The chamber trembled beneath the weight of silence. The squad stood in a broken circle, armor dulled by soot, blades streaked with the ichor of beasts that had already tested them. Mia's voice still lingered in the air, sharp as the steel she carried:
"Enough games, Aaron. Face us yourself."
The devil's smile stretched wider, a crescent of mockery against the backdrop of firelight. His eyes glowed with an intelligence far older than the walls that held them. He had sat, toyed, and watched, measuring them through endless trials. Now, for the first time, he rose from his throne of shadow and flame.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. The squad—breathless, battered, but unbroken—stared as if daring him to refuse.
Then Aaron chuckled, a sound that slithered across the chamber, half amusement, half disdain.
