Prince of Gluttony: Born from Betrayal

Cain's steps were steady at first as he left the women's dorms behind, the night air brushing against his skin and carrying the faint scent of damp earth and grass. The hum of the academy at night was muted, almost comforting. His mind replayed fragments of the conversation with Kiyomi, her teasing, her half-truths, and the unspoken weight he thought he had glimpsed in her eyes.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain stabbed through his temples, forcing him to stagger slightly. He pressed a hand to his forehead, his breath hitching. The world tilted, the familiar quiet of the night replaced with an oppressive, pressing weight inside his skull. It was not fatigue. Not stress. Something else entirely.

"What the—" Cain muttered under his breath, gripping his hair. The pain deepened, spreading to his jaw and chest, like a fire igniting from the inside out.

And then the hunger came.

It was immediate. All-consuming. A gnawing, desperate craving that clawed at his insides with unrelenting force. His stomach tightened, muscles aching as though demanding something he could not name. His knees wobbled, forcing him to slow his pace, and his vision blurred at the edges.

Gaius' voice, calm and calculated until now, cracked through Cain's mind in sheer disbelief.

"Cain," the voice echoed, sharper than before. "This… this is impossible. I have never… I have never seen this happen."

Cain froze mid-step, his eyes widening. "What the hell do you mean?" he thought, his tone shaky, though no sound left his mouth.

"My god," Gaius whispered. There was something close to fear in the tone. "It… it woke. Your Skill, Cain. It has awakened."

Cain's pulse accelerated, confusion mixing with the pain radiating from his skull. "Awakened? Skills—are you saying… Skills can… think?"

"Not like this," Gaius admitted, the awe in his voice unmistakable. "They are tools, powers that respond to their user. But this… this is different. It is sentient. Fully aware. And it is… hungry."

Cain staggered again, pressing a hand to a nearby lamppost for support as waves of nausea rolled over him. The hunger twisted inside him, fierce and urgent, like a living thing clawing at his insides. The world around him dimmed slightly, his vision narrowing to the street beneath his feet and the lamps that dotted the path.

"What do you mean hungry?" he thought desperately. "What does it want?"

"It wants… nourishment," Gaius said, voice strained. "Physical energy. Life essence. Whatever you can provide. It is… demanding, Cain. More than I have ever seen a Skill demand from its host."

Cain's mind raced. Skills were not supposed to be like this. They were tools, extensions of the self. Never something that needed to feed. Never something that could—

The hunger intensified, muscles tensing as if the inside of his body had become a predator itself. He doubled over, pressing both hands to his stomach, teeth gritting against a sharp, sudden ache that coursed through his torso. Every instinct in him screamed that if he did not satisfy it immediately, it would consume him from the inside.

Gaius' voice rose in Cain's mind, urgent now. "Cain, you have to eat. Immediately. It is not a request. It will not wait. I… I cannot stop it. I have never encountered anything like this in all my years. You must feed it before it destroys you."

Cain's mind blanked for a heartbeat, the idea of a Skill as a sentient entity almost too bizarre to process. Then the hunger flared again, sharper than before, clawing and ripping through him like an inferno. He could feel something inside him, coiled and alive, thrashing against the confines of his own body. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to one side, breathing hard, hands pressed against the ground.

"What… what the hell do I eat?" he thought, panic rising alongside the ache. "I—this is insane."

"It does not care what you eat," Gaius said, almost frantic. "It only wants sustenance. Energy. Now. If you do not feed it, Cain… I cannot tell what will happen. I have never… I have never seen a Skill act with such autonomy."

Cain's thoughts scrambled. The world tilted, every shadow lengthening, every sound magnified by the pounding in his head. He tried to focus, tried to steady himself, but the hunger demanded action now. It was no longer a sensation; it was a command, primal and undeniable.

He staggered upright, knees weak, and took a trembling step forward. The night felt suffocating. The air seemed heavy, pressing against him like a solid weight. His hand brushed against the walls lining the dorm path, seeking stability. His breathing was ragged. Every muscle ached. Every nerve burned.

The hunger coiled tighter, sharp and relentless. Cain realized with a cold clarity that he could not ignore it. No amount of thought or distraction would suppress this. He needed to find food. Whatever he could. Immediately.

"Where—where can I—" he muttered to himself, voice low and trembling. His vision wavered, the glow of the dorms behind him blurring as his stomach clenched.

"Anywhere," Gaius replied, voice tight with disbelief. "Anything. Meat. Energy. Blood. Do not overthink it. Just… feed it."

Cain swallowed hard, his throat dry. The thought of eating normally made him hesitate, but the instinct driving him was stronger than hesitation. The hunger flared again, more violent than before, and he stumbled toward the nearest lights, his body moving almost of its own accord.

As he walked, he became acutely aware of every beat of his heart, every pulse of life within him. The Skill inside him was alive, urgent, and insistent. Cain's hands shook, sweat dampening his shirt as he pressed forward. The thought of running, of hiding, even of resisting—none of it mattered. He had one goal. Feed the Skill before it consumed him.

His vision narrowed to a tunnel of lamps, the soft yellow glow illuminating the path ahead. He felt a cold edge of fear slice through him. He had no idea what this would mean in the long term. A Skill with sentience. A Skill with hunger. Something alive inside him, demanding life from the world around him. And yet there was no time to consider the consequences. Not now.

The ache deepened again, the hunger tightening like a vice around his chest and gut. Cain clenched his fists, his teeth gritting as he forced one step in front of the other. The academy grounds were silent, the distant chirping of crickets now a faint whisper against the roaring in his own head.

He reached the first building along the path, and the realization hit him fully: he could not delay. He needed to find sustenance. Now. If he did not, whatever had awakened within him would not be restrained by reason, morality, or restraint. It would take what it needed by force.

Cain's teeth clenched harder. His stomach churned violently. The Skill inside him was patient no longer. It demanded life, energy, action. Cain's mind raced through possibilities, instincts kicking in. He could not let it drive him to madness. He would feed it. Somehow. Anywhere. Anything.

The night stretched out before him, quiet, calm, and utterly deceptive. Only he and the hunger knew the truth of what was happening. Something had woken inside him. Something alive, sentient, and hungry. Something that could not be ignored.

Cain's eyes narrowed as he started moving again, faster now, driven by an urgency that was beyond thought. Every step carried the echo of the hunger, gnawing, clawing, insistent. Every breath reminded him that he had awakened something entirely new within himself, something he had never imagined could exist.

And yet, despite the fear, despite the pain, a part of him was oddly aware, oddly fascinated. Whatever this was, it was his now. Whatever it demanded, it would not be denied.

Cain tightened his jaw and ran toward the nearest building that might offer sustenance. The world seemed to blur around him, the night falling away to a narrow tunnel of light and shadow. He had only one thought, one command, one instinct: feed it.

And the hunger inside him roared in agreement.