The first thing he felt was pain.
Not the sharp, immediate kind, but the dull ache of impact, like every part of him had been smashed flat. The ground beneath him was wet and cold. His chest heaved—but air didn't come. Instead, his mouth opened and closed on its own, and a spray of bubbles escaped.
Bubbles?
Something was wrong.
His arms—gone. He tried to push himself up, but only stubby fins flailed against the ground. His legs—gone too. Instead, a single tail flicked behind him, jerking his whole body with each twitch. His skin wasn't skin at all. It was slimy, coated in slick scales.
He wanted to scream, but all that came out was another helpless blub.
And then came the roar.
The sound split the world in two. It wasn't just noise—it was vibration, rattling through the water, through the ground, through his very bones. Something vast was out there.
Wind slammed into him like a wall, shoving him across the wet earth. The air stank of frost and ash. He didn't need to "see" it to know: something impossible was in front of him. Something ancient. Something big enough to shake the heavens with a single breath.
Somewhere, over the chaos, a voice thundered: "DODGE IT! JUST DODGE IT!"
He didn't know who shouted, but instinct screamed louder: move or die.
The air grew colder. His tiny body stiffened as a wave of frozen breath blasted across the land. The wet ground turned solid beneath him, slick with ice. He slapped his fins wildly, flipping onto his side, and barely avoided being flash-frozen. The edge of the blast numbed his tail until he couldn't feel it anymore. A strange sense pulsed inside him—like a life bar shrinking to a single sliver. One hit left.
The earth quaked. A shadow passed overhead.
Then the claw came down.
The impact cratered the ice where he had just been, shards exploding into the air. The shockwave launched him upward. He bounced once, twice, three times, each strike rattling his tiny body.
"Blub! Blub!" he squealed, flopping uncontrollably.
The vibrations shifted again. Air crackled. His tiny body hairs—what few he had left—buzzed as static filled the air. Above, lightning cracked the sky apart. Bolts rained down in deafening explosions, their heat boiling the water around him. One bolt hit nearby, and the pond burst upward like a geyser. The spray carried him higher into the air.
For one horrifying moment, he hung suspended, helpless.
Then came the wingbeat.
Air pressure punched him sideways. His body hit the ground, skidded, and spun. His scales tore against the ice. The taste of metal filled his mouth. He thought, wildly, I'm going to die as a fish. A useless fish.
The ground trembled again. A new heat washed over him—thicker, heavier, suffocating. Fire. The air vibrated with a low, building hum as something vast inhaled. Even without seeing, he felt it: a torrent of flame gathering, aimed directly at him.
His little body trembled. He remembered fists slamming into him back when he was human. He remembered laughter—his bullies' laughter, the sound of contempt. He remembered being nothing. Invisible. Useless.
Maybe this was it. Maybe dying here was still better than living that way.
The roar built to its peak.
And then, something inside him snapped.
He flopped. Desperately. Not like a fish gasping for air, but like a creature fighting for life itself. His tail smacked the ice with absurd force, and the world tilted. His body shot upward, past the furnace-heat, past the storm winds.
Up. Up.
Through the clouds. Into the thin air where breathing didn't matter anymore. The cold became sharp and clean. Stars pricked the darkness above. He was still flopping, body jerking uselessly in nothingness, but momentum carried him higher and higher.
For one insane instant, he was a koi fish in space.
Then gravity took him.
The fall was faster than anything he could understand. The air shrieked around him. His body burned, flames licking his scales until he glowed like a meteor. Heat seared every nerve. His fins trailed fire like comet tails.
Below, the ground shook with anticipation.
The massive creature that hunted him looked up. Too late.
He hit.
BOOOOOOOM.
The world tore open. The shockwave flattened forests. The frozen river shattered to vapor. Mountains cracked like broken teeth.
The great white dragon—whatever it was—screamed. Its massive body slammed into the ground, wings breaking, bones splintering, life draining in a roar that shook the heavens.
Silence fell.
He twitched once. Twice. Charred black, every nerve raw—but alive. Somehow alive. He coughed up a single bubble, rolled, and flopped back into the broken river.
Somewhere behind him, the human voice shouted again, manic with triumph: "Treasure's mine! Hahahaha!"
Boots thudded on ice, metal clanged as something heavy was pried free, but the koi didn't care. The human didn't even glance at him.
The koi floated on his side, stunned. The water carried him slowly downstream. Ash drifted on the surface.
He thought of his old life. Of fists, jeers, and shame. Of being overlooked.
Now, somehow, impossibly, he had killed a dragon.
Not with strength. Not with courage. With a bounce.
He twitched, flipped upright, and let the current take him. Burned, broken, but alive.
Alive.
Waiting for whatever came next.