They had been walking for what felt like hours, though time was difficult to track in this forsaken place.
Hope was beginning to feel a gnawing doubt creep into his mind. Kelvin had marked a location for them on the gruesomely drawn map, yet there was no sign of it.
They had crossed mountains, each one looking eerily similar to the last—jagged, blackened stone, carved by time and whatever unnatural forces governed The Ashlands. They had carefully avoided wandering Corrupted Fiends whenever possible, ducking into ruins or moving through narrow crevices to stay out of sight.
But not every fight could be avoided.
One had found them.
A grotesque, mutated creature, its spine curved unnaturally and its limbs too long for its gaunt, decaying body. Its mouth had split open in multiple places, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and its flesh seemed to be covered in patches of moss-like growth, pulsating like living veins.
It had taken all three of them to kill it.
Kelvin had gone in first, his Ascended-tier armor making him a fortress against its clawed swipes. Walker, on the other hand, had fought recklessly, throwing himself at the creature like a madman, slashing wildly with his newly acquired Memory.
Hope had played support, using his agility to distract the creature and land quick strikes before retreating.
The battle had ended with the fiend collapsing, its soul core extracted and added to Kelvin's collection. But they had paid a price—minor injuries at first glance, but still dangerous in a place like this.
Walker had suffered the worst.
A deep gash ran along his left forearm, another cut near his ribs, and a bruise swelling near his jawline—likely from when the fiend had thrown him against a rock. He had taken unnecessary risks, charging in without much thought.
Yet, despite his injuries, Walker had grinned through it all.
"That all you got?" he had muttered to the dying creature before kicking its twitching corpse.
Kelvin had immediately treated him, summoning a medicinal herb from his soul sea and grinding it into a paste before applying it to the wounds. It had stopped the bleeding, but Walker had still winced from the sting.
And now, as they continued walking, their supplies were running dangerously low.
The food they had brought—small rations of dried meat and flatbread—was nearly gone. The water was also dwindling, forcing them to ration every drop.
Kelvin was leading as usual, his armor shimmering faintly even in the dim, grey light of the sky. There was no sun, just an empty expanse above them, stretching far and endless, devoid of clouds or stars.
Hope was in slightly better shape than Walker, but exhaustion was creeping into his limbs, and hunger was starting to dull his thoughts.
He glanced at Kelvin, whose posture remained firm, unwavering—like someone who had been through far worse.
Hope sighed, pushing forward.
They had no choice but to keep moving.