"Everything is mine."
"Every sword, every crown, every soul."
"I am the master of all."

He walks among ruins,
not of a fallen kingdom,
but of empires he has taken.

Everything he touches bends to his will.
Blades shatter before they strike.
The very air bows to his command.

He claims armies, men, cities, crowns.
Their strength fuels his own.
Their will is his.
Their fate belongs to him.

He is untouchable.
He is unstoppable.
He is Greed itself.

No one stands beside him.
No one speaks his name with love.
Only silence.
Only fear.

He owns everything.
Yet he has nothing.

The first betrayal is a whisper.
A stolen dagger in the dark.
He barely notices—just a speck of dust
lost in his endless hoard.

The second betrayal is a crack in the foundation.
A knight, once loyal, turning away.
He reaches out, clutching, demanding—
but it slips through his fingers like sand.

Panic blooms.

The third betrayal is fire.
His castle burns.
His kingdom taken as he has taken.
The gold that once glowed now melts.
The power that once surged now drains.

His enemies rise, no longer afraid.
They are not his to command.
They never were.

The throne beneath him trembles.
The walls collapse.

His power was never his.
It was theirs.

Their fear fed him.
Their submission built his throne.

And now, their rebellion is his undoing.

No one stands beside him.
No one speaks his name with love.
Only silence.
Only fear.

He owned everything.
Now he has nothing.