Colm sat there as the hours passed in quiet stillness, Emma still across from him, deeply engrossed in her own book. He had finished reading through the tome on classes a little while ago but found himself flipping back through pages, revisiting the entries that stood out most.

They'd chatted earlier about some of the classes—how certain ones seemed incredibly powerful compared to others. Her words lingered in his mind.

"The funny thing is, even though classes can be in the same tier, some are just flat-out stronger. But strength is relative. One class might not hit as hard, but it might have more tricks to survive when things go south."

"It's a game," she had muttered, "trying to figure out the best fit for yourself. What works for you might be useless to someone else. Everyone thinks differently. Then you throw attunements into the mix and suddenly, no two builds are ever truly the same."

Colm nodded at the memory, the possibilities blooming in his thoughts. I had seven attunement options. That's seven different variations of Spirit Warden right there. He frowned slightly. How many attunements even exist? There has to be hundreds. Maybe more? That'd mean thousands—maybe millions—of unique class combinations.

And it wasn't just attunements. Each class had a set of active and passive abilities, and it seemed like people even had some freedom in how those developed. So even two Spirit Wardens with the same attunement could make vastly different choices.

He sighed, overwhelmed. How do people even begin to theorycraft all this? There was so much nuance to take in—balance, synergy, survivability. The deeper he thought about it, the more he realized how little he truly understood.

And yet, despite the mental weight of it all, he felt a flicker of excitement.

After a few moments of letting his mind settle, he gently slid the book on echoes in front of him. The worn leather cover creaked as he opened it, ready to crack into another layer of this world's endless complexity.

The first sentence on the page caught his eye immediately.

"Echoes are the true training ground…"

Colm nodded, eyes scanning the lines with growing interest.

"...Echoes range in different tiers, offering unique resources and opportunities not found anywhere else. The ambient mana in the world coalesces and forms these echoes, and the type of mana absorbed determines the echo's difficulty. Fighting the undead can only offer limited growth; most are mindless husks, fodder with no real strength or technique. What they lack in power, they make up for in sheer numbers, capable of overwhelming even seasoned adventurers. One scratch, one bite, is often enough to end a life. That's why echoes are crucial. They prepare you. Train you. Give you the tools to survive."

Colm flipped to the next page, curiosity growing.

"I theorize that the system introduced echoes to help humanity adapt. If it were just us against the undead, we'd have been wiped out. But echoes gave us a way to grow stronger, to stand a chance."

He nodded again, the theory aligning with what he'd seen and what Jerry had told him. Then, something new: a section on sentient echoes.

"Sentient Echoes. No one truly knows their origin… but I have a thought. My mother—gentle, selfless—vanished after the shift. I believe... I believe she became one."

The weight of grief in the author's words settled heavily in Colm's chest.

"One day, I had to run. There were too many undead—far too many for me to handle. They overwhelmed everything, and they got my best friend. I was alone, terrified, and desperate."

"I stumbled through the forest, barely aware of where my feet were taking me, until I came across an echo. It was tucked between thick trees, almost hidden. But the moment I stepped inside, I felt something shift.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

It was vast. Peaceful. Beautiful. Unlike anything I'd seen since the world changed. Lush greenery stretched around me, untouched and serene. I had been bracing for a fight, certain this would be the end. Better to fall here, I told myself, than to die clawed apart by the undead.

But no fight came. Just silence.

So I wandered deeper past the rift, cautious, but drawn in by the stillness. Then I saw them—and I stopped in my tracks.

Flowers. Not just any flowers. Ghost Orchids.

Hundreds of them, dancing gently in the breeze.

It brought tears to my eyes. Mom's garden, I thought. She used to plant Ghost Orchids in the backyard—said they were rare, fragile, and beautiful. She'd sing to them, swearing it helped them grow. There was one song she always loved, her favorite. And as it echoed in my mind for the first time in years, I wept.

That moment didn't feel like survival. It felt like a gift. A piece of her, blooming where I least expected it.

Colm's eyes widened. Is that true? he thought. People becoming sentient echoes? The fuck…?

His gaze stayed glued to the page as he continued reading.

But that's not what convinced me it was her. It was the sound. The wind. It hummed her song—and I heard it clear as day. Not faint, not distant. It was right there, like she was beside me. The humming, the Ghost Orchids… it was too perfect to be a coincidence. It had to be her. Her spirit. Her gentleness.

I walked through that echo untouched. No monsters. No threats. Just peace. Like walking through Mom's garden one final time.

I don't know how long I stayed—months, maybe more. I talked aloud every day, hoping she could hear me. I never got a sign, not a clear one. But I felt her. And I stayed until I knew I couldn't anymore. I had to return. There were people who needed me. I had already overstayed my welcome.

So I said goodbye.

As I walked toward the exit, Ghost Orchids bloomed along the path, as if guiding me out. And the wind—it carried her song. A soft hum, gentle and warm.

I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life. I wish I could go back. It's been forty years since that day, and no matter how hard I try, I can't find the echo again. I wrote down everything—the entrance, the trees, the landmarks—but it's as if it vanished.

I just want to feel her presence… one last time.

Colm sat in stunned silence, the weight of the passage pressing down on his chest. "Holy fuck," he whispered.

Emma from across the table perked up at that. You good Colm?

Colm sat there as the seconds ticked by not responding and just digesting what he read. The emotion, the weight is this true? What does this mean?

Emma looked up from her book. "You okay?"

Colm blinked, shaken from his thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. That was just... a lot. I wasn't expecting that from this book." He held it up and turned it toward her. "Have you read this one?"

She glanced at the cover and shook her head. "Can't say that I have."

Colm nodded and slid the book across the table, pointing between two marked spots. "Could you do me a favor and read this part? From here to here."

Emma gave a small nod and pulled the book toward her, eyes quickly scanning the text.

Colm watched her as she read, noticing her expression shift. Her brows rose slightly, then knit together, her lips parting once or twice in surprise. She didn't rush. She read with care, soaking in every word. Minutes passed before she finally looked up.

"Holy fuck," she said softly.

Colm chuckled, a bit of the tension easing. "Right? Is it true? That sentient echoes might come from people?"

Emma didn't answer immediately. She leaned back slightly, still processing. "Colm… I don't know. I've read a lot of theories—fragments, conjecture—but this? This one feels… personal. Most books I've seen are dry, just facts and speculation. But this? It hit me right in the chest. You can feel the grief in it. Maybe he was stretching the truth, or maybe… maybe he wasn't. It makes me wonder."

Colm nodded. "Yeah. Same here. Thanks for humoring me and reading it."

"Of course," Emma said, gently pushing the book back toward him.

Colm pulled it back and kept reading, but the rest of the entries didn't hit the same. Just more musings and observations from the author, with little practical value. He sighed and closed it with a soft thud.

"I was kind of hoping for more concrete info," he muttered. "Something I could use now. Guess not."

He looked over at Emma and gave a tired smile. "Alright, I think I'm burned out on reading. Might take a break. Thanks for keeping me company."

Emma looked up, smiling. "Anytime, Colm. You actually stayed way longer than I expected. Most people ditch me within the first couple hours."

He laughed. "Guess I'm a good study partner," he said as he stood and returned the books to the shelf.

With a wave, he headed toward the door, Emma watching him with a quiet smile as he left.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.