Kelvin turned to Hope, his metal armor reflecting the pale glow of the moons above. His voice was steady, almost indifferent, as he introduced the newcomer.
"Hopeless, this is Walker."
Then he shifted his gaze to the frail boy. "Walker, this is Hopeless."
The name still felt strange to Hope when spoken aloud, but he didn't react. Instead, he kept his expression neutral, observing Walker carefully.
Kelvin continued, "I told him to stay here and wait. When I heard the rubble shifting from where you were attacked, I figured something was happening and had to check it out."
"Oh," Hope exhaled silently. He hadn't expected that. He glanced at Walker, who remained rigid, gripping his dagger like it was the last thing keeping him alive.
For a moment, an awkward silence stretched between them. Hope wasn't used to small talk. Back in the outskirts of the waking world, he had spent most of his life keeping his head down, avoiding unnecessary interactions.
But something about the way Walker stood there—thin, exhausted, like a candle flickering in the wind—made him feel the need to say something.
So he turned to Walker and muttered, "Congratulations on being alive."
Walker blinked, his gaunt face unreadable. Then, after a moment, a dry chuckle escaped his lips—humorless, tired.
"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. "You too."
Kelvin stared at Hope for a moment, his eyes studying him as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.
"What kind of conversation was that?" he thought.
The words had been awkward, out of place, yet strangely fitting for the bleakness of their situation. Walker had no energy to question it further. At this point, just breathing felt like an achievement.
Kelvin, however, wasn't interested in the exchange. His helmeted head turned slightly as he scanned the surroundings, his armored figure tense as he observed their surroundings through the reflections in his metal plating.
"You two can exchange pleasantries later," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Right now, we need to move."
Hope instinctively tensed, casting a wary glance around the ruins. The place was eerily quiet, but that didn't mean they were safe. If he had learned anything in the outskirts, it was that silence usually meant something was lurking.
Kelvin continued, "I have a hideout. It's not much, but it can fit the three of us. We stay out here too long, and we're as good as dead. So stay close and keep up."
Hope hesitated for only a second before nodding. He wasn't sure about trusting Kelvin, but he also didn't have the luxury of options. His body was still weak from the Veil's pull, and the encounter with the corrupted fiend had left him drained.
Walker, on the other hand, looked like he might collapse at any moment, but he managed a slow nod.
Kelvin didn't wait for further discussion. He turned on his heel, his heavy boots crunching against the dirt and broken stone as he moved forward.
Hope exhaled quietly and followed, Walker trudging along beside him.
As they moved deeper into the ruined landscape, Hope took the chance to glance up again. The moons hung in the sky, an unnatural sight that still sent a shiver down his spine. Seven smaller moons surrounded one massive celestial body, casting an eerie glow over the shattered buildings and endless expanse of rubble.
This world—The Ashlands—was nothing like the waking world.
And as Hope walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse from here.