The world was a painting of violence frozen on its canvas.
A droplet of Love's sweat hung in the air, glittering like a diamond. A spray of blood from a cut on Lust's cheek was suspended mid-splash. The deadly arc of Lust's battle axe was halted a mere inch from Love's temple, the psychic energy around it crackling in absolute stillness.
Silence. Profound, deafening silence.
The only thing moving was Amulet.
He stretched lazily, as if just waking from a long nap, his joints giving a soft pop. He floated down from his perch, his shoes touching the cracked pavement without a sound. He looked at the frozen scene, not with awe or fear, but with the mild boredom of a museum-goer glancing at a familiar exhibit.
He turned to Quilt, the only other soul not trapped in the amber of stopped time. Quilt's eyes were wide, his breath caught in his chest, his mind refusing to process the impossibility before him.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Amulet said, his voice a calm, conversational ripple in the ocean of silence. He gave a casual, almost sheepish wave. "I'm Amulet. The Greater Psyche. The Psyche of Sloth, if we're being formal. One of the Seven Sins of Man."
He yawned, not for effect, but from genuine, profound lethargy.
"I can bend time to my will," he added, as if commenting on the weather. "Stop it, slow it, rewind it, skip the boring parts. It's… tedious to explain, honestly. And I hate tedious things."
He walked over to the frozen duel, peering at the snarl on Lust's face, then at the determined grit on Love's.
"So…" he asked, turning back to Quilt. His tone was light, curious. "Place your bets. Who do you think will win?"
Quilt could only stare. His mouth was dry. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, the only beat in a world without rhythm. Words were impossible. He was a spectator in a nightmare, and the usher was a god who couldn't be bothered to care.
Amulet smirked, reading the terror in Quilt's eyes.
"I can do this," he explained, gesturing to the frozen world, "because I am, quite literally, stronger than both of them combined. A lot stronger. They're playing checkers. I'm playing a different game on a different board."
He floated over to Love, studying her with a detached, academic interest.
"Her, though… she's interesting. If she ever figures out how to unlock the cage she's built around her own power… she might even surpass me one day. Maybe." He shrugged. "It's a big 'maybe.' I'm unbound, you see, like a stray psyche only that I'm not eager to visit the psyche world. No host to slow me down, no flesh-prison to limit my potential. I'm just… me."
His gaze then shifted to Lust, trapped in her furious assault. A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his youthful face.
"Which makes me wonder… why is she so desperate for *his* body? It's a nice model, sure, but it's still a cage. There's something she's not telling us. Something she's after inside him."
He turned back to Quilt, his eyes seeming to look straight through him.
"See, Love can't tell if I'm the *real* Sloth. She senses my power, but she can't place it. That's because I didn't create this body I'm wearing." He gestured to his own small form. "I just… found it. A vacant little boy. I possessed him because it was convenient. Because I knew he'd befriend you."
His expression was utterly neutral, devoid of malice, which made his words all the more chilling.
"And you, Quilt… you might become a threat. Someday. It's a very small, very tedious possibility, but it's there. A variable."
He let that hang in the air for a moment.
"Killing you is the obvious choice. The efficient choice. It would tidy up that future variable quite nicely."
He shrugged again, a gesture of supreme indifference.
"But I'm too tired for all that 'commitment.' Planning, executing, dealing with the emotional fallout… it sounds exhausting."
He looked back at the frozen battle, a slow grin spreading across his face. It was the first sign of real emotion—anticipation.
"Bored now. Want to see how this ends? I can't wait any longer. The suspense is… well, it's not killing me, but it's mildly annoying." it's so unfortunate.
Without waiting for an answer, he flicked his wrist.
The world didn't just restart. It *blurred*.
Time became a river raging past them, while Amulet and Quilt stood on the bank. The colors of the sky melted from afternoon gold to the deep violet of dusk in a heartbeat. The sounds of the fight became a high-speed whir of clangs, grunts, and impacts, too fast to comprehend.
And then, it stopped.
The blur resolved.
Lust was gone. Will's body lay unconscious on the ground, bruised and battered but breathing. Love stood over him, panting heavily, her blue sickle dissolving into motes of light. Her clothes were torn, a fresh cut bled on her arm, but she had won.
The entire battle had happened in the space of a single, skipped heartbeat.
Amulet glanced at Quilt, whose brain was struggling to process the temporal whiplash.
"What happens next?" Amulet asked, his voice flat. "That's your problem. Do you call an ambulance? Do you help her? Do you run away? I don't know. And I hate problems."
He reached out, his movements languid and slow, and touched a single finger to Quilt's forehead.
"This is the easiest solution for me."
Time didn't just reverse. It *unwound*.
Quilt felt the world lurch backwards. The sun raced backwards across the sky. His body moved without his consent, stepping backwards away from the scene, down the street, around corners. The sensation was nauseating, like being on a high-speed rewind button.
It stopped as suddenly as it began.
Quilt blinked.
He was standing in the middle of his own living room. The familiar smell of home, the quiet tick of the clock. Everything was normal.
Everything except for him. Sloth had rewind him to his house.
His heart was still pounding. The image of the frozen battle, the sound of Amulet's voice, the sight of Will lying broken on the ground—it was all seared into his mind, vivid and terrifying. His memories were perfectly, horribly intact.
He was suddenly, utterly alone, carrying the weight of a truth he couldn't possibly understand.
Meanwhile, back on the deserted street, Amulet looked down at Will's helpless form.
Love was gone, presumably to get help or recover herself.
Amulet just watched, his expression unreadable.
"So tedious and unfortunate," he murmured to the unconscious boy, before turning and vanishing into the newly fallen night, leaving the consequences for others to handle.