I woke up in a meadow, birds fluttering cautiously overhead, their eyes lingering on me from afar. The sun was warm on my scales, the soft grass beneath me swaying in the breeze. The serenity of the place contrasted sharply with the chaos I had just endured. As I sat up, a cold, unsettling voice echoed through the meadow.

"You know, I didn't think you'd die by something like that."

I turned, already knowing who it was. Muerte. His form, cloaked in shadow, stood beneath a tall, gnarled tree, his piercing yellow eyes watching me with a look of amusement. His scythes gleamed in the light as he casually sharpened one, his gaze never wavering from me.

I looked down at myself, the transformation fully complete. I wasn't a wolf anymore—no, this time, I was something darker, more powerful, more terrifying. The dragon that had taken control during the battle with All Might now dominated my body. White scales gleamed under the sun, and my wings fluttered, casting long shadows on the ground. But something felt... off. Something I couldn't place. The guilt washed over me like a wave.

"I killed him, didn't I?" The words were like a whisper of doubt, my throat tight as I spoke. I dropped to my knees, unable to look at Muerte as the weight of my actions crushed me. "I have venom now... I did it..." My voice faltered, and I could barely bring myself to finish the thought.

Muerte didn't move, his eyes locking onto mine with that chilling detachment. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a sardonic smile.

"You didn't kill him."

I blinked, confused, the heaviness in my chest increasing. "But... I remember... the blood. I remember hurting him." I was desperate for answers, struggling to reconcile what I remembered with what Muerte was saying.

Muerte's smile widened slightly, though it was no less unsettling. His scythe continued to gleam as he ran the blade along its edge.

"No. You didn't kill him. You're just a little confused, that's all. And that venom running through your veins... it's not what you think. Death doesn't work like that."

I looked up at him, the question burning in my mind. "Then why am I here? If I didn't kill him, why am I in this place?"

Muerte took a step forward, his black cloak swirling around him like a dark, shifting mist. "You're not dead. You're not alive either." His tone dropped slightly, more serious than before. "You've been knocked out, your body's recovering. But your mind? It's caught between the realms. This place? It's not real."

The truth of his words hit me like a blow to the chest. I wasn't dead, but everything felt so real. The pain, the struggle, the feeling of power. I'd felt it all. But now, it was just a dream—something I had yet to wake from.

"What's happening to me?" I asked, my voice breaking as I struggled to comprehend it all.

Muerte's eyes gleamed with amusement, though there was something darker in them now—something that hinted at the truths I wasn't ready to face. "What's happening is that you're being tested. You've crossed a line, Onyx. You're not the same as you were before. Death is no longer just something you fight—it's something that follows you. You killed, or at least you tried. And death doesn't forget that."

I trembled, his words echoing through me, deeper than any fear I had ever known. I had come so close. Too close. And now, it felt like Death itself was waiting for me to come to terms with the consequences.

"But... I didn't want this," I whispered, my claws trembling as I reached out, as if I could somehow escape the truth that was closing in around me. "I didn't want to kill him."

Muerte's grin deepened, his eyes narrowing into slits as he took another step closer. "That's the thing about death, Onyx. It doesn't care what you want. It doesn't care if you're ready. It just comes. And it's coming for you."

I shuddered as his words sank in. I wasn't just fighting for my survival anymore. I was fighting against the very essence of death itself, a force that had now marked me.

"What do I do now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The once familiar world felt so distant now, so unreachable. Everything was uncertain, clouded by the reality that Muerte had laid bare.

Muerte didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head, looking at me with those unnervingly bright yellow eyes, as if deciding whether or not to offer me a mercy I didn't deserve. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost soothing in its deadliness.

"You fight. And when you're done fighting, you'll face me. And I'll be waiting. Just remember, Onyx, death doesn't forget. And it never lets go."

As his words echoed in my mind, I felt a cold breeze sweep across the meadow. The peace that had once seemed so serene now felt like a cruel trick, a fleeting illusion that would soon fade. I wasn't done yet. The fight wasn't over.

And somewhere, All Might was still out there.

I sat there, still trembling from the weight of Muerte's words, feeling the lingering presence of his chilling gaze. The mist that had surrounded me began to dissipate, and the warmth of the meadow faded, leaving only a hollow ache in my chest. I wanted to speak, to argue, to tell him that I wasn't ready—wasn't ready to be this being, this force of nature that had caused so much destruction. But no words came.

Muerte's voice echoed in the distance as he faded from sight. "I give you another chance, love, and this time try not to get yourself killed by enemy crushing. It gives us a bad reputation," he had teased, the edges of his words sharp yet strangely affectionate. His paw had patted my head, his touch both comforting and unsettling. "I love you, I hope you know that."

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but there was no joy in me anymore. His words carried more weight than anything I'd ever heard before. He had always been a figure of mystery, someone who blurred the lines between enemy and ally. But in that moment, I realized—he wasn't just some force of fate. He was fate. And I had been its unwilling pawn.

"But you're not ready for the afterlife just yet. After all, you're the life. Remember your role in all of this." His voice drifted away, vanishing with the mist.

I had no choice but to listen to his cryptic message. Life? My role? What did that even mean? Was I supposed to bring balance, to become something greater than I had ever imagined? My mind raced as fragments of the truth gnawed at me, pieces I wasn't ready to comprehend.

But then, darkness consumed me. The meadow, Muerte's presence, the confusion—it all faded into nothing. There was no sensation, no sound, just the weight of the unknown pressing down on me. And though I wanted to fight it, to push against it, I couldn't move.

I was in the dark.

In that vast void, I felt small, insignificant. But somewhere in that emptiness, I felt something stir inside me—a spark, a flicker of life, a reminder of the role I had to play.

And with that, I knew the fight was far from over.