I Am Zeus - Chapter 166: Origin Core

Chapter 166: Origin Core

The Sahara stretched before Zeus, a sea of gold and dust that shimmered under a merciless sun. The air was dry, sharp with heat, carrying no trace of the rivers or forests he’d left behind. His boots crunched on the cracked earth, each step kicking up faint clouds of sand that danced in the wind. His storm trailed him, a restless coil of clouds and lightning that clashed with the desert’s endless blue sky. Sparks flickered off his shoulders, his eyes scanning the horizon, searching not for gods or thrones but for something deeper—a pulse he’d felt since the system’s voice faded.

The rewards were his now. The title,*Storm Over Creation, Breaker of the First Dawn*, thrummed in his chest like a second heartbeat. The Primordial fragments he’d claimed twisted his lightning into something heavier, older. The Omnipantheon Key tethered distant gods to his will. But it was the*Origin Core Access* that burned brightest in his mind, a promise of power beyond anything he’d wielded before. The system called it the first breath of existence, a source to shape or break. He needed to know what that meant.

Zeus stopped, the wind howling around him, tugging at his tattered cloak. The desert was empty, no shrines, no drums, just silence and sand. Perfect. No gods to interrupt, no eyes to watch. Just him and the Core.

He closed his eyes, letting the storm quiet to a low rumble. The hum was there, faint but steady, buried deep in his soul. He reached for it, not with his hands but with his will, like grasping a thread of lightning. It resisted at first, slippery, like trying to hold water. Then it caught, and the world shifted.

The desert vanished.

He stood in a void, not dark like Nyx’s, but alive with light. A sphere pulsed before him, massive yet weightless, its surface fractured like cracked glass but glowing with colors no sky could hold—blues deeper than oceans, golds brighter than stars, reds that burned like blood. It didn’t float so much as*exist*, a heartbeat that echoed in his chest. The Origin Core. The first breath of creation.

Zeus exhaled, his breath misting in the strange air. “Alright,” he muttered, voice rough. “Show me what you are.”

The Core pulsed, and a wave of energy washed over him, not violent but heavy, like sinking into a tide. His storm answered, lightning arcing from his fingers, but it felt small here, like a spark against a bonfire. He gritted his teeth, pushing deeper, his will pressing against the Core’s surface. It didn’t push back—it invited him in.

He stepped forward, or maybe he fell, and the Core swallowed him.

Light exploded, then softened. He was no longer in the void. He stood on a plain that wasn’t a plain, a place where the ground shimmered like liquid starlight, where the air tasted of iron and ozone. The Core hung above him, smaller now, the size of a sun, its pulses slower, almost gentle. He could feel it breathing, not like a living thing but like the rhythm of existence itself—birth, death, and everything between.

Zeus raised his hand, sparks trailing from his fingertips. “Let’s see what you can do,” he said, his voice steady but laced with hunger. He reached out, not physically but with the new power in his chest, the access the system had granted. The Core hummed louder, and a thread of light broke free, thin as a hair, curling toward him like smoke.

He caught it, and his mind lit up.

Images flooded him—not memories, but moments. A mountain rising from nothing, its peaks carving the sky. A river born from a single drop, spreading into deltas that sang with life. Stars igniting, their fire weaving constellations that whispered names he didn’t know. It wasn’t just power—it was creation, raw and unshaped, waiting for a hand to guide it.

Zeus laughed, low and rough, the sound echoing in the strange place. “This is what gods dream of,” he said. “Let’s try it.”

He focused, picturing the desert he’d left behind. The sand, the heat, the endless gold. He pushed the thread of light outward, shaping it with his will. The Core pulsed, and the plain around him shimmered. Sand began to rise, not blown by wind but born from the ground, grains forming from nothing. A dune took shape, towering, its curves sharp against the starlit plain. He pushed harder, and a gust of wind followed, hot and dry, carrying the scent of baked earth.

“Not bad,” he muttered, his grin sharp. But he wasn’t done. He wanted more than sand.

He reached deeper into the Core, pulling another thread, thicker this time. The air crackled, and the ground trembled. A crack split the plain, and water poured upward, not falling but rising, clear and cold. It twisted into a river, its surface catching the Core’s light, reflecting colors that danced like fire. Zeus stepped closer, dipping his hand into the flow. It was real—wet, cool, tasting of minerals when he licked his fingers.

His storm growled, jealous, and he let it join. Lightning arced from his hand, not to destroy but to shape. The river bent under his will, carving a path through the sand, its banks sprouting green—grass, reeds, then trees, their roots sinking deep. The plain was no longer empty; it was alive, a slice of the Sahara reborn but sharper, brighter, as if painted by a god’s hand.

Zeus stepped back, his chest heaving, sparks dancing across his skin. The Core pulsed above, steady, unbothered, as if his work was a child’s drawing. He laughed again, louder this time, the sound carrying across the new river. “You’re something else,” he said to the Core, his voice rough with awe. “Let’s push it.”

He reached again, bolder now, pulling not a thread but a stream of light. The Core didn’t resist, but it felt heavier, like lifting a mountain. He didn’t care. He pictured the desert’s heart—a storm, not his, but born from the Core’s power. The plain shook, and the sky above darkened, clouds forming from nothing, thick and black. Lightning cracked, not silver like his, but gold, raw, untamed. It struck the ground, and where it hit, stone rose, jagged and sharp, forming a peak that pierced the clouds.

Zeus staggered, his breath ragged. The Core’s power was vast, but it pulled at him, demanding focus, precision. He wasn’t just wielding lightning—he was weaving existence. His storm roared, merging with the Core’s, and the peak grew taller, its surface gleaming like obsidian. He pushed one last time, and the mountain bloomed—not with fire, but with life. Vines curled up its sides, flowers bursting in colors no desert had ever seen.

He fell to one knee, sparks hissing off his skin. The Core pulsed, its light softening, as if satisfied. The plain was no longer a plain—it was a world, small but alive, with sand, river, trees, and a mountain that stood like a throne. Zeus grinned, sweat beading on his brow. “That’s more like it,” he said, voice hoarse.

The Core hummed, and the plain faded. He was back in the Sahara, the real Sahara, its sand stretching endless under the sun. But something was different. The air felt heavier, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. He raised his hand, and a spark leaped from his fingers, not just lightning but something more—a flicker of the Core’s light. The sand shifted, and a single blade of grass pushed through, green against the gold.

Zeus stared at it, his grin fading into something quieter. He’d touched creation itself, bent it to his will. But the Core wasn’t a tool—it was a force, vast and patient, waiting for him to understand its weight. He stood, his storm coiling tighter, lightning weaving with that strange new light.

The desert was silent, but he could feel it—the Core’s pulse, still tied to him, waiting. He’d shaped a piece of it, but there was more, so much more. The Throne Beyond the Sky loomed in his mind, Nyx’s violet eyes a shadow at its edge. He didn’t know what came next, but he knew one thing: the Core was his now, and he’d use it to carve his path.

Zeus turned, his cloak snapping in the wind. The Sahara stretched before him, endless and waiting. His storm roared, and a single bolt of gold lightning cracked the sky, leaving a faint hum in its wake.

He walked on, the desert trembling beneath his steps, the Core’s pulse echoing in his soul.

Olympus.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he lifted his gaze. High above the mountain, beyond clouds and stars, a throne hung suspended in the vast sky—radiant, untouchable. The Throne Beyond the Sky.

He let out a low laugh, bitter and impressed all at once. “So the bastard’s done it. He’s taken hold of creation itself. Incredible…” His grin sharpened as his voice dropped. “Now let’s see how Father reacts to this.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by AiKurou