Crashes rumbled in the distance, the roars reverberating, growing ever closer. Colm kept an eye on his mana. Only a couple more minutes before I can bring Robin out. And as if jinxing it, a shadow loomed in the ravine ahead.

Looks like it's finally here, Colm muttered, feeling his form tense in preparation for the oncoming threat.

Carver and Lance stood in front of him, weapons raised, ready to face whatever was approaching. As it came into view, Colm's breath caught. A massive form, its body caked in ice, the frozen layers forming jagged scales along its body. Its eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, and its towering legs ended in razor-sharp claws that looked as cold and unyielding as solid ice.

It moved with a deliberate, menacing pace. Colm shivered as his gaze met the beast's. Grunting, he muttered, "Well, that's not terrifying at all."

Frost Wyrm (Level ???)

Oh, you've got to be shitting me. His step faltered slightly. Isn't this the boss of the Echo? How the hell is it here? His mind raced, recalling what Don had mentioned—something about monsters being able to escape an Echo? Sounds like that's what happened here. But how has no one reported this? Is it new? Hopefully, because if it's been wandering here for a while… didn't Don say they can get stronger over time?

Maybe it's stuck down here, with nothing to fight, nothing to feed on. If that's the case, then I got lucky.

Colm readied himself as the creature charged. Fuck, there's not much I can do right now except keep regenerating mana. I'll have to make sure I stay in my Rising Current puddles for the increased regen.

He stepped back, leaving Lance and Carver to intercept the oncoming beast. Watching them, he noted how they each dodged to their respective sides of the cavern as the creature barreled forward. It's massive… which is actually a good thing. The cavern's tight space will make it harder for it to maneuver.

Carver and Lance's weapons glowed blue as Ripping Cleave and Piercing Thrust activated. The sound of their attacks echoed through the cavern as both phantoms struck true. Colm watched as the beast's icy scales cracked—but didn't break.

It'll take a lot more than that. He gritted his teeth. The Frost Wyrm let out a furious screech—not in pain, but in anger. Colm felt the temperature plummet as the ground beneath it froze over, ice spreading outward in an expanding wave.

Carver reacted first, lunging toward a nearby wall and sinking his spectral blade into the stone, lifting himself off the ground. Lance, however, was just a moment too slow—the ice caught his legs, freezing them solid.

"Shit," Colm muttered, his mind already racing for a solution. This fight just got a hell of a lot harder.

Before Lance could break free from the ice binding his legs, the creature veered toward him, jaws widening before clamping down on the phantom's shoulder. With terrifying ease, it lifted Lance off the ground, the frozen prison around his legs snapping apart with a sharp crack. The creature thrashed, whipping the Phantom Spearman through the air like a ragdoll while tightening its grasp.

"Well, this isn't good," Colm muttered, pulse quickening.

Carver wasn't idle. The moment the temperature stabilized after the Frost Wyrm's screech, the Phantom Warrior leapt from the wall, blade glinting, and drove his sword into the creature's back. A sharp, chilling screech rang out, though the Wyrm refused to release Lance.

Colm watched as Lance twisted violently, stabbing into the beast with whatever momentum he could muster from the awkward angle. His attacks barely seemed to slow it down. Then, a loud crunch echoed through the cavern.

Colm's breath caught.

The creature's jaws snapped fully shut.

Satisfied, it tossed Lance's limp form to the ground and let out a thunderous, victorious roar.

Your Phantom Spearman has been destroyed.

For a brief moment, all Colm could do was stare. Then, a familiar tug pulled at his mind—Spectral Persistence.

Lance rose from the ground, his form nearly untouched but slightly more transparent, while the creature recoiled in clear confusion.

"Won't have long," Colm muttered, eyes flicking to his mana. The regeneration was agonizingly slow. Just a few more seconds before I can summon Robin…

Lance wasted no time. He rushed forward, spectral energy bursting around him in periodic explosions of water, a side effect of his Tide Attunement. Carver continued his assault, carving chunks of ice from the creature's hardened flesh, keeping it engaged.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Perfect.

Colm's mana ticked past 180—just enough. His gaze darted across the cavern, locking onto an overhanging ledge slightly out of the creature's reach.

That has to do.

Focusing on the spot, he activated Phantom Archer.

A moment later, Robin formed on the ledge, bow in hand, overlooking the battlefield with an excellent vantage point.

Colm gave the command. "Don't stop shooting. Wear it down."

Without hesitation, Robin raised its bow, spectral energy building as it activated Phantom Volley. A single glowing arrow streaked into the sky, reaching its Paragon before splitting apart, raining down dozens of spectral arrows toward the beast.

Colm's eyes flicked toward Carver. Interesting…

The arrows harmlessly phased through Carver's form, passing straight through the Phantom Warrior without affecting him.

Good. No risk of friendly fire. Now, let's see if we can bring this thing down.

With a final explosion of tidal energy, Lance's form flickered and vanished, dissipating into mist as Spectral Persistence timed out.

Colm frowned. Damn. That's one down. He glanced at his mana. Fifteen more minutes before I can bring him back… Hopefully, summoning Robin was the right call.

He shifted his focus back to the battle. Arrow after arrow streaked from Robin's bow, each one embedding into the creature's icy hide. The Frost Wyrm let out an irritated snarl, its glowing blue eyes locking onto Robin's position—only for Carver's relentless, precise strikes to drag its attention away once more.

It looks like it doesn't have any long-range attacks… Maybe it can only fight up close? That was good news. If Robin could keep firing without retaliation, they had a chance.

The battle waged on. Robin's arrows peppered the Wyrm's body without pause, while Carver weaved through the battlefield, his movements fluid despite the icy terrain, dodging the beast's massive claws by the narrowest margins.

But then disaster struck.

Colm's eyes widened as Carver's foot slipped. The ice beneath him proved treacherous, and the phantom lost his footing, sliding uncontrollably across the cavern floor.

The Frost Wyrm didn't hesitate.

It pounced, talons bared, and before Carver could recover, its massive claws pierced through the phantom's chest.

A notification flashed in Colm's vision.

Your Phantom Warrior has been destroyed.

"Shit," Colm muttered, but before the panic could settle, Carver surged back to his feet, spectral energy bursting around him in one final, relentless assault before his form would fade.

With a swift motion, Carver carved a deep gash along the talons pinning him down, dragging his blade upward in a brutal arc that tore into the Frost Wyrm's chest. Colm watched as icy blue blood oozed from the wound, staining the frozen ground beneath them.

A furious clash erupted. Carver abandoned all defense, his attacks relentless. The creature's strikes phased through him effortlessly—Spectral Persistence proving its value again and again.

Colm smiled grimly. Even weakened, he's still tearing this thing apart.

Though Carver's attacks lacked the full force of his usual strength, the sheer volume of strikes made up for it. With each precise slash, chunks of frozen flesh and shattered scales were ripped from the Wyrm's body, sending it reeling in pain—only to be struck again by an arrow from Robin, forcing the agony to continue.

The battle turned into a violent, unrelenting exchange. Tidal energy surged around Carver, exploding outward periodically, drenching the battlefield in blood and water. The Frost Wyrm roared, thrashing violently, the cavern floor littered with its scattered, shattered armor-like scales.

Colm counted the seconds.

Then, Carver's form flickered—and finally, faded out of existence. Spectral Persistence had run its course.

The Frost Wyrm threw back its head, releasing a triumphant roar, victory almost tangible in its voice—

Until an arrow slammed straight into its open maw.

Robin, standing firm atop his perch, already had another arrow nocked. Without hesitation, and fired again, striking the beast directly in the face, forcing it to reel in pain once more.

The Wyrm twisted violently, ready to lash out—then suddenly stopped.

A deep chill ran down Colm's spine.

The creature had locked eyes with him.

The creature was on its last legs. Colm's gaze swept over its battered form, taking in every detail.

Its once-pristine talons were now shattered and cracked, barely able to support its massive weight. His eyes traced up its arms, where deep wounds bled freely, remnants of his phantoms' relentless strikes. A massive gouge of missing flesh lay on the ground nearby—the aftermath of Carver's final, brutal thrust before vanishing.

Droplets of frozen water clung to the beast's form, remnants of the Tide Attunement bursts that had drenched it throughout the battle.

As the creature shifted slightly, preparing to charge, Colm caught sight of countless spectral arrows jutting from its back, embedded deep into the frozen scales.

Robin has been putting in work.

Blood flowed freely from its wounds, pooling in icy rivers that spilled across the cavern floor. The sheer amount of dark, frozen blood created a grotesque contrast against the cold, hard stone.

This is a hell of a macabre sight. Colm shuddered.

The beast's eyes bore into him. No longer as bright as before, their glow had dimmed—yet the fury remained.

Slowly, the creature lowered its head, muscles tensing as it pulled one leg back.

Colm exhaled, readying himself. "Here we go". Colm muttered, shifting into a ready stance as the Frost Wyrm charged.

His mind raced. Okay. Worst-case scenario, Robin is still alive, which means I get a second chance with Phantom Sacrifice. But I need Robin's damage output. His mana reserves ticked in the corner of his vision. I have enough for two—maybe three—Abyssal Lances. I need to make them count.

But if I use them and they don't do anything… I'll be out of mana. And I'll need even more time before I can summon another phantom.

His hands tightened, bracing himself as the monstrous beast barreled toward him.

Shit. This isn't going to be easy.

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.