Weeks passed in the Lucent Grove, Colm settled into a disciplined routine. Each morning, he would rise from his makeshift camp by the water, eat a handful of Celestial Blooms, and begin exploring the area. The Blooms were sweet and faintly minty, but after the first few days, he found the taste flat and monotonous. They kept him alive, but he couldn’t help longing for something with texture and flavor.

Each morning, he looked at his Phantom Warrior with a sigh. "Bet you don’t have to think about food, huh? Must be nice," he muttered, half to himself and half to his spectral companion. Talking to the warrior had become part of his routine—a strange habit, perhaps, but it kept the silence from feeling too overwhelming.

The Grove itself had become familiar. After countless hours of walking and mapping, he knew this cavern’s boundaries well. Though vibrant with glowing flora, the place was eerily empty. No other creatures crossed his path, and aside from the rustle of plants in the breeze and the faint hum of the glowing water, silence reigned. It was beautiful, almost like a sanctuary, yet it left him with a strange sense of isolation.

Only the Phantom Warrior kept him company. It had no voice, no personality, yet he’d relied on it—not just for safety, but for companionship. It was a strange arrangement, speaking to a figure that never responded, but it became part of his routine, an anchor in the otherwise lonely grove.

"You know, I used to think having silence was a blessing," he said to it one day as he paced around the camp. "But now, I’d give anything for some noise. A bird, a stream, maybe even some people." He laughed to himself, shaking his head. "Guess I need to talk to someone, even if that someone is… well, a shadow."

The warrior stood silently, unwavering as ever, and Colm found comfort in its steady presence. "At least you don’t complain. Or argue. You just listen." He looked at the spectral figure with a faint smirk. "I don’t know what I’d do if you started talking back. Wouldn’t know if I’d be relieved or terrified."

One of Colm’s first realizations was that he could use his Phantom Warrior as a sparring partner. Though it didn’t speak or show emotion, it followed his commands with a focus that bordered on eerie. He began instructing it to attack, testing its movements and pushing himself to dodge and counter.

At first, he struggled. The warrior’s strikes, while controlled, were precise and quick. Colm often found himself flat on his back, panting as he tried to keep up. But each session brought minor improvements. He could expect its moves better, picking up on subtle patterns in its footwork and the rhythm of its swings.

"All right, come at me again. But go easy on me this time, yeah?" he said one afternoon, wiping sweat from his brow. The Phantom Warrior moved forward in response, raising its weapon with silent determination.

"If you could talk, you’d probably be laughing at me right now," he grunted, sidestepping its swing. He ducked under another strike, rolling to the side and coming back up on his feet. "But I’ll get better—I know it. One day, I’ll make you work for it."

The warrior’s silent, relentless presence fueled him. There was something inspiring about its consistency, how it met him, day after day, without hesitation or fatigue. After each session, he’d leave the warrior on guard while he rested, a habit that comforted him even though he knew there were no actual threats here.

"Guess it’s just you and me holding down the fort," he said to the warrior one night as it stood watch. "You know, Warrior, this would be a lot easier if you gave me some pointers." He gave it a wry grin, knowing full well he wouldn’t get a response. "But I get it. Strong and silent. I can respect that."

Colm’s days soon filled with experimentation. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to understand the System fully and learn to make the most of the tools it provided. Analyze became a constant companion, applied to every item, plant, rock, and pool of water he came across. It was straightforward, and Colm appreciated how it provided specific, reliable information. Yet, despite using it frequently, Analyze had yet to rank up again, leaving him with a growing sense of impatience. He could tell that there was more potential locked within the skill, but it seemed to require something beyond routine use—perhaps higher-level targets or unique objects he hadn’t yet encountered.

Colm understood that this world required both skill and subtlety, as if the System itself valued adaptability and presence. To survive, he’d need to hone each tool and learn the rules of the Echoed Lands, and Analyze would reveal its secrets as long as he pursued it with persistence and curiosity.

"Come on, Analyze," he muttered, half-expecting the System to react. "I’m putting in the work here. You’d think I’d get something for all my effort."

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When Analyze didn’t respond, he turned his focus to his passive ability, Lingering Vitality. Since the ability only helped when he was injured, he theorized that consistent use might strengthen it. Testing it would mean hurting himself, but he will endure a little pain if it means growth.

"Okay, Warrior," he said, rolling up his sleeve. "Make a minor cut on my hand—just enough to see if this thing works. Go easy on me."

The warrior obeyed, delivering a controlled, shallow cut to his arm. Colm winced at the sting, feeling the ache spread, but he focused on the sensation as Lingering Vitality activated. A slow warmth filled the wound, a gentle hum that he could almost feel coming from another realm.

"Not exactly pleasant, but I can handle it," he murmured, resting his arm as the wound gradually began to heal. Each day, he repeated the process, pushing his tolerance further. The pain became routine, and he noticed changes—the healing grew faster, the energy from the spirit realm felt stronger, and his body began to adapt.

After a few days, the notification he’d been waiting for appeared.

Lingering Vitality (Level 1) is now Lingering Vitality (Level 2)

A grin spread across his face, and he looked at his Phantom Warrior. "All that work paid off. Who knew a little pain could go so far?"

He scanned the notification again, taking satisfaction. "Not the superpower I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. Maybe Level 3 will really be something."

With his newfound resilience, Colm turned his attention to crafting. The Grove didn’t have much in the way of resources, but he was determined to make do. He found a sturdy log and, with the help of his Phantom Warrior, began whittling it down to a manageable spear.

"Guess you’re ‘Carver’ today," he said, grinning as he watched the warrior carve the wood with precision. "Pretty handy with that, aren’t you?"

The spear was rough and unbalanced but functional. He tested its weight, spun it a few times, and gave a nod of approval. "Not bad. I’ll keep my distance and let you do the heavy lifting if it comes to that. But at least now I’ve got something."

With his makeshift weapon, improved abilities, and steady routine, Colm’s confidence grew. He began to feel ready to leave the Grove and push into unknown territory. But he didn’t want to leave without acknowledging the quiet strength he’d gained from his time here.

One evening, as he sat beside the water with his Phantom Warrior standing nearby, he reflected on how far he’d come. "You know, when I first got here, I was terrified," he admitted softly, watching the warrior. "Didn’t think I’d last a week. Everything felt like it was against me. But now?" He let a small smile form on his face. "Now, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

He glanced up at the shimmering canopy of the Grove, its glow casting gentle shadows across the clearing. "This place… it’s different. And maybe that’s okay." He looked back at the warrior, feeling a surge of determination. "You and me, we’ve made it this far. And there’s no reason we can’t keep going."

After a pause, he added, "Whatever’s waiting out there, I’m done with just surviving. Every day from here on, I’m working toward something bigger. I’m not just getting by."

With that, he stood, gripping his new spear and giving the warrior a final nod. "All right, Carver. Tomorrow, we will move out. Let’s see what the rest of this place has to offer."

As he settled down for the night, his mind drifted through the memories of his time in the Grove. He knew he would carry these lessons with him, the quiet resilience he’d built, and the strange companionship he’d found with his Phantom Warrior. Whatever lay beyond this sanctuary, he was ready to face it with a steady heart and a growing sense of purpose.

The following day, after eating his fill and stocking up on Celestial Blooms, Colm rose, took a final look around his small camp, and started forward, venturing deeper into the heart of the Grove. His Phantom Warrior trailed beside him like a silent shadow, a steady presence as he moved into the unknown, away from the safety of the familiar ground he had grown accustomed to over the past weeks.

Each step carried him further from the sanctuary he’d created, where he’d found rhythm, strength, and a growing sense of purpose. He couldn’t help but whisper a few words of farewell to his campsite, his voice low. "Thanks, Grove. For everything. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure it all means something."

The Phantom Warrior moved steadily beside him, its presence unwavering. Colm reached out almost instinctively as though to pat it on the shoulder, then pulled back, feeling slightly foolish. Still, he couldn’t shake the gratitude he felt for this quiet, constant companion. The warrior had been there through every challenge, every small victory, always dependable—even if it never spoke a word.

"All right, Carver," he said, letting the nickname stick for at least one more day. "Let’s see what’s deeper in here. We’ve got work to do."

They moved forward together, leaving behind the light-dappled paths of his familiar route. As they stepped deeper into the Grove’s shadows, where the glowing plants grew denser, and the air felt thick, Colm felt a spark of excitement. The Lucent Grove might hold dangers he couldn’t yet imagine, but he knew now that he had a purpose here—a path to forge and the drive to keep going. And with his Phantom Warrior at his side, he felt prepared for whatever the Echoed Lands might hold in its hidden depths.

With a final glance over his shoulder, he gave one last nod to the place that had kept him safe. Then, facing forward, Colm walked on, determined to carve his future from whatever lay ahead.