The root of shame is not personal, it is the ignominy, and the humiliation felt when we must be what we are without any choice in the matter. This humiliation is seen by everyone. Though many rejoiced, the Val’gara would never become what they were destined to be and in many ways, this was sad. The aspiration of assimilation was over. In the eyes of the Disciple, the ideology of Idea was just one, never to be fulfilled, at least not anymore. The ambition, never to be rekindled again was slain even before the death of Colossus. In her place, Caorthannach remained. As stubborn as she was, she knew. The will of the daughter was not the mothers, but in her mourning, she tried anyway. Though morally incensed, she would fail. They all would, as long as they continued to fight, but this was the only future ahead of them. This was now…

Though dishonored, the double-layered words of Disciple subsisted. Megalodon heard these words. The multiple entendre of messages veiled within Disciple’s speech placed his against Amphiprioninae’s. With this, the shark no longer knew who was right. He was distressed, troubled, confused even. With two feuding voices in opposite corners of his head, he couldn’t take it, completely abandoning the Brainscramblers, leaving them to be dealt with by the vaporizing blast. No one could see where he was after it's mad dash across the continent, but the mouthpiece understood exactly what was to be done. The indidious seed planted by him stirred a conflict that interfered with the foundation of the symbiotic pair’s relationship. Amphriprioninae could not calm the shark; he could not influence him in the slightest. He could not control Megalodon.

His words affected one side of the herald’s mind but Disciple occupied the other. In this instance, it was unclear to Amphriprioninae why Disciple even allowed him in as he was revitalized, undistracted and strong, but the answer was quite clear. In Megalodon’s confused state, like a trapped animal he was, he would do anything to escape. Anything ironically, as Disciple understood, could only lead to [b]one[/b] thing. With his strategic twisting of the knife, the shark's mental torment continued. The cerebral tug of war had to end and it would find a way.

Clenching the dome on its head, Megalodon let out a roar that exhibited great pain, confusion, and misery. This was not what he or they were supposed to be. Made to fight, born for war. He wanted to be great. He wanted to carry out Idea’s will. He wanted above all else to do as he was designed to but never had he the opportunity to so. His potential would go unfulfilled. His introspection led him to understand the unfair reality before him, adding to his already heightened hysteria.

The marine monster's claws scraped against the container, digging into the perceived glass of the bowl. With a yank capable of tugging a mountain, he pulled the bowl from his partner’s psychic grip. Looking into the cold eyes of Amphriprioninae, the creature only sought to rid himself of the mental battleground that was his mind. He needed silence and upon the shattering of the bowl, he received it, submerging himself into the depths of the dimension within. A literal ocean that felt welcoming. One that shielded him from the reality the Herald sought so hard to escape from. An ocean in which allowed him to be free. And there, he slept, perhaps to never be awoken again...

In his wake, only a puddle remained.