Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

Cain stood slowly, pushing himself away from the table. The stillness of the library pressed in on him, the silence no longer comforting but expectant, as if the walls themselves were watching him.

His hands flexed once, twice, still trembling faintly from the torrent of knowledge that had fused into him. He had come here seeking answers, and he found more than a few.

The temptation clawed at him even as he walked toward the doors. His thoughts were restless, running over the new patterns and words that had taken root in his mind. Symbols flickered behind his eyes, whispers of ancient energy that begged to be spoken. His pulse quickened at the thought of what might happen if he let them free.

He paused at the threshold. He could not ignore this. Not yet. The hunger of Gluttony had been fed, but the curiosity it left behind was something even stronger.

The Librarian said nothing as he left. She did not need to. He could still feel her gaze on his back, cool and sharp, as if she already knew where his next steps would take him.

The corridors beyond the library were quiet, lined with faintly glowing crystals that lit the path. Cain moved quickly, each stride firm with purpose. He could almost feel the new skills pressing against the edges of his control, like water straining against a dam. If he waited too long, the pressure might break him.

When he reached the hall of services, he placed his hand on the polished counter. The clerk behind it raised her brows at his expression, but Cain's tone was calm and decisive.

"I need a private training ground. The strongest wards you have."

The clerk hesitated, studying him for a heartbeat before nodding briskly. She slid a slate across the counter, etched with runes of binding and authorization. Cain pressed his palm against it, and the runes flared to life, binding the chamber to him for the day.

He exhaled slowly as he took the key crystal. The choice was made. The techniques inside him demanded release, and he was no longer willing to wait.

Cain left the hall behind, his grip tightening around the crystal as he stepped into the stairwell that led down to the isolated grounds. His heart beat faster with every step, anticipation and danger curling together in his chest.

The air in the private training ground was still, carrying the faint hum of layered wards. Cain stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind him with a soft thud. The chamber stretched wide and high, walls of smooth stone veined with glowing sigils. Every surface had been inscribed to absorb stray magic, ensuring that what was unleashed here could not bleed beyond its boundaries.

Cain stood at the center, placing the crystal key into the pedestal that activated the seals. A dull chime echoed once, and the faint shimmer of a barrier spread across the room before vanishing from sight. He was alone, locked in with whatever power he could summon.

His breathing steadied as he closed his eyes. The words of the technique rose from the depths of his memory as if they had always been there. Primordial Basic Energy Gathering. Not just a method, but a foundation. He could feel its shape in his mind, the flow of life and mana drawn together into a rhythm older than language itself.

He lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs, letting his hands rest on his knees. For a moment he simply listened. The silence of the chamber was deceptive. Beneath it was a current, faint but constant, like the heartbeat of the world.

Cain inhaled, slow and deliberate. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then he felt it. Threads of energy brushing against his skin, subtle and invisible, as if the air itself had grown aware of him. With each breath, the threads grew thicker, coiling inward, flowing toward the hollow in his core.

His chest tightened. The power was raw, far denser than the mana he had known before. It was heavy, metallic, sharp on the edges, like swallowing shards of iron and fire together. His body shuddered under the strain, his muscles tensing as if to reject it.

Cain grit his teeth and pushed further, guiding the stream into order. The skill gave him patterns to follow, ancient shapes etched into his mind. He traced them, forcing the torrent into paths that spiraled, looped, and condensed into something stable. The first loop clicked into place, and with it came a jolt of clarity.

His vision sharpened. The glow of the runes on the wall brightened, no longer faint but vivid. He could see the way the energy pulsed through them, like veins of light feeding the chamber. The world itself was breathing with him.

Cain exhaled slowly, the gathered power circling inside him with a steady rhythm. It pressed against his core, restless and sharp, like a living thing straining to break free. The patterns of the technique guided him, showing him how to mold it further, how to shape what had been drawn in until it became more than loose streams.

He focused, his mind narrowing to a single point. The spiraling currents folded in on themselves, tightening, condensing into a sphere of dense, shimmering essence. It burned hot, so dense it felt as if it would tear him apart if he faltered for even a heartbeat. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his arms trembled from the pressure, though he had not moved an inch.

The sphere shrank again, layers folding into layers, until it pulsed in his chest like a solid core of molten light. The air around him grew heavy, charged, pulling faint sparks from the warded walls. He could hear it now, a low hum in his ears that resonated with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

For an instant, Cain considered stopping. The energy was unstable, dangerous, and he could feel his veins burning with every second he held it. But the instinct of Gluttony surged within him, urging him to finish what he had started. To consume. To claim.

His lips parted, and he drew the condensed energy upward, guiding it into his throat, forcing the mass of primordial essence into a single point. It was like swallowing fire wrapped in ice, a sphere that scalded and froze all at once. His body convulsed, his chest heaving as if rejecting the act, but he forced it down, his will unyielding.

The sphere shattered the moment it passed into him, dissolving into a flood of light that seared through every channel of his being. Pain flared white-hot, but with it came an intoxicating clarity. The raw energy settled deeper than his flesh, deeper than his bones. It rooted itself in the foundation of his existence, becoming part of him.

Cain didn't need an assessment, he could tell with just this one sphere, his total mana pool had increased by over 10%