The devil's grin widened as Mia stepped forward, her presence filling the darkened arena. The squad stood behind her, their eyes fixed upon her back. No one spoke; no one dared. Even the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
From the shadows, a low chuckle rose, at first faint but growing until it echoed through the chamber like the grinding of stone. The devil's laughter was not directed at them—it felt more like the sound of someone amused by their own thoughts, speaking for their own satisfaction rather than to any audience.
It began to pace slowly, its taloned feet tapping lightly against the stone floor. The faint glow of its crimson eyes pierced the gloom as it lifted its head.
