His mind was still an endless haze. Nothing but a dreary fog weighing on his mind, pushing him down further and further into the darkness of the past. However, a light shined ahead. In his collapsing memory, a single bubble of recognition kept him going.

The mysterious Slowking he deemed his prey.

Amos was beginning to understand a little more about his situation. He was in some kind of domain that altered one's perception via the memory. Slowly but surely, it degraded the mind, pulling its memories back and forth like a rubber band snapping back into place. The effects were slow and gradual, and there was a limit to how much Amos could retain. Furthermore, he gathered that he couldn't recall new information, but could still pull from old information just fine. If he tried hard enough, he could sort through his fog-covered memories and recall what was lost.

Like the allies he came with.

With the assassin momentarily dealt with, Amos found his way to his lost comrades and located their catatonic forms. The three of them stared endlessly at the walls and through the halls, unmoving and occasionally blinking. A troubling sight, he concluded.

"You are…Evelot. Caractacus. And…the bitchy monkey I'm pretty sure I hate."

Shaking his head, he approached them and observed their faces. Thankfully, they appeared to still be breathing. Of everything they lost, the ability to breathe wasn't among those memories. It was hard to imagine what they were going through, or if they were still conscious of the outside world. Not even the gently prodding of his stinger could awaken them from whatever nightmarish wonderland they were stuck in.

Amos cast another cloud of sand through the halls to check his surroundings, though for how little that did him. It seemed whatever technique the assassin was using to mask his presence hid him from all of Amos' senses, even alternative ones such as his Sand Sensory. Still, the fact he can remember his face was a boon in the mental warfare.

"Now it's just a matter of finding the bastard. First things first…" He grabbed the three by their clothes and pulled them along. They obeyed without resistance, allowing the Gligar to walk them. "Getting you three somewhere out of the way first."

"Aaaaaagh…"

Helmut got careless. He recognized this, and it cost him greatly.

He sat against the wall, covering the wound dealt to his chest. It wasn't deep enough to be lethal, but it would seriously impede his movements until the blood clotted. He hadn't expected Amos to uncover the one flaw in his technique.

Or…maybe two or three.

Curtain of a Wayward Dream was like one giant blind spot obscuring a person's vision from their surroundings. It was virtually unbreachable without some counter technique or certain moves to break the terrain it was created from. However, most annoyingly, the technique didn't translate well through reflections. It took a lot of mental power to create the domain, and altering the mind itself was the goal. Reflections, however, were a little trickier. Helmut attempted to alter this weakness, but having to reverse someone's perception took more effort than he was willing to give. Not to mention nearly impossible if someone was staring through multiple shards of reflective glass. It's why Helmut worked better in open areas.

The second issue was the domain's effects on himself, or lack thereof. To prevent his scattered mind from being affected by the domain, he had to exempt himself from the effects. Though this kept his own mind clear (comparatively speaking), it also meant he would be recognized. He created Cloak of the Forgotten Drifter to mask his presence, making him imperceivable. This was how he could get around without being noticed.

Using both at the same time was taxing, hence why he stuck to being an assassin. Not like he was much of a fighter to begin with. Or was he? Who was he? He didn't know. He didn't care. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.

Point is, that single bit of damage he took broke his concentration and allowed Amos to create a new memory. Due to his dogged attitude, he will be persistently hunting Helmut down until one of them is dead. His only recourse would be to escape, but that would lift the domain and restore everyone's memories, along with leaving Amos to have key information against him. No doubt Caractacus would use this to their advantage were he to strike again.

Helmut miscalculated. He played with his prey too much, now his only out was to kill a target that was expecting him. Easier said than done. If he got into a fight with Amos, his death was certain. He had to wait out the clock until Babylas arrived to collect or finish the job.

…Was Helmut actually starting to care about the success of his mission?

When was the last time he felt…stressed out?

It was kind of exciting.

Was it normal to be excited over stress?

What was he doing again?

He didn't even know.

He took a deep breath and finally stood himself up. "Alright, Amos Lancaster. I suppose I'll have to turn things up a notch." He grimaced. "I have two techniques left, but I'll have to lift one to use them. I can't lift Curtain, so…I'll have to risk being seen to use Graveyard. Last thing I need is all of them hunting me down."

Let the hunt commence.

Amos eventually found a section of the asylum that wasn't too weathered down, at least enough to confidently stick his comrades inside without fear of the ceiling collapsing on them. He dusted their shoulders, then forced them to sit down.

"Okay, you three just stay here and…think, I guess. If you can still do that." He turned to walk away, but paused a moment. He glanced back at Phoebe. "Hmm…"

After scrounging around for a bit, he found a chalk-like stick of rock and proceeded to draw over Phoebe's face. He gave her an impressive curling mustache, a dashing goatee, and pronounced eyebrows before sticking the chalk into her teeth like a pipe.

"If only I could remember why this feels so funny. Oh, who am I kidding? This is hilarious." He dusted his pincers off and went on with his search.

Fun's over. Time to kill a man.

Amos kept his back to the walls, peering around every corner with his pincer gun trained on the hallway. He threw out some sand every so often to draw out his mysterious assailant. He doubted it would locate him after several failed attempts, but better than nothing, right?

He was slowly beginning to remember how his mechanical pincer worked and remembered to reload it…as well as an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the retracted blade worked. Thank goodness he didn't point it at himself like an idiot.

He found himself in a deeper part of the asylum where the roots clustered up tighter. As he drew closer, he felt odd pulses of a peculiar energy surging along the roots. It strangely reminded him of Psychic-Type energy, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing a Slowking could perform.

These roots and vines. Even with his memory in shambles, he could tell there was something off about them. They weren't normal. Unnatural, even. The way they pulsed with energy. It seemed like it was originating from somewhere.

Amos glared. "Curious." He followed the roots deeper through the asylum, tracking them via the pulses of energy.

He eventually stumbled across a stairwell leading deeper down, and the walls were utterly infested with roots. So much so that they had to be cut down to get by. He extended his pincer blade and sliced through the first layer.

"OoooOOOOOooooOOOOOOOooooHHHHH!"

Amos jolted from the wailing that echoed out from the stairwell. "What the…?" He shook his head and shouted, "H-Hey! Is there anyone down there?" Not taking chances, he threw some sand down to scan the area.

After a moment of scanning, his sand did detect something. Though, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Based on the way it resembled in his mind, it looked like a cluster of wood fused into the wall, like a tree had grown through the side of the building.

But why did it feel like there was something attached to it?

"Huh." Amos took a step forward, preparing to cut his way through.

"It seems you have reached Abel Underhill." He stopped, then looked to his right. Helmut stepped out from the shadows, clutching at his wound. "You should feel proud of yourself getting this far without realizing."

"Abel…Underhill?" Amos gasped and recoiled, flashes of that day snapping back to the forefront of his mind. "N-NO!" He quickly sliced the top of his pincer, snapping him back to the present. "Agh! Agh…ugh." He shook his head and snarled at the assassin. "Not this time."

Helmut frowned. "Well, that's unfortunate. What little you gained has allowed you to keep yourself rooted to the present. I wonder for how long you can keep that up, though?"

Amos opened his pincer gun and aimed. "I'm not bothering to find out." He fired twice at the assassin, only for his shots to pass through blue mist. However, Amos immediately opened his pincer gun after and saw two shots were spent. "Great. He's here again. I know you're still here, asshole! Might as well tell me why you're bothering to get this close."

"You truly are a fascinating creature, Amos Lancaster." Helmut stepped out from around a corner, clutching at his wound. "You are correct. My being here puts my health at risk. I dare not take the chance to strike you down lest my life be forfeit in a swift counterattack. You have already done so much to me with a single blow."

Amos glared. "Or maybe you don't want me getting close to Underhill. So, he's actually down there?"

"And alive, surprisingly enough." Helmut shook his head. "Ridding him would earn me favor with his brother, even if I don't care for such praise."

"Then why not?"

"The roots are too tough, and your blade seems to be the only thing that can cut cleanly through them. Feel it would be better to get rid of you and leave the man to fester."

"Wonderful. Well, I won't stop you. Come, take a swing at me if you dare." Amos extended his pincer blade. "I look forward to the challenge."

Helmut narrowed his eyes. "I am not bold enough to take such a gamble as we've discussed. No, my being here is of another importance. I can only keep two techniques active at once, and this one requires me to be close. So, with that said…" He took a deep breath and dispelled his Cloak.

Amos smirked. "Idiot." He catapulted himself forward and reared his blade back. "All you've done is make yourself perceivable!"

"True, but that won't matter in a moment. Graveyard of the Neglected Souls!" Helmut fired a purple beam from his shell helmet.

Amos recoiled after being blasted in the face and skidded over his back. "Agh." He sat up and shook his head. "Ugh. That…barely hurt. You really are a shitty assassin."

Helmut stepped back. "That wasn't supposed to hurt you. It was to set you up."

Amos opened his eyes and looked into his blade's reflection, seeing the purple glow reflecting off his irises. "What the…?" He shook his head and picked himself up. "Cute. Now, let me show you how to really kill someone—"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Amos' eyes widened as a scythe came swinging from his left. He ducked in the nick of time as the bladed farming tool whizzed over his head.

He stumbled back into the wall and gasped. "Wha…you?!"

Standing before the Gligar, brandishing their signature farming weapon, was…Alibrand and Wigbrand?!

"Remember, this is an old building you're standing in," Alibrand taunted. "If you try to recklessly blast your way out of here, there's a chance this whole floor's coming down with you. I don't think your squishy bodies will be able to endure hundreds of pounds of weight."

"Bodies? What?" Amos shook his head. "Déjà vu. Wait, what's going on?!"

"My technique," Helmut stated as he backed away. "So much for being a weak attack, huh?"

Wigbrand cackled aloud. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! And you fell for it! AHAHAHA!"

Amos stepped back as the pepper brothers approached him. "W-Wait. No, that's…that's not right. You two are dead. I saw it! It—" He jumped back as the brothers lunged, cleaving across the air.

Alibrand snickered. "Well, you could say someone has it out for you. A friend of ours named…Cain Underhill."

"It's a perfect night…for a bloody harvest~." The brothers lunged again, slashing and swiping at the air. Their scythe twirled within their grasp with elegance, tossing and spinning it like a master performer with each swing coming dangerously close to Amos' face.

"Whoa! Hey! AH!" Amos kept backing out of the scythe's range just as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute…" He smacked his tail down, flipping away from the brothers, and landed at the end of the hallway. He groaned. "It's just another trick. I'm hallucinating old memories of these idiots, that's all."

"Oh, you're a crackup, Lancaster!" Alibrand exclaimed as the brothers rushed him down again.

Amos took his eyes off them and aimed his pincer gun at Helmut. "I'm not playing your shitty game, assassin. Now die—"

SHING!

Amos' eyes widened as the brothers' scythe connected and sliced across his chest. A purple glowing slash shined across him. He flew back, slamming against the wall with a gasp. He felt his chest, spotting no blood, but feeling all the pain.

"What the—" His eyes flickered to a flash of metal. He dodged out of the way before the scythe connected across his neck. "WHOA!"

Helmut leaned against the wall, plucking his blueberry pouch from his jacket. "Is something amiss, Amos Lancaster? I was under the impression you didn't believe these phantoms were a threat. Oh, but they are. You see, I've been watching you for far longer than you realize. Ever since you arrived in Crimehallow, I've been there. You never even noticed me, and I saw everything. The way you fought through impossible odds and slaughtered my comrades one-by-one. Every victory, every defeat. You think you've gotten stronger?"

Amos' eyes widened as the fog rose up again. From the mist, three more figures appeared beside the pepper brothers: Ulrich, Vilgot, and Amadeus. All four deceased sins standing side by side, staring down the Gligar with contempt.

"Well, I hope you weren't planning to celebrate too early. After all, bragging your accomplishments at reunions is so…petty." Helmut raised his hand to his spectral comrades. "Take Amos Lancaster on a trip down memory lane."

The brothers acted first, lunging across the hallway as they cackled. "Mini Pepper Scattershot!" They fired miniature seeds wreathed with fiery, snapping fangs.

Amos opened his pincer blade and cut down the projectiles, turning them back into mist. As he did, Vilgot launched himself, ricocheting faster and faster of the walls before bowling into the Gligar from behind.

"Golden Demolition!"

"AGH!" Amos spun around and sliced through the spectral Flapple, but was shocked to see his attack passing through him like a phantom. "Wha—"

"Soul Sonata!"

Amos heard a dreadfully familiar tune emanating nearby and took off running. However, it was in vain as two slashes sliced into his back, blazing in psychic light. "AGH!"

Ulrich raised his hand. "5% Psycho Core: Blooming Force!" He fired a thin laser from his hand, slicing across the earth with a single hand motion.

Amos rolled out of the way and braced himself against the psionic explosion that followed. He tumbled across the floor, bouncing back onto his feet, and unloaded his entire pincer gun at the group. The bullets passed through their bodies as if they were smoke, irking them into rushing him down.

"Sandstorm!" Amos unleashed a full-scale sandstorm through the tight corridor, keeping the specters at bay. He rode the wind and threw himself down a different hallway in hopes of getting as far away as possible.

As far as he was able to identify, this new technique pulled from Amos' memories and recreated certain key figures to act as pawns for Helmut to throw at him. Amos couldn't hurt these pawns, but they could hurt them by simulating the pain via psychic energy. It meant none of the damage was lethal, or at least directly lethal. An onslaught of attacks that couldn't kill him? How much of that could he withstand?

Regardless, he was in a perilous predicament as a wrong step could lead to certain destruction. Helmut had the entire asylum as his stage to play his devious tricks and mental shenanigans. Nowhere would be safe. So long as he remained within range, he was outmatched.

"He said it only worked at close range. So, I just need to keep my distance—"

A task easier said than done as a barrage of slashes descended upon, knocking him out of his flight. He bounced and skidded off the ground before jumping back onto his feet. Right as he did, a scythe came swinging out of the sand and cut across his neck.

"AGH!" Amos backed off, covering his wounded throat.

Obnoxious laughter echoed above his head as Ulrich descended. "Oh, you thought you were safe for the time being? Please, we've been keeping track of you ever since you left Crimehallow."

Amadeus stepped out from the sand, playing his ominous melody. "What an ugly soul. You have no passion for yourself. You corrupt your soul with this aura of menace and cruelty. You are hate itself."

Amos stood up and growled. "I'm really hating the sound of all your voices. DIE!" He lunged, slashed across Amadeus' neck, but passing through the vaporous Kricketune. Just as he landed, another barrage of slashes bombarded his back, throwing him across the ground.

"10% Psycho Core: Scattering Honor!" Ulrich summoned two orbs of psionic energy and fired a barrage of miniature projectiles.

Amos slapped his tail down and took off into the air. The attacks exploded across the walls, causing no damage to everything but the Gligar himself. He tried to keep ahead of the blasts for as long as he could, but the spectral Ulrich amped up his firing, causing explosions to ring out around Amos and take him down.

"Snap Dragon Slam!" Amos gasped and jumped out of the way as Vilgot nearly came crashing down on top of him.

"Soul Sonata." Three more slash attacks appeared over Amos, throwing him deeper into the asylum.

Ulrich floated closer to the downed Gligar, laughing aloud. "Come on, make this fun for me! I didn't travel all the way out to the middle of nowhere just for some disappointing prey. 1% Psycho Core: Gentle Seedling." He grabbed Vilgot in his psionic hold and flung him.

"Royal Gala Crush!" Vilgot curled into his apple shell, which turned metallic.

Amos braced himself before being struck across the front and flung even further down the crumbly hallway. He crashed against a wall, spitting up blood, and landed on his pincers and knees. He panted heavily, his body trembling with pain. The psychic marks over his body passed on, yet the pain lingered on.

Helmut joined along his spectral comrades, looking down at the Gligar in disinterest. "The past is a painful thing. Longing, trauma, desperation. These are all emotions stemming from that wish to grab hold of the mistakes or lost opportunities or misfortunes we've been dealt, but it's forever out of our reach. That is the despair of the past: that inability to change what has been set in stone."

Amos slowly picked himself up, spitting on the ground and wiping his bloodied lip. "Do you ever…shut up?"

Helmut shrugged. "What does it matter? Nothing makes sense anymore. There's a certain longing for that kind of sorrow. I don't even know what my past was. Did I have a past? All I remember was waking up here. Here in the Outlands. Alone. Confused. Isolated. Nothing to show who I was. Just an endless dream. Perhaps this is the afterlife, and I am simply experiencing an adventure to give my death meaning. A deluded dream to keep me from thinking about my demise."

Amos growled. "I don't fucking care about your past! I've had enough with the past this and the past that! You want to know what I want?! To kill Cain Underhill and reunite with my friends! Is that what you wanted to hear?! I admit it! Those knuckleheads who I bicker with every day are the closest thing I'll have to happiness in this world, so why bother moping around in the dirt?! I'm taking control of my life, and no one is taking it away from me again!"

Helmut glared. "How can you be sure what you seek isn't a deluded dream? No such wishes come without the harsh truth of reality—"

"I told you to SHUT UP!" Amos flicked a new round of bullets into his pincer gun and fired.

Ulrich raised his hand and stopped the bullets in their tracks. He smirked. "A crippled scorpion like you is out of his element. Desperately holding onto any fleeting chance you have of surviving out here. It's pathetic!"

Amos swiped his tail across the ground, kicking up another Sandstorm. The rushing sand particles blew into their faces, rattling only Helmut as he shielded himself. He used the brief diversion to fly over their heads and dart around a corner.

Ulrich smirked. "Nice try, losers, but you can't beat me in a battle of speed. Psycho Field Core!" He activated his localized electric field and took off after the Gligar with the other spectral sins following behind.

Helmut kept a hand to his temple, maintaining the specters' forms as they left his sight. He groaned and briskly jogged after them. "Such a drag."

The disorienting effects of the domain kicked in as Amos' stress levels rose. He turned winding corners, each hallway feeling endless as if stuck in a loop. He kept funneling sand ahead of himself trying to stay ahead of the mind-degrading field's effects. A desperate bid to escape his attacker. Or attackers, in this case.

How does one kill a spectral memory? Was that even possible?

Amos clutched his head and growled. "Of all the shit I have to deal with. I thought I was done with these bastards, but now he has them crawling out from the dirt to exact revenge! Wonderful! Can't get any worse—WHOA!"

Amos caught himself and landed. His eyes widened, finding himself under the night sky of…Crimehallow! Indeed, looking all over, he found the corpses of withered thugs as plants grew out of their bodies. They begged for death as the roots feasted upon their nutrients.

"This isn't real. This isn't—"

"Extra Spicy Crunch!" He looked back, spotting the pepper brothers leaping off the rooftops and biting down on their scythe.

Amos immediately jumped out of the way as a flaming slash came down on the road, nearly slicing into his foot. He rolled into position and fired multiple times into the specter, but his bullets continued to do nothing. Even trapped in a memory, he couldn't damage them.

"Soul Sonata!" Amos slapped his tail down and took off into the sky, but was cut down by two imperceivable slashes. As he fell, Amadeus ran up to him, his arm coated in sharp sound. "Soul Concerto: Crescendo!" He connected and sliced into the Gligar, spilling purple energy from his body.

"AAAGH!" Amos cried. He skipped across the road and crashed into a couple of immobilized thugs. He pulled himself up and punched himself in the head. "Get out of my MIND!" he screamed.

"Same old tricks, Lancaster!" Amos reacted and dodged a barrage of psychic shots that erupted over the ground. He fired in return, but the airborne Ulrich took no damage as they passed through. "Doesn't matter what form it takes, a gun is still a gun!"

"I said GET OUT!" Amos unleashed a full-scale Sandstorm over the town and darted into the air for cover. "This isn't real, this isn't real!" he screamed louder and louder. "Get out of my head—AGH!"

Amidst his flight, he ran into something. Turning back, he had run into the cliffside of…Copper Gorge.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled. He twitched his ears and heard something hurtling towards him. "Oh no…"

"Royal Gala Crush!" Vilgot came flying from atop the gorge and struck Amos dead-on, dragging him through the sky and crashing down onto the earth.

"AAAGH!" He sliced into the Flapple, disrupting his form enough to make his escape. He hurriedly ran through the gorge to find cover. "Where are you, assassin?!" he roared. "Fight me yourself! I dare you!"

"I rather not," his voice echoed over the gorge.

Amos sneered. "You shouldn't have told me you couldn't hide yourself anymore. You're somewhere in here! You're here with me, and I'm going to tear out your heart and make you swallow it!"

"You say things that will never come to pass. Such is the fleeting fragility of the mind—"

"Oh, I've had it!" Amos sucked up sand through his pincer and took aim. "Sandstorm Rapid Fire!" He spun his pincer and fired a stream of sand bullets all over the illusionary space. His shots pierced against the walls, rippling blue fog around them.

"Are you sure you're even firing? Or perhaps you only think you're firing your weapon?"

Amos gritted his teeth. Was he actually doing nothing? Was he awake? Asleep? Or—

"NO!" He continued firing around himself. "I'm not letting you confuse me! I'm staying firm and brazen! I'll mow you down!"

"Pity."

"Soul Sonata!" Amos screamed out as two slashes struck his back. He turned to where he thought they were fired, but two more came down on his shoulders next. He stopped firing and fell on his knees. "Agh…"

"60% Psycho Core—" His eyes widened as a fist exploding with psionic electricity entered his field of vision. "Glorious Punch!" It nailed him in the face, sending him skyrocketing into the air.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" Amos screamed, helplessly sailing in the air before crashing into…

The ground?

His back struck the sky, but upon blinking, he found himself laying on ground level in the town during sunset. He was surrounded by buildings torn to ribbons. He was…in Skeleton Water.

"Agh…" Amos picked himself up. "Wha—"

"Extra Spicy Emperor Scorpion Fangs!" He screamed out in agony as the pepper brothers came down from behind, driving their flaming farming sickles into his shoulders. The blades hooked through his flesh, his wounds erupting in purple light. Alibrand hissed against the Gligar's ear. "I bet you'll taste as toxic as your personality!"

"GET OFF!" Amos sliced across their chest, his attack passing through as before. He loaded an alchemical bullet and took aim. "I've had about enough of your fucking noise! Flame Vortex Bullet!" He fired, releasing a tightly swirling vortex of flames through the streets of Skeleton Water.

"Soul Sonata." The flames were diced apart, harmlessly scattering into the air and parting around the four-man specters. Amadeus casually swiped the air, producing a slash over Amos' chest yet again.

"AAAAGH!" He staggered, but kept steady and spun his pincer. "Sandstorm Rapid Fire!" He unleashed a barrage of sand bullets at them, distorting their forms and riddling the illusionary space.

Upon blinking, Skeleton Water transformed into a more modern town of the Wick Kingdom, and one that brought back a plethora of bad memories: Grimebrook.

"Uuuugh…of course my mind would drag me back here." He scanned his surroundings for the specters. As he backed away slowly, he asked, "What do you even get out of this, assassin? You make no damn sense!"

"Do I not?" his voice echoed in response.

"You act like nothing you do matters because you can't tell reality from dream or whatever the fuck you're babbling about! So, why bother helping a guy like Cain out?"

"Who knows? What would I know? When will I know? Where will I know? Why should I care to know? It's all relative. Perhaps insight into who I really was. The good doctor tried to scan my mind once. All he ever told me was that I suffered head trauma that messed with my technique, thus altering my mind. Still, regardless of whatever this all is, I owe the good doctor for finding me. Said I just…wound up at his doorstep."

Amos glared. "Just wound up?"

"I have no past to recall. I don't know who I was. Who I am. All he ever figured was that…I'm different from the other creatures of Virdis. Strange clothes, strange injuries, strange…I was just strange, I guess. Maybe I'm not even from Virdis. I don't even know. I was just some strange Slowking that happened upon him. Not even my name is certain to me. So, this is all I am now. I just decided to become the Assassin of Sloth to give some meaning to this nothingness I'm experiencing."

"…" Amos looked aside.

"Perhaps with the capture of Evelot Faucher, her Rainbow can be made into a formula that will finally tell me who I was. But I'll never know until I see this dream to the end."

Amos tensed up as the specters stepped out from the fog, grinning maniacally at him. He aimed his pincer gun at them, breathing heavily as the effects of the terrain took hold again. He had to stay focused on the objective, or he'll lose sight of his present again.

"So please, let's just end this dream already. I want to finally experience true sleep."

"40% Psycho Core: Almighty Blast!" Ulrich concentrated his energy and fired a wide laser ahead of himself.

Amos took off into the air, narrowly avoiding the attack, and rained down more sand bullets. The attacks did nothing as usual, leaving Amadeus free to activate his Soul Sonata once more. Several cuts appeared over the Gligar, erupting in the ethereal purple light.

"Agh!" He took off flying over the town to get away, but the pepper brothers whipped their extended arm over the rooftops and caught his leg with their sickle. "AAAGH!"

"Extra Spicy Scorpion Whip!" The brothers yanked Amos out of the air and smashed him into the ground.

Vilgot raced by and bounced himself into the air. "Snap Dragon Slam!" He hurtled himself straight down on the Gligar, crushing him beneath his weight.

"AAAAAAGH!" Amos screamed.

All around, the specters ganged up and stomped down on Amos, pressing his face into the dirt. He sliced at their foggy forms, earning himself a retaliatory punch from Ulrich, his psionic fist sending him sailing across the town and crashing through several buildings.

Amos ended up crashing through a tavern and into a large table, cracking it under himself. He groaned, laying motionless and in pain as his mind started to fade into the torrent of uncertainty.

What was he to do? There just wasn't a way for him to win. Even if he overcame the specters, what was left? He couldn't even get close to Helmut without succumbing to some mind-bending tomfoolery. How was one to conquer the phenomenon of uncertainty? It was impossible.

Would it be better for him to just give in to the uncertainty and let it take its course? Join the others in their catatonic states uncertain of when death will strike? It sounded more pleasant than getting beat up by ghosts from the past. Perhaps he was just tired. He was always tired. Or maybe he just hated the world so much that it was exhausting. Either way, he just wanted to sleep.

Sleep and forget everything. He just wanted the pain to end. He wanted all of it to end. He just wanted one night of sleep where he didn't feel like he was an absolute piece of shit.

Anything to escape this nauseating reality…

…

…

…

…

…

"…We could use someone of your renown on the team."

Amos opened his eyes, looking down at the tankard of ale he often found himself drowning in. He lifted his gaze to the Dusknoir that had rudely approached his table and called him out as the infamous Sand Devil. A name he wished to leave buried in the sands of the past.

"…There's nothing reputable about me," he grumbled, sipping his ale again. "Get lost."

The Dusknoir instead sat himself opposite of the Gligar. "The black-market business always needs some clever fellows to keep us on track."

"I'm not clever. I'm just a mercenary looking to get by. I don't need anyone."

"And this is how you want to spend your free time? Sulking away over ale?"

Amos growled, then smashed his tankard on the ground. "Fuck you! How I waste my life away is none of your business! I might as well just die on this table right now! It's about as much use as you'll get from me!"

"…" The Dusknoir shook his head. "I didn't mean to offend."

Amos huffed and settled himself down. "I don't do teams. I just want to be left alone."

"I understand and respect your decision, but I feel you are wasting your talents on meager prey. You don't seem invested on living." He looked aside. "Believe me, I've had moments like that in my younger years. I was fixed to a solitary lifestyle, but I saw prospects for change by the guidance of another. We have a small business going on around here. It's actually relatively simple. We acquired something as of late, and only a select few are allowed in on the business. It pays good."

"…" The promise of coin sounded enticing enough. "What kind of business?"

"Simple stuff. Work with some trusted alchemists, collect the wares they were assigned to recreate, and sell them to on the black market. Some data collecting is expected. We're testing a poison for my boss, saying he wants to bring out its full potential for his plans. He promises to create a better Virdis for everyone."

Amos scoffed. "A better Virdis? Bah! I've seen this shithole region at its worse. What's worth saving about it?"

The Dusknoir shrugged. "You got me there. I don't blame you. I still have thoughts about that. Seems impossible to make something better out of this broken region. Still, there is some hope involved."

"Hope? Bah."

"Don't you want to do something meaningful with your life? Even if it doesn't lead to anywhere, why not take that chance to make something of it? Who knows? You might find a reason to keep on living. No more drifting along the winds in search of purpose."

"…" Amos lifted his blindfold. "Who even are you?"

"I am simply Althalos. I'm just a simple gang leader who wants to give you the chance to take back control of your life. How does that sound?"

"…Take back control, huh?"

…

…

…How much control did Amos lose in life?

He often forgot how long his time with the Dukes was. It wasn't all that long ago. He was content with wasting away into misery, one day to die on a mission. That was his fate in the end. But then Althalos came into the picture and nudged him to pursue…anything, really. It wasn't the most pleasant lifestyle, what with the annoying teammates he constantly bickered with.

…And now he was missing that bickering.

He recalled his bickering with the bitchy monkey of his new gang.

A part of him enjoyed having someone to banter with.

He…

He missed those days dearly.

Althalos gave his life a renewed purpose.

He gave Amos a reason to live.

That's why he was so adamant to keep fighting. To keep searching.

He owed everything to the Dukes of Buzzard.

His eyes snapped open, taking him back to the illusionary Grimebrook. Lifting his aching head, he found Alibrand and Wigbrand approaching with their sickles clashing menacingly together.

"…I've had it." Amos calmly pushed himself up, brushing off the sores and aches. "I'm getting out of this hellhole, and I'm putting you there in my place, assassin. I won't succumb to my own despair again. Never again."

Alibrand smirked. "We've seen it all, and none have come close to felling us in a fight!"

"Burn, baby! Burn!" Wigbrand cheered.

Amos narrowed his eyes. "Bring an army if you must. My drive to live will outlast all."

The brothers lunged at the Gligar, igniting their sickles in flames. No matter how many times they attacked, no matter how many times his attacks failed, Amos refused to give up.

He'll conquer everything.

He'll destroy everything that gets in his way.

Never again will he fall into that despair!

"That laughing…is getting on my fucking nerves!" He aimed his pincer gun. "Drill Bullet!" He fired, hoping to distort their form and give himself a route to escape.

…Something else happened.

The bullet connected and did as expected, but something more occurred. Half of the body kept its shape. The half with Alibrand, however? His head was shredded to pieces and blown off the body, scattering the remains until they turned to blue fog.

Amos' eyes widened. "Eh?"

His attack…worked?

Wigbrand didn't seem bothered by the outcome, though it was only just a memory of the brothers. He clashed the sickles together and continued on the attack. Amos snapped out of his daze and jumped back from the flaming sickles while the brother laughed.

"Forget the muffins! I'M GOING TO TURN YOUR INTESTINES INTO A SWEATER!"

Amos narrowed his eyes. Why of all his attacks did that one get rid of Alibrand, and why not Wigbrand? He didn't do anything special or different this time. Right?

Wait. How did he kill these two again?

His eyes widened, a vivid memory from weeks ago. He recalled the final clash, distinctly remembering how he executed the one brother. He had killed him with a Drill Bullet to the face, didn't he?

…He wasn't fighting ghosts. He was fighting his own reanimated memories.

"Which means—"

Amos dodged and rolled behind Wigbrand, swiping at his legs to briefly stun him. He put some distance between them and aimed his pincer gun.

"You died…like this! Icicle Bullet!" He fired, coating his bullet in a thick sheet of sharp ice.

Wigbrand lunged at him again, but the bullet connected and disintegrated him instantly. Amos staggered in disbelief as the remaining pepper brother collapsed into fog.

"Now I get. If I defeat or kill them the same way it was intended, that lifts the effects. That's why you two were so annoying to get rid of. I had to do it in a certain order."

He glared over his shoulder as Ulrich, Vilgot, and Amadeus entered through the destroyed tavern primed and ready to battle. However, the circumstances were different now. Amos no longer looked at them as unstoppable juggernauts barreling through his every move. He no longer had a reason to fear this battle.

"Tch." He emptied the shells from his pincer and loaded new bullets in. "I'm taking back control of my life. Anyone who gets in my way? You won't live long enough to regret it."