Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

The Librarian's tone was calm but edged with a hint of pride. "To me, knowledge is power. To acquire it, to understand it, to preserve it… that is my true desire. That is the essence of my skill."

Cain blinked, absorbing the words. Greed, not of gold or riches, but of knowledge itself. The thought made sense in a way he had not expected.

"So," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "you have discerned this without seeing me wield it, without witnessing any display of power. That is… impressive. It means you understand instinctively how the Sin Skills manifest, at least in part."

Cain hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. "I… I did not really know," he admitted, his voice low. "It was more of a gut feeling than anything else."

For a brief moment, the Librarian froze, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Then she let out a soft laugh, the sound delicate and melodic. She lifted her sleeve to cover her mouth, hiding the smile that had appeared.

"Your intuition is sharp," she said after a moment, her voice still carrying that quiet amusement. "Not many would have even guessed, and even fewer would admit it so honestly. That honesty… it is rare, and it is admirable."

Cain felt a faint warmth at the compliment, though he did not know if it was from pride or surprise.

She leaned slightly closer, her gaze steady and serious now. "Since it is not every day I meet someone with a skill from the same series as mine, I will offer you a gift."

Cain blinked, unsure how to respond. The air around her seemed to thrum with the weight of her words, and even Gaius' presence in his mind felt tense with curiosity.

"A gift?" Cain repeated cautiously.

"Yes," she said simply, tilting her head, her smile returning just slightly. "Consider it a token for recognizing potential, for reading beyond appearances, and for daring to act with courage where others might falter."

Cain's mind raced, trying to anticipate what form this gift might take, and whether accepting it would change anything in ways he could not yet foresee.

The Librarian lifted her hand slowly, her fingers curling with a practiced grace. A moment later, a book lifted from a nearby shelf, its leather cover worn with age, and hovered silently before her. She caught it with ease and carried it over to the table, setting it carefully in front of Cain.

Cain leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he studied the book. The leather was cracked and brittle, its pages yellowed and faintly curling at the edges. Strange symbols crawled across every page in a language he did not recognize. He glanced up at her, confusion written clearly across his face.

The Librarian's gaze lingered on him, sharp and knowing. She smirked lightly, tilting her head. "Do what you do best with this," she said, her tone teasing yet authoritative.

Cain blinked, staring at her. "I… I don't understand," he admitted. The book's symbols seemed to shift slightly in the corner of his vision, as if mocking him.

The Librarian rolled her eyes, the faintest laugh escaping her. "Of course you do not. Then do what you always do." She leaned closer, her voice dropping just enough to emphasize the instruction. "Eat it."

Cain froze, his confusion and disbelief escalating. Eat it? Literally? Or…? His mind spun as he stared at the book, unsure if she spoke metaphorically, magically, or was testing him in some other, more dangerous way.

The Librarian watched him silently, her cold eyes gleaming with amusement as she waited for him to act.

Cain's pulse quickened, his fingers hovering over the strange book as though it might bite him. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his racing heart. "You mean… I just… eat it?" he asked, voice tight.

The Librarian tilted her head, her smirk widening ever so slightly. "Do not overthink it. You will understand once it is inside you. The language, the symbols, the knowledge… it is yours to absorb. That is the nature of what I give."

Cain's eyes darted over the pages again. The characters seemed impossibly intricate, like a web of thoughts he could not trace. His stomach twisted with a mixture of dread and curiosity.

"I… what happens if I fail?" he asked cautiously.

"Gluttony is not such a puny skill that it will fail to work from something like this."

Cain blinked, his forehead creasing. "It… it just works? Even if I have no idea what this says?"

The Librarian's eyes glinted, faintly amused but serious. "Exactly. The book is a vessel. The knowledge, the power, the skill within it… they are not bound to your understanding of the script. You need only to accept it. That is the first step."

Cain swallowed, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the edge of the book. The leather felt oddly warm now, as though it pulsed with life, and the strange symbols seemed to shimmer faintly, almost like they were breathing.

"Once it is absorbed," she said, her voice quiet but commanding, "you will understand its meaning. That understanding will grow inside you, not on the page. Trust yourself. Trust what you do best."

He glanced up at her, searching her calm, ice blue eyes for any hint of mockery or danger. There was none. Only quiet confidence, a measured certainty that made his heart pound in equal parts fear and awe.

Cain exhaled sharply. "Alright. Then… here goes nothing."

He leaned forward, letting the edge of the book brush against his lips. The texture was strange, leathery yet oddly tender. He bit down cautiously, tasting the faint bitterness of old ink and paper.

It tasted horrible.

But Cain froze, his eyes widening in shock as his teeth sank into the book. The leather cover and thick pages should have resisted, should have fought back. He could feel the faint hum of protective magic, the enchantments woven into the grimoire meant to prevent it from being destroyed.

Yet somehow, effortlessly, his teeth tore through it as if it were soft tofu. Each bite made the symbols on the pages ripple and shift before dissolving into a warmth that crept down his throat and spread through his chest.

He swallowed the last piece, his heart hammering, and stared at the empty table in disbelief. The enchanted grimoire, powerful and ancient, meant to last centuries, was gone.