Not Even F-Rank

"Yet there is still this difference between man and all other animals—he is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied."

 -Henry George

'Concentrate. Magic exists deep within your heart, within your soul. Reach within and grasp that power. Hold it with the grip of an orc and yet with the grace of an elf–refusing to let it go. As you hold, feel this divine energy infuse with your very being. Then, once you have achieved complete dominion over both yourself and this power, release the miracle of magic upon the world.' Devon Sarká thought to himself, determined to finally use magic. 

... 

After an anti-climatic silence, he lowered his head. 'Damn it! My dad's going to eat me!'

One would think that such a prospect would give him more pause, but Devon has accepted his fate for quite some time. Even an idea as horrible as his own father eating him failed to cause any grief. 

There was no room in his life for tears. 

No, all he had energy left for were these failed attempts to evoke even an iota of magic. At this point, he was done asking whatever god there was for the ability to tame a slime or summon a meteor from the heavens. 

Rubbing his necklace, which was fitted with a rich, purple amethyst, he prayed to his namesake: Jideva, the Goddess of Death. 

A reminder of the false promise that he would become some great warrior, that he was blessed by the divines themselves. 

The truth was that if Devon could just create a droplet of water... that would be enough for him.

Anything that would allow him to at least tell his father, "Look, I am an F-rank mage!" 

Anything that would allow him to live. 

As it stood, the most charitable person couldn't even give him such a lowly rank.

Sure, he was a one in a million talent–just in the worst possible way. Sometimes he'd even walk down the street and see a 3-year-old perform feats of magic. No one could claim to be as weak as him.

The only reason his father hadn't sold him to one of the elven hunters or dwarven blacksmiths was in the hope he held a latent ability. Although very rare, some people are born seemingly powerless but later on in their lives unlock a previously hidden power- or, in other words, a latent ability. 

If he had one of those things, he'd sorely appreciate it if it showed up sooner rather than later! Otherwise, his father was going to eat him. That's a simple, unavoidable fact. 

A powerless son meant nothing to the head of a powerful house. The only thing he could provide was the minuscule chance he held a latent ability that his body was too weak to form. After eating him, the father would inherit this ability. 

Yes, in this cruel world where men and beasts intersect, one can gain power by eating another person. And many are more than willing to eat their kin to get ahead. In a world such as this, power was seen as greater than even familial bonds. 

Well, at least for most. 

Devon's brother was a clear exception. 

As he walked into the room, he let out a fake laugh at Devon's inability to spark any magic, saying, "Today still isn't the day, huh?" 

Devon narrowed his eyebrows as he sulked. "Yeah. Anyway, what divine beast did you tame this trip?" 

His brother did his best to hide his fear, attempting to ignore his own question as easily as Devon had. He reached into the cabinet to pull out a wooden plate. 

Setting it on the table, he brushed past Devon as he forced a grin. Opening the door to the ice box, he pulled out 2 pieces of fine pork. Devon's eyes widened as he realized his brother's intent. 

"Kisho, yo- you can't do that! Dad said-" 

Cutting Devon off as he gracefully walked past him, Kisho cast a small chuckle in Devon's direction as he said, "Father said you can't do that."

'But if my brother's going to die today... Father can go to hell with that.' Kisho thought, struggling to maintain his outward pleasantness. 

Knowing it would excite his brother, Kisho activated the dragon soul he had tamed, turning his right arm into a magnificent array of pure black scales. Shortly after, the hand caught fire and cooked the pork into a perfectly well-done dish. 

Devon looked in awe at his brother's transformation, immediately thinking to himself, 'Volcano dragons.' In an outburst, he declared, "You tamed a Vershadian Dragon, didn't you!" 

His brother threw Devon a pork piece as Kisho replied, "Wow, you even knew the race's name! I always said you were the greatest mythical zoologist on our continent." 

This was big praise. There were 4 continents with civilizations, and the Vehshka continent, where the Sarká family resides, undoubtedly had the best tamers in the world. Even still, most of their knowledge would pale in comparison to Devon's. His inability to tame even the weakest creatures despite this gift was one of life's cruelest jokes. 

He knew the weaknesses of what seemed to be every beast in the world, yet he could do almost nothing with that information besides relaying it to his family. 

Without Devon, his brother would've been killed long ago, as he lacked that knowledge himself. Using his natural affinity for knowing all things about mythical beasts, his family combined that intellect with their strength to rise as one of the strongest families on the continent. 

Despite this, Devon's inability to tame any creature combined with his lack of any magic meant he was worthless in his father's eyes. "Why should I worry about intellect?! My blade will take care of that!" He would often exclaim to anyone who tried to note Devon's worth. 

He was far too much of a brute to even know why he was successful. Though, maybe there was truth in his words. Despite Devon's vast intellect, his weakness meant that he had no way to survive the trial later today. 

"I'm not ready for you to die." His brother whispered in between bites. Although Kisho had tried to hide his fear and sadness over the upcoming trial, the shakiness of his voice finally betrayed his true feelings. 

Already resigned to his fate, Devon ignored that fear, instead electing to cherish his last few bites of pork as he said, "I don't either. However, in case you somehow forgot, I have no magic. None, zero. I'm not like you, I'm not like father. The whole town is going to see that, they are going to see that I have no magic. Then, once they see me in all my glory, they won't even need the approval of the law. They will cheer as Dad eats me." 

Having finished his pork first, his brother wiped his mouth with a handkerchief before saying, "I know. You're not like us. You may never be like us. You may always be weak. I understand that. I've always known that. But I still love you, I still respect you. I still cherish the times we spent together. I can't watch you die." 

Setting down his handkerchief, Kisho reached across the table, grasping Devon's hands as he stared into his eyes. "You're my big brother, which usually means you protect me. But if I have to be the one to protect you this time, I'll gladly do it. Look, I- I found a latent ability when I fought the dragon. Maybe-" 

"A latent- Then that means-" Devon interjected, his intellect already providing him with the answer, he practically shouted, "I'm guessing Dad doesn't know! You- you can use that magic and we'll find a way to make him believe it's me!" 

With this sudden newfound hope, Devon realized he wasn't as prepared for death as he had thought. In his excitement, he hugged his brother so tight that not even air escaped. 

Patting his brother's back with a blush, Kisho meekly replied. "Uh, yeah. No problem. I- I need someone to clean my horse anyways." 

His current shyness and desperation completely betrayed the idea of power most would associate with him. Still, this was the real him. The version of his brother that only Devon knew, who was kind-hearted and completely unsure about the world.

Everyone else just saw him as a conqueror or a protector. Life or death. 

Devon only saw him as his brother. Sure, he saved Devon's ass a bunch of times, but the way he saw it, he's saved Kisho's ass a lot too. In both of their eyes, they were equals who held a deep love for one another. 

However, the father definitely played favorites. 

Hearing the clunky noise of his heavy armor, Devon picked up the handkerchief his brother had used and wiped his mouth spotless, so that not even a speck could be found. This was also the reason only 1 plate was used. Their father wouldn't care if Kisho had 2 pork chops, but if Devon had one... 

One of their servants, Devon's favorite and the father's least favorite, scurried through the door carrying at least 80 pounds of armor. Since his father was only an SS beast tamer, it was very difficult for him to use the dragon soul his son Kisho had tamed for him. However, he was an SSS blade master unparalleled in close-quarter combat. 

Their father followed closely behind with a flurry of slurs. "Maggot! Ghanta! Shitstain!" and other such obscenities were hurled at the servant.

In an effort to help the servant, Kisho went to pick up some of the armor. At first thinking it was Devon, the father started to bellow "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK- oh." 

Kisho was the only person to have ever defeated his father in combat, and for that sole reason, he had his respect. Knowing better than to place his anger on Kisho, the father began looking for something to calm him down. 

He almost instantly laid his eyes on Devon. With a short smirk, barely moving his lips but still flashing endless ill intent, the father said, "Any magic yet?" 

The brothers remained silent. 

The father briskly walked over to Devon before placing his hand on his son's shoulder. An act that denied its inherent love, replacing it with malice. 

Devon swallowed as he looked into his father's dark, beady eyes. The taste of the pork his brother had made out of mercy still lingered on his tongue. 

With another small grin, the father said, "I hope you ate healthy today, my son."