Echoed Lands

Colm woke to a flurry of notifications flashing in his vision, all reporting slain creatures. None of them granted any experience. "Guess this is my new normal," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. Feeling rested and ready, he didn't want to waste any time. With a quick mental command, he signaled his phantoms—it was time to move. Carver, as always, stood vigil by his side, while Lance and Robin returned promptly from their patrols. Together, the four figures set off toward the Grove's entrance.

Trees and branches blurred past as Colm picked up his pace, excitement and eagerness driving him forward. He disregarded any lingering thoughts of final rewards or treasures. All he wanted was to leave this place, to escape this isolation, and to find someone—anyone—to talk to.

Before long, he arrived at a familiar clearing. It was the spot where he and Carver had spent their first days in the Grove. He paused, his eyes scanning the area, memories flooding back. He remembered how naïve he had been then—still was, in some ways—but at least now, he knew more about this world and himself. His thoughts lingered on his first sparring session with Carver, a faint smile tugging at his lips. An idea struck him. I should spar with Robin sometime, too, he mused, mentally filing the thought away for the future.

With a deep breath, he pushed forward, leaving the clearing and its memories behind. The entrance was near, and with it, whatever awaited him next.

A sense of exhilaration surged through Colm as a shimmering rift glimmered in the distance. I can see it! He thought, heart pounding. The same rift—the portal—that he came through after escaping the undead was still there, just as vivid as the day he first arrived.

"I'm leaving! Fuck yes!" he shouted, breaking into a sprint.

Each step brought the rift closer, his mind spinning with the thought of finally leaving this Echo. Months had passed since he appeared in the Grove, and he couldn't recall the exact time, but he knew it had been a long time. It didn't matter. What mattered was freedom. This place had been a crucible, a trial by fire that had forged him into something stronger. It had given him skills, endurance, and resolve. But now, the thought of finding other people, of reconnecting with humanity, overshadowed any gratitude he felt for the Grove.

Within a hundred feet of the portal, everything shifted. The air grew sharp, heavy with an oppressive tension that pricked his skin. His pace faltered for a heartbeat, but the desire to escape overrode his caution. He pushed forward, sprinting toward the rift, desperate to leave this world behind. He barely registered that he hadn't yet reached the Grove's true end or confronted the entity that watched over it. All he could think of was leaving—of reclaiming his sanity after so much isolation.

Suddenly, the light in the Grove dimmed. The portal—his salvation—flickered and faded, like a candle snuffed out in the dark. Colm's chest tightened, frustration boiling over as he skidded to a stop at the portal's former location.

"FUCK!" he roared, his voice echoing through the silent Grove. His hands balled into fists, trembling with fury and desperation as his eyes darted around, searching for answers. Yet the rift was gone, leaving only the same heavy tension that clung to the air like a storm waiting to break.

As he turned to scan his surroundings, something took shape behind him. The Grove's oppressive silence deepened, amplifying the sound of his heartbeat. Slowly, Colm pivoted to face the forming figure.

It looked humanoid, but hauntingly unnatural. Its skin appeared to be made of bark, rough and weathered, while its clothes seemed woven from leaves and vines. The creature lacked any discernible features—no facial features, no eyes—just an eerily blank visage that radiated a quiet, menacing presence.

Colm stared, his instincts screaming at him to act. Forcing himself to focus, he used Analyze, directing his skill at the figure before him.

Will of the Grove (Level ???)

Shit. The thought stumbled through Colm's racing mind, his heart pounding. The level result from Analyze was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Three question marks for the level. Does that mean it's in the triple digits? His stomach churned at the implication.

The highest-level creature he had ever faced was in the upper fifties, and even then, he had learned that level wasn't everything. Some monsters had abilities or sheer force that rendered their level almost irrelevant. But this was something else entirely. The presence emanating from the figure was overwhelming, saturating the air with a palpable weight of power. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but his legs felt rooted to the ground.

The shock coursing through him left no room for denial—this thing was leagues beyond anything he had encountered. Fear gripped him, raw and unrelenting.

As his thoughts spiraled, his phantoms stood firm by his side, their silent forms unwavering even in the face of this impossible foe. Colm's mind churned, desperately trying to come up with a plan. I can't fight this. I can't run either. The portal—the only way out—was gone, snuffed out like a cruel joke.

If this entity was truly the Will of the Grove, then escape wasn't an option. It would track him no matter where he fled. Would it even let me run? He wondered. The thought seemed laughable. Whatever this thing was, it was undoubtedly faster, stronger, and smarter.

A sudden, deafening reverberation that echoed through the Grove shattered his frantic planning. The air seemed to split apart, a piercing sound wave that sent Colm to his knees, clutching his ears as blood trickled from them. Pain seared through his head, disorienting him further.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Through the haze of agony, he felt the faint nudge of his Universal Language perk, a subtle shift in his perception as words took form amidst the chaos.

The sound resolved into a voice, calm and deliberate, yet carrying an undeniable power.

"Hello, Colm Arden."

The words hung in the air like a judgment, chilling him to his core.

The scene before Colm remained unchanged, the featureless creature standing silently, as though waiting for a response. Colm remained on his knees, overwhelmed. These were the first words he had heard from another being in what felt like an eternity. The power in the creature's voice had forced him to the ground, not through violence but through sheer presence.

For a moment, he stayed there, stunned and grappling with the weight of the encounter. But he refused to let the fear that gripped him hold sway any longer. With a deep, steadying breath, Colm pushed himself to his feet. This world is going to be full of surprises, he thought, his resolve solidifying. And I'll bet there are countless things just as powerful—or more so—than this one. I can't let one high-level creature shake me to my core. At least this one seems to want to talk.

As he finally straightened, Colm locked his eyes on the being and spoke, his voice calm but cautious.

"Who are you?"

The Will of the Grove responded immediately, its tone steady, almost conversational. Its featureless face seemed to shift subtly, as if forming a smile.

"I am the Will of the Grove," it said, its voice softer now, as though aware of the power its voice carried. Spreading its bark-like arms, the being gestured to the forest, the Grove, and all that surrounded them. "I am the Lucent Grove personified. This is my domain, and I wield absolute control over all that occurs here. Every blade of grass, every grain of dirt, every tree, and every creature—all are of my design and subject to my will."

Colm stood rooted, the weight of the creature's words settling over him as he tried to process what he was hearing.

The Will continued, its voice carrying an ancient, weary cadence. "No being has walked these lands for a long time. I sealed my entrance ages ago, after thousands passed through, each revealing their true nature. Their actions left me disillusioned, distrustful. So, I closed my door to this world."

The creature paused, as if considering its next words. Then it continued, a note of curiosity lacing its tone.

"But then I sensed something—a powerful magical fluctuation near my threshold, unlike anything I had felt before. I opened the doorway once more and sensed you. At first, I believed this would be the last time I allowed an outsider into my domain. But as I observed you, I became intrigued."

Colm swallowed hard, uncertain where this was leading, but he stayed silent, letting the Will finish.

"I watched you learn and grow," the Will of the Grove said, its voice measured and reflective. "I listened to every conversation you shared with your 'Phantoms,' as you call them. I observed your struggles, your determination, and the strength you gained along the way. You are not of this world, and your perspective is unlike any I have encountered before. Whether this difference stems from your nature, the circumstances that brought you here, or the isolation you've endured remains unclear. But one thing is certain—you gave me something I thought I had lost. Hope."

The creature's tone softened, tinged with a quiet introspection. "I ensured you had food and clean water, so you would not succumb to the most basic needs. I wanted you to endure, to see if you could thrive here."

Colm opened his mouth to respond, but the Will continued, as though compelled to speak its truths before time ran out.

"Those who came before shattered my trust. Their greed, their cruelty, their deceit—I learned the harshness of their ways and sealed my domain to them. I no longer wished for my lands to be tainted. So, I turned to the wilderness I could create—the rabbits that frolicked through my woods, the squirrels that climbed my trees, and the countless others who lived without cruelty or ambition. Their simple joy was enough. I told myself I was content."

The figure paused, its bark-like form shifting as if caught between old sorrow and quiet contemplation. "Then you arrived and reminded me of what I once longed for."

"You do not tread lightly. You hunt, you fight, and you seek power. You push forward without hesitation, cutting down those that stand in your way. In that, you do not differ from the ones who came before." The Will's presence wavered slightly, as though the weight of its words carried an unspoken burden.

"And yet… I have seen no reckless destruction. You have not sought to burn the land behind you, nor raze what you could not use. Your strength is sharpened by purpose, not mindless conquest. You seek to grow, not to hoard. Perhaps that is enough."

The surrounding air grew heavier, as if the land itself was holding its breath. "Perhaps it must be enough."

It straightened, its presence solidifying despite the soft whisper of time pulling it away. "I am bound to this domain, unable to expand or act beyond what is permitted. My power is finite, and my time is short. Your arrival and success in my trials have allowed this meeting—but it will not last."

The weight of the Grove's decision seemed to press upon them both. "I do not know what you will become. I do not know if you are worthy. But I cannot afford to wait centuries more for another. You are here. And so, I will place my final test before you."

The Will's voice carried an ancient certainty now, a quiet acceptance of its own risk. "Before I fade, I offer you one last trial—a chance to prove your worth beyond the challenges you have already faced. This trial will push you to your limits. It will test your resolve, your strength, and your will to survive. Know that if you accept, you may die."

The air grew heavy with the weight of the creature's words.

"If you wish to take the trial, declare your intent aloud, and I will honor your choice. If you prefer to leave the Grove, you may do so and forget this place entirely. Whatever your decision, I will respect it."

The Will's voice softened one last time, almost mournful as it faded away. "I will not appear again for a long time. The choice is yours."

Colm stood motionless, staring at the spot where the creature had been moments before, his mind racing to process everything that had just unfolded. That was a lot.

He glanced around the Grove with a newfound understanding, his gaze sweeping from tree to tree, from every blade of grass to the soil beneath his feet. It's all alive. And it can speak.

The realization hit him like a wave. This place—the Grove—had ensured he had food and water, yet it had also shaped his path, presenting him with opportunities to grow stronger and prove his worth. Every challenge, every encounter, had been part of a larger test.

The weight of it all sank in, and all Colm could manage was a quiet, disbelieving mutter.

"What. The. Fuck."