The morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in Rowen's curtains, but he barely noticed. His head swirled with half-formed plans and the lingering embarrassment of Zoreth's snarky commentary from the day before.
"You're lucky I have a soft spot for stubborn mortals," Zoreth grumbled as Rowen pulled on his boots. "Though calling your 'plan' stubborn is generous. It's more... delusional."
Rowen tied his laces tight and grabbed his makeshift hunting spear—a sharpened stick bound with twine. "What's delusional about not wanting to kill someone?"
"Oh, nothing." Zoreth said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's just adorable that you think stabbing woodland creatures will somehow grant you power. I'm sure the gods of the divine realm are trembling at the thought of your conquest over bunnies."
Rowen ignored him, throwing open the door and heading toward the woods. The village was already awake, and the streets bustled with early risers preparing for the day. He kept his head down, avoiding Mrs. Pindlepuff's stall entirely. He didn't need a repeat of yesterday's head pats and unsolicited life advice.
Once he reached the forest's edge, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The woods were quiet, the kind of quiet that felt alive. Birds flitted through the canopy, and the faint rustle of leaves betrayed the movements of unseen animals.
"Alright," Rowen muttered. "Let's do this."
"Do what, exactly?" Zoreth interjected. "Prove that your moral superiority is as flimsy as that twig you're holding?"
Rowen tightened his grip on the spear. "No. I'm going to see if I can absorb... essence, or whatever, from animals instead of people."
Zoreth sighed deeply. "Let me save you some time: you can't."
"How do you know?" Rowen challenged.
"Because I'm the literal god of greed," Zoreth said, his tone exasperated. "If you could gain meaningful power from squirrels and deer, don't you think I'd have turned every forest into my personal buffet by now?"
Rowen frowned. "Maybe you just didn't try hard enough."
"Oh, yes. That must be it. I, Zoreth, destroyer of worlds, conqueror of gods, somehow overlooked the true path to ultimate power: bunny rabbits."
Rowen trudged through the underbrush of the forest, spear in hand, his jaw set with determination. The woods stretched around him, a living tapestry of rustling leaves, bird calls, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. He was tired of Zoreth's constant mocking.
"You've truly hit rock bottom," Zoreth droned from within his head. "Hunting rabbits? Is this what mortals call progress?"
"Hey, if I can get even a little stronger without hurting anyone, then it's worth it," Rowen muttered under his breath.
Zoreth sighed dramatically. "By all means, go ahead. Maybe you'll absorb its overwhelming essence of... hopping."
Rowen ignored him and crouched low, scanning the clearing for movement. His eyes caught a flicker of motion—a rabbit nibbling on some grass, its long ears twitching. Perfect.
"Behold," Zoreth said, voice dripping with mock reverence. "Your prey: a vicious, untamed beast."
Rowen rolled his eyes and crept forward. His grip tightened on the spear as he lined up his strike. "Please, do try not to trip over your own feet again," Zoreth added.
Rowen lunged, and the spear found its mark. The rabbit twitched once and went still. Rowen blinked, his heart pounding.
"I can't believe that worked," he whispered.
"Neither can I," Zoreth said, his voice oddly subdued. "Wait, you were serious about this?"
Rowen knelt by the rabbit, his stomach twisting with a mixture of guilt and resolve. He rested a hand on its still-warm fur and closed his eyes.
"Okay," he murmured. "How do I do this?"
"You don't," Zoreth said sharply. "I told you already: animals don't have the kind of essence you're looking for. This is pointless."
"Maybe you're wrong."
"I'm never wrong."
Ignoring the indignant god in his head, Rowen focused. He thought about the shard of Zoreth's essence that had fused with him, the strange, pulsing energy that now lived in his chest. He imagined it reaching out, drawing something in.
At first, nothing happened. Zoreth began another tirade, but his words faded into the background as Rowen concentrated harder. Then, he felt it—a faint, almost imperceptible warmth spreading from his hand to his chest.
"What... what is that?" Zoreth's voice faltered.
The warmth grew stronger, flowing into Rowen like a trickle of water filling a cup. It wasn't much, but it was something. His muscles tingled faintly, and his breathing quickened.
"It's working," Rowen said, his eyes flying open.
"That's impossible," Zoreth snapped. "You can't absorb essence from an animal. It doesn't work that way."
"Well, apparently it does," Rowen shot back, standing up. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the faint, newfound energy coursing through him.
"Unbelievable," Zoreth muttered, more to himself than to Rowen. "I spend centuries perfecting my craft, consuming the essence of gods, and you manage to siphon power from... a rabbit?"
Rowen grinned despite himself. "Guess I'm just special."
"Special?" Zoreth scoffed. "You're an anomaly, a walking insult to the divine order. A rabbit? Truly? What's next, absorbing the essence of a cabbage?"
By midday, Rowen had caught and absorbed the essence of two more rabbits and a particularly unfortunate squirrel. Each time, the sensation was the same: a faint trickle of warmth, a tiny boost to his strength and stamina.
"I feel... better," Rowen said as he stretched his arms. "Like, not super strong, but definitely stronger than before."
Zoreth was silent for a long moment before speaking, his tone a mixture of irritation and curiosity. "This makes no sense. Animal essence is so... minimal. Insignificant. Yet it's working for you. Why?"
"Maybe I'm just built different," Rowen said, smirking.
"I will smite you for that phrase," Zoreth replied flatly. "If I still had my powers, that is."
Rowen chuckled, tapping his chest. "Well, you don't, so I guess you're stuck with me and my rabbit-fueled training."
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Maybe a little."
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Rowen sat beneath a tree, munching on a piece of bread he'd brought from home. His body felt pleasantly sore, like he'd just finished a good workout. He'd never felt this... capable before.
"I hate to admit it," Zoreth said grudgingly, "but you might be onto something." Rowen almost choked on his bread. "Did you just say I was right?"
"Don't get used to it," Zoreth snapped. "This... strategy of yours is a dead end. Animal essence will only get you so far. If you want real power, you'll have to graduate to something more... substantial."
Rowen frowned. "You mean people."
"Exactly."
He shook his head. "No way. If I can get stronger without hurting anyone, then that's what I'm going to do."
Zoreth sighed. "Your optimism is exhausting."
"And your pessimism is annoying."
"Touché."
As Rowen made his way back toward the village, he couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe he didn't have to follow the path Zoreth had laid out. Maybe he could forge his own way, one step—or rabbit—at a time.
"Just don't expect me to cheer you on," Zoreth grumbled.
Rowen smirked. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."
Deep inside, Zoreth muttered to himself, still grappling with the absurdity of the day. The god of greed, brought low by a mortal boy and his penchant for small woodland creatures.
It was almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.