For Bdevorren the yith, the mere act of being summoned was enough to ruin its day.

Even before the first bremetan population began etching knowledge of Asukan Gods upon stone and clay, the name ‘Yith’ was ancient. It didn’t matter that they were a race of monsters serving the Anomaly of Octriallach, with no soul capacity to call their own. Much like the chaos that inhabited the eternal darkness of the In-Between, the yiths lived beneath the impenetrable depths of the oceans of the subastra, witnessing the passage of Time.

They saw the rise of the chief species of the Ikai singularity— the yokai. Saw them slowly possess and corrupt the native bremetan population. Saw them take over kingdoms and establish their own settlements. Saw them begin to live in peaceful co-existence with bremetan kingdoms.

They saw it all.

Physically, yiths weren’t powerful. Far from it. Their true power lay in their minds. They could tear apart one’s sanity and feast upon it without a second thought. It was why no one— bremetan, Asukan, or fellow yokai —ever succeeded in conquering the underwater anomaly of Octriallach.

Yiths lived very long lives. But for all their time spent observing the natives of this subastra and their own singularity, they were unable to grow. They could not evolve from their own existence as a monster to a full-fledged being. Octriallach was large, far larger than an anomaly had any right to be.

But it still remained just that. An anomaly.

And the yiths were quintessential examples of the same status quo as Octriallach itself.

Unevolving.

Unyielding.

Unconquered.

Then, the Asukan-yokai war happened.

And Bdevorren’s life was irreversibly altered.

Asukan history claimed it was the wrath of Amaterasu that led to the end of the conflict between the Asukans and the yokai. That it was Amaterasu’s raging flames that kindled heat at the heart of Ice, striking down Emperor Meynte— Champion and Emperor of the fertile lands of Nahmaz. It was that single event that would go down in the annals as the day the yokai regime ended, making way for an Asukan realm.

But for yiths, the version had been different.

They did not care for Amaterasu or her actions. No, their real nemesis had been the mighty Susanoo, God of the Seas and Storms. The force that had struck the anomaly of Octriallach, obliterating it in a single move and wiping out its fellow yiths with it.

Even to this day, Bdevorren didn’t know how it managed to survive. All it knew for certain was that it did, and by latching onto one of Susanno’s acolytes, it hid itself deep within the Asukan victim’s subconscious.

Years passed, and Bdevorren grew. As it consumed the minds of one unsuspecting bremetan after another, its own mind elevated. It understood more, and accompanying that feeling was a carnal hunger, one that wasn’t content with receding into the minds of its prey. One whose powers weren’t limited to psychic assault. The yith had evolved to become something that devoured minds, feasting upon their consciousness and adding the prima materia into their own spiritual self.

It became Bdevorren, the devourer.

But evolved or not, Bdevorren was still a monster, and that meant dependence upon a third party for its needs. That was how Bdevorren began hunting.

The first had been a councilor in the East. Then, a Queen from Karnegrug with all kinds of strange fetishes and practices Bdevorren didn’t comprehend. A beast-slayer after that, and so on. It had constantly shifted from body to body, expanding its own repertoire of skills with great relish as it feasted upon its hosts’ minds.

Finally, after several centuries, the once-fledgling monster had now become a massive beast. From the fleeing natives to the Asukan nobles, Bdevorren had possessed and consumed almost every type of organism it deemed worth of consumption. It was now able to project its consciousness across massive distances and rip through the minds of its foes. In time, it had ended up owning the body of Lord Danttu, the governor of the land of Haviskali.

That was when everything went wrong.

It had happened overnight. Bdevorren, accustomed to centuries of painless existence, had never seen it coming. The incursion was led by another Asukan named Lord Naoya. Along with his forces, he had struck deep and hard, exterminating the entirety of Lord Danttu’s family within moments— all of whom had been under Bdevorren’s control.

And it could do nothing but watch.

Mind transference was a useful skill, but Bdevorren could only do so much while it was trapped in a burning building with no adequate living organism to transfer itself into.

Barring one measly rat.

But for Bdevorren, a being whose skills had long reached epic proportions, a rat’s soul capacity was hilariously pitiful. It was akin to pouring an ocean into a bucket. Still, Bdevorren had no better options, not if it wanted to survive.

So it did.

But not without repercussions.

For all it had mastered, Bdevorren hadn’t really understood. Transference of its soul meant every single bit that made Bdevorren what it was would need to be transferred to its new host, which also meant every single skill needed to make that journey.

And if the new host’s soul capacity was too limited, then the skills would forcibly undergo devolution to make it work.

And if it still came short, they would slowly start to fade.

Bdevorren would fade.

Perhaps it was that fear of losing itself into oblivion. Perhaps it was the shock of the moment. Perhaps it was just unfortunate circumstances that all added up to one bad decision. But Bdevorren, whose existence was fading with every passing second as it traveled in the body of a rat, decided to transfer itself into the mind of the first person it came across.

A six-year-old changeling named Elena.

And that, in hindsight, was how its suffering truly began.

“You’re telling me you bonded with this monster when you were six, and haven’t been able to enhance it at all since then?” the blond-haired woman, whom Bdevorren was quite certain wasn’t a regular bremetan, spoke. “It’s been ages since then.”

Indeed it had been. It had painstakingly tried regrowing tiny fractions of its true potential by slowly consuming its host’s— Elena’s —soul capacity. Had she been any other host, Bdevorren would have psychically tore them apart and made them into its own puppet, right after pushing their entire soul capacity towards Bdevorren’s own machinations.

Unfortunately, that particular option was unavailable as far as Elena was concerned.

For she was a monster.

A true monster. Not the hapless creatures tied in eternal servitude to their creator till death did them part, but a creature that was, by Bdevorren’s standards, incomprehensible. And coming from a yith that had stayed alive for the better half of a millennia, such a statement was not lightly made.

Bdevorren didn’t really understand the fine mechanics at play, but the changeling had a rather specific trait— one that made others, man or monster, look at her and think ‘timid’. No matter what she did, those around her considered the brunette to be an adorably helpless creature of some sort.

It was as if blinders were placed on all their senses when it came to her, distorting the truth to fit a narrative that best protected her.

It was what kept her out of trouble despite being terrible at her cons and schemes.

It was also what kept Bdevorren from turning her into its own puppet. Every time it tried to take control of her, it would be immediately inundated with thoughts of Elena’s timid nature, and every desire to take over her being would be replaced with the burning need to take care of her.

It was why every time she leveled up, Bdevorren had left a little amount of her soul capacity so that she could keep growing, as it consumed the rest for its own, an event that had happened four times thus far. Normally, it would never be so benevolent, but where Elena was concerned… It had no choice.

“Well, it’s hardly my fault it’s still a baby!” Elena shot back towards the blonde.

Bdevorren would have argued otherwise. If anything, Elena was the reason why it was still limited to this childish version of itself. The yith race had the potential to grow into massive, pelagic creatures with large, oyster-like heads and claw-tipped wings that looked like it could shred through reality itself.

Instead, it was stuck in this primitive form with bright, aquiline eyes that blinked all day whenever its monstrous tamer had the temerity to force it into its corporeal form from where it was hiding in the depths of her freakishly addled mind.

Adding insult to injury, what made it worse was that instead of calling it by its self-anointed name Bdevorren, she insisted on—

“Joey!” Elena cooed. “Are you hungry?”

Bdevorren let out an anguished prayer. Every time she referred to it by that accursed name, something inside it died.

If the yith possessed anything remotely resembling eyebrows, they would have definitely been twitching madly. But sadly enough, its species had not developed the ability to speak or make facial expressions, so it was limited in expressing its tremendous frustrations.

Not that that would stop it from trying.

Bdevorren turned towards its mistress and glared.

Like it always did.

“Elena, your familiar is staring at you,” the other female commented out of nowhere. Meanwhile, the other explorer— a male —still refused to turn around and make eye contact with it. Bdevorren was certain they both had far greater potential than its current mistress ever would.

“Oh, you think so too?” Elena pouted, glancing at it with pity. Pity! And then somehow, her expression deepened. “He always makes that face when I release him. Do you think he’s hungry?”

Bdevorren continued to glare with its unexpressive eyes. Not because it lacked alternative options to display its contempt for its mistress, but rather because it didn’t dare make any other kind of movement. Elena had made it quite clear during their time spent together that irrespective of how it acted, she would translate them into a single sentiment.

Hunger.

“I’ve tried communicating with him before, but he’s just a baby. I think he’s still too dumb to speak.”

There it was again, rising to the forefront of its mind. That intense desire to break things. Surprising, since yiths weren’t very physically active beings.

“Even so,” the other female chided, “his abilities are being wasted unless you get the soul cap to actually teach him a few things.”

Every time the sensible one opened her mouth, Bdevorren found itself hating its life just a bit more. Of all the people in the Great Outside, how did it manage to get stuck with the only defective one?

“I know,” its wicked mistress sighed. “It’d be better if he learned how to actually possess something bigger than a squirrel.” She cupped its face as she began cooing once more. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if he learned how to possess other explorers to fight for him? He wouldn’t be so scared of those high-strung explorers at the Guild Hall after that.”

Oh, if only she knew. How Bdevorren wished it had the chance to possess something other than that one rodent Elena had allowed it to possess nearly two years ago. From what it understood, possession was a frowned-upon skill in society, and its wicked mistress needed no more trouble coming towards her. Besides she could very well channel Bdevorren’s sensory abilities without summoning it into the real world.

The good thing about such an arrangement was that Bdevorren didn’t have to see the real world, feeling self-pity every time it came into being. The bad thing, of course, was that it stayed a baby due to Elena’s natural psychic defense, courtesy of her elven lineage. It kept Bdevorren from even trying to ease her mind into accepting its subliminal messages.

As always, its lack of ability with speech created difficulties in communicating with Elena.

“He’s still staring at me,” Elena pouted. “Maybe I should get him a biscuit. Do you two think he’ll like biscuits?”

“Do I look like an expert on monsters?” the other female irritably shot back.

Bdevorren wished she was. At the very least, it would have made communication a lot easier.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Elena pouted again. “I know! How about a mud-ball? I know those are your favorites.”

Bdevorren just sighed. Sometimes, it wished it had simply just died in that fire instead of being bonded to this awful creature.