Nefer turned away from him, her attention shifting to the dead fiend's colossal corpse.
"I'm going to extract the soul core," she announced, her voice calm but firm.
Her movements were already efficient—she wasn't waiting for approval.
Then, with a glance toward Massa, she added—
"Massa, see if you can restore your exhausted essence."
She paused, her gaze settling back on him.
"And you, Hopeless—make yourself useful and cut out some meat."
Hope sighed internally.
So much for a moment's rest.
Still—
He was too thirsty to complain.
"At least let me get some water first," Hope muttered.
Massa, who had already been preparing to meditate and recover, rolled her green eyes but raised her hand.
A soft, faint shimmer flickered in the air—
And then—
A memory materialized in her grasp.
It was a complex container, with intricate patterns resembling a bottle, except it lacked any obvious opening or lid. The surface glowed faintly, like a deep blue gemstone, swirling with what looked like liquid motion trapped inside solid glass.
She wordlessly passed it to him.
Hope grabbed it instantly, barely mumbling a thanks before tilting it to his lips.
The moment the water touched his tongue
A wave of cool relief washed through his body.
It was clean.
Pure.
Cold, despite the blazing heat of the Ashlands.
He drank greedily, the sensation of liquid soothing his parched throat, chasing away the cracks in his lips, numbing the raw dryness that had plagued him for hours.
And he kept drinking.
Mouthful after mouthful, the water flowed endlessly—
Never stopping.
Never running out.
His exhaustion eased.
His mind cleared.
His body, which had been at its absolute limit, felt like it had just been dragged away from the edge of collapse.
By the time he realized how much he'd been drinking, he had already consumed what should have been an entire jug's worth of water—
Yet, the weight of the bottle hadn't changed.
Hope blinked, staring at it in confusion.
Massa, who had been watching him, finally spoke.
"It's a memory," she explained, her tone carrying a faint hint of amusement.
Hope glanced at her, it was obviously a memory so....?
She continued, leaning slightly against her staff, watching him like a teacher explaining something to a slow student.
"It's called 'The endless Spring.'"
Hope tilted the bottle in his hands, observing how the liquid within moved.
It didn't slosh or spill.
It didn't behave like normal water.
Instead—
It shimmered and pulsed with a strange, contained energy, like it was responding to a greater force than mere gravity.
Massa's lips curled slightly, her arms folding as she added—
"It can store enough water to fill an entire room."
Hope raised an eyebrow.
That meant…
Even in this soulrealm,with its unpredictable landscapes and hostile environment—
This single memory could guarantee endless hydration.
He glanced at Massa.
"And you just… carry this around?"
She shrugged.
"We all have memories. This one happens to be useful."
Hope nodded, passing the bottle back to her.
"Thanks."
She accepted it silently, dismissing it as I crumbled it specks of light.
With his thirst finally gone, Hope turned his attention back to his task.
Nefer was already digging into the fiend, her slender sword carving through its thick, armored hide as she sought the soul core buried within.
Massa had settled down, closing her eyes, hands resting over her knees—focusing on recovering her essence.
Which left him…
To carve out the meat.
Hope sighed, rubbing his forehead.
He stepped closer to the carapace fiend's corpse, his makeshift dagger gripped firmly in his right hand.
The fiend's body was still massive, even in death—
Its shell was a deep black, thick chitin plates overlapping each other, forming a nearly impenetrable armor.
The exposed flesh, however—
A dark, marbled texture, tinged with streaks of violet essence, almost like veins pulsing with unnatural energy.
Hope knew that eating a fiend's flesh could be dangerous, not all veil creatures was edible.
But he also knew—
Food was food.
He raised the claw-dagger, pressing the sharp tip against a joint where the armor plates met.
Then, gritting his teeth—
He pushed in.
The dagger sank into the flesh, cutting through with surprising ease.
Hope let out a slow breath.
Good.
It wasn't as tough as he feared.
Working carefully, he began cutting away, peeling back the outer shell, exposing the dark meat underneath.
The scent was strange—
Neither pleasant nor disgusting.
It had an earthy, metallic tang, like burnt stone mixed with raw iron.
Would it be edible?
Probably.
Would it taste good?
Doubtful.
Would he eat it anyway?
Absolutely.
He kept working, stripping away sections of flesh, separating muscle from carapace, making sure to cut out pieces large enough to cook.
The Ashlands were unpredictable.
They might not get another meal for days.
Better to have something than nothing.
As he worked, he glanced at Nefer—
Who was still focused, hands moving methodically as she searched for the soul core.
Then at Massa—
Whose breathing had slowed, her body completely still, immersed in her essence recovery.
And finally—
At the distant horizon, where the cracked, scorched land stretched on endlessly, the Veil's presence looming like a shadow beyond sight.
Hope exhaled, shaking his head.
There was no telling what would come next.
But for now—
He had meat to cut.