Walker, who had been lying still throughout the conversation, let out a rough grunt, shifting slightly on the ground.
"Can you guys keep quiet? I want to sleep," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion and irritation.
Hope glanced at him and shook his head. Different people, different mindsets, he thought.
Walker didn't care about power structures, about The Veil's system, or about the deeper implications of what they were learning. He wasn't interested in the training programs or the classifications of power. His only concern was himself—his survival, his revenge, whatever grudges he held deep inside.
Kelvin let out a quiet chuckle, lowering his voice slightly. "I guess he's right. Let's get some sleep."
He stretched his arms slightly before settling into a comfortable position against the pillar. Though his armor had been dismissed into his soul sea, he still sat upright, keeping his posture firm. His body language made it clear—he was staying awake, standing watch.
"I'll take the first watch," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Hope merely nodded, understanding the unspoken logic. They were still in The Ashlands. Even if things felt calm now, even if the eerie silence of the wasteland surrounded them like a protective shroud, danger was never far.
Without another word, he lay down on the rough, uneven floor, feeling the cold seep through his worn-out clothes. His body ached in places he hadn't even realized before. His ribs were sore, his muscles tense, and his blood-stained jacket clung uncomfortably to his skin.
Yet, despite the discomfort, exhaustion was stronger. His eyes fluttered shut.
But just as sleep was about to take him, a stray thought slipped into his mind. It was something small, something he had overlooked in the chaos.
His brows furrowed slightly, and without opening his eyes, he asked:
"How did I get my clothes on after being taken by The Veil?"
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, Kelvin exhaled through his nose, a quiet hum of thought. "That's a good question."
Hope opened his eyes just slightly, just enough to see Kelvin's face—calm, but thoughtful, his gaze distant as if reaching into the depths of his knowledge.
"The moment you're taken," Kelvin began, "your soul vanishes from the waking world. It's not like teleportation, where you shift from one place to another. It's… stranger."
Hope stayed silent, letting him continue.
"You don't just arrive here, fully clothed. The Veil reconstructs you," Kelvin said, his voice steady. "Your body, your clothing, your memories—it pulls everything in and remakes you here, in The Ashlands."
Hope frowned. "Remakes?"
Kelvin nodded. "Think of it like this—when you were taken, you weren't wearing the exact same clothes from before. They might look similar, but they're not real in the way they were before. They're… a reflection, a recreation of what you were wearing when The Veil marked you."
Hope let that sink in. He thought back to the moment he had felt the symptoms creeping in—the exhaustion, the weakness, the slow pull on his soul. He had been in his usual ragged clothing, nothing special, just whatever he had scavenged together in the outskirts.
And yet, now that he really thought about it…
His clothes felt different.
The material was the same, but something about them wasn't quite right. It was like wearing an imitation of what he had before, something eerily familiar yet subtly off.
Kelvin continued, "Everything you bring into The Ashlands—your clothes, small objects, even some weapons—are remade by The Veil. It's why some people wake up here confused, feeling like something is missing. Because not everything gets pulled in."
Hope thought about it. If The Veil remade their clothing, then that meant—
He sat up slightly, looking at Kelvin with narrowed eyes. "Then why do some people bring Memories with them?"
Kelvin smirked slightly, as if he had expected that question.
"Because Memories aren't ordinary objects," he explained. "They aren't just clothes or weapons. They're bound to the soul. When someone possesses a Memory in the waking world, it isn't just something they own—it's something The Veil recognizes as a part of them."
Hope's frown deepened. He had heard the term Memories before, but it was only now that he was beginning to understand their true significance.
"So when you were marked," Kelvin said, tapping his chest lightly, "your clothes were reconstructed. But Memories—if you had any—would have been pulled in exactly as they were, because they're tied to your existence."
Hope nodded slowly, digesting the information.
If that was the case, then it made sense why Kelvin had been able to bring his armor. His parents, who had challenged The Veil, must have given it to him, knowing that once he was marked, it would become a part of him.
But that also meant something else.