Sigh.

Thud. Thud.

The heavy sound of footsteps echoed through the tense and silent area, while his breathing overlapped with each step and created a dreadful rhythm that refused to fade.

Walking across the unnaturally smooth surface, Thoren wore a grave expression as his eyes scanned every direction with sharp vigilance.

He could hear the sound of heartbeats all around him, and each pulse seemed to echo through the empty space like a haunting drum.

It felt as if dozens of versions of himself existed at once, each one breathing, stepping, and thinking in perfect synchronization with him.

Yet no matter where he looked, he found nothing but empty space staring back at him.

He tried to soften his footsteps and reduce the sound, but the effort proved completely futile as whatever was mimicking him replicated even the smallest detail.

Every shift of weight and every breath he took was echoed perfectly, leaving no difference between the original and the imitation.

He was being observed in a way that felt invasive and precise, as though invisible eyes dissected his every movement.

Even his shallow breathing could not escape the mimicry, and that realization sent a chill deep into his spine.

If the sound had come from a single direction, he would have tried to track it, isolate it, and destroy its source without hesitation.

However, the sound surrounded him entirely, coming from every direction at once and leaving him with no clear target.

He felt exposed and vulnerable, like prey stripped of all cover and placed under a predator’s gaze.

That thought alone unsettled him deeply. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Even with five undead servants surrounding him in a tight formation, he did not feel secure.

Their presence provided physical protection, yet it did nothing to ease the growing tension in his mind.

Still, he forced himself to calm down while pushing his perception to its absolute limit.

He needed to identify whatever was playing this twisted game with him, because once he found it, escape would no longer be an option for his enemy.

However, no matter how hard he searched, he discovered nothing.

The smooth surface beneath his feet remained pristine and empty, reflecting no sign of movement or disturbance.

This approach was clearly not working, and he knew it.

Just then, the mimicked voices echoed once again, each one sounding exactly like his own voice.

"Where are the rare treasures, why can I not find them?"

"I cannot continue like this."

"I am tired."

"Ah, my leg."

"I am going to die."

"Please save me."

"No, do not move."

Thoren listened to the voices that sounded identical to his own, and his breathing grew heavier as tension built within his chest.

He was being mocked.

Everywhere he turned, the same voice followed him, repeating his thoughts, his fears, and his frustrations without pause.

He wanted to shout and demand that whatever was hiding reveal itself, but he suppressed the urge with sheer will.

If he allowed himself to lose control, he would fall directly into whatever trap had been set for him.

If he remained in this state, he would eventually be worn down mentally until he collapsed.

That outcome was unacceptable.

Whoosh.

Without hesitation, he opened his undead space and summoned one hundred undead servants onto the smooth ground.

The once empty area was instantly filled with motionless figures, their hollow eyes burning faintly with soul fire.

At that moment, the mimicked voices vanished completely, and the oppressive atmosphere shifted into an eerie silence.

The air became still, and even the faint echoes that had filled the space earlier disappeared.

It felt as though the ruin itself had recognized the sudden increase in presence and chosen to withdraw.

Seeing this reaction, the corner of Thoren’s lips curved upward slightly.

Without wasting any time, he focused his attention on one of his elite undead servants and activated his newly acquired skill.

"Bone Mirror."

This was his first time using the ability, and anticipation surged through him as he established the connection.

Almost instantly, he felt a slight drain on his mental energy, and his vision shifted as he began to see through the eyes of the undead servant.

The sensation was strange and disorienting, as though his consciousness had been divided into two separate bodies.

For a brief moment, his thoughts felt scattered, but his mind quickly adjusted to the unfamiliar perspective.

He realized that maintaining the Bone Mirror required constant concentration, and any lapse in focus could sever the connection.

Fortunately, his heightened perception allowed him to remain aware of his original body while observing through the undead.

After stabilizing the link, he directed the undead servant to move away from the group.

Thud.

Thud.

The undead servant walked forward with steady strides, and Thoren observed everything clearly through its vision.

As soon as the undead servant distanced itself from the group, the mimicked voices returned.

"Sigh, I need to be careful."

"What rotten luck."

"Why can I not find any rare treasure?"

This time, Thoren remained completely unaffected by the voices.

Instead of reacting, he listened carefully, analyzing every detail and waiting for any sign of inconsistency.

He reached the edge of the smooth area and noticed patches of red dry grass stretching outward.

The sight puzzled him, as the contrast between the smooth surface and the brittle vegetation felt unnatural.

Without hesitation, he commanded the undead servant to uproot one of the red grasses.

The moment the grass was torn from the ground, a sharp and piercing shriek echoed through the atmosphere.

The mimicked voices vanished instantly, as though something had been exposed.

Before Thoren could process what had happened, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air.

Whoosh.

Bang.

The undead servant was struck directly in the chest, forcing it to stagger backward by a single step.

Through the servant’s eyes, Thoren focused his attention on the attacker.

A voice echoed, calm yet filled with hostility.

"Why did you come to our home?"

Thoren froze for a brief moment, unable to hide his surprise.

He had expected many possible enemies, but this was not one of them.

Floating in the air was a beetle roughly the size of a human hand, its presence both subtle and unsettling.

Its body was covered in a tarnished bronze carapace that shimmered faintly, with strange swirling patterns that seemed to distort the surrounding air.

Along its surface were thin ridges that resembled delicate funnels, each one capable of trapping and redirecting sound waves.

However, its most disturbing feature was its head.

There were no visible eyes, no mandibles, and no recognizable facial structure.

Instead, a smooth parabolic surface occupied the space where its face should have been.

The rim of this structure was lined with fine silvery bristles that trembled faintly.

When the creature produced sound, the surface vibrated and projected a flawless imitation of any voice it had recorded.

It did not merely copy sound.

It recreated it perfectly, down to the smallest nuance.

Thoren narrowed his eyes as realization settled into his mind. This creature was responsible for everything he had experienced.

Every voice.

Every echo.

Every illusion.

All of it originated from this seemingly small yet terrifying creature.

[Echo Scarab]

****

[AN: Please support this book with your golden ticket and power stones.]

Message Chair +1 Chapter.

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