The presence of the Echo Lancer changed everything. The oppressive silence of the Lord's Hall was no longer the silence of solitude; it was the quiet, disciplined presence of a guardian. The crumbling ruin that had been his potential tomb now felt like a command center, a bastion against the horrors outside.
Kaelen stood before his creation, a giddy sense of power warring with the monumental questions his talent raised. He had summoned a ghost, an echo of a soldier long dead, and bound it to his will. Was it ethical? Was it right?
He looked at the Lancer's unyielding posture, its helmeted gaze fixed on him with the absolute, unquestioning loyalty of a perfect soldier. Then he thought of the six days remaining on the protection barrier's timer, a ticking clock counting down to his probable, violent death at the hands of a monster horde.
The question of ethics, he decided, was a luxury he couldn't afford. Survival came first.
"Follow me," Kaelen commanded, his voice firm, echoing slightly in the ruined hall.
The Lancer fell into step behind him with silent, perfect precision. Its spectral feet made no sound on the stone floor, adding to its unsettling, ghostly nature. It was like being followed by his own shadow, if his shadow was a six-foot-two killing machine armed with a glowing spear. Kaelen led the way back to the edge of his protection barrier, his new bodyguard a constant, reassuring presence at his back.
The pre-dawn light was growing, a weak, grey illumination that cast long, distorted shadows across the ashen plains. The screeches of the Lingering Spirits were less frequent now, but Kaelen could still spot several of them drifting aimlessly in the distance, hazy apparitions in the gloom.
This time, there would be no elaborate traps. There would be no clever, desperate tricks with rocks and collapsing archways. His first kill had been a desperate gamble, a one-time trick. He couldn't rely on the terrain to do his fighting for him. This would be a test—a test of his command, and a test of the power he now wielded.
"Target the nearest Lingering Spirit," Kaelen sent the command through the System interface, finding the mental directive surprisingly intuitive. "Engage and destroy on my mark."
The Echo Lancer immediately strode forward, its helmeted head locked onto a Spirit about a hundred feet away. It didn't wait at the barrier; it passed through the shimmering, invisible wall without so much as a flicker. It shifted its stance, lowering its glowing spear into a perfect, textbook-ready position. It was a coiled spring of lethal intent.
Kaelen took a deep breath and stepped through the barrier himself, planting his feet firmly in the "real world." The Spirit noticed his presence and let out its signature high-pitched, mournful wail, starting to drift slowly towards him.
"Mark," Kaelen said aloud, the single word sharp and clear in the cold air.
The Echo Lancer exploded into motion.
It didn't run. It flowed. Its Agility of 18 was on full, breathtaking display as it covered the distance with a speed that made Kaelen's own movements feel like he was wading through molasses. It was a blur of pale blue light, gliding over the broken terrain as if it were a perfectly flat parade ground.
The Lingering Spirit, slow and witless, had no time to mount a proper defense. Before it could fully form the sickly green energy of its [Spectral Touch] ability, the Lancer was upon it.
It didn't perform a wild, dramatic swing or a flashy maneuver. It executed a single, devastatingly simple, economical thrust—a textbook-perfect motion honed by a lifetime of training, the memory of which was ingrained in its very essence.
The glowing spearhead blurred, cutting through the air and striking the Spirit dead center.
There was no sound of impact, no meaty thud of a weapon hitting flesh. The spectral spearhead passed into the Spirit's hazy form as if plunging into water. The Spirit's body convulsed violently as a wave of shimmering blue energy—the Lancer's [Spectral Strike] skill—radiated out from the point of impact, visibly disrupting the Spirit's ethereal form.
A damage number appeared above the Spirit's head, visible only to Kaelen.
[-185]
Kaelen's eyes widened. One hit. It was nearly a one-hit kill. The Spirit's 200 HP was almost entirely depleted by a single, basic attack from his Level 10 Lancer.
The Spirit reeled back, its form flickering wildly like a faulty projection. It tried to retaliate, swinging its glowing arm weakly. The Lancer, with its superior agility, sidestepped the clumsy attack with an ease that bordered on contempt.
It then spun its spear with terrifying grace, the spectral weapon whistling silently through the air, and delivered a second, follow-up thrust to the creature's core.
[-192]
The Lingering Spirit let out one final, choked screech before its form completely destabilized, dissolving into a shower of faint, blue motes of light that quickly faded into the air.
[Your unit [Echo Lancer] has slain [Lingering Spirit] x1!]
[You have gained 150 EXP!]
[Loot has been automatically added to your inventory!]
[You have obtained: [Lingering Spirit] x1]
The entire engagement had lasted less than five seconds.
Kaelen stared, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. This was the power of a Tier 3 unit. It was a predator, and the Level 5 monsters that had seemed so insurmountable to him were nothing but prey. He felt a thrill that was equal parts exhilaration and a cold, sharp fear at the power he now controlled.
This was the snowball. And he was standing at the top of the hill, ready to give it a hard push.
"Again," he commanded, his voice filled with an icy excitement. "Next target."
The Lancer, completely unharmed and unfazed, immediately turned and glided towards the next nearest Spirit. The result was the same. A swift, brutal, and silent execution. Another 150 EXP flowed into Kaelen's progress bar. Another [Lingering Spirit] appeared in his inventory.
The next two hours were a blur of efficient, systematic slaughter. Kaelen stood safely within his barrier, acting as a spotter and commander, while his tireless soldier cleared the area around his Lord's Hall with a brutal precision that was both terrifying and mesmerizing to watch. He learned to direct the Lancer with more finesse, timing its attacks to intercept the monsters' patrol paths, ensuring there was no wasted movement.
The notifications piled up one after another.
[You have obtained: [Lingering Spirit] x1]
[You have obtained: [Lingering Spirit] x1]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 3! You have gained 5 unassigned attribute points!]
He dumped the points into Intelligence and Spirit again, feeling the familiar, pleasant sensation of his mind clearing, his thoughts becoming sharper. His own combat stats were irrelevant for now. His mind was his weapon, and his Lancer was the blade.
As the Lancer cleared the immediate vicinity, Kaelen set to work on the second part of the manufacturing process. He ordered the Lancer to stand guard at the edge of the barrier—a silent, intimidating sentinel—while he walked the battlefield within his safe zone, touching every broken sword, every shattered axe head, every rusted dagger he could find.
[System Alert: Would you like to extract the faint 'Echo of a Weapon'? This will destroy the object.]
[System Alert: Would you like to extract the faint 'Echo of a Weapon'?]
One by one, he converted the battlefield's junk into [Echo of a Weapon (Faded)] materials, the physical objects dissolving into dust as their memories were added to his inventory. It was a strangely satisfying process, cleaning up the centuries-old clutter and turning it into potential power.
By the time the sun had fully risen, painting the grey landscape in stark light and shadow, he had a small hoard of resources. A quick check of his inventory confirmed his progress.
[Lingering Spirit]: 12
[Echo of a Weapon (Faded)]: 15
He had more than enough. He recalled his Lancer, which returned to his side and resumed its silent, guard-like posture as if it hadn't just single-handedly exterminated a dozen supernatural creatures.
Standing in the center of his Lord's Hall, Kaelen opened his blueprint menu again, his heart thumping with the anticipation of a scientist about to replicate a successful experiment. He selected the Echo Lancer blueprint and hit [SUMMON].
The familiar chill filled the air. The circle of frost. The coalescing blue light. Within seconds, a second Echo Lancer stood before him, identical to the first in every way. It, too, dropped to one knee in a gesture of fealty.
A profound sense of security washed over Kaelen. He wasn't just a man with a weapon anymore. He was a commander with a squad.
He didn't stop there. He summoned another. And another. He continued until he had five Echo Lancers standing before him in a perfect, silent row. The air in his Lord's Hall was thick with their cold, spectral presence. Seeing them together, he could feel the faint hum of their [Phalanx Discipline] skill, a network of shared purpose connecting them. They weren't just five individual soldiers; they were a unit.
He had an army. A small one, but an army nonetheless.