Sometime Ago…

"Who am I? What am I? Why…Why am I?"

Cain finished his checkup of the delirious Slowking sometime ago, going over the notes he compiled during his dip into the mind. He looked up from his documents, watching the nameless Slowking stare endlessly at the floor with a vacant expression. It was a disturbing look. Eyes glazed over, barely a hint of light reflecting off the external membrane, and carrying a permanent sullenness.

He ignored the Slowking's plight and returned to examining his notes. "Well, you're not getting any answers out of me. All I've determined was that you took a nasty blow to the back of the head recently." He glanced at his workstation where a petri dish filled with metal shards sat. "Based on the metal I removed from your skull, it was a giant ball of jagged metal. Probably from a Steel-Type."

The Slowking clutched his head, breathing heavier and heavier. "I can't…remember anything. Is this…Is any of this even real? Why does everything look so foggy? Why does everything look…not right?"

Cain narrowed his eyes. "You're definitely not from around here, though I can't say from where. The clothes, from what little remained since you clearly got out of a nasty fight, tell me you're not from the Outlands or even Virdis. Most unusual. Still, I've done as much as I could. Your mind is beyond my capabilities. It seems that technique of yours to mask your presence backfired the moment you were struck, and it's preventing me from diving deeper into your subconscious."

"Who…am I?" the lost Slowking mumbled.

"…" Cain set his notes aside. "Though, it may not be completely hopeless."

"…Who am I?"

"I'm performing research on a forbidden form of alchemy, though I am missing certain notes. If I could get my hands on the Faucher Clan's notes, that might help me fix up your head."

"…Book of Faucher?"

Cain raised his brow. "Pardon?"

"…" The Slowking clenched his eyes shut, shaking with…anger? "Book of…Faucher."

"Maybe you should lay down for a bit. I'll bring you some blankets and tea—"

"I…know where the Fauchers are."

This caught Cain by surprise. "You do?"

The Slowking's eyes flickered, a brief spark of light entering his irises. "I don't remember why. I don't know how. I don't know. I…don't know. Memory…fading."

Cain quickly produced a map from his workstation and unfurled it over the amnesiac's lap. "Point. Now."

"…" He pressed his finger down on the map, his arm trembling.

Cain pulled the map back and instantly marked the spot. "You've encountered the Fauchers before?"

"No. I don't…know? I don't even know."

"Hmm." Cain rolled back in his chair, inspecting the map. "Knife's Edge. I've searched there before, but I never found anything more than some gang camps. I may have to do a thorough sweep of the area. You sure you've never met them before?"

"I don't know. I don't…know."

"Hmm." He set the map aside. "You're a strange creature, mysterious Slowking. Tell you what? Since you clearly have nowhere else to go, mind if I set you up with something befitting of your talents?"

"…I don't know. I don't know."

Cain pulled the otter-esque Pokémon to his feet. "I know a group that can keep you on your feet. Financially stable, do your own thing. What a better life for someone of your unique situation than a fresh start?"

"…I don't…"

Cain smirked. "It's settled. Let's get you some new clothes and a new identity. I'm sure Absalom will see the potential you have to offer for his group."

"AAAAAGH!"

Amos was blown back by a violent explosion emitted by the specter of Ulrich. It blown him across town, sending him crashing into the Outlands prison he had escaped months ago. He skidded across his back before springing to his feet.

"60% Psycho Core—" Ulrich appeared in front of the Gligar, his fist blazing in psionic electricity. "Glorious Punch!"

"Sandstorm!" Before the punch connected, Amos separated them between a veil of sand. Ulrich punched through, losing sight of the slippery scorpion. The sand whipped up and encased the area in a heavy storm.

"Soul Sonata!" Amadeus walked onto the scene and played his ominous sound, cutting up the storm until the air was visible again.

"HA!" Amidst the storm's destruction, Amos leapt out of the hiding and sliced across Amadeus' face. "Where are you looking, asshole?!"

Amadeus followed the Gligar's voice and sliced in that direction, cutting open the prison. However, Amos was nowhere in sight. As his head reformed, Vilgot took the lead by bouncing off the walls in search of the missing Gligar.

Helmut kept to the shadows of the flickering memory. His hand grazed the wall, revealing the roots and withered stone hidden beneath the overlapping memory. Amos wasn't fully aware of the damage he was actually causing. His distorted mind was blanking out certain actions, like him bouncing off multiple walls in a tight corridor or collapsing an entire ceiling. The asylum itself was being torn down bit by bit as the fight escalated. Solely by his actions.

Helmut pressed his back to the wall and took a deep breath. He was getting unnecessarily heated. He should just end the battle before he loses his chance. He got sloppy playing around. He let his emotions get the better of him.

Or was it his sheer apathy? Apathy so overwhelming that it circled back around to mindless torture just to feel something?

What has gotten into him recently?

He only became a Deadly Seven just to get by, if that even mattered. None of this was real. It didn't matter if he had a job or committed genocide or did anything else. None of what was happening was real.

Or was it?

That wound he received from Amos felt real. The blood scent felt like…nothing he ever experienced. He thought he lost all his senses since losing his memory. Killing was so easy for him. He never feared for his life because it never mattered. He never lost a target because there was nothing to run from. He never failed killing a target because he was never there.

Everything went his way because this was his delusion.

So, why was he struggling? He was so close to winning. Why did he slip up?

If he hadn't got as close as he did, Amos would've never spotted him through the reflection.

It was a simple mission. He was just supposed to capture Evelot Faucher—

…Evelot Faucher.

Faucher.

Book of Faucher.

A brief spark of light shined in his eyes again. Fleeting seconds.

"Book of Faucher. He said…it could help me."

If he let Babylas Marchand take Evelot Faucher back to Cain, what if Cain forgot about helping him? Helping him find out who he really was? What if everyone forgot him? Doomed to live this meaningless nothingness with no answers?

But if he had the book, he could bargain with Cain. Make him heal his memories with the book's knowledge, then he'll finally feel complete.

The hollowness returned to Helmut's eyes, but his heart pounded like never before. Was this…motivation he was feeling?

"I need the Book of Faucher."

Amos kept to the ceiling, staying out of sight of the wandering specters in search of him. He shuffled along, alerting Amadeus to slice into the ceiling, but the Gligar was already out of sight. His mechanical stinger rattled through the illusionary prison, putting the specters on guard.

His memory was fuzzy and clouded, but because the assassin was drawing out his memories to the surface, he started to recall the bits and pieces he remembered about each of his targets. All he needed was a clean hit on each of them, mirroring the time of their defeats and demises.

Thus, he made his move.

"Hey, Deadly Losers!" Their eyes shot up as Amos jumped from the ceiling. "Go to HELL! Blaze Bullet!" He fired a bullet erupting a fierce trail of flames.

The size of the heat wave forced the trio to separate, pressing Ulrich and Amadeus to the walls. Vilgot, however, flew over the flames and hurled himself at Amos. "Golden Demolition!"

Amos smacked his tail down and launched himself backwards as the Flapple gave chase. He spun his pincer and unloaded sand bullets through the hall, disrupting the specter's form. Vilgot started steering around the bullets and dodged his shots, yet Amos kept firing all over the hallway.

Amos smirked. "You were always trying to get ahead of everyone, huh? You can't stand the idea of being left behind by such boastful personalities?"

This seemed to irk the specter, forcing him to speed up after the Gligar. Amos smacked his tail against the wall and ducked around a corner. Vilgot turned after him, but soon realized his mistake losing track of the Gligar for a second.

"Got ya!" Vilgot unfurled himself and looked up just as Amos sliced into the ceiling with a sand stream. The rough, pressurized beam of sand carved through the stone, causing rock to rain down over them. Amos had already launched himself out of harm's way, leaving the Flapple to be crushed under tons of rock.

Amos smirked, watching the blue fog hissing out from under the rubble. "Two down, two more to—AAAGH!" He snapped out of his boasting as two slash attacks projected across his back. He hit the ground before immediately covering his ears. He glared over his shoulder at the Kricketune slowly approaching him. "Ugh, you."

Amadeus glared at the Gligar. "I look forward to seeing the man who killed three Sins in action. Do not disappoint, Amos Lancaster."

Amos smirked uneasily. "A shame this will be the closest I get to a rematch with you. Still, beggars can't be choosers."

"Soul Sonata!" Amadeus sliced the air, carving up the hallway in front of him.

Amos tanked several slashing attacks, psionic wisps hissing off his body. He leapt into the air and opened his pincer gun. "Sandstorm Rapid Fire!" He fired sand bullets at the cricket.

"Soul Concerto!" He tightly wove his sound aura over his body, destroying the bullets on contact. However, amidst its activation, Amos quickly funneled his Sandstorm through the hallway, obscuring his position. "Soul Sonata!" Amadeus, however, sliced the air and perfectly struck the hidden Gligar.

…From above.

"Got ya!" Amos, with cuts across his face, dove from the ceiling and brought his pincer blade down.

"Soul Concerto: Crescendo!" Amadeus wove his sound aura around his arms and met the Gligar's clash.

"Not this time!" He thrusted his stinger through Amadeus' face, disrupting his form. Amos dismounted from the specter as he recovered, landed against the wall, and launched back.

Amadeus reformed himself and tried to cut the Gligar down, but a quick brush of sand across the face slowed him down. Amos swung his pincer blade, cutting off both the specter's arms and sliding past him. With a flick of his wrist, the specter dissolved into blue fog.

"Heh." Amos proudly dusted the sand off his shoulders. "And that's how it's—GAK!" Ulrich blitzed the Gligar from behind and rammed him against the wall by the neck. "AGH! Ugh, right…you."

"I…refuse to be some somebody in the Outlands' legacy!" Ulrich roared. "I'm going to prove to everyone that even a nobody like me can be someone! You'll be the memory in this worthless wasteland, you sack of shit—"

The specter froze as Amos jabbed his stinger through his chest. He looked at the Gligar wide-eyed while Amos flashed an annoyed smirk. "What an ironic set of last for our final dance."

Amos manually released his stinger, causing it to rocket off his tail and punch through the specter, utterly destroying him. His stinger stabbed into the wall in front of him, sending ripples across the illusionary prison.

Amos collapsed onto his pincers and knees, sputtering and wheezing as his vision cleared, returning him to the remnants of the underground asylum in all its hazy glory. He took a moment to catch his breath, wiping the sweat off his brow, and picked himself up.

"Fucking hated that one…" he grumbled.

He walked over to his stinger, which had been emptied of the volatile formula. He could hear the sizzling sounds coming from the other side of the wall, along with the moans of the roots' source. He must've stabbed into a cluster and emptied the entire container.

"Fuck. I knew I would end up wasting that just to kill him." He begrudgingly reattached his stinger, giving it a quick shake for good measure. He scanned his surroundings, finding he was in a completely different part of the asylum. The damage done was mostly of his own doing, from bullet holes to sand piled up everywhere.

He groaned and collapsed against the wall. He hadn't realized, but his mind was blocking out certain instances of him crashing into the real walls to keep up the illusionary memory. His head felt like it was dragged through several meters of stone.

"Hating this…so much." He sighed before producing some sand. "Alright. Now, where'd that bastard go?"

"YOOOOOW!"

Amos nearly jumped at the scream coming from above. Thinking it over, his eyes widened in horror. "Oh fuck, don't tell me…!"

Helmut pressed his foot down on the bear trap he accidentally fished out from Evelot's Shadow Storage. Slowly, he pulled his bleeding arm free before the teeth snapped shut on him again. He angrily kicked the contraption aside and picked the catatonic Mimikyu up, digging his hand through her costume.

"How many of those does she have?" he grumbled. He kept digging through the limited, but vast space within the costume, finding no signs of the Faucher's prized book. "It has to be in here somewhere. The book was never recovered from the hideout, that's what she told Cain. She's the only one who could have it."

However, after minutes of aimless searching, he growled in frustration and threw the Mimkyu down like an old dish rag. He clutched at his head, roaring as the old wound on the back of his head flared up.

"I'm getting agitated. Calm down, Helmut. Calm down." He closed his eyes and took the moment to breathe. "I've been stalking them since Crimehallow. There's no way she just left the book in Scornpeak, right? She must've brought it with her. But she doesn't have it. It doesn't make any sense. I've been with them the whole time. The only time I lost sight of her was…"

His eyes widened. He vaguely recalled hearing an explosion back in Copper Gorge. He had followed Amos and Phoebe to talk with Caractacus, where they talked about the strange cube known as Logos. He didn't understand at the time, but something about the conversation…intrigued him.

But the point was, he wasn't keeping an eye on Evelot at the time.

Did she…bury it somewhere in Copper Gorge?

"It's there," he muttered. "She buried it somewhere there. Th-That's got to be where it is! Y-Yes. Yes. I'll just leave them like this for Babylas Marchand to collect, then I can go back to Copper Gorge and find where she buried the notebook. Yes. I might be able to finally—"

CLICK!

Helmut dropped his arms to his side, then glared over his shoulder. Amos stepped out of the shadows with his pincer gun trained on the assassin. Amos met his glare with a scowl. "I wouldn't bother with the tomfoolery anymore. I'm about done with these games."

"…" Helmut sighed and looked down at the motionless Mimikyu. "How?"

Amos smirked. "I'm pretty fucking stubborn."

"No. I mean…how? How are still…you? How are you still able to live after I've taken away your awareness? How can you still…function in such dreariness? Isn't it suffocating? Overwhelming? How does the crippling despair not obliterate you?"

Amos scoffed. "You just described every memory I've ever experienced. It gets old. Fast. You're nothing special."

"…" Helmut shook his head. "It could've been different. I could've been different. I was someone, but…I'm nobody. And it's all because of them."

"Look, I don't give a shit about what her family did to you, but this is your only chance to walk away before I blow the back of your head open."

"…No. I can't understand why, but the Fauchers are responsible for everything. Their research…they're the reason I'm like this, aren't they? Not directly, but a ripple effect. They are the ones who…" He clutched his head and groaned. "I don't even know."

"You're testing my patience. I'll say it again: I will kill you if you don't get lost."

"…" Helmut drooped his arms to his sides. "Everything feels different. It's like waking up in a dream. Nothing is placed right. Nothing feels right. It's just…there. Bits and pieces that should feel familiar, but nothing does. To see how close I am to having my closure, I can't lose this chance. I need to know. I don't want to be just a memory."

"Annnnd, time's up." Amos fired into the Slowking's head, only for his form to collapse into blue fog. Amos blinked twice before checking his pincer gun, finding he spent a bullet. He groaned. "This shit again. Running and hiding won't save you—"

SHING!

His eyes widened, feeling something slash across his side. He whipped his arm around, swinging his pincer blade through the air. Helmut reappeared, flickering in blue light and wielding his kris dagger. Amos glowered at the gnarly cut made across his hip.

The hollowness in Helmut's eyes felt even more suffocating, like two vortexes leading into an abyss of nothingness. "I will not be denied my future. You will be cut down. You will be the memory. Not me."

Amos growled. "Asshole." He lunged at the Slowking. "You're no match for me!"

"I don't need to. Graveyard of the Neglected Souls: Flashback!" Helmut clapped his hands together, sending a pulse of psychic energy through the air.

"Huh—GAH!" Thousands of slashes suddenly appeared over Amos' body, hissing with psychic mist. "Gaaaaah…!"

"Those wounds you received from Amadeus. They're still fresh." The psionic domain flickered across the asylum. "You may have overcome your memories, but I can still force you to relive them even for a moment. No matter how long or how recent."

With a flick of his wrist, the real cut Amos had received suddenly flared with psychic energy. He screamed and clutched at his side, feeling like the same injury was inflicted thousands of times over. He tried to stand, but Helmut ran in and kicked him upside the chin, throwing him onto his back. "AGH!"

"I don't need to fight better than you, Amos Lancaster." Helmut stepped over the Gligar and proceeded to stomp on his face. "I just need to make sure you can't retaliate."

"RAAAAAAAH!" Amos sliced at the Slowking, but he once again disappeared into blue fog. He hurriedly picked himself up, holding his aching face. "Aaaagh. What did he do to—GAH!" Helmut reappeared just as soon as he kicked Amos in the back. He slammed his foot down on the scorpion's tail before disappearing again. "Agh! FUCK!"

Amos recoiled from a punch to the face, causing Helmut to reappear again. "Cloak stops working the moment I make contact with someone, but I can easily reapply it. Oh, and by the way…" He flicked his wrist. "Flashback."

Amos recoiled as the brief specter of Ulrich appeared, slamming his Glorious Punch into his stomach. The psionic shockwave threw Amos back, sliding him across the wall and crashing into the end of the hallway.

"Agh…" Helmut faltered as the domain started to fizzle out again. "Aaaagh. This sucks, but I can't let those three wake up."

Amos pulled himself up and growled. "What the…?" He felt something itching under his poncho. He peered down and found a strange cut over his stomach. It looked like it was made by the tip of his blade. "Wha…?"

2Tech1, it read.

"Two…tech?" He glared. "Two techniques. One…" His eyes widened. "He can't keep more than two techniques active."

Technique One: create a field that messes with personal perception and forces drifting memories to the surface.

Technique Two: conceal self from perception. Cannot interact with living creature or the effect is dispelled.

Technique Three: create specters of memories, whether as soldiers or as instant attacks to wear down the spirit.

That meant if he wanted to keep his comrades in their catatonic state, he couldn't use Techniques Two and Three simultaneously. One was for avoiding danger, and the other was his only means of dealing damage.

After carving a shorthanded code onto his skin, Amos rocketed across the hallway. "You should be worried about keeping them inactive like that! They would grant you a swift death!"

"Cloak!" Helmut disappeared right as Amos took a swing. Before his memory of the encounter faded, he checked his code again.

"Technique Two is active." He emptied his pincer chamber and loaded some new bullets in. "Electromagnetic Bullet!" He aimed upside-down and fired into the ground.

An electromagnetic wave rippled across the floor, causing debris and dust to bounce up. Amos' eyes flickered rapidly for certain changes. Though his mind was automatically changing discrepancies in his memory, he knew one thing for certain. After peering through his pincer blade to check his blind spots, he aimed down the hallway and fired a second bullet.

"Flame Vortex Bullet!" He fired straight down, casting the hallway in a blazing inferno.

The flames did their job, pulling Helmut out of his Cloak as his clothes and skin caught fire. He screamed and clawed away at the burning fabric before jumping down a connecting hallway for safety. However, amidst his escape, Amos pushed through the flames and readied a third bullet.

"Snare Bullet!" He fired a bullet coated in green light. It ricocheted off the wall and pierced through Helmut's leg before embedding itself in the wall. He snapped his pincer over the green trail, transforming the light into an energy vine. One quick tug of the vine, and he reared the Slowking in with his pincer blade extended. "Now die!"

"Graveyard! Flashback!"

Helmut forced the memory of Amos' defeat against Amadeus to the surface, bringing down a torrent of slashes over the Gligar. Amos recoiled, causing the vine to snap and disappear. Helmut stumbled to his feet and hobbled away, clutching his bleeding thigh.

"Craaaap!" Helmut staggered into a wall, his leg seizing up in pain. He panted heavily, his hollow eyes shaking frantically. "I-I'm losing my cool. F-Focus on the objective. Y-You just need to stall Amos Lancaster until he succumbs to the memory overload—"

"Unfortunately for you—" His eyes widened as Amos immediately sprung back from the previous attack. "I'm too fucking pissed off for that bullshit!"

"Cloak!" Helmut attempted to vanish, but couldn't reposition himself in time. Amos thrusted his stinger and stabbed Helmut in the chest, disrupting the technique. "GAH!"

Amos smirked. "Shame that I had to use up my stinger for your little ghost performance, but don't you worry—" The glass bauble of the stinger started filling with venom. "I can make my own."

Helmut gasped. "No, wait—" He tried to push the Gligar off, but Amos clamped his pincers tightly over his shoulders.

"Maximum Venom!" He forcefully injected his venom through Helmut, the toxins erupting out like a sprung leak.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Helmut grabbed his dagger and slashed Amos across the face.

"AGH!" He pulled his stinger out and fell back.

"Gah…agh…gck…" Helmut placed a hand to the wall to keep himself steady. His breathing hastened, feeling the venom coursing through his veins. His vision started to blur, and his muscles felt as if they were being twisted and crushed. "Aaaaagh…"

Amos stood up and wiped his bleeding face. "I pumped enough venom to immobilize a Snorlax. I suggest laying down. It'll make cutting your stomach open all the easier."

Helmut's eyes twitched erratically. "Y-You dare…you smug b-brat…!"

Amos raised his brow. "Brat? What the hell are you—"

Helmut gripped his head, feeling the poison moving up to his face. As it worsened throughout his system, it started having adverse effects on his shattered mind. He staggered and tumbled, screaming out like a maniac. He punched the walls, bashed his face against the floor, and clawed at his skin. "W-What did I just…? Where are you?! Where am…yes. Yes, Master. I shall rid us of them posthaste!"

Amos winced. "Ooookay, I think I screwed this guy over."

"Graveyard of the Neglected Souls! Bring about…the memory of the typhoon that flooded Aurum City!"

"Typhoon—" Amos paused as he felt the asylum starting to rumble. "Oh shit!" He braced himself as the entire hallway became flooded in a heavy rush of water. He dug his pincers down and fought against the forced memory, trying to keep himself grounded in reality.

Helmut's eyes rolled back as he staggered through the memory flood unimpeded. "W-What…What am I talking about? Where's…What's Aurum City? Th-The Great Wildfire of Juniper Town!"

The flood dispersed and brought forth a raging inferno. "Agh!" Amos backed off and shielded himself as flames swallowed up the hallway on all sides. "Where the hell are these coming from? I don't remember anything about typhoons or wildfires. What region is this asshole from?"

"Who…am I?!" Helmut screamed. He stumbled about with greater aggression, pulling on his shell helmet. "Gaaaah! Come forth, Ozul the Dark Lord!"

A Sneasler emerged from the floor in a pillar of blue fog, dressed in grand attire with a cloak that stretched out in the shape of Golbat wings. He smirked down at Amos, showing his two prominent fangs. "Good evening~."

"What the what?!" Amos jumped back as the vampiric weasel lunged at him, chomping and swiping aggressively at the air. He kicked off the wall, leapt over the monster, and fired a single shot through the back, dispersing it back into the fog. "What kind of fucked up shit has this guy seen?! Is any of this even his memories?!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Helmut screamed, bashing his head repeatedly against the wall. "GO away! GoOoOoOoO AwAy!"

Amos scowled and began loading bullets into his pincer gun. "Can't waste any more ammo. In case he pulls any fast ones on me…" After loading, he extended his pincer blade and rushed in. "Now DIE!"

Helmut's empty gaze snapped in his direction. "W-Who said that?! M-Monsters! Mommy! Monsters…under the bed!"

Shadows-like monsters flowed out from under Helmut's shadow and lunged at Amos. He swung wildly through the shades, cutting open a path through. "Guess the specters aren't nearly as strong when he's pushing the technique like this. Still, this shit is getting on my nerves!" He ripped through another cluster of phantoms and tacked Helmut against the wall. "Time to wake up!"

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Amos' eyes widened as the floor broke away under him, and he found himself careening out of the air. "What the—agh, not again!" He furiously smacked himself. "No, I'm not falling, I'm not falling! I'm in an asylum! I'm in the asylum—"

"RAAAAAAAH!" He gasped as Helmut dove after him like a rabid savage, tackling into him. He flailed and clawed at Amos as the poison continued to fester in his brain. "GeT oUt Of My RoOm!"

"Arceus dammit!" Amos rolled back and kicked Helmut off. He smacked against an invisible wall, tearing apart the memory/dream/whatever Amos was forced to sit through and returning them to the asylum. Amos jolted as soon as he came back to reality. "Aaaagh. Oh Arceus, I hate that falling and waking up feeling…"

"RAAAAAAAAAAH!" His eyes widened as Helmut sprung back up and rushed toward him like a possessed Vigoroth. "It'S mY tUrN wItH tHe ThInG?!"

Amos spun his gun chamber and took aim. "Fucking psychotic—Lock Down Bullet!" He fired at Helmut, piercing him in the chest.

Pink chains sprung out the Slowking's body and anchored into the walls, holding him suspended over the floor. He flailed and wailed with greater aggression, blathering with utter nonsense that Amos couldn't make heads or tails of. Half the words he was saying didn't sound like actual words, much less a language. It was just mindless drivel.

"I've had enough crazy for one day." He loaded a regular bullet into the empty chamber and took aim. "One shot through the head and you're—"

Then…Helmut just stopped moving.

Amos raised his brow as the Slowking suddenly went limp in the chains. He could see his venom was still running through his veins. Did Helmut finally succumb to the effects? Or had he tired himself out with…whatever mental breakdown he triggered amidst their fight?

Amos felt his mind drifting again and growled. "No, just shoot him." He aimed his gun again. "Just shoot him in the head. Just shoot him…in the head. Just…" Amos staggered and held his head, the fog over his mind growing heavier. "W-What…?"

"Mind of the Exhausted Soldier." Helmut slowly opened his eyes, which had returned to normal. They glowed in a soft blue. "My final technique."

Amos dropped to his knees and panted heavily as his mind started to collapse. The mental domain around him flickered heavily, but he barely paid it mind. In fact, he just about forgot about the domain as it felt like all his memories were self-destructing around him. "W-What did you…?"

The chains shattered, dropping Helmut onto his feet. He massaged his bleeding shoulder. "I…apologize for my sudden episode. I don't know what came over me, but it seems I was lucid enough to pull one last trick off. That technique is the ultimate culmination of them all."

The domain slowly started to crumble away, returning the world back to reality. Amos stood up, clutching his head as the fog persisted around him, growing heavier and heavier around him.

"Aaaaagh…wha…?" His eyes drifted lazily. He could see Helmut, his form fuzzy and split. "Aaaaagh…"

Helmut narrowed his eyes. "It takes an exceptional toll on my mind to use this one, forcing me to drop all other active techniques. I'm ashamed to say you've pushed me this far, but it can't be helped. Your friends will break out of their trances gradually, but I'll have it reapplied by the time I kill you."

Amos pressed up against the wall and fiddled with his pincer gun. "Fuuuuuck…"

Helmut approached the fading Gligar. "We all strive to know who we are, Amos Lancaster. Rest assured, your memory will live on with Evelot Faucher. She seems to hold you in high regard. A shame you see her as just some tool to make yourself stronger. You could've spared yourself of this trouble had you just cooperated. Maybe Dr. Underhill would've spared you for giving her up. But who knows? We'll never know."

"Noooot…doooone…yeeettttt…" Amos closed his pincer gun and tried to keep his balance. Fuck. My mind's fading rapidly. Every move I make in the next few seconds…needs to count.

"Ten."

Amos opened his pincer blade and rushed Helmut down, swinging wildly. Unable to disappear with the technique in place, Helmut took advantage of Amos' sluggish stance to dodge around his slashes. He pulled out his dagger and slashed the Gligar across the back.

"Nine."

As he stumbled, Amos thrusted his stinger and stabbed Helmut in the shoulder. Helmut pulled himself free before he could be injected with venom. He swatted the tail aside and jumped back.

"Eight."

Amos stumbled over his tangled feet, but caught himself and opened his pincer gun. N-Now!

"Seven."

"Die, you scum!" Amos rotated his pincer and unloaded a spray of orange-glowing bullets through the hallway. They scattered in all directions ahead, punching through the walls, ceiling, and floor. Helmut carefully maneuvered around the erratic firing, using his dagger to block some stray bullets.

"Six."

Amos roared, firing off another scattering of bullets in a spread. Helmut bent backwards and let the bullets sail over his face,

"Five."

Amos kept firing, unleashing another spray of bullets through the hallway. Two more shots left, then I'm betting everything on this last bullet.

"Four."

Helmut was unsure what the Gligar was trying to accomplish. It was nothing more than a scattershot of fragmented bullets. What was there to gain from such an inaccurate attack?

"Three."

Amos emptied the fifth scattering bullet from his gun. Satisfied, he immediately whipped up a Sandstorm through the hallway, blasting it in Helmut's direction. The Slowking crossed his arms and braced against the rough wind.

"Two."

Amos opened his pincer gun and took aim. "Goooottttt…yoooouuuuu…nooo—"

"One."

And then…all was still.

The sand ceased blowing and calmly settled in the air. Helmut lowered his guard and glared at the frozen Gligar, his eyes reflecting a hollow blue glaze with his arm affixed in front of him. Forever trapped in a moment of time that will never pass, unaware and unable to advance into the future. Forever stuck in that one moment before firing.

No past or future left to turn to.

Helmut sighed in relief and straightened up. "You and I…are alike, Amos Lancaster. Lashing out at our most desperate moments. It seems I've prevailed in my final desperate act. A shame this technique is so demanding. I can only use it on one target at a time, otherwise I wouldn't have wasted the better part of the last several hours toying with your group. But then again, was there ever a point? It doesn't even matter."

He approached the frozen Gligar, juggling his sword in one hand. "You've struggled your whole life trying to find some meaning to your sad existence. Take some glory in your last and only memory being the moment you're about to kill me. At least you'll die thinking you went out a brave knight."

He waved the dagger in the air, taunting the oblivious scorpion. "Those honed battle instincts can't even register there's a dagger coming to slit your throat. All that talk about how your instincts will carry you to victory? Nothing but mindless bravado to hype yourself up. You can't see how hopeless you are. You can't see how the end is in sight. Just a mindless psychopath who lost his way."

He aimed the dagger forward, another foot away from reaching the Gligar's heart. "Take this death like a man. Die a hero protecting the princess. Let that be the legacy you leave behind. It's a more dignified existence—"

BOOM!

Helmut recoiled as the ground ruptured beneath his foot, shredding his sole open. "GAAAH!" He staggered back, staring in horror at his tattered foot. "Wha—" He stepped back into another explosive spot, tearing apart his other foot. "AAAGH!" Scrambling around in a blind panic, he kept setting off more and more explosion through the hallway.

W-What is this? What is triggering these explosions? His eyes widened, finding metal fragments lodged through his leg. The bullet holes. Amos Lancaster. You were firing some kind of weight-activated trap bullet, weren't you? That mindless firing was just to get me to stumble into your web of death?

BANG!

Helmut recoiled again, this time as a light green bullet pierced through his shoulder. His eyes flickered to Amos' frozen body, which started to twitch back into motion.

No. Don't tell me—

Amos started moving ahead, running through the field of explosive bullets. They went off under him, shredding his legs and torso, but his senses were primed solely on the direction of the first batch. The ones set off by Helmut.

It's like…his fangs always point toward trouble. That kind of violent mindset…can only be developed after years of bloodshed. This man is no angel. He was born to slaughter any who oppose him!

Amos reared his arm back, the motion causing his pincer blade to extend. Right as his mind started to fade, he made the conscious decision to tweak the sensitivity of his mechanical pincer and the release apparatus for the blade. Doing so made it easier to release, which was considerably dangerous ninety-nine percent of the time. But in this one instance, even if he must be blindly swinging at nothing, it gave him the edge to defeat an opponent that didn't exist in his mind.

Helmut's eyes flickered to the bullet-riddled ground and immediately jumped to the left, dodging Amos' swing. He staggered carefully around the bullet holes before leaping back down the hallway.

An impressive display, but worthless in the end. Now that I know how you're tracking me, all I need to do is just leave the hallway. I'll have to wait a few minutes for him to cool down, then I can make my move—

He felt something tug on his shoulder. His eyes flickered to the bullet wound, and he gasped as the thin thread sticking out from it, barely visible in the low light. He traced the length of the thread, where it was connected to the inner barrel of Amos' pincer.

A…grappling bullet?

Feeling the tug on the thread, Amos flung himself in Helmut's direction. In desperation, Helmut whipped out his dagger and tried to counter Amos' swing, but it was all in vain. The Guillotine-infused blade severed through the dagger in one stroke, and the tip of the blade caught into the skin of Helmut's face.

RIIIIIP!

In one fluid stroke, Amos tore across Helmut's face, shredding his eyes into bloody chunks and tearing out pieces of his skull. Helmut screamed out in agony, collapsing onto his hands and knees as a river of blood poured out from his face.

"Y-You…aaaaaagh…!" he moaned, pressing his arm against his tattered face as his body started to go cold. "A-Amos…Lancaster!"

"…So then—" Helmut froze, feeling the Gligar looming over him with his pincer blade pressed to the nape. "I'm sorry to ask, but what was your name again? Assassin?"

Helmut trembled on the floor, panting rapidly as more and more blood poured down his face. "I…I…I—"

"Actually, I don't care." Amos scoffed. "My head hasn't felt this clear in ages. Or has it been only a few minutes? Hours, perhaps? Darn, I just can't recall much. Well, except one thing: how much I wanted to kill you."

"…You…" Helmut dug his fingers through the floor. "H…How…dare you…get in my way? All I wanted to know…was who I am. If any of this…is real. Nothing…Nothing about this world looks right. I need to know the truth."

Amos glared. "Wow, I'm almost moved to tears. Shame you're nothing more than a worthless scumbag who tortures people with their own minds."

"D…Damn YOU!" Helmut sprung to his feet and swung his broken dagger.

Amos casually stepped out of reach, letting the Slowking blindly swing his dagger. "Some of us have to live with the pain of those bad memories. You think I haven't relived those tragedies over and over before? All you've done is piss me off. You? You had the luxury of starting over with your life, and this is how you take out your anger on the world: making the rest of us suffer for remembering."

"Shut UP!" Helmut kept swinging and swinging, faster and faster. Angrier and angrier. "I need to remember! I need to remember who I was—"

Amos swiped his tail between the Slowking's feet, tripping him up.

"…Eh?"

Amos walked past the stumbling Slowking and scoffed. "You like playing with people's minds so much?"

Helmut lost his balance and started falling toward the ground. His mind raced with confusion and panic. The venom that had been coursing through his brain continued to mess with his thoughts, yet something triggered in that moment of hopelessness.

A figure wrapped in an iridescent light, swinging what appeared to be a ball of scrap metal attached to a wire.

He felt the throbbing sensation of his head injury, remembering the pain that brought him to this point, followed by a blue flash.

Were these his memories? Or was it just another dream?

Was this his past? Or was it just his mind gifting him with an answer to satisfy his desperation?

Memories…were often unreliable. And sometimes, what happened in the past didn't define the future. Perhaps in another time, his answers could've been answered.

But not all mysteries will have a conclusion for its seekers.

Some mysteries will forever remain as such.

BANG!

Helmut faceplanted into one of Amos' trap bullets, causing his face to be shredded apart in shrapnel. He twitched for a moment, then went still. Blood poured out from his tattered face, pooling over the floor and through the cracks.

Amos retracted his pincer blade and stared down at the Slowking's corpse. Though not his most harrowing fight, it was certainly one he won't be forgetting anytime soon. A legacy that dies with him as the sole teller of the assassin's tale, and that's all it ever shall be.

"Well, you can die where you belong: in my memory."