Shibai burst into laughter, a clear but arrogant laugh.
"Refuse? Come now, Dekamoshi. Look at yourself. The power you possess now, it's because of me, because of my Shinju tree. You are bound to the Otsutsuki clan, whether you like it or not."
Dekamoshi lowered his eyes for a moment, but not in submission. He was thinking. He knew Shibai was partly right.
"I don't yet have the power to counter him, so let's keep a low profile for now."
"You speak of serving the clan, but where was the clan when I fought alone? When I was a slave treated like scum?" asked Dekamoshi, raising his head.
Shibai slightly furrowed his eyebrows, surprised by Dekamoshi's bold tone.
"Fascinating," murmured Shibai. "You dare to challenge me, despite all that I represent."
He extended his hand, and a golden energy sphere appeared, lazily floating above his palm.
"Perhaps I should remind you of your place?"
Dekamoshi took a slight step back, ready to react. He felt that Shibai was testing his limits, seeking to establish clear dominance.
"I am not your toy, Shibai," said Dekamoshi, his voice calm but firm.
Shibai's smile widened.
"I'm not here to fight... So prove to me that you deserve this power," he replied.
Before Dekamoshi could respond, Shibai raised a finger and pointed towards the sky. A dimensional fissure opened, revealing a vision of another world—a lush world vibrant with life.
"This is your next mission," said Shibai. "This world will be the next to host a Shinju tree. And you will lead the expedition. Bring back some slaves and a few servants."
Dekamoshi narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was an opportunity or a trap.
"Fulfill this task, and I might consider letting you become my equal. Fail, and I will destroy everything you have become."
Silence fell, heavy and tense. Dekamoshi clenched his fists.
"Very well," he said finally, his voice cold but determined. "I will do it."
Shibai burst into laughter again.
"We'll see, Dekamoshi. We'll see."
As Shibai disappeared in a brilliant light, leaving Dekamoshi alone before the dimensional portal, the latter took a moment to think.
He knew that this mission was just another step in a much larger game. But now he had a clear purpose:
"To survive, grow, and ultimately overthrow those who sought to control me."
He took a step forward, entering the portal.
Over the centuries:
Dekamoshi rose to a position he never imagined achieving. Through his colossal power and ability to navigate dimensions, he became one of the ten most powerful beings in the Otsutsuki clan. Yet, despite his ascent, he remained far below the power of Shibai and especially that of the clan leader.
Shibai, having noticed Dekamoshi's brutal efficiency, made him his sword, his right-hand man. Dekamoshi became a name that inspired fear and submission in all the dimensions explored by the Otsutsuki. Generations of warriors and civilizations that stood against him were systematically annihilated. Shibai saw him as the perfect tool: obedient, methodical, and relentless.
Dekamoshi's role was not limited to destroying and planting Shinju trees. He was the pioneer of the most promising dimensions, those teeming with extraordinary potential, ensuring that the resulting chakra fruits would be among the most concentrated.
However, each mission brought growing frustration. The fruits, objects of immeasurable power, were not for him. They were given to Shibai, who fed on them to draw closer to absolute divinity.
Torn between his imposed role and personal ambitions, Dekamoshi made a crucial decision: he would no longer limit himself to the dimensions chosen by Shibai. He would start exploring lesser dimensions, universes deemed useless by the clan.
He would destroy them, alone, and feed on the resulting Shinju fruits, increasing his own power.
Over the millennia:
Dekamoshi transformed into a force of nature. The dimensions he traversed were no longer territories to conquer but slaughterhouses. It didn't matter the grandeur or innocence of the peoples he encountered.
Using manipulation to infiltrate their midst, he spared no one: neither the warriors who tried to defend their homes, nor the women pleading for their lives, nor the innocent children, nor the elderly murmuring prayers to their gods. Every dimension crossed became a cemetery, a sea of blood and viscera left in his wake.
The Dekamoshi who once wept over his first massacres was no more. He had become a being consumed by a desire for revenge and an insatiable thirst for power.
"I destroy to build myself," he repeated like a mantra, justifying the horror he embodied.
Millennium after millennium, Dekamoshi absorbed the energy of the dimensions he destroyed, approaching the power of a true god. His physical and spiritual transformations continued, shaping a being that rivaled Shibai himself.
His abyssal skin became almost liquid, like a moving mantle of shadow. His Rinne Sharingan with twelve tomoe now had 27. His horns widened, forming a dark crown, and his aura was so oppressive that it seemed to suck in the very air itself.
But this power came at a cost: he was gradually losing his humanity.
The massacres, the loneliness, and the limitless power had plunged him into a silent madness. Every scream he heard echoed in his mind long after the last breath of his victims had faded. Every terrified face haunted his dreams, turning his rare moments of respite into relentless nightmares.
He had become the very thing he hated the most.
However, despite his growing madness for his vengeance, one thing kept him grounded in reality: carnal pleasure...