Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

After a few hours, Abel was discharged from the infirmary. His cheeks were flushed with rage as he thought about the incident.

"That bastard Cain...!" he growled

When he had lost control of his bowels, he had seen and heard Cain's laughter. It had been jarring to his ears and he was certain that it was because of Cain that he had suffered like this.

"He must have been jealous," Abel muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "He could not stand that Jayden finally saw the truth. That she finally realized I was the one who deserved her attention, her favor."

The memory of her smiling at him, offering him food, lingered in his mind like a sweet perfume. To Abel, it was proof of her choice. Proof that she had turned away from Cain's empty charm and cold superiority. Proof that she had recognized his worth.

His heart raced faster with each step. The humiliation of earlier burned in his gut, but he twisted it into a story that comforted him. It was easier to believe that Cain's mocking laugh had been born of envy, that Cain had lost ground in a game he could never win.

It never once crossed Abel's mind that Jayden's cooking was to blame for his condition. The thought was so far removed from his prideful reasoning that he would not have considered it even if someone told him directly. To him, every misfortune was Cain's fault, every stumble a shadow of Cain's schemes.

Abel's lips curled into a sneer. "He will not take her from me. Not now. Not ever."

Abel clenched his fists, but it was not fear that stirred inside him. It was certainty. Cain's so-called transformation meant nothing. Even if the Abyss had given him some new physique, it was still only a refinement of a bug. A bug could grow larger, faster, or sharper, but it was still nothing more than something to be crushed beneath a boot. Abel was confident that he could end Cain at any time if it came to it.

The real concern was not Cain. The true concern was the damage to his reputation. His teeth ground together as he thought of the whispers, the sidelong looks, the humiliation of being seen in that state. That was what had to be corrected. He could not allow anyone to believe that Cain had truly bested him.

No, Abel told himself firmly. That incident was nothing but a trick, an illusion born of Cain's jealousy. What truly mattered was restoring what had been momentarily shaken and rising even higher than before.

His thoughts turned to the one who had guided him when he first arrived at the school. The patron who had opened his eyes to the truth. The man who had shown him that superiority was not something earned by crawling through darkness, but something that resided naturally within those chosen to wield it. Abel had been chosen, and the skill gifted to him was proof of that fact.

He exhaled slowly, calming the heat of his anger until it cooled into confidence once more. Cain could play with his newfound tricks, but Abel would strengthen himself properly. He would master the gift his patron had given him and crush all doubts, one by one, until there was no question of who stood above.

Cain was a bug. Abel was destined to tower over all.

Abel's sneer softened into a smirk as his mind drifted back to that first meeting. He still could not picture the man's face. No matter how hard he tried, the memory was cloaked in shadows. The figure had been blurred, indistinct, as though reality itself refused to capture his patron's features. A deep voice had come from the darkness, steady and confident, carrying the weight of truth that Abel had not realized he craved until then.

The words had been simple. Promises of greatness. Declarations of what Abel was meant for.

"You could stand as more than a retainer. More than a servant to a prince who sees you as nothing."

At first, Abel had resisted. His pride as a knight, as Cain's sworn companion, had chained him to a notion of loyalty. He had told himself that he was born to serve, that his worth came from the place he held at Cain's side. But the voice had cut through his doubts with whispers that sounded like truths he had always known.

"Why content yourself with being a shadow? Why kneel when you were meant to stand above? A king does not bend. A king commands."

The figure had stepped closer, and though Abel could not see the face, he could feel the weight of those words pressing on his chest. He remembered the hesitation that clung to him, the faint fear of stepping beyond the role he had been given. Yet with every whisper, that fear crumbled, replaced by hunger. The hunger to rise, to prove that he was more than Cain's shadow, more than a discarded name in the history of another man's glory.

Then the orb appeared. It was small at first glance, but its surface seemed to pulse, alive with colors that bled into one another like veins of molten light. The figure had held it out to him and said only one thing.

"Swallow it. Accept your birthright."

Abel had frozen. For all his pride, he had never been asked to do something so strange. He had wondered if it was a trick, a poison meant to destroy him. The hesitation clung to him for a long heartbeat. But then the voice came again, soft and insistent.

"Greatness is not given to those who wait. It is taken by those who dare. Do you want to remain a loyal knight, or do you want to rule?"

The choice had been laid bare. Abel had licked his lips, hands trembling as he took the orb. It had been heavier than it looked, unnaturally so. He remembered tilting his head back, remembered the way the orb fought against him as he tried to force it down. His throat had burned, his chest had strained, but he refused to stop. He could not stop. Not when the promise of power was within his grasp.

And then, at last, it slid down.

The rush that followed had nearly torn him apart. It was as if fire and lightning had erupted inside his veins, shredding his body and stitching it back together in the same breath. He had screamed, though whether it was from agony or exhilaration, even he could not tell. His skin had tingled, his vision had sharpened, and for a moment he had felt as though he was standing above the world itself.

The voice had returned, stronger than ever, echoing through the storm of his awakening.

"Good. You have chosen. Now rise, Abel. Rise and claim what should always have been yours."

From that day forward, Abel had known. He was not meant to trail behind Cain. He was not meant to be forgotten in the shadow of a prince. He was chosen. He was destined to surpass them all.

Abel's smirk widened at the memory. That power still lingered in him, coiled like a serpent waiting to strike. Cain's return, his Abyss-forged strength, all of it meant nothing compared to what Abel was becoming.

He clenched his fists once more. Cain could laugh all he wanted. Soon enough, Abel would show him who the real king was.