If Black*Star had had a drink to choke on when he saw who stepped through the mirrored floor, he would have probably died then and there. Instead, his saliva went down the wrong way and only caused mild suffocation.
He had even forgotten he was still in a fight. Death had snapped his fingers and the doors had slammed shut, the ceiling materialised and nearly all the lights went out, save for a few flickering fireflies.
Death is a god, and as such didn't need to wait for his eyes to get used to the sudden darkness. Something punched the assassin in the gut, and as he was trying to recover shadows snaked up his body and he was soon on the floor, wrapped up neatly.
"I think that's enough, Black*Star. How about you go and think about your actions in jail a little, as I had suggested earlier?"
The lid that had settled on the room faded away. The fireflies died out. The edges and shapes of the room came back into focus, and there they were. Emaciated, dishevelled and with something alien in their soul's wavelengths, something nearly calm, but they were there in the flesh.
"Weren't you supposed to be dead?" Black*Star blurted out before remembering his weapon's advice: being polite usually kept you on someone's good side.
Fortunately, the Demon blade didn't seem angered. On the contrary, they also seemed somewhat interested in the still horizontal Meister.
"I'm not."
Well, that was his question answered then.
Death picked him up as if he weighed nothing, despite his struggling.
"That's no way to treat the best Meister this academy has ever seen!"
"Shut up Bl-"
"No, wait! You're right Black*Star, only the best Meisters can endure DWMA's dungeons. I… I believe no one has the endurance to stay in there for a few hours, let alone a whole day…"
The cogs in the brain of the Meister were visibly turning, either that or he was considering the situation carefully. Crona's presence was unexpected and changed his whole game plan. As Tsu said all too often, sometimes losing the battle was the best way to win a war.
"Suuuure. Yeah, they sure get uh, cold? I think?"
Crona nodded their head frantically. "Oh yeah! And dark!"
"And dark," answered Black*Star miserably. Being adult sucked ass.
Death opened a portal and tossed Black*Star through, banishing him to his cell in a single toss. The portal closed and he dusted off his hands, satisfied.
"Well, now that that's out of the way, we need to talk."
Crona shivered. Maybe they should have defended Black*Star. Now, the walls, as big as the room was, were closing in on them as Death explained what had happened, how the war had ended, and the part they had played while they had become Kishin.
The guilt they were experiencing was all too visible, but they were taking it surprisingly well, thought Death. Back when they were younger, they would have let Ragnarok take over long ago, but nothing of the sort had happened yet. They had curled their hands into their chest, had choked on tears and had flinched at the more gruesome details, but they were still here, in the flesh as well as in soul. Ragnarok was asleep, that was certain, and Crona had grown, despite their total isolation during these last few years.
There was a lot of things Death wanted to ask, but nothing seemed appropriate in the moment. Despite their newfound strength, Crona was still currently a mess. Something in him whispered to send them back to the dungeon where they had been lodging when they were still a child, like they had all been back then. But that was not safe. Nothing was safe, other than…
"You will not leave my sight."
A sniffle answered him.
"As I had made clear on the Moon, I do not trust you. You are an asset in the war against the Witches, and you better stay that way. Any sign of rebellion and I'll strike you dead, like you should have been a long time ago."
Lord Death was angry. His words spit venom like a snake, and the shadows writhed and coiled around him. This Witch-offspring, this piece of Madness in the making, was responsible for too many key components in the War that had killed his Father and had brought Madness and Witches upon this world, and he wouldn't let them forget it.
For now though, he had work to do. He headed back to his desk and pulled some paperwork up with a snap of his fingers, while the Demon Blade, the Meister that had killed again and again with no remorse, sobbed in the middle of the silent room.