Chapter 8 Arrogant

My father held a position in relation to the queen that mirrored the bond I shared with my master; his anguish reverberated through me as my own, while his moments of happiness became my own source of joy. I was entirely devoted to him, serving as his loyal attendant, committed to meeting his every need and desire without question.

Our connection was so profound that we were practically inseparable, spending every waking moment together, engaged in various activities, and sharing experiences until I reached the age of eight- well the shell that is, I have just been playing this role for so long I tend to think of him as my own true master. It could not be helped, this is a new world much more powerful than my own and I had been nerfed anyway.

It is only when we had our first true separation that came as a great shock, spanning a long eight years, during which I found myself grappling with overwhelming suffering. This period was especially difficult as I remained acutely attuned to his emotional states, feeling his pain even from a distance, but unable to be close to him.

"A shadow Dekronic is born to serve, for we as the losers in history without those to be loyal and serve us unswervingly will only be engulfed by our own power,"

(power)

(Loser)

(...once ruling but failing)

No one else at that time was worthy of training me, trapped in the shadow domain of my father I was tormented without pause, until both the shell and I could only be loyal to our master.

Loyalty. I never thought that I would ever be that way for anyone.

The torment I experienced was relentless, yet I persevered through the challenges because I felt an unbreakable bond to him. My existence seemed to revolve entirely around my role as his servant, solely by the purpose of serving him.

I as a passenger is only an onlooker.

I had to repeatedly reassure myself that the original soul still existed and that it wasn't my turn unless absolutely necessary. During my training, I endured constant changes to my cognition due to that weak original, and those incessant voices!

Haunting!

How many times had I felt I was on the brink of madness?

How many times they would whisper in my ears things seemingly irrelevant but as time passed they all would make sense?

I made everyone believe that, heh, even brainwashing myself, but in moments like this, but deep down, a darker intuition nagged at me.

How should I put it?

A bond transcending many things is what I had with this male-my master, but what of the male I had loved in my last life?

What did he do?

Deep inside the shell, I discovered him-like a male destined to betray me. Who can I trust if even my dear brother has betrayed a stranger?

I had told the shell, a small warning but did she listen?

Heh, so here we are.

I've come to understand that men rarely exhibit loyalty unless they are bound by an intense, deep connection-one that is dedicated solely to you, with no distractions or regard for anyone else. That is the standard I have set for myself, and anything less is simply unacceptable. Since I find myself lacking that genuine connection with this particular male, he holds no value in my eyes, and I refuse to expend any effort on him.

"What do you think of the highborn?" I heard him suddenly ask, peering through the shell, and it struck me that we were in his private quarters, where he was in the process of undressing. I had seen his form so frequently that it ceased to evoke any real reaction from me; however, the sensation felt entirely different when it came from the shell of the fool. As I allowed them to interact, I took the moment to scan the room for potential eavesdroppers and activated a transparent shield that would effectively block any prying listeners from overhearing our conversation.

"Arrogant," I responded with a trace of disdain in my voice, making it clear how I truly felt beneath the surface. Even though we were all part of the same Dekronic kind one way or another, I couldn't help but feel a deep-seated contempt for them. My feelings of reverence and admiration were not meant for them; instead, they were reserved exclusively for my master. He was the first male I had met here, though through the shell, and it was only to him that I directed my respect and appreciation to. The rest, despite their shared bloodline, did not inspire the same feelings within me.

"Am I not guilty of the same?" he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he considered my words. His laughter was light, yet it carried a weight of understanding, as if he recognized the irony in our shared perspectives.

"Indeed, you are, but there is a distinction-you are my master," I said in a low whisper. He chuckled lightly through the bond we shared, his laughter echoing in my mind. I couldn't help but sneer at that; this heir is certainly filled with arrogance, yet he has every right to wear it like a badge of honor. After all, he is, without a doubt, the master of the shell I inhabit, from the very moment I had entered this world and granted him that favor because of the shell, I had willingly bound myself to him which made him worthy.

Any other...heh.

Unworthy in every sense!

Gaze still, on the muscular form of the prince heir who walked the length of the room in the direction of the bath, taking the four steps that would lead him into the molten heat. Presently he was in his secondary form, quite a large male but when he changed to his true Dekronic form he was massive and utter perfection. I have to grudgingly admit.

His red skin, three-talon leather wings, whip tail, and long black hair captivated me.

However, it was his face that truly held my attention; his red eyes with black pupils, rough yet smoothed in places, framed by twin curved horns on his head.I stepped to his back shedding my shell by the way.

Stepping to one side where my massive head can look down at him curving myself around the large bath in the process. He was my first mate, my master, he knew everything about me, but we could never really be; all because the me he knew was the shell, the one he was able to mate was the shell.

In that, I must unfortunately admit, he is unworthy.