Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

Cain stepped onto the platform, his bare feet meeting the cold surface. His hair was messy, clothes rumpled, and his overall appearance gave the impression that he had rolled straight out of bed. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his mind still spinning from the morning's events, but he forced himself to focus.

Abel stood waiting, perfectly composed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, taking in Cain's disheveled appearance with a chuckle. He must have been unable to sleep due to fear, Abel thought. That was the only explanation that made sense to him.

Yet as Abel studied him more closely, something about Cain seemed off. He wasn't entirely focused. There was a distant look in his eyes, a distraction that Abel couldn't quite place.

'What could he even be thinking about right now?' Abel wondered despite himself as a flicker of unease stirred beneath his confidence.

Cain's gaze finally locked on Abel, and the intensity returned. His posture straightened, though the disheveled look remained. Every step, every muscle, every heartbeat carried a purpose. Today was about revenge. Today was about Abel.

"You look like hell," Abel remarked, his voice dripping with amusement. "What did you do last night, play around with a woman for the last time?"

Cain merely smirked back and admitted "It was for the first time honestly. Unlike a certain scumbag, my standard for women is clearly much higher. The same goes for them, their taste deemed you unfit to even touch them."

Abel's teeth ground together, the annoyance flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with a polite smile. The audience was beginning to gather around the platform, whispers and murmurs spreading as the duel's anticipation grew. He straightened his posture and forced himself to maintain the air of a gentleman, even as Cain's words pricked at his pride.

"Really," Abel said, his voice smooth and deliberate, "and which lady did you choose to spend the night with?"

Cain tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mockery, a sharp grin playing at his lips. "Jayden Dawn," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "Oh, and also, it wasn't me that chose to spend the night with her. It was her choosing to spend the night with me."

The words hung in the air, subtle but charged with provocation.

Abel's polite facade shattered completely. His eyes widened, blood rushing to his face, and a low growl tore from his throat. Rage consumed him, twisting every thought into fury. How dare this nobody, this scorned prince with nothing but a handful of coins and a mediocre skill, take what was meant to be his? Jayden was supposed to be his, a toy to mold and claim once he broke through her defenses. And now Cain had done what he could not.

His fingers clenched around the hilt of his blade, and the polished steel glinted dangerously in the morning light. His smirk had vanished, replaced by raw, unbridled fury. "Enough words," he snarled, his voice low, almost animalistic. "Draw your weapon, Cain. Now!"

Cain's gaze flicked down at himself, taking in the disheveled clothes, the rumpled hair, the bare feet. A slow, mocking grin spread across his face. "Does it look like I brought any?" he said, his tone calm, almost teasing. "I was in a bit of a rush, so I'll have to deal with you bare handed."

Abel's jaw tightened, and a shiver of disbelief ran down his spine. This was not what he had expected. Every instinct screamed at him that Cain should be cowering, that the scorned prince should be trembling before his blade. Instead, Cain's composure, ragged though it was, burned with quiet defiance.

The audience shifted uneasily, the tension thickening. Whispers ran through the crowd as eyes darted between the two rivals. Abel's knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword. He could feel the frenzy clawing at his mind, the sting of being upstaged, humiliated. Every nerve in his body screamed that this moment was supposed to be his triumph.

Cain's gaze met his, unwavering, and the intensity behind it made Abel flinch. Every breath, every movement, every heartbeat radiated purpose. Today was Cain's day for vengeance. Today Abel would learn that his assumptions and entitlement could not define the world around him.

Abel growled again, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "You insolent—"

"Save it," Cain interrupted, smirk still in place. "Actions speak louder than words. Let's see if you can back up all that rage of yours."

The tension on the platform was palpable. Abel's hands shook slightly as he gripped his sword tighter. Cain's bare stance, his defiant grin, his fearless eyes, all made Abel's blood boil hotter than ever. The duel had begun even before the first strike, a clash of wills that promised only fire and chaos.

loud cheer erupted from the edge of the platform, cutting through the tense silence. "Win, Cain, or I will never forgive you!"

Both Cain and Abel turned sharply toward the voice, eyes wide with surprise. The source of the shout was impossible to miss. Standing near the ring, her fiery red wolf ears twitching and her tail swishing with excitement, was Jayden herself. Her bright smile illuminated the space, radiating energy and confidence.

Abel froze, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight. How had such a beautiful wolf girl hidden herself from him all this time? The way she carried herself, the intensity of her gaze, the natural grace—everything about her struck him as extraordinary. Then his eyes caught something even more shocking. Her features, the striking combination of fire and determination, bore a perfect resemblance to the woman he had coveted, the woman he thought was his for the taking: Jayden Dawn.

Cain's eyes widened as well, concern flickering across his face. She wasn't wearing her concealment artefact. Her presence here, unshielded, was bold and undeniable. He could see her clearly, every detail, every expression, and his mind raced with worry.

Jayden's gaze met his, sharp and knowing, and Cain felt her understanding instantly. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Since I have become Cain's woman," she called loudly, her voice strong and confident, "I don't need to hide any part of myself anymore, right?"

Cain's face broke into a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile as he shook his head. She was right. If anyone dared to harm her or discriminate against her, he would not tolerate it. He would protect her with everything he had.

Abel, meanwhile, was utterly flabbergasted. He looked back and forth between Cain and the wolf girl, realization dawning slowly and harshly. The resemblance was not a coincidence. This wolf girl was not just similar to Jayden Dawn. She was Jayden Dawn. The very woman he had desired, standing boldly in support of the scorned prince who had dared to claim her heart.

The platform vibrated with tension. Cain's eyes softened as they met hers, a silent promise passing between them, while Abel's rage twisted into disbelief and fury. The duel had become something far more than a battle for pride or revenge. It had become a contest over loyalty, love, and the undeniable truth that Cain was no longer a nobody.

Abel's eyes blazed red with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl. He could not stand it any longer. The audacity of Cain, the nerve to mock him, to steal what he believed was rightfully his, to parade Jayden Dawn in front of him… it consumed him utterly. He lunged forward, the polished steel of his blade cutting through the air with terrifying speed, aiming straight for Cain's throat, intent on ending the scorned prince before the match had even started.

Cain vanished in an instant, his body blurring out of sight just as Abel's sword would have met its mark. The tip of the blade sliced through empty air, and a sharp hiss of wind marked the strike. Abel's eyes widened in shock, disbelief and rage colliding inside him.

A calm, mocking voice came from directly behind him. "You've gotten sloppy," Cain said, his tone smooth and teasing. Abel spun on his heels, but Cain was already nowhere to be seen.

Abel's rage transformed into something colder, sharper. For the first time in years, uncertainty gnawed at him. Could he have died if Cain hadn't teased him first? Could a single misstep have ended him? His muscles tensed as cold sweat dripped down his back, his grip on the hilt tightening until his knuckles were white.

He leveled his sword again, eyes scanning the platform for any sign of Cain. The rage had not vanished, but it had been tempered with a chilling edge of fear. His movements were precise, cautious, every nerve alert to the slightest flicker of motion.

Cain, meanwhile, relaxed visibly. He let his arms hang loosely, his bare feet shifting lightly on the platform. The intensity of Abel's gaze, the tension in his muscles, and the cold sweat coating his skin told Cain everything he needed to know. Abel was far weaker than he had imagined. Pride and rage had clouded his judgment, leaving him vulnerable.

Cain tilted his head, a faint, confident smile brushing his lips. He could afford to be calm. Abel might have once been terrifying, but now he was predictable, and Cain knew exactly how to exploit the cracks in his opponent's armor. The duel was just beginning, but Cain had already seized the advantage.