The sound of his laughter echoed endlessly across the isolated shore, a haunting melody carried by the salty wind. It was the kind of laughter that didn't belong to a man—no, it was something unhinged, something monstrous. He lay on his back, his chest rising and falling with each manic breath, and I stood over him, my fists clenched.
His eyes—burning red like embers—locked onto me, and yet, he didn't stop laughing.
Something was wrong.
The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. A gut feeling. An instinct buried deep in my bones. Like the whisper of a god, warning me that this wasn't over. My breath hitched as I stepped back, the sand shifting beneath my feet.
His laughter continued.
I turned, scanning the shore. The bodies of his men lay motionless across the ground, their black suits dirtied with sand and blood. I had taken them all down. There was no one left. No backup coming. So why was he still laughing?
His eyes flickered, the red glow intensifying.
