Reincarnated As Poseidon

The Clash Renewed

"Yield, sea-born," Zephyros thundered, raising his spear, lightning wreathing his form. "You carry the name of a god, but you are not eternal. End this madness before Olympus itself burns for your arrogance."

Poseidon tilted his head, calm as the tide. His voice came like the low rumble of an undertow.

"Burn? You still think fire can consume the sea? You gods clutch to old laws written on broken stones. But the tide has no laws. It comes, whether you wish it or not."

The sea behind him surged. Entire waves twisted into the forms of serpents and beasts, fanged currents roaring as they lashed forward.

Zephyros launched into the air, lightning splitting the sky. Seraphin screamed a word of fire, unleashing a torrent of solar flame that carved across the battlefield. Nymera vanished, her shadow reforming in dozens of blades that slashed for Poseidon's heart.

For any mortal city, for any pantheon's temple, such force would have erased existence itself.

But Poseidon only raised his trident.

The sea answered.

Water coiled upward, a wall of tidal force, swallowing fire and lightning alike. Shadows pierced into it but were dragged under, dissipating as though drowning in their own reflection.

Poseidon stepped forward once, and the world tilted with him.

The gods stumbled—not from his weapon, not from his body, but from the sheer weight of the sea pressing upon their souls.

---

Poseidon's Power Unleashed

He raised his hand, palm outward. The battlefield convulsed.

A fissure split the earth, and seawater erupted from below, swallowing entire plains that had never touched an ocean. Mortals watching from far-off cliffs screamed as they saw their homeland reshaped—harbors where no coast should be, salt marshes rising in the bones of their fields.

"This is no longer war," Poseidon said softly. "This is reclamation."

Zephyros, his wings straining against the surge, snarled. "You damn us all!"

He hurled his spear. Lightning tore through sky and sea alike, aiming straight for Poseidon's chest.

The trident spun once, catching the spear mid-flight. The lightning died on contact, sucked into the abyssal core of Poseidon's weapon, and then—flung back.

The bolt struck Zephyros square in the chest, hurling him from the heavens like a star falling into the waves. He crashed with such force that even gods watching from Olympus flinched.

Seraphin rushed forward, flames consuming her own body in a blaze of divine self-immolation. She slammed her burning fists against Poseidon's chest.

For a moment, the world lit brighter than day.

But when the fire dimmed, Poseidon stood unburnt. Steam rose from his shoulders, and his eyes glowed brighter still.

"Your flame warms no one now," he whispered.

Then, with a sweep of his trident, a torrent of water like a hammer struck Seraphin, sending her skidding across miles of broken stone, her flames hissing out as she crashed into the far ruins.

---

Nymera's Gambit

That left only Nymera—and she did not charge blindly.

Instead, her cloak dissolved into smoke, her form scattering like a mist across the battlefield. Whispering voices surrounded Poseidon, the shadows of mortals he had drowned, twisted illusions of faces he once knew.

"You will sink, Poseidon," the shadows crooned. "Even the sea has a bottom. Even the abyss can be caged."

For a moment, the illusion gripped him. Faces of his past self—Dominic—emerged. His mother, pale and weak. His own corpse in a hospital bed. His old, frail hands clawing for life.

The shadow whispered: "You are not a god. You are just a boy who drowned."

Poseidon's steps faltered.

But then the abyss inside him roared.

The illusions shattered, drowned under a single surge of his will.

The real Poseidon's voice thundered, shaking Nymera's illusions apart:

"I am no boy. I am no shadow. I am the ocean given flesh."

Water surged outward in every direction, shredding the shadow domain. Nymera reappeared, coughing blood, her cloak in tatters.

Poseidon's hand caught her throat before she could escape again.

"You tried to drown me in memory," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "But I do not sink. I pull others under."

With a single motion, he hurled her into the sea itself. The water closed over her, pulling her under with no chance to rise.

---

The Tide Stands Alone

The battlefield went silent.

Zephyros struggled weakly from the waves, Seraphin smoldered from afar, Nymera vanished beneath the tides.

Poseidon stood unchallenged.

The sea churned around him, but within him was only stillness—a terrifying calm, like the eye of a storm that had only begun to spin.

Far above, on Olympus, the other gods stared down through the rippling veil, silent. Fear spread among them—not of Thalorin, not of the abyss, but of Poseidon himself.

The vessel had become the god.

And the god had become something more.

---

Olympus Decides

"Enough," growled a deep voice.

The assembled pantheon turned as Hades himself rose from the marble seat of shadow, his crown heavy with iron thorns. His dark eyes fixed upon the battlefield below.

"If three cannot stop him, then one will not either," he said coldly. "It is time we strike as pantheon, not fragments."

Zeus's hand clenched around his scepter, storm clouds boiling behind his throne. "And if we wait, he grows stronger. The tide will not stop at one city. It will climb Olympus itself."

The gods murmured, dread crawling in every syllable.

Poseidon's war was no longer only his. It was theirs.

---

Poseidon's Quiet

Meanwhile, Poseidon stood amid the broken ruins, his trident planted in stone. The sea lapped at his feet, blood and foam mixing as one.

He looked at his hands, calloused from trident grip, dripping seawater that never seemed to fall away.

The whispers of the abyss had gone quiet.

For the first time in days, he realized the silence was not outside him.

It was within.

The abyss was no longer whispering because it no longer needed to. He and it were one now.

And as the moonlight struck the waves, Poseidon raised his gaze toward Olympus.

"They will come," he murmured. "And when they do, the tide will not retreat. It will rise."

The ocean behind him answered in thunder.

The war had only begun.