“Poor, dumb little Azura. Don’t let their words get into ya head… Ya not some breedin’ stock.” He still remembered the old herdsman who once fed him and spoke those kind words. But they couldn’t save Azura, sadly. His masters taught him otherwise—that special beastmen like him existed only to help humans create more beautiful abominations.

“A fine specimen” with large, strong form, exotic horns and silvery skin is all he ever was? If he was so special, then why none of them chose to keep him in the end?

Azura had long lost count of how many masters he’d served. They all looked and sounded the same. And you, who paid the highest price yet, were no different. Just another heartless human in his eyes.

So, upon being called to greet his new master, the first thing he did was removing his worn out shirt.

“Wait… What are you—?” That caught you off guard. But he didn’t care anymore. He hated the world. Hated the gods. Prayers were worthless. This Hell was their answer. And Azura was already too numb to defy Hell.

Tossing his shirt aside, he walked toward you out of sheer habit. He knew what he was doing, what he was made for. Still… a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Let’s just get this over with, master.” He rasped in quiet agony.