Echoed Lands

Colm got straight to work, determined to refine his own techniques. He wanted to be versatile, capable of holding his ground up close while also relying on his phantoms when needed.

First, he sparred with his Phantom Warrior, a familiar but challenging opponent. Dodging and weaving through the Warrior's precise strikes, Colm pushed his Dexterity to its limit. "Looks like I still can't keep up with you," he muttered, frustration flickering in his mind. He realized that the Phantom Warrior's strength likely scaled with his Intelligence—a stat he had heavily invested in. "Makes sense," Colm thought. "My highest stat is still intelligence, even though I'm trying to be well-rounded, and the phantoms are probably linked to that," Colm realized.

Putting those thoughts aside, Colm refocused on the sparring match. The Phantom Warrior seemed to predict his every move, striking with an uncanny awareness of where Colm intended to dodge next. Colm evaded many of the Warrior's attacks, though he collected a few scrapes. After about ten rounds, he finally saw an opening. With a quick jab, he knocked the Warrior off balance, causing it to shimmer momentarily. "Hah, finally got ya," he grinned. But, as if sensing Colm's taunt, the Phantom Warrior surged forward with a renewed intensity, sweeping him off his feet and sending him flat on his back. It was a humbling reminder that the Warrior had been holding back.

After resting a moment, Colm set his sights on his Phantom Spearman. Facing off against the Spearman, he couldn't help but think, I honestly don't know what I'm doing with a spear. Until now, he'd mostly been swinging wildly and hoping for the best. Watching the Spearman's stance, he noted its posture and mimicked it, trying to align himself with the form of his spectral counterpart.

The Spearman seemed to watch him closely, waiting for Colm to make the first move. Taking a cautious step forward, Colm tried a feint to throw off his opponent. But the Spearman saw through it immediately and countered, ramming the blunt side of its spear into Colm's ribs. He doubled over, winded, and dropped to one knee. "Oof… guess I walked right into that one," he groaned, rubbing his side.

The sparring matches with his Phantom Spearman continued throughout the day as Colm worked tirelessly to refine his form, studying every movement and adjusting his stance to match his phantom's. During one encounter, Colm deflected a few of the Spearman's strikes while holding his ground, and just then, a notification appeared.

[ Skill Acquired ]

Spear Mastery (Level 1) - Through repeated practice and battle, you have understood the art of the spear. This is just the start of a long journey, but your efficiency with spear-like weapons has improved, allowing for more precise strikes and better control.

Colm felt a bead of sweat run down his face as he dismissed the notification with a satisfied smirk. "Now that makes it worth it," he muttered, gripping the spear with a newfound clarity. Adjusting his hands, he felt the grooves of the wood settle naturally into his palms as if the weapon were an extension of himself.

He threw a reckless taunt toward his Spearman, mocking it to come at him. The phantom charged, and Colm felt more fluid this time, sidestepping the oncoming strike with ease. He thrust his spear forward, forcing the Spearman to dodge with a roll as if, for the first time, it had to exert itself to keep up truly. Emboldened, Colm pressed the attack, his movements relentless. Thrust, lunge, swipe—each motion was sharper than the last, and he waited, patiently probing, for an opening.

Colm tried a feint once again, hoping to catch the Spearman off guard. Predictably, the Spearman saw through it, but this time, Colm was ready. He quickly shifted the feint into a genuine thrust, landing a solid hit that caused the phantom to flicker and almost fade. "Finally! I got a hit in," he said, grinning, but the victory was short-lived. The Spearman gripped Colm's spear, yanking him forward to deliver a powerful strike that sent him flying backward, crashing into a nearby tree.

"Hah, I'm still counting that as a win," Colm muttered through a pained grin as he staggered back to his feet, dusting himself off. "Alright, let's take a quick break. After that, I want to try something harder—both of you coming at me at once. I know I won't win, but I want to see how well I can defend two fronts."

The Warrior and Spearman flickered with acknowledgment, and Colm felt his anticipation rising.

Over the next few days, Colm settled into a steady routine. Each morning, he'd eat his fill of Celestial Blooms, drink from the nearby stream, and spend hours sparring with his Phantom Warrior and Phantom Spearman. At first, their teamwork was overwhelming; Colm couldn't stand his ground reliably, barely dodging their combined assault. It was as if they sensed his struggle, instinctively toning down their attacks to give him a fighting chance. The sparring allowed him to focus on handling multiple fronts—dodging a swipe here, rolling away from a thrust there. But in the beginning, all he could manage was evasion, and he could not even consider landing a counterattack.

As the hours passed, Colm's determination never wavered. He started noticing patterns in their movements, studying their attacks, and learning to anticipate each strike. The spirits were holding back, but Colm pushed himself to learn whatever he could. Gradually, session after session, he found opportunities to weave his attacks into his evasive maneuvers, honing his reactions and timing. And as if responding to his progress, his phantoms intensified their efforts, forcing him back onto the defensive and upping the stakes once more.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

This cycle continued relentlessly. Colm knew he wanted his instincts sharpened to a razor's edge, his responses automatic and unhesitating. He thought of his life back on Earth, where his biggest worries were meeting deadlines and planning his next weekend. Here, he was transforming himself in a way he'd never imagined. It was a trial by fire, and though exhausting, he welcomed it with open arms. For the first time in his life, he felt truly alive.

"I know a few days of practice aren't enough to change a lifetime of cushioned living into battle-ready instincts," he murmured, catching his breath on a log near the stream after a grueling match. "But it's a start."

He leaned back, looking up at the canopy, thinking how lucky he'd been to choose Spirit Warden. The class had granted him a unique advantage—a forgiving edge that allowed him to make mistakes without immediate consequences. When he faltered, his phantoms compensated, covering his weaknesses as he adapted. Their battle-hardened movements were something he could learn from; they felt like warriors from a past era, lending him experience and techniques that he could use to lay the groundwork for his future.

Gazing down at his spear, he felt a new confidence solidifying. The recent acquisition of Spear Mastery confirmed that he was on the right path. He didn't have a true mentor, but he was slowly crafting himself into one.

Colm knelt beside the stream, cupping his hands and drinking deeply, savoring the cool water as it quenched his thirst. After a moment, he glanced down at his reflection on the rippling surface, the state of his clothes more apparent than ever. What had once been a simple outfit was now a collection of frayed rags barely clinging to him. "I need some new clothes," he muttered, tugging at a tattered sleeve. He couldn't help but frown, but then he noticed something else: his reflection revealed not just his worn clothes but the changes in his body beneath them.

Where he'd once been lean but unremarkable, weeks of survival in the wild had left their mark. His muscles were more defined, his shoulders stronger, and there was a hardened look about him he didn't recognize. Back on Earth, he wasn't particularly strong; he'd kept himself somewhat athletic, but had always found himself a few steps behind the stronger, faster people around him.

As he reflected on it, a sigh escaped him. "I let life spiral for a while there, didn't I?" he murmured to his reflection. It wasn't just his physical fitness that had faded; relationships, family, and goals—each had drifted away as he sank into a cycle of monotony and half-hearted ambitions. A pang of regret surfaced, raw and unexpected, as he thought about everything he'd let slip.

But here, in this strange new reality, it was different. He'd already become stronger, faster, and more capable than ever, each hardship sharpening his abilities and making him into someone he barely recognized. For the first time in years, he felt in control of his path forward. His reflection stared back at him, eyes determined, and he resolved right then that he wouldn't let himself drift into complacency again. If anything, this world had taught him the value of resilience, and he planned to hold on to it.

Testing his strength, he spent the next hour pushing his limits—sprinting through the forest, lifting stones along the streambed—curious to see what he was now capable of. Only the largest boulders gave him any actual struggle, and the exertion left him energized rather than exhausted. Back on Earth, a run like that would've left me winded, he thought, grinning. It's amazing how quickly my body changed.

Colm turned back to the sparring area, steeling himself for the next round. "I won't fall short again like I did with the Stone Gnawer," he muttered with resolve, stepping forward to continue his sessions with his spectral allies. Each day, he felt his instincts sharpening, his confidence growing.

Finally, after settling into his routine, Colm felt truly prepared for the next leg of his journey. He laid out his plan, muttering to himself, "Find the temple, slay the beast, leave the grove, find civilization." A broad outline, maybe, but a plan.

A few days later, feeling stronger and more focused, Colm reviewed his progress. Though he had gained no levels, the improvements were clear, especially in his new Spear Mastery skill. He'd been rooting out old, careless habits, refining his technique, and building a solid foundation for the challenges ahead. Taking one last look at his spectral allies, Colm nodded, ready to set off.

[ Status ]

Name: Colm Arden

Race: Human

Level: 25

Health: 520 / 520

Mana: 290 / 290

Strength: 30

Dexterity: 33

Intelligence: 58

Constitution: 52 (54)

Class: Spirit Warden

Active Class Abilities:

- Phantom Warrior (Level 7)

- Phantom Spearman (Level 6)

- Empty

- Empty

- Empty

Passive Class Abilities:

- Lingering Vitality (Level 6)

- Empty

- Empty

- Empty

- Empty

Skills:

- Analyze (Level 3)

- Stealth (Level 5)

- Pain Resistance (Level 4)

- Hardened Skin (Level 3)

- Slash Resistance (Level 4)

- Spear Mastery (Level 3)

Achievements:

- Through the Rift

- Blessing of the Stone

With his final preparations underway, Colm instructed his Phantom Warrior to carve a new spear from a nearby branch. "I really need a proper weapon," he muttered as he watched the warrior whittle the wood down with smooth, practiced strokes. "I'm tiring of relying on these makeshift spears... but I guess it's better than nothing."

When the warrior finished, Colm took a few practice swings, noting with satisfaction how uniform the spear felt. The Phantom Warrior had clearly refined its technique over the days, and this spear felt almost balanced. The weight was familiar in his hands, a testament to how many times they'd repeated this process during his time here.

Satisfied with his equipment and with his phantoms at his side, he set off in the direction of the temple marked by the tree symbol. Each step filled him with a renewed sense of readiness. He didn't know what challenges awaited him, but this time, he felt prepared in a way he hadn't before, both mentally and physically. The Grove stretched out before him, and he felt a flicker of anticipation rise within him as he ventured into the unknown, determined to face whatever lay ahead.