After the fight, the Indoraptor was hauled off to the dungeons by my guards, his snarls and defiant glares fading into the distance. Finally, I could take a moment to breathe. My limbs ached, and my wounds throbbed as I made my way back to my chambers.

Trailing behind me was Vasago, flipping through a cookbook, its spine bent awkwardly in his claws. His determined expression would have been amusing under less exhausting circumstances.

I narrowed my green-red eyes at him. "Vasago, dear, what exactly are you doing?"

He sniffed indignantly, his feathers ruffling slightly. "I want to make you something worth eating, Your Highness," he declared, holding up the cookbook like a sacred text. "Stew isn't real food, and you know it."

I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples. "There are cooks for that, Vasago. You're a trusted advisor, not a chef. Besides, the last time you tried cooking, it took days to clean up the kitchen."

"But—"

"No buts," I cut him off firmly, my tail flicking with a hint of annoyance. "You have other matters to attend to. Now, please, leave the cooking to the professionals."

His shoulders slumped dramatically as he snapped the cookbook shut. "Fine," he muttered, his pride clearly bruised. He shuffled off, muttering something under his breath about ungrateful monarchs.

As the door closed behind him, I allowed myself a rare chuckle before collapsing into the plush cushions of my chambers. My wounds still burned, but for a moment, peace finally reigned.

The heavy thud of boots echoed down the grand halls, and then, with a crash, my throne room doors swung open. There he stood—All Might, in his iconic buff form, though it was marred by streaks of crimson blood. His breathing was heavy, his gaze sharp, and his voice booming with concern. "Onyx, are you alright?"

I coughed, a splatter of blood escaping my lips, but I scowled fiercely at him. "You fool! Yes, I'm alright! What do you think I am—a lamb to be coddled?" My voice dripped with irritation as I flicked my tail dismissively, my pride and strength unwavering even as my body screamed otherwise.

All Might's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't press further, standing firm in his usual, ever-heroic pose.

With a deep breath, I shifted forms, my indoraptor body melting away as I assumed my wolf-like visage. My fur gleamed like obsidian under moonlight, and a scepter with a crescent moon atop materialized in my paw, shimmering with ethereal light. Around my shoulders, a regal cape of pure white linen appeared, adorned with delicate flowers. The hood was raised, casting a shadow over my face, but my red-green eyes still burned with intensity.

"It's fine now," I said coolly, straightening and gripping the scepter. "But I must ensure Muerte hasn't taken any souls he wasn't supposed to." My voice was laced with authority and determination, the weight of my celestial role undeniable.

All Might's brows furrowed, and though his lips parted to speak, he said nothing. There was no room for argument when I wielded my power this way. With a single glance, I turned and began to leave, my steps echoing purposefully through the now-silent room, the moonlit aura of my scepter casting soft glows on the bloodstained floor.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Deep within the shadowed halls of my palace, I followed the lingering scent of death to a spot soaked in blood. The air was heavy with sorrow, the kind that clung to your skin and seeped into your bones. There, standing tall and spectral, was Muerte, his form faintly glowing with an otherworldly blue light.

"Muerte, dearest friend," I growled, my voice low and steady as my claws tapped rhythmically on the stone floor. "Don't come here to take these souls; they still have a purpose to fulfill." Slowly, I pulled back the hood of my white cape, letting my piercing red-green eyes meet his hollow, luminous gaze.

He turned to face me, a sharp smirk stretching across his ghastly visage. His scythe gleamed with unspent hunger, the faint cries of trapped souls whispering from its blade. "Ah, just like you told me about that cat," he mused, his tone mocking yet calm. "And where did that lead us?"

The mention of Puss ignited a spark of fury in me, and my tail lashed the air behind me. My glare hardened. "Don't bring Puss into this," I snapped, my voice dripping with venom. "He didn't deserve to be taken away so easily. I was going to fight for him, and you know that."

Muerte tilted his skull slightly, his bony fingers tapping on the handle of his scythe as though savoring the tension in the air. "Fight for him? Or delay the inevitable?" he countered softly, his words laced with a dark amusement.

I stepped closer, towering over the patch of blood that separated us. "You forget yourself, Muerte. You and I both understand balance, but if you cross me here, I will upset that balance to save what remains. These souls will stay." My voice, though calm, carried the weight of a thousand unsaid threats, the raw power of my conviction radiating through the room.

Muerte's smirk faded slightly, his sockets narrowing as if weighing his options. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of his scythe and the rhythmic thrum of my scepter. Then, with a slight bow of his head, he spoke. "Very well, Onyx. For now, I'll let you have your way. But know this: the ledger never lies, and every soul owes a debt."

As he turned to leave, his spectral form dissolving into the shadows, I let out a slow breath, the tension ebbing from my body. "Every debt has its time," I murmured to myself, gripping the scepter tighter. "But not today."