The divine realm quaked, its golden skies churning with ominous storm clouds. Zoreth, the god of greed, stood amidst the ruins of his once-magnificent empire. His palace, a monument to insatiable excess, lay in utter disrepair. Glittering piles of stolen treasures—jewels, artifacts, and relics of the gods—were scattered and shattered, their radiance dimmed by the cataclysmic battle that raged through the divine plane.

But Zoreth himself was in shambles.

The stolen power of fallen gods coursed through his being, unstable and volatile, each essence fighting for dominance within him. His amethyst eyes gleamed with a mix of desperation and fury, his grasp on the staff in his hand faltering as cracks of green energy raced up its length.

And then, Lucian arrived.

The King of the Gods entered the scene like a storm given form. His celestial armor glowed with unyielding light, and the Blade of Kings in his hand radiated divine energy, its brilliance cutting through the shadows that clung to Zoreth's ruined domain. His golden hair flowed in an unseen wind, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto Zoreth with cold resolve.

Zoreth sneered, his voice echoing with disdain. "You," he spat, gripping his staff tighter. "The self-righteous King. You think you can destroy me, just because you believe your order is better than my freedom?"

Lucian's expression remained stoic, his divine presence pressing down on Zoreth like the weight of the cosmos. He did not speak, but his very aura conveyed the message: You are a stain on this realm, and I will purge it.

Lucian raised his hand, palm glowing with raw divine energy. The air warped around him as his power surged, making the very foundations of Zoreth's palace tremble. "You are an abomination, Zoreth," he said, his voice like a thunderclap. "You have taken and corrupted what was never meant to be yours. You consume without end, without purpose. Your greed poisons the divine realm, and I will see it purged."

Zoreth's laughter rang out, bitter and hollow, echoing through the ruined halls. He lifted his staff, its once-glorious form sparking and crackling with unstable energy. "You cannot understand," Zoreth hissed, his eyes narrowing with madness. "I am the god of more! There is no end to what I can take, no limit to the wealth I will gather. You, Lucian, are limited. You only take what serves your hollow ideals, your perfect order."

Lucian remained unfazed. "And you only take because you cannot create," he said coldly.

Zoreth roared in defiance, slamming his staff into the ground. From the shattered earth, massive golden chains erupted, gleaming with the stolen essence of the earth goddess Zoreth had slain. They writhed like serpents, aiming to ensnare Lucian's limbs.

Lucian moved with calculated precision, his blade cutting through the chains with ease. The sound of metal shattering echoed as the remnants dissolved into dust.

"You wield the strength of others," Lucian said as he advanced, each step deliberate and unyielding. "But you lack the discipline to master it."

Enraged, Zoreth thrust his hand forward, summoning a vortex of green fire laced with shadow—abilities stolen from gods of flame and darkness. The vortex surged forward, a chaotic maelstrom that twisted and tore through the air as it sped toward Lucian.

With a calm sweep of his blade, Lucian parted the vortex, the flames and shadows dissipating harmlessly. "Power without control is nothing more than destruction," he said, his voice sharp as the edge of his blade.

Zoreth teleported, using the power of a fallen god of shadows to reappear behind Lucian. Lightning crackled in his hands—another stolen gift—and he unleashed a storm of bolts. Each bolt carried the force to destroy mountains, but Lucian's celestial armor absorbed them all. The divine metal glowed faintly, unharmed by the attack.

"Is that all your greed can muster?" Lucian asked, turning with effortless grace.

Snarling, Zoreth raised his arms to the heavens. The skies darkened, swirling with storm clouds as he channeled the essence of a goddess of storms. Winds howled, lightning forked, and rain fell in sheets, tearing through the remains of Zoreth's palace. The storm was chaos incarnate, a testament to the destructive power Zoreth had hoarded.

Lucian stood firm against the tempest, his blade glowing brighter as it absorbed the divine fury around him. "This is the strength of the gods you've killed," Lucian said, his voice steady. "But it will not save you."

With a mighty swing of the Blade of Kings, Lucian released a radiant beam of light that cut through the storm, dissipating the winds and silencing the thunder. Zoreth stumbled, his powers faltering as the stolen essences within him began to clash violently.

Desperate, Zoreth unleashed a final, chaotic burst of all his stolen abilities—fire, shadow, lightning, earth, and storm. The elements collided, merging into a blinding explosion that consumed the palace and sent shockwaves rippling across the divine realm.

Lucian raised his blade high, summoning a barrier of celestial light that shielded him from the onslaught. Slowly, he advanced through the chaos, his presence unwavering.

When the light faded, Zoreth was on his knees, his staff shattered and his body trembling. The stolen powers flickered and waned, leaving him drained and broken.

Lucian loomed over him, his blade poised for the final strike. "Your greed has consumed you, Zoreth. Now it ends."

Zoreth's amethyst eyes glimmered with defiance, even as his form began to crumble. "You think you've won, Lucian," he rasped. "But greed… desire… they'll always return. You can't destroy what lives in every heart."

Lucian's blade descended, and Zoreth's form shattered into fragments of light. The powers he had stolen dissipated into the ether, leaving only a faint, pulsing shard—a remnant of his divine essence.

.....

Far below, in a small village untouched by the divine turmoil, a young boy named Rowen lay asleep beneath the stars. In that moment, the last remnants of Zoreth's shattered essence found a new home.

And with it, a spark of greed was reborn.