The rman walked toward slowly, like the weight of everything he’d endured hadn’t quite caught up to him yet. Chunks of the demon’s flesh clung to his golden scales—sick, steaming remnants of a thing that should’ve never existed. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even notice. His eyes were on . Or maybe not —maybe the brick in my hand.
I didn’t stop laughing.
The laughter had gone sour by then, dipping into sothing darker. Not joy. Not triumph. Just madness knocking at the edge of my sanity and being welcod like an old friend. Let it in, I thought. Let it all in. I had earned it. So what if the rman wanted the brick? Let him try. Let him take it. I’d already done what mattered.
The demon was gone.
The thing that had turned the sea into a slaughterhouse, that had turned us into at in a maze—he was no more. Just scraps of flesh and shattered bone. Just pulp scattered across the deck like confetti from so cruel celebration. His body, like the girl’s dignity before he was stopped, was torn apart. He was not whole. He never would be again.
And for that, I laughed. Gods, I laughed.
The rman’s golden skin glead under the bloodstained sky, but I noticed sothing new as he crouched down, his face drawing closer to mine. The color red. And by god it was beautiful. The rman was so beautiful that even my laugh stopped for a mont. I was srized.
He spoke.
I didn’t understand a word. The language was familiar but still unique to my ears. I had heard of it before I ca into these waters. And that just made it even more confusing. But tone? That I understood. It wasn’t hostile. Wasn’t exactly friendly either. Calm. Curious. A kind of reverence, maybe, or warning. But I barely heard it through the ringing in my head and the way my heart kept thumping out of rhythm. Didn’t matter anyway. I knew what he really wanted.
The brick.
I could see it in his eyes. Not just interest—obsession. The kind that coils around the soul like a serpent and squeezes. The sa hunger that took the demon. The sa temptation that made leviathans scream beneath the sea.
I waved the brick in front of him like bait.
His gaze locked onto it. Unblinking. Tracing every lazy motion I made with it. It was almost funny. The way he stared, you’d think the brick was whispering to him. And maybe it was. I couldn’t hear it, not anymore. But I could feel it. A subtle pull. A low hum in my bones. It didn’t beg. It didn’t plead. It waited. Like it knew everything would co to it eventually.
Even this rman.
He reached out. Slow at first, then faster. His fingers trembled as they neared it—not out of fear, but restraint. Like every nerve in his body wanted to grab it, crush it, consu it, and only a sliver of will was holding him back. He didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing. It wasn’t a choice. It was instinct.
That’s when she shouted.
The girl.
Her voice cracked across the deck like a whip. Just one word, sharp and loud, in that language I couldn’t place but sohow still felt in my spine. Whatever it was, it cut through the trance like a knife through silk. The rman jerked back like he’d been struck, eyes wide, breath caught. He looked at —not at the brick now, but at . Like I was sothing dangerous. Like I was bewitching him.
I grinned through bloody teeth. And I laughed.
And he did.
He backed away like I’d burned him, chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. His eyes darted between and the girl, confused and ashad. Not just because he’d lunged for the brick, but because he hadn’t realized why he’d done it. That shook him more than anything.
The girl walked over, rifle in hand, lips pressed into a tight line. Her eyes t mine—still full of that impossible mix of fear, awe, and sothing else I couldn’t quite na. Compassion, maybe. Or wariness. Or just the shellshock of soone who’d seen too much, too fast.
She was different.
I’d seen dozens of people fall apart in this cursed world, turning feral, desperate, wild. But not her. She held on. Even as the madness clawed at her edges, she didn’t let go. She shouted the madness down. Her voice reached places nothing else could. Even the rman, for all his strength, obeyed her call.
That made laugh again. A low chuckle this ti, dry and scraping.
"You really are sothing else," I murmured, voice barely audible.
I looked at the brick in my hand, the littered corpse of the demon on the deck, the girls at rest and the ritual site.
I was tired. I was broken. But I still had stuff to do.
Yet, I could not help but grin once more.
Fate. I won against you once more.
I have won the fucking gamble.
And I went all in blind.
I laughed once more.
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