the next wave of undead charged.

"Let's make this count."