Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

Cain was out of breath as he swung his swords again and again over the course of 20 minutes.

Each time, Natorio caught the blades with his wooden swords or dodged them entirely. He would have been confused and irritated if Gaius hadn't explained to him what was actually happening.

'He's using an extreme form of reinforcement magic. It's fascinating. The amount of mana required for this application is immense yet on the surface he looks like he isn't striuggling at all.

'Looks like?'

His mana reserves are starting to run dry. He will probably tell you to stop any minute now.

Another clash of blades occured before Gaius' prediction came true. However, Natorio still had his pride and would never let a student know that he was tired.

The way he brought it to a stop was to suddenly lash out with a brutal kick to Cain's chest. A sickening crack echoed out as Cain slid back, his toes trying to dig into the ground to prevent himself from falling out of the ring.

"That fucking hurt.' He winced, having barely managed to keep his feet in the ring. The students watched with bated breaths.

Cain steadied himself and narrowed his eyes. He was still standing, but that kick rattled him. His ribs throbbed with every breath, and the impact had left a deep ache in his chest.

Natorio slowly straightened his posture, lowering his wooden swords as he spoke.

"You're done for today. Any more and you'll start forming bad habits."

Cain clenched his jaw but gave a small nod. He wasn't about to argue. His body agreed even if his pride didn't.

As he stepped back toward the edge of the ring, he heard a few murmurs from the crowd. Some students looked impressed. Others looked terrified.

"You were reckless," Natorio said as he approached. "But I saw it. That instinct. That moment where you stopped thinking and simply moved. It was impressive!"

Cain looked up at him, sweat dripping from his chin. "Isn't that the point of this class?"

Natorio let out a short chuckle. "Not quite. But you're getting there."

He slapped Cain on the back with his large meaty hand which caused the latter to.flinch. Cain could almost swear that the pat on the back hurt more than getting kicked in the chest.

'He's frustrated. A little annoyed too but he's undeniably impressed with you.'

Gaius' words caused Cain some confusion. Why would the instructor who had dominated the fight from start to finish be frustrated and annoyed.

As if already expecting the next question Cain was about to ask, Gaius' was already ready to share what he observed from his disciple.

'Look at his foot.'

Cain did as he was asked and his eyes went wide for a second. The instructors toes on the foot hs used to kick Cain were swollen, a telltale sign that they had been broken!

'In that brief moment of contact, you instinctively counterattacked using your elbow. You did good my disciple~!'

Cain's eyes flicked back to Natorio, who stood tall and composed. No sign of pain. No limp. Not even a twitch. To the watching students, he looked completely unfazed.

"You're telling me I broke his toes without realizing it?" Cain muttered under his breath

'Yes. The fact you did it without realizing it is even more impressive. Your instructor here must have a reputation to uphold. A simple man like him carries a great pride about maintaining his body.'

Gaius fell silent for a moment as he began to think.

'I believe it's best you thank him for his guidance now. It will soothe his wounded pride and make you look better in his eyes.'

Cain nodded before he approached Natorio, stopping a few steps away before cupping his fist and bowing slightly.

"Thank you for the guidance."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Natorio threw his head back and let out a booming laugh that echoed across the training grounds.

"HA! Now that's what I like to see!"

Several students flinched at the volume, while others turned to watch.

Natorio stepped forward and clapped a heavy hand on Cain's shoulder, nearly making him buckle.

"You've got guts, boy! And manners! If the rest of these brats showed half the spine you did today, I might actually enjoy teaching!"

Cain gave a stiff nod, wincing slightly under the weight of the instructor's hand.

"You keep showing that kind of spirit, and you might even survive this school."

He turned to the rest of the students.

"Take notes, all of you! This is how you learn. You give it everything, and when you get knocked down, you get up, say thank you, and ask for more!"

Some of the students nodded. Others looked like they'd just been given a death sentence.

Natorio turned back to Cain and grinned wide, his teeth gleaming in the sun.

"Don't get cocky, though. Next time, I won't go easy on you."

Cain didn't respond. He just stepped back and exhaled, slowly.

He could tell from the look in his classmates eyes that his old nickname as the 'Trash Prince' was dead.

No one laughed. No one scoffed. No one looked down at him anymore.

For the first time since arriving at the academy, Cain felt like he had taken a real step forward.

Not because he won.

But because he finally made them look at him differently.

And that was enough... For now.

A brief silence lingered over the training grounds, broken only by the shuffle of feet and the occasional clink of wooden weapons.

Then—

"Hey! Sorry I'm late! Why's everyone looking so serious right now?"

Every head turned toward the far end of the field.

Cain froze.

His eye twitched. His lip curled. And slowly, the pride he felt just moments ago turned into something far more volatile.

Rage.

Pure, burning rage.

He didn't even need to look to know who it was. That voice, that cocky, half-apologetic tone, laced with fake innocence. It could only be one person.

Abel.