Jealousy is an ugly creature. People pretend it's a passing shade, or a small bruise on the heart, but it devours dignity and self-respect, slowly replacing them with insecurities.
Sensible folks avoid it. Saints pretend they never feel it—even though everyone does—while fools deny it.
But Kenny? Kenny realized jealousy was one of the few honest emotions he had ever felt.
It was a compass forged in resentment, and it always pointed him toward what he truly desired. It told him what he liked and what he loathed.
Ugly? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely.
For example, he didn't like how this foreign sun stared down at him today, as if he were the only soul worthy of its scorching attention. To be accurate, he didn't like this sun in particular; it was a pale, predatory yellow and unbearably hot, unlike the gentle one back home.
He especially didn't like how its rays caressed a particular figure on the cliffside below.
"How unfair,"
Kenny grumbled, the words lost under the crackle of the campfire and the easy laughter drifting up to his perch.
His mind, however, was elsewhere, replaying a shocking scene from earlier. Something he hadn't told anyone, not yet. His eyes, though absentmindedly fixed on the distant shape of the Iso shelter, could not help but shift toward his elder brother, Rufus.
Rufus was everything he wanted to be and everything he didn't want to be, all at once. The sun didn't assault Rufus; it adored him.
The golden rays melted perfectly against his skin tone, making his body glow with the warmth of a solar flare. His hair, a shade of brown so similar to Kenny's own, shimmered and swayed like polished bronze in the breeze as he threw his head back in laughter at some joke.
Kenny's hand rose subconsciously, fingers touching his own limp, dull hair.
"What does he use?"
he muttered to the empty air.
"It has to be a product."
He was sitting higher up on the cliff, a deliberate ten steps removed from the camaraderie below. The distance was just enough to feel separate, yet close enough for every word to claw at him.
One of Rufus's friends, Blake, spoke with a tone thick with admiration.
"Man… that's one hell of a beast you got there. We didn't even have to lift a finger against those twelve-legged spiders."
Another, Timmy, chimed in as he reached for a piece of sizzling monster meat roasting over the fire.
"I know we're still in the safe zone where things are supposed to be easy and all, but… that was just ridiculous. No wonder you're one of the best in Grade C."
He took a juicy bite, still smiling.
"A lot of people must want to be like you."
"Yeah?"
Blake added with a grin.
"I must be one of them."
For what felt like the fourth time that hour, the group shared a burst of hearty laughter.
Kenny did not share their joy. The rich, savory scent of the cooking meat grazed his nostrils, and he gulped, his mouth watering despite himself.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, the salt stinging his eyes, and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned blue.
"So that's it,"
he whispered to the stone beneath him.
"He only brought me here to earn more of Dad's praises. And I actually thought… for once…"
He bent his head, squeezing his lips together to trap the bitterness inside.
"I know we're in the safe zone, but I wish a beast would just… jump out and rip them to pieces."
He scrunched his face up in a silent snarl, then slowly, it relaxed into a cold, serious mask as logic intruded upon his fantasy.
Even if a monster did emerge from the treeline, threatening to tear them all apart, his brother would be perfectly fine. Simply because of the tamed creature curled beside him.
It lay in a fetal position, breathing slow and deep—a mini-beastmere. It resembled a tiger, but one born of myth: snow-white skin etched with jet-black stripes, and eyes the color of sunflowers, if the sunflower possessed thin black slits capable of making a man's soul tremble. Unless he was a seasoned warrior.
But, Kenny, he shivered slightly under its dormant presence. A flash of memory reminding him what it could do.
Rufus, in contrast, showed not a flicker of fear. He slid his hand through the creature's fur in a practiced, affectionate gesture. From his vantage point, Kenny could just imagine the softness, the fluffiness—a luxury he would never experience.
Rufus turned back to his friends, his voice taking on a leader's cadence.
"The others have probably already returned to the Iso shelter with their loot. It'll be night by the time we finish here. We'll return tomorrow and give the… 'remaining portion'… to the shelter commander."
Cunning grins bloomed on the three faces, a silent agreement passing between them. Kenny's stomach twisted. He knew what this meant—hoarding the potent meat for themselves instead of reporting it all. Another advantage cheated into existence.
"How greedy,"
he breathed.
"Is this the secret? This must be how he got so strong and popular."
He was rubbing his chin, convinced of this answer, when his brother's voice cut through his thoughts, smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade.
"Ken?"
The word was calm, soothing, feigning concern.
"Why are you sitting so far away and muttering like a madman? Come. Over here."
There was a hint of violence underneath, an imperceptible threat that coiled in the air. It was enough to make Kenny's body jolt upright from the rock faster than his pride wanted.
He walked over, his gaze suddenly captivated by the green leaves dancing down the hillside, anything to avoid meeting his brother's cold brown eyes.
Rufus lifted a brow, his gaze dissecting Kenny.
"Ooo? What's wrong? What's bothering you?"
He gestured to an empty spot beside him, the command unmistakable.
Kenny remained standing, his attention still fixed on the landscape.
"Don't tell me you're hungry?"
Rufus's smile was a devious thing, a mask of brotherly care that would fool anyone who didn't know the cruelty beneath. When Kenny didn't bite, the smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard expression.
He scoffed.
"Well,"
Rufus began, bending down to affectionately rub his beast's fur,
"if you want some creature meat, you have to work for it. You have to be sensible.
You have to at least be able to get to the next class."
He looked up, his eyes pinning Kenny where he stood.
"That's something you're not. You can't even perform the basic technique. Still stuck in class D. This whole trip, you were useless—just staring around and gawking. You're only here because I wanted you to sightsee. Don't get too cocky."
The words hit Kenny with the force of a physical blow. He nearly swayed on his feet because they held a bit of truth. He was just a tourist here.
He hadn't earned a share of the spoils. But that was the very injustice of it! Why bring him at all, if not to simply humiliate him?
A slight tremble ran through his hands as a memory surfaced—a secret he had clutched to his chest all afternoon.
He had seen something. Something that wasn't just useful; it was groundbreaking. He had been too shocked to speak then, but now… now he would prove he wasn't just gawking as Rufus had put it.
"I… did see something."
The words cracked out of his dry throat, but they had the intended effect.
All conversation below ceased. Blake and Timmy stopped chewing. Rufus's cold stare intensified, now sharp with interest. Even the beastmere seemed to prick its ears.
Kenny turned to face the three of them, his posture solidifying. He lifted his chin, and his eyes blazed with a new light, a fire that screamed, "I can be useful, too. Don't underestimate me."
The scene flashed brilliantly in his mind's eye.
"Earlier today,"
he said, his voice gaining strength,
"while you were fighting the twelve-legged spiders and their queen, I saw a flash."
He stretched his hand out, pointing towards the dense forest down the rocky path.
"A halo of pure gold. It erupted and shot high into the sky, so bright I was shocked the shelter didn't sound the alarm bells. From how it pulsed… the creature that caused it… it had to be a titan beast."
His eyes grew wide with the shared vision.
"A Cyclops. A Phoenix. Or even a Dragon."