The air shifted.
A low gust of wind swept through the square—sharp, sudden, unnaturally cold.
Derek froze mid-swing.
The others felt it too.
The heat of the day seemed to vanish in an instant.
"Okay… what's happening?" Marcus asked, standing up, eyes narrowing.
Bam's flame sputtered and died.
Even Bob stopped doing squats, his hammer sliding off his shoulder as he squinted at the darkening sky.
The breeze became a pressure, and then—
A pulse.
Evil aura spread like invisible fog, thick and slow, curling around their ankles, seeping into the air like a sleeping thing now stretching, now waking.
The villagers nearby didn't even move. They remained lying in the grass or slouched on porches, eyes unfocused, completely oblivious.
"It's noticed us," the doll said, voice low.
Everyone turned toward him.
"I told you," he continued, "Sloth feeds on laziness. But when someone works—really works—so close to it, it begins to starve. Diligence is like poison to its kind."
He pointed at Derek. "Your resistance… it's burning it."
Derek raised his blade. "Then let it burn."
A howl echoed faintly across the village—slow, guttural, like a yawn twisted into a growl.
The sky rippled above them.
From the edge of the tree line, darkness began to form—gathering, folding in on itself, coalescing into a shape.
A creature emerged.
Tall. Slender. Cloaked in shivering shadow. It had long, tattered wings that didn't flap but hung like the remnants of something once majestic. Its limbs were too long, its joints too loose, and its face was a blurry void—except for its smile.
A long, crooked, patient smile.
None of them recognized it.
But the doll did.
"…Demon."
The group tensed.
The creature slowly turned its head toward the doll. That smile widened slightly, not cruel—just amused.
"So there are still some," the thing said, its voice like rusted velvet, "who remember us."
The group instinctively raised weapons, magic humming to life.
Bam whispered, "What the hell is that?"
The doll stared hard. "Sloth… fused with one of the old Demon Kings."
He turned to the others, his voice calm but tight. "Back in the war, the Demon Kings sacrificed their bodies to become hosts for the Sins. That body," he nodded toward the creature, "was one of them."
Bob swallowed. "So we're fighting a Sin and a demon king's spirit?"
"Yes," the doll said. "But it's weakened—the spirit has long decayed. What you're seeing now is just a vague manifestation, a wisp of what it used to be."
Kain narrowed his eyes. "Vague or not, that thing radiates danger."
"True," the doll said, "but we can beat it."
The demon stretched lazily, wings dragging across the ground.
"You move too much," it said to Derek, its voice slow and disapproving. "You disturb the silence I've worked so long to build."
Derek raised his sword. "Then come stop me."
The demon's crooked smile remained. Its wings began to rise.
The doll's button eyes glowed faintly. "Get ready. This one won't go down like Gluttony."
The air thickened.
The wind stopped.
And the battle with Sloth began.