Echoed Lands

Colm collapsed to the ground, clutching at a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Sweat streaked down his face as he tried to grapple with the absurdity of the situation.

"This place is alive," he muttered, half to himself, "and it talked to me. It's probably listening right now." He let out a hollow, hysterical laugh. "Maybe I really have gone insane. Maybe it happened the moment I started talking to my phantoms."

The laugh died on his lips as he leaned back, staring up at the Grove's canopy. Minutes passed as the anxiety that had gripped him waned. Slowly, his breathing steadied, and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus.

Everything just keeps getting crazier, he thought, his mind racing. A three-question-mark creature. A chance to leave—or to face another trial.

Minutes ago, his only thought had been of freedom, of leaving this strange place behind. But the appearance of that being—the Grove itself—had shaken him to his core.

I came here to escape the undead, he reflected. Then I kept pushing myself for the thrill, for the chance at rewards. Now, I've earned my reward. I've gained the strength to carve a path out of here if I want. But what if there are stronger things out there—things worse than anything I've faced so far?

The questions hung heavy in his mind, refusing to be ignored.

I want to keep getting stronger. Colm's thoughts sharpened with clarity. I want to push myself to the heights this world offers. And I want to be free—free from deadlines, free from fear, free from the anxieties that plague me, and free of my self-doubt.

He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. I'll take on this trial and come out on top. The decision felt final, a line drawn in the sand. I can wait a few more days before leaving. Hell, I've already been here for months—what's a few more weeks in the grand scheme of things?

With his determination set, Colm stood tall and announced aloud, "I've decided. I will face your last trial."

Silence followed.

Colm stood there, waiting, the words hanging in the air. But nothing happened. Doubt crept in, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Was it all in my imagination? He wondered. Was the Will of the Grove even real, or is this just my stress and isolation playing tricks on me?

His thoughts spiraled as the self-doubt grew heavier. Then, suddenly, the world around him flickered—and went completely dark.

The forest was gone. The soft twilight glow of the Grove's flora vanished as though it had never existed.

And then, light.

Colm squinted as bright illumination filled his vision, revealing a massive enclosed space. He stood at one end of a colossal cylindrical chamber, its smooth stone walls towering high above him. The structure reminded him of an ancient colosseum, though there were no seats, no spectators—just the vast, empty expanse. The stone was unnaturally smooth to perfection, and somehow radiated a light as bright as day, though no obvious source was visible.

Colm turned slowly, taking in the eerie silence of the arena. His confusion deepened with each passing second. What is this place? He thought. What kind of trial is this?

The stark contrast between the serene, mystical Grove and this imposing, empty arena left him unsettled. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, his resolve resurfaced. Whatever this trial entailed, he would face it head-on.

Moments later, Colm watched as clumps of mist materialized at the far side of the arena. At first, he couldn't make out any details, but as seconds passed, the mist slowly took shape. The process was deliberate, almost hypnotic—a swirl of vapor coalescing into a sphere, which grew larger and denser, as though solidifying before his eyes.

Colm stood frozen, watching the transformation in awe. It was eerily beautiful, an almost ethereal display. But the sense of wonder quickly gave way to focus as the reality of the trial settled in. This is part of it, he thought, steadying himself.

Looking around, Colm's gaze fell on his phantoms, who had appeared in the room alongside him. Relief coursed through him; he wasn't facing this alone.

He commanded the phantoms to move surrounding him. Lance stepped forward, spear in hand, ready to engage at a distance. Carver moved to his side, poised for close combat. Robin hung back, bow drawn, ready to provide support.

With his allies in position, Colm turned his attention back to the far side of the arena. The clumps of mist had changed again, their shapes shifting and refining into more distinct forms. Colm's breath hitched as recognition flickered in his mind.

I know those shapes, he realized, his heart quickening.

Eyes narrowing, he cast Analyze on the figures and let out a quiet gasp as he read through the results.

Stone Gnawer (Level ??)

?? (Level ??)

Wraithvine Serpent (Level ??)

Colm gritted his teeth. The bosses of the Grove are back—and stronger. When he first faced them, the Stone Gnawer was level 44, the Grove Stalker 50, and the Wraithvine Serpent 40. Now, they loomed at the far end of the arena, more powerful than before. Despite the strength Colm had gained—now at level 45 with new phantoms and skills—these versions were still above his level.

I should've figured out the exact mechanics of Analyze by now, he cursed silently. It revealed creatures at least ten levels above his own, and rank-ups only occasionally provided additional information. He had no time to dwell on it. He needed a plan.

This is going to be a team battle, Colm thought, his mind racing. I could focus all my fire on one to lower their numbers quickly, but that would leave me wide open to the other two. Or I could spread my phantoms out for a 1v1v1, providing support to whoever needs it most.

He clenched his fists, remembering the last time he fought the Grove Stalker. It was a slaughter. Each strike obliterated my phantoms. But this time, I have Spectral Persistence to buy me precious seconds.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The creatures stood still, as if waiting for Colm to make the first move. With no time to hesitate, he decided on a strategy.

"Robin, open fire," he commanded.

Robin lifted the spectral bow and as an arrow materialized and fired, then fired again and again. Arrows streaked through the air, embedding themselves in the Stone Gnawer's hide. The beast let out a curdling scream as blood spattered the stone floor.

It's started.

The Stone Gnawer, Grove Stalker, and Wraithvine Serpent responded in unison and charged. Colm shouted for Lance and Carver to intercept, while Robin continued to focus on the Stone Gnawer, firing relentlessly. Each arrow peppered the beast, drawing more blood, but the gap between them was closing fast.

Colm veered to the side, positioning himself behind Robin. The other two creatures clashed with Lance and Carver, but Colm's focus stayed on the Stone Gnawer.

Then, he saw it: the glint in the Stone Gnawer's eyes as their color shifted to a deep green. The earth spike, he realized, gritting his teeth. He knew it was coming but had no way of predicting where. His gut told him it would target Robin, the source of its pain.

"Robin, move! Dodge!" Colm commanded.

But the Stone Gnawer's cast completed before Robin could act. Pain shot through Colm's leg as the spike erupted from the ground beneath him, sending him crumpling to the floor. Me, he thought bitterly. I was the target. Damn it! I should've focused on myself instead.

As Colm struggled to regain his footing, the Stone Gnawer charged Robin, closing the distance. Robin, now ineffective at close range, could only dodge. Colm cursed himself for never considering the Phantom Archer's weaknesses in melee combat.

A sudden tug on his Spectral Persistence passive pulled his attention back to the other fight. The Grove Stalker swiped through Lance with devastating force, and Colm commanded the phantom to focus relentlessly for its remaining three seconds and distract the Grove Stalker.

"One phantom down, but better than the first attempt against the Stalker," Colm muttered, frustration mounting as his eyes flicked to Carver. The Phantom Warrior's slightly faded form betrayed the hits it had already taken as it struggled to hold its ground against the Wraithvine Serpent.

The serpent moved with deceptive fluidity, feigning a lunge to bait Carver into a defensive stance. In an instant, it struck—not with its fangs, but with a powerful blow from the side with its tail, sending Carver sprawling onto his back. The Phantom barely had a moment to recover before the serpent followed up with a crushing bite, forcing Spectral Persistence to trigger once again. The skill bought Carver precious seconds, but Colm knew it wouldn't be long before his phantom faded entirely.

I need to end one now.

A plan formed in his mind. He would summon Lance and Carver directly behind the Stone Gnawer for a surprise attack, distracting it long enough for Robin to regain the upper hand. Bolting toward Robin's position, Colm executed his strategy.

The Stone Gnawer's relentless melee assault had pushed Robin into pure survival mode, the phantom's effectiveness plummeting. But even in the chaos, Robin's presence was a vital distraction.

As Colm closed in, he felt Lance vanish from Spectral Persistence, leaving Carver with only a second of time remaining. Without hesitation, Colm activated his Phantom Spearman ability, summoning Lance behind the Stone Gnawer. The spear-wielding phantom appeared in an instant, thrusting its weapon with all its might.

The Stone Gnawer let out a horrific screech as the spear pierced its hide. The distraction gave Robin just enough time to fire another arrow, this one puncturing the creature's right eye and driving deep into its brain. With a final, guttural roar, the Stone Gnawer collapsed to the ground, its massive form hitting the stone floor with a resounding thud as a notification appeared in Colm's vision.

Panting, Colm muttered, "Huh, didn't need Carver to finish it," as he quickly activated his Phantom Warrior ability, summoning Carver once more. He turned to face the two remaining creatures charging toward him, now only seconds away. Lance stepped into position between Colm and the oncoming enemies, his spear at the ready.

Colm split their focus. "Lance, Carver, you're on the Grove Stalker. Robin, you're with me on the serpent," he commanded, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Lance and Carver charged at the Grove Stalker with precise coordination, their weapons raised. Colm trusted them to hold their own, knowing that Spectral Persistence would keep them in the fight long enough for him to recover if needed. As his phantoms clashed with the Stalker, Robin unleashed a rapid volley of arrows at the Wraithvine Serpent.

Some arrows hit, while others missed as the serpent dodged with fluid agility. Yet Robin's precision shone through the Phantom Archer, adeptly predicting the serpent's movements. Colm grinned as he tightened his grip on his spear. Time to fight, he thought, surging forward with a determined smile.

Robin's arrows provided support, covering any mistakes as Colm pressed in, keeping the serpent at bay with precise spear thrusts. His goal was simple: deliver enough wounds to wear it down.

As he neared the serpent, it coiled tightly, then darted forward to strike at Colm's exposed side. Robin's arrow met it mid-lunge, piercing through its scales and eliciting a sharp hiss. Seizing the moment, Colm followed up with a sweeping strike, his spear slicing through the serpent's flesh, causing it to reel back and re-engage.

Colm quickly noticed the serpent's tactic. It continually repositioned itself to block Robin's line of sight. Adapting, Colm began circling the creature, keeping it in motion with glancing blows, creating openings for Robin to fire. Whenever Colm couldn't maneuver out of the way fast enough, Robin would shift targets momentarily, landing critical shots on the Grove Stalker to support Lance and Carver.

The Phantom Archer's versatility is unreal, Colm thought, impressed by Robin's ability to provide essential support to both groups.

Colm's dance with the serpent continued, every movement calculated. He slashed and swiped with his spear, drawing blood with each strike, methodically wearing the creature down. The serpent was relentless, coiling and striking with blinding speed, forcing Colm to retreat repeatedly. He knew that even a single hit could prove disastrous—its venom would weaken him, and with the Grove Stalker still in play, that could mean certain death.

Each moment of retreat allowed Robin to line up shots, the Phantom Archer's arrows piercing deeper into the serpent's scaled body with precise, unyielding accuracy.

The cycle repeated for what felt like an eternity—dodge, strike, retreat, arrow—until Robin finally landed a devastating shot, pinning the serpent halfway down its length. The creature hissed and writhed, momentarily immobilized. Colm seized the opportunity, gripping his spear tightly and delivering a powerful slice that severed the serpent in two.

He didn't stop there. It's not done yet, Colm thought grimly, knowing the serpent's regenerative abilities. He launched a relentless onslaught, striking again and again before it could recover. Robin continued firing arrows, each one landing with precision as the two overwhelmed the serpent.

A sudden tug from his Spectral Persistence alerted him. His other phantoms have fallen. Gritting his teeth, Colm refused to let it distract him, pouring his efforts into finishing the serpent. Another tug followed moments later—another phantom gone.

Then, finally, the serpent fell still, its body reduced to mangled pieces. A notification blinked in Colm's vision, but he pushed it aside, too focused on the fight to celebrate.

Colm quickly turned toward the Grove Stalker, but before he could react, a guttural roar thundered through the arena, its sheer power stunning him. His heart sank as he locked eyes with the furious creature, its massive form hurtling toward him with terrifying speed.