Was…any of this real?

Was this a dream? Was this reality? Was it something more?

Why was it so foggy?

After climbing back up the stairs he mysteriously fell down, Amos looked through the connecting corridor, taking in the sight of speckled vines and ruined stone. By his best guess, he really had entered the asylum. His last memory, as far as he could tell, was when he entered with the others. Everything else, however? Nothing. It was as if he entered a portal and fell out into a completely different part of the underground asylum.

He took a deep breath and fanned his wings, scattering clouds of sand to get a read on his location. It funneled deep through every turn and crack of the underground, each tiny particle bouncing off solid matter and projecting an image of the area within his mind.

After a moment of searching, he got a read on the asylum's general layout. He also detected three distinct bodies clustered together on the upper floors.

Amos glared. "A Boltund. An Aipom. And a Mimikyu. So, they're still with each other. But…weird. They're not moving." His eyes widened. "Wait a minute, my sand is detecting Caractacus' shape. But I shouldn't be able to breach his barrier, right? Something's off."

His ears twitched at a sound behind him. He spun and aimed his pincer gun, but found it was only so rubble coming loose from the ceiling. He checked his surroundings again, unsure about the silence, but decided regrouping with the others was more important.

He visualized his path again and turned around, obliviously walking past Helmut. The Slowking rolled a blueberry between his fingers, watching the Gligar as he confidently meandered along. A subtle glare creased over his brow.

"That little trick won't save you, Amos Lancaster. I managed to fool your senses before. Oh, how long have we been at this? Three, four hours? Oh, I don't even know. Babylas will eventually be here to collect Evelot Faucher. It'd be a waste to just end the game now and do nothing. The others succumbed so quickly, too."

Though his expression remained fixed with boredom, the assassin put his blueberries away and dragged himself after Amos.

"I suppose I could have a little fun with this one."

"What the—"

Amos was sure he was following his sand correctly. He checked, double-checked, and even triple-checked around every corner. Somehow, he had gone up an entire floor above the others, then missed them by another three. He knew the asylum was huge based on his Sand Sensory, but he didn't think it'd be this confusing to navigate.

He kicked through a withered door once he made a seemingly normal turn that took him two floors deeper. "AAAAGH!" He stomped his foot angrily. "What is with this fucking building?! I know I'm not losing my mind! Who the fuck built it like this?!"

Over and over, he stomped on the ground until all his rage was vented. He took a deep breath and massaged his face, soothing the light migraine he gave himself. Once more, he sent out a scattering of sand into the hallway, bouncing it off the walls to revisualize his surroundings.

"I'm not crazy. Something is screwing with my navigation. But what?" Annoyed, he opened his Guillotine blade and slashed a deep X into the wall before carrying on his way. "So, it can't be the building that's throwing me off track. Something else has to be responsible for this. I couldn't have just separated from the others without explanation."

He stopped and peeked around the corner. He slashed another X into the wall before moving forward.

"I can't let myself get overwhelmed. I need to focus on the task at hand." He growled. "The last thing I need is to be caught by surprise."

"I'm surprised."

"Hmm?"

"You're placing a lot of trust in her rescuing us."

He scoffed. "She better, or I'll haunt her until she's old and gray!"

She groaned. "Annnnd there it is."

"…Still—" Evelot's eyes widened as Amos readjusted his sitting position. "She was clearly unnerved about coming to this place, and he called her a demon for some reason. She lived here, didn't she?"

"…" Evelot looked down at the floor.

"…You knew she lived here, didn't you?"

"…" She scratched behind her head. "I…I didn't want to say anything. Phoebe doesn't talk much about herself. The bits and pieces she did tell me were…obviously censored for my sake."

"Hmph. So, what do you know?"

"Only that if my parents hadn't taken her in as an assistant, we would've found a dead Aipom wasting away in our garbage." She sighed and gazed sadly at the ceiling. "You wouldn't think so from looking at her, but…I think Phoebe was suicidal at one point. I think she's tried to take her own life several times before meeting me. She…never goes through with it, though. I don't know the details, but I kind of guessed from her dour attitude back then. She's gotten better, but there's still that anguish inside her."

Amos glared softly. "No wonder she was so desperate to save—" He froze and shook his head clear, finding himself outside the jail cell. "W…What?" He groaned and held his head again. "What the fuck…?"

Wasn't he in a jail cell with Evelot a second ago? When…When did he get out? And where was he?

Immediately, he sent out his Sand Sensory to map out his sudden location. He focused on the visual entering his mind and soon detected three figures a couple floors above him. "Is that…Caractacus, Burkhard, and Evelot?" He glared. "What are they doing up there? Why was I separated? Where even am…?"

Amos paused and looked at the wall, noticing the distinct X-shape in the wall. Confused, he opened up his Guillotine blade and matched it to the grooves in the slash. It was a perfect cut, matching his blade.

"…" He clenched his teeth. "Something isn't right."

"That single-minded stubbornness of yours is truly unwelcoming."

Amos spun with a start and spotted a strangely dressed Slowking standing before him. He scratched his cheek lazily, not even looking directly at the Gligar. His attention seemed drawn to…well, nothing. Just mindlessly observing his surroundings.

"Then again, you're a bounty hunter. Your survival instincts are honed to confusing situations, aren't they?"

Amos immediately aimed his pincer gun at him. "Who are you?"

"Annnnd we're back to this." He shook his head. "I'm not bothering with the introductions again. Still, you'll break like the other three in due time."

Amos glared. "What did you do to them?"

"I'd say you'll figure it out soon enough, but…this conversation never happened—"

"Answer me, dammit!" Amos fired once at the Slowking, but his form collapsed into a mess of blue fog. Amos blinked twice, confused by the smoking bullet hole in the wall. He lifted his pincer and could tell it had recently been fired. "What the…?"

"Anyway, why are we here again? We've been waiting for hours." Amos shook his head, adjusting his blindfold and looking at the Wigglytuff seated next to him.

"Althalos needed to check something regarding our…recently disposed employees," Rogier said. He tipped the wide-brimmed hat and narrowed his eyes. "You remember that chump, Big Pasco?"

Marsaili rolled her eyes. "That obnoxious prick? Yeah, what about him?"

Ainsley snickered darkly. "You recall his little brush with death some time ago? I heard a rumor the Demon of the Foresters nearly killed him."

Marsaili sighed. "Get to the point or else."

Amos continued playing with his revolver, mostly ignoring his teammates. How could he stand being in the same room as these idiots? It was a miracle he hadn't shot himself in frustration.

"Well, Althalos wanted to make sure Pasco's underlings weren't keeping a secret stash of the goods for themselves. We can't have them misusing the cargo we worked tirelessly to protect."

"How did you forget this?" Frank asked. "We went over this before we left."

Marsaili rolled her eyes. "I was catching up on some much needed sleep, obviously."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Of course you were. Pay better attention during meetings."

She smirked. "I'd like to see you try. I'm sorry, how many fights did you beat me in again?"

"I could easily crush you with this whole saloon if I wanted to."

"Oh, I believe you. I just don't give a shit."

"Settle down, both of you," Terrick, in his Autumn form, finally interjected. "Try to be a little respectable when in public."

Marsaili smirked. "Afraid we'll embarrass you?"

"You've done plenty with the obnoxious way you eat." He shivered. "Seriously, have the decency to close your mouth when you chew. No one wants to see that."

Amos rolled his eyes. How can this moron not only be Althalos' righthand officer, but still manage to get anything done without throwing a fit over dirty hooves?

Rogier huffed. "This is boring. I want to find someone to fight. Maybe I could rough someone up and start a bar brawl." He tried to stand, but Frank shoved him back into his seat.

"You will do no such thing. The boss won't be pleased."

Rogier rolled his eyes. "Stuck up bastard…"

Amos peeked through his blindfold and saw someone entering the saloon below. He sighed before announcing, "Look alive. I see the…boss?"

With a start, Amos staggered into the wall in front of him and panted. Looking down, his heel hovered over a chasm in the floor. If he hadn't jolted from his thoughts when he did, he could've plummeted down to who-knows-where before he had the common sense to open his wings.

"Wha…?" He backed away, clutching his head in frustration. "What the fuck…?" He shook his head and looked around the strange, vine-covered building he found himself in. "Boss? Rogier? Ainsley? Anyone other than Marsaili? Hello? H-Hey, where the fuck are—AAAHHHH!"

He jolted into the wall, clutching his wrist in horror at the metallic pincer attached to him. He froze again at a grinding sound on the ground and found that his tail possessed a metallic stinger.

"W-What the hell happened to me?!" he screamed. "W-What are…?" He took a second to catch his breath, trying his hardest to dig through his scattered memories. Eventually, he latched onto something. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "P-Prison break. Alchemy company. MacGyver. That's…That's right. Right? Right."

He leaned his head back and sighed in relief. For a second, he thought he was losing his mind, though it still felt as if he was. Wasn't he with the Dukes a moment ago? They were called to a meeting by Althalos, something about the…Wraith dealings. Something to do with Big Pasco getting jumped by the Foresters.

How…long ago was that?

Amos covered his face and groaned. "Where…the hell am I?"

"You could say a little bit of everywhere." Amos' eyes widened, startled by the Slowking standing in front of him. "And yet, nowhere at all. Much like a dream."

Amos immediately lunged for the mysterious Slowking's neck, but his form collapsed into blue mist. He tumbled and smacked against the wall. As he pulled himself up, the Slowking walked back into view.

"You're a lot more focused than the others, I'll grant you that," he stated. "It's as if you'd rather reject the past. And yet, you still have no future to crawl towards. Just a man living in the now. No past, no future."

Amos growled. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I pity…no, I envy your plight, Amos Lancaster. I wish I had a past to reject. I don't have that privilege. No past, no future. Just living in the moment." He narrowed his eyes sadly. "Nothing but a rogue memory. It's tragic how easily we can die. Even more so when our deaths are experienced in life. Does death occur when the body fails? Or when the mind fails? Oh, I don't even know."

Amos opened his Guillotine blade and lunged at him. "Let's see right now!" He plunged his blade through the Slowking's back, only for his form to collapse into blue mist. "H-Huh?" He looked over his shoulder and found the assassin standing behind him. "Wait, weren't you in front of me?"

"Was I?"

"…" Amos grunted and held his head. "What's going on here…?"

"I could tell you, but it wouldn't matter." He shrugged. "I don't even know myself. It just…is. This. Just this. An endless second. Do you know how long eternity is, Amos Lancaster? Imagine a Skarmory—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Amos unloaded his entire chamber of bullets onto the Slowking, but once against only shot into the wall, much to the Gligar's confusion. Why was he shooting blindly at the wall?

"Imagine a Skarmory, an immortal Skarmory, that flies to a mountain made of pure diamond every one-hundred-years. It takes a day to climb it, and it takes a day to go around it." Amos turned around and found a mysterious Slowking standing behind him. "Every one-hundred-years, the immortal Skarmory goes to this mountain to sharpen their beak. Little by little, pieces of the mountain are chipped away. And when that mountain is eventually chiseled away, the first second of eternity will have passed."

"…What are you talking about?" Amos growled.

The Slowking narrowed his eyes sadly. "The burden we call life. Nothing but a hopeless string of memories in the grander scheme of the universe. Nothing but this moment. That's how I live every day of my life. I can't tell if I'm awake or asleep. All I know is…oh, I don't remember."

"Cute speech. Now die." Amos aimed to fire his pincer gun, but paused as it merely clicked. He opened the chamber and found it was completely empty. "Huh?"

"You still don't get it. Then again, I can't blame you." The Slowking approached him. "After all, none of this is real. Or…maybe it is. It's all just a dream. Observe." He swung his fist and clobbered Amos across the face.

"AGH!" He slammed back against the wall and caressed his cheek. "Agh…!" He cracked his eyes open and looked around the empty hallway. "Ugh, what hit me—AAGH!"

He doubled over and clutched his stomach. His stomach, back, and face all felt like they were covered in welts like someone had been beating on him for the last half hour.

"W-What the—GAH!" He went flying back as if someone kicked him in the gut. He landed on his back, squirming in pain.

The Slowking loomed over the aching Gligar. "I've already told you how boring my job gets, though you obviously don't remember that conversation. It doesn't matter, really. None of this matters. Could be a dream. Could be a really shitty existence. Either way, I might as well take some pleasure in this boredom." He picked Amos up by the back of his poncho and helped him to his feet.

"Uuuugh…" Amos tried to throw a punch at the assassin, but stumbled through the empty air instead. "Ugh…what happened—AGH!" Something struck him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't take it personally," the assassin said. "Well, you can't. Not really. None of this is real. Or maybe it is. I can't tell the difference. I've already explained this to you, though. Oh, but I don't even know."

"Uuuggghhh…" Amos pressed himself against the wall and stood up.

"You can keep fighting all you want, but you'll eventually reach a point where you don't understand why you're fighting. Your friend, Caractacus MacGyver, has already forgotten how to keep his barrier active. I can kill him now, though…I suppose he is more useful alive to Last Autumn. That just leaves you and Phoebe Burkhard. And…yes, I suppose Magni."

Amos panted softly, trying not to make any sudden movements against the strange Slowking. He wasn't sure who he was or what he was doing here, but it seemed Amos would have to take a roundabout way of beating him. "What…are you blathering about?"

The assassin grabbed Amos by the poncho and pulled him closer. "Curtain of a Wayward Dream. It's a specialized terrain. It prevents the creation of new memories. It has this peculiar side effect. To compensate with this inability to create new memories, it bounces between your scattered thoughts and drags you back into whatever memory feels relevant. A seamless slip into the past. It'll degrade your mind until you're unable to recall or create memory. Stuck endlessly in an eternal second."

"…" Amos closed his eyes and pulled his mechanical pincer under his poncho.

"But none of that matters. You'll eventually forget this conversation, and we'll wind up back where we started. You're going to lose our bet soon, Amos Lancaster. Evelot Faucher and Caractacus MacGyver will be promptly collected by my partner, Bablyas Marchand, by the time midnight rolls around. Consider it an act of mercy that I keep you from seeing your own death in the future."

"…What happened to my team? The Dukes of Buzzard?"

"I don't know. What does it matter? Why don't you slip back into the past and see for yourself?" The assassin shoved Amos onto the ground.

"ALTHALOS! ROGIER! SOMEONE! HEEEEELP!"

"Ainsley!"

Amos lifted his head and gasped as the murderous Absol he called his teammate flailed around in a panic, screaming and clawing at her face as a deathly smog clung to her. Flesh peeled away into black goop, her legs crumpled into a mess akin to a rancid pudding, her screams died as her vocal cords were incinerated, and her skull oozed with liquefied brain matter before her entire skeleton collapsed to the ground.

It was a sight too wretched for the cold-hearted Gligar. Willing to kill if needed, he never saw such gruesome violence occurring before him. Even during his darkest moment in life, he never would've gone this far to prolong someone's death. To witness it, it made his skin crawl with disgust.

He could barely register what the others were screaming at their attackers, lost in the mess of burned flesh on the ground. Was this the price he had to pay for his sins? Was he to suffer a terrible fate like this? Perhaps he deserved as much. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He deserved to be torn apart and ripped asunder for committing the transgression of sheerly existing. That was his fate.

He was just…worthless. Maybe he deserved to die, too.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

"EEP!"

Amos snapped out of his sleep, alert to the shrill cry in front of him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized he had his pincer around a Mimikyu's neck—or at least her costume's neck. The terrified Mimikyu looked up at him with tears in her sparkly eyes. He gazed unsurely at the sleeping Aipom seated next to him.

"A…Amos?" He looked back at the ragged mimic, who was still pinned to the seat in his grasp. "I…"

"…" He let her go and fell back into his seat with a huff. "You shouldn't wake a mercenary like that."

She whimpered. "S-Sorry."

"What did I say about…ugh, never mind."

"Sorry."

"Ugh…"

"I-It's just…I saw you shaking in your sleep, and I thought you were cold. Th-Then you started mumbling something, and you looked really angry, and you were swinging your gun around, and—"

"Alright, alright, I get it. Shut up already."

"…" She narrowed her eyes worriedly. "Do…you want to talk about it?"

"…No."

"A-Are you sure?"

"…" His glare sharpened. "How much did you hear?"

"W-Well, I—"

"Because whatever you thought you heard, you didn't hear anything. Got it?"

"…Yes."

"Good." He leaned back into his seat, arms crossed over his lap, and shut his eyes. "Go back to sleep."

"…I have bad dreams sometimes, too—"

"Don't. Start."

"…S-Sorry."

…

…Was he always that cruel?

"AGH!" Amos stumbled back into a wall, clutching at his head. "What the hell is all of this?!" He opened his pincer blade and angrily sliced at everything around him. "WHERE AM I?!"

He sliced hard enough into a wall to cause it to collapse, dropping down into another floor below. He leapt down and plunged his blade into a floor covered in roots, ignoring the odd moaning that followed afterwards. He chopped and sliced through the vines, agitating the moans that echoed through the weathered building.

"What is going on?!" he screamed. "ANSWER ME! NOW! Who are you people?! Why…?" He finally caught his breath and massaged his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "Why was I…yelling at that Mimikyu? What did I do? Why do I…feel bad?" He closed his eyes and panted softly. "Why…is this happening to me?"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Amos opened his eyes again, finding himself in the midst of kicking down a door. His vision was heavily obscured in a cloth, and his eyes stung as if doused in peppers and lemon juice. He could only get by through the graces of his Sand Sensory technique.

He gave one last kick to the door, knocking it off its hinges. The crashing door startled the Liepard and Haxorus laying in bed together, their clothes scattered over the floor. He hissed and marched inside.

"Amos?!" the Liepard, Rosamund, exclaimed. She quickly reined in her surprise and put on a sultry smile for the Gligar. "I mean, Amos. Sweet, dear Amos. My, my, I knew my charms were magnetic, but even you come crawling back to me for another round? Well, I suppose I have the stamina to handle both you boys in bed~."

The Haxorus, the town's local bartender, glared cautiously at the Gligar. "Ms. Rosamund, I…don't think he's here for that."

Amos glared, creasing his blindfold under his brow. "…You think I couldn't recognize your voice after you ambushed me? Why am I not surprised? This bitch has you wrapped around her paw, too, but it seems she keeps you around as HER bitch."

The bartender glared, slowly climbing out of bed. "I think it's time you left, Mr. Lancaster."

Rosamund chuckled. "You're feistier than I thought, Amos. Coming all this way just to get your money back. Well, you're probably not going to see it again. Damages to the tavern had to be paid off, after all."

"…"

"No one's going to take you seriously. What? A strong man like you getting raped by a demure, poor woman like me? Conned out of a sizable chunk of your money?" She smirked. "You'd be a laughingstock. That's why you haven't reported this to the officers yet. Then again, wouldn't get you very far if you did."

"…"

"I taught you better than this, Amos. The rich deserve to lose everything. The poor deserve to live."

"…" Amos' glare twisted into a scowl. "There are actual people out there who lost everything. People who were born into nothing. And yet, despite their hardships, they would rather stay honest than bring someone down to their level. Your financial situation doesn't justify anything. You're. Just. Evil."

She sighed. "So misunderstood, I am. Have your little fit outside. You're killing the mood." She waved her paw and ordered the bartender, "Throw him out. I've got work in the morning. Selling candle. Scoping out my next meal ticket. Hmm, maybe I could have my monthly party a bit earlier."

The Haxorus marched up to Amos and reached down. "Time to leave, Mr. Lancaster—"

"So, that's how the world's supposed to work? Fine."

Haxorus' eyes widened as a violent Sandstorm erupted from behind Amos, throwing him backwards. Rosamund gasped and tried to flee the bed, but wound up being crushed under the tusked dragon's weight. "GAH!" she screamed.

"Ms. Rosamund, run—"

SHING!

Her eyes widened as a single slash crossed the bartender's neck and ripped it opened. Blood gushed out over the bed, and the dragon went limp on top of her. Rosamund struggled and squirmed to get herself free, but froze when Amos' pincer clamped around her neck.

"A…Amos?"

He pulled the left side of his blindfold up, glaring down at her with his reddened, scratchy eye. "I tried so hard to use my skills for good, and this is how I'm repaid. A world of backstabbers who are willing to drag down their heroes for this own benefits. But if what you say is true, crime pays the bills."

"A…Amos? L-Let's talk about this." She tried to smile flirtatiously at him, even shooting off a few Attracts with a wink. "Y-You remember the fun we had together, right? I-I'm remembering that night better than before, and it was…truly spectacular."

Her Attract struck Amos, but…did nothing. Her heart sank as the energy hearts turned black against the Gligar and crumbled to dust. He pressed his pincer harder against her neck. "I focused solely on giving myself a decent life that I neglected settling down and enjoying the moment. But I should thank you. You've reinforced my beliefs. I finally found the part of me that yearned for love and companionship…and slaughtered it."

She clenched her teeth. "If you…If you kill me, I guarantee you'll live to regret it. Local hero gets stood up on a date and murders her in bed? How does that sound as a reputati—AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Amos swiped his pincer across her right ear and tore it off. A hidden, curved blade was tucked inside the claw. Her bloodied ear smacked against a window and slid onto the windowsill.

"Why should I care about any of that?" he growled. "I didn't need anyone before. Why should I care what the rest of Virdis thinks about me?"

"A-Amos—GYYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" He dug his pincer into her corner lip and tore the side of her head open. "AAAAGH! STOP IT—AGH!" He pulled her head toward the nightstand and bashed her face into the corner. Blood dripped from her forehead. "A…Aaahhh…"

Amos' scowled twisted into a sadistic smile. "Shnee-heeheehee! Where's all that confidence, devil woman?! Come on! The night's still young!"

"Stop…STOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPP—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Amos recoiled, clutching his head and shaking with tears in his eyes. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" He bashed his skull into the wall, wailing in anguish. "I don't want to remember this! NOT AGAIN!"

"Isn't that the guy who murdered Rosamund?"

"That poor girl…"

"I heard he raped her while he was torturing her."

"Isn't that Amos the Sand Devil?"

"I heard him snapping at a tavern barmaid the other day."

"Just some asshole with nothing going on in his life."

"Worthless scum like that deserve to die."

"We don't need your kind around here, you misogynistic freak!"

"I heard he's getting involved with the black market now."

"Deserves to die."

"I heard he murdered three other women."

"Drowned one in the local well."

"Slaughtered a little girl just for looking at him."

"Deserves to die."

"Scum like that—"

"Deserves to die."

"He deserves to die—"

"Die."

"Die!"

"DIE!"

"DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Amos screamed, bashing his head into the wall one last time before collapsing onto his back.

He panted softly, giving himself a chance to breathe. Tears trickled down his face as he stared up at the crumbling ceiling. Where was he? Was this Hell? Of course he would end up down there. That's where all the trash of the world wound up. Scum like him…deserved to die.

"I never…she was the only one. Just her." He clenched his eyes shut and sobbed. "Why? Why does this always happen? Why can't I just…be happy?" He rolled onto his side, tucking his tail between his legs and hugging it close. "I just wanted my money back. I just…I just wanted to live peacefully…" He clenched his teeth. "Cursed to forever live in the dark…"

"It seems the normal daylight is too strong on your eyes, so you have to stay in the shade." Amos' eyes widened. He winced under the strong glare of the summer sun, but found himself collapsed on the ground with a shadowy bunny standing over him. "My guess, you spotted me on the street, likely in another building, and singled me out before putting on the blindfold."

Amos aimed his gun unsteadily at her. He tried to target her head, but the daylight overpowered everything else, flooding it in an intense light. "Y-You're dead! You hear me?!"

Who was he yelling at?

She scoffed. "Is that right? I'm right here. Do your worst." She had the gall to move closer.

Amos bared his teeth, rubbing vigorously at his eyes. "Damn wench! Just who the hell do you think you are?!"

When did all of this happen?

"Who am I? I'm the rookie of the Foresters who will make a difference in Virdis. Commit it to memory after you're sent away for your heinous crimes."

"Who…?"

"My name…is Harlow. And I'm here to raise havoc among the kingdoms, just like with Verde."

"I won't lose here…"

"You have one bullet left."

"Harlow, the rookie thief. I'll riddled you with holes."

"Try me, if you're feeling lucky."

He had his hammer trained on her head. All he needed to do was strike down on the hammer and end her. He could aim his shot and guarantee the kill. He just…needed to do what he always did.

And yet…

"…I hate you," Amos muttered.

The world fizzled briefly around him, as if reality was breaking.

"You…are someone I carry a deep well of hate for. I feel as though you started something that brought more pain and strife to me." His scowling face relaxed, and he sighed. "But maybe I'm the one that's been hurting myself."

The world fizzled again, stirring the fog.

"Why am I saying all of this? I'm supposed to be killing you. Is this…not how the battle was supposed to end?"

Reality cracked around his right arm, briefly revealing his mechanical pincer and the extended pincer blade. He tilted it closer to himself, studying his reflection in the surface.

"Who…am I really? Why am I fighting?"

He played with the reflection a bit more…then his eyes widened.

He didn't understand what startled him, but something deep within raged. A festering heat raged in his heart, one he couldn't place exactly. As someone who has always driven himself by instinct, he refused to question what his rage was telling him.

Without hesitation, Amos spun around and sliced the air behind him.

…

…

…

…Helmut got careless.

"AGH!" The Slowking assassin staggered back after being cut across the chest. A thin line of blood opened and sprayed over his front. He backed into a wall and clutched his chest as a blue aura shattered from around his body. "Agh…"

Amos shakily picked himself up and growled. He wasn't in Grimebrook anymore. He was in some ruined building covered in roots. He couldn't understand why, but…he always followed what made sense to him. He was alone in some ruined building with a stranger sneaking up on him. Far as he was concerned…

This man was the enemy.

"Who the hell are you?!" Amos lunged for the neck.

Helmut grimaced and jumped out of the way, barely avoiding the ultra-sharp blade. "That's…concerning."

Amos pulled his blade free and lunged again. "I'm not done with you yet!"

"Cloak of the Forgotten Drifter." A blue aura reapplied itself to Helmut's form, then he faded into the fog like a gust of wind.

Amos' blade cut through the remnants of the fog, oblivious to his encounter with the assassin.

…Except something was different this time.

He glanced at his pincer blade and noted the red dripping off. He couldn't recall the circumstances. His memory was incredibly fragile, a list of scattered memories barely clinging on to his mind.

But in this reality where new memories could not be created, Amos miraculously found the anomaly he didn't know he was looking for.

His target was a nameless Slowking.

And just like that, though working with a broken memory, his years of experience gave him all he needed to overcome this impossible challenge.

"You have got to be…the shittiest assassin I've ever met." He licked the blood off his pincer blade, then closed it. "Let me show you the correct way to end a life."