The doll sat up straighter on Bob's belt, his tone thoughtful.
"Good point," he muttered.
The group turned toward him.
"The Sins don't just influence people—they're fed by them," the doll said. "Gluttony draws strength from hunger—compulsion to consume. The more you eat, the more it grows. But when hunger is restrained with temperance, its power lessens. It quiets."
He looked around at the villagers slumped in the shade. "Sloth is the same. It feeds off idleness. The more people slow down, the more it thrives. It's like nature—like a twisted form of rest. It keeps refueling itself through others' inaction."
"So how do we stop that?" Bam asked, stretching lazily.
"With diligence," the doll replied. "Sloth's opposite. Someone must resist it—completely. Mind and body. Working, moving, staying sharp. Like striking flint to fight a flood."
"Sounds… exhausting," Marcus yawned.
The doll smirked. "It's meant to be."
Not ten minutes later, the group was sprawled out like locals.
Marcus sat under a tree with his book open and unread, simply staring at the same page for twenty minutes.
Bam was floating a small fireball lazily above his palm, occasionally yawning at it like it was a bedtime story.
Even Kain was unusually relaxed, leaning against a post and muttering, "I could analyze the residual mana… or not."
And Bob?
Bob was face-down in the grass. Snoring. Occasionally drooling.
The doll looked around and sighed. "This is pathetic."
Bob rolled over in his sleep. "Five more chickens…"
"Bob!" the doll shouted.
Bob blinked awake. "Wha—what year is it?"
"You're all being influenced already," the doll snapped. "You need to resist!"
No one moved.
Then—
Steel sang.
The doll turned.
Derek was standing in the middle of the square, sword in hand, swinging.
Again and again. Sharp, clean movements. Breath controlled. Feet steady. Eyes alive.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he didn't stop. He moved like he was slicing through fog—through something heavy and invisible weighing him down.
The others blinked.
"Is… is he okay?" Bam asked.
"He's resisting," the doll said with a nod of approval. "Deliberately pushing back against Sloth's influence. Using his body. Sharpening his mind. That kind of action keeps the Sin from rooting itself."
Kain crossed his arms. "Takes a strong will."
"It takes a leader," Marcus muttered, finally flipping a page.
Bam stretched. "Alright… fine."
He conjured a small flame drill and started rotating it in the air with focus.
Bob sat up groggily. "I'm helping by… not sleeping?"
"No," the doll said. "Get up and move, or you'll become a snack for Sloth."
Bob groaned and began doing squats with his hammer over one shoulder. "This is a nightmare."
Derek kept swinging, his blade carving through air with purpose.
"I don't know where you are," he muttered under his breath, "but I'm not going to let you win by doing nothing."
Somewhere in the village, unseen—
A flicker of something stirred.