Colm and Grant watched in silence as the last embers of the fire flickered out, leaving behind only ashes.

Grant let out a deep breath before turning to Colm. "Alright, let's head back and see what Don's managed to organize."

Colm nodded, and the two made their way back toward the caravan.

The camp was bustling with movement—more people had gathered, and Colm spotted his phantoms in the distance, still keeping watch at the front entrance.

As they approached, Colm saw Don barking orders, directing people into position. Wagons were already shifting into formation, preparing to depart.

The two waited for a brief moment as Don finished giving instructions to a group of craftsmen before he turned to them.

"Thanks for taking care of those three," Don said.

Grant nodded.

"I've done a headcount," Don continued, his tone grim. "It's not as bad as it could have been… but we've lost about twenty percent of the caravan crew. Four out of our ten adventurers didn't make it."

He let the words hang for a moment before locking eyes with Colm.

"But thanks to you, a lot of people survived."

Colm gave a slight nod. "Glad I was here to help."

Don nodded back. "We're moving out soon. We're taking what we've gathered and heading straight back to Brimhope. Since we're down a few people, I'm spreading the adventurers out more—so I'll need both of you to take charge of a wagon. That sound good?"

Colm and Grant nodded in agreement.

"Perfect," Don said. "You'll each take the last two wagons. We're moving fast—I hate to do this to the horses, but we'll be taking minimal rest until we're back in the city. I expect us to make it in two to three days."

"Got it," both Colm and Grant said in unison.

"Good. Off you go—I've got a few more things to wrap up."

Without another word, they turned and made their way toward the last two wagons. They didn't speak, but the silent companionship between them was enough. As they reached their destinations, Grant glanced at Colm. "I'll take this one."

A few seconds passed before he continued, his voice quieter. "Colm… thanks for coming along on this mission. I don't think I would've made it out without you."

Colm raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

"You really saved my ass back there," Grant went on. "There were multiple times on the beach where the undead were getting too close—then you'd come barreling through and clear the line before they reached me."

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Colm nodded, not fully realizing how much he had helped. My mind was completely consumed by unbridled fury back there… I wasn't even thinking.

Grant sighed, shaking his head. "Truly, I'm in your debt. You saved my life, and if there's ever anything you need from me, just say the word."

He extended his hand.

Colm hesitated only for a moment before grasping it firmly. "I'm glad I was able to help, Grant. And the same goes for you—if you ever need anything, let me know."

Grant gave him a final nod before heading toward his assigned wagon.

Colm lingered for a second, watching as Grant disappeared inside before turning toward his own.

Once situated inside, his thoughts spiraled.

Fuck this. If only I was stronger.

Once I get back to Brimhope, I'm not resting or taking it easy. I'm getting the rest of my class abilities, earning the achievements I need, and moving forward from there.

Colm felt the wagon lurch forward as the caravan began its journey back to Brimhope. Don is efficient when it comes down to it, he thought, feeling the rhythmic tumble of the wheels over sandy terrain.

I think I'll keep my phantoms active to escort the caravan. They should be able to keep up at this pace.

With that decision made, he sent a mental command to his phantoms. Peering out of his wagon, he spotted Carver, Lance, and Robin moving in sync, staying close to his wagon while keeping watch for any threats.

Satisfied, his mind drifted toward what came next.

I'll head to Luke and Tessa's when I get back—see if they have a good Echo recommendation for leveling up.

The advantage was clear. I can abuse the system a bit—take on a low-tier Echo that's higher level than me for some quick, easy levels.

The thought lingered, and he frowned. I don't know if I like that idea, but… it's the fastest way to gain raw power. And who knows? Once I get my other abilities, maybe I can actually prevent something like this next time.

His chest tightened as Zach's final moments flashed in his mind.

Fuck. Is that what my body looked like after the Pitchcaller?

He clenched his fists. I'm damned lucky I have the Spirit Warden class.

But his thoughts refused to settle.

That's the third variation of undead I've seen. Walkers, Stalkers, and now Mariners.

What made them different? What made them higher level? And more importantly—why the hell were they so far outside the cursed zone?

Colm's brow furrowed. I saw the maps back in the library—this is even farther from the undead zone than I thought. How did they get here?

A sinking feeling settled in his gut.

Shit.

His mind turned to Jerry's lessons. He had mentioned something about the cursed zones being maintained by powerful undead, creatures that acted as anchors for the corruption.

Could they be smarter? More logical? Could something be pulling the strings?

The idea didn't sit well with him.

If that's the case, then I need to get stronger. Fast.

As the caravan pressed on, Colm did the only thing he could think of—he focused on leveling Meditation.

I got it to Level 10… maybe I can tier it up with two days of focus.

With a shrug, he let his thoughts drift.

Trusting his phantoms to guard the caravan, Colm let his mind sink into stillness, sharpening his focus on one thing—his determination to grow stronger.

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