Reincarnated As Poseidon

Zephyros, God of Judgment, wings ablaze with lightning.

Nymera, Goddess of Shadows, her form a cloak of living void.

And Aegirion, the young god of tides, face pale as though torn between loyalty and dread.

Their arrival was no mere coincidence. This was the council's will: to kill Poseidon here, to break him before his dominion drowned Olympus itself.

The sea stilled for a heartbeat as the three gods drew close.

"Poseidon," Zephyros thundered, voice like a storm breaking across mountains. "Your arrogance ends today. The pantheon will not bow to a drowned king."

Poseidon's lips curved into a smile—not of mockery, but of inevitability. His voice rolled through the flooded dome like tidal thunder.

"You call me drowned. You call me banished. Yet here I stand, and your precious Olympus trembles. Tell me—who is king now?"

The words were not shouted. They were truth, woven into water.

Zephyros surged forward, spear of skyfire piercing the dome of sea. Nymera vanished into the shadows at his side, her knives ready to tear through Poseidon's chest. And Aegirion raised his trident—not to defend, but to join the strike.

The battle began.

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The Clash

Zephyros struck first. His spear carved through the water as though through air, carrying divine judgment in every thrust. Poseidon met it with his trident, sparks exploding as sea and sky collided. Every clash tore open rifts in the storm, flashes of lightning illuminating Poseidon's wrath.

Behind him, Nymera slid from the shadows, knives aimed at his spine. But the water moved for him. A wall surged upward, freezing into obsidian ice. Her blades struck, and shattered.

"Shadows belong to the deep," Poseidon growled, his hand snapping outward. From the water, a hundred serpents rose, hissing, coiling around Nymera's form.

She screamed—not in fear, but fury—and burst into a thousand fragments of shade, scattering before they could constrict.

Then came Aegirion. His trident struck true, slicing into Poseidon's side. For the first time, blood spilled into the sea.

It was not red.

It was black, thick, alive. The blood of Thalorin.

The sea itself recoiled, shuddering as if even it feared the ancient power now bleeding free.

Aegirion froze, horror spreading across his face. "What… what are you becoming?"

Poseidon turned to him, eyes like abysses. "Not becoming. Returning."

With one sweep of his arm, the sea erupted upward, a wall miles tall, and smashed Aegirion backward. The young god tumbled through the vortex, coughing water, his trident nearly ripped from his grip.

---

The Shattered Sky

Zephyros roared, lightning splitting the dome, his wings spreading until the whole storm seemed to glow with fire. He dove, spear thrust forward, a comet of judgment.

Poseidon met him head-on. Trident and spear collided, the force splitting the sea down to its roots. Mortals far below saw the ocean peel back to bare seabed, exposing fish gasping in the naked trenches of the world.

"Yield!" Zephyros bellowed, forcing his spear down toward Poseidon's chest.

Poseidon laughed, the sound a tidal quake. "The sea does not yield!"

With a twist, he shattered the spear's tip, the fragments dissolving into foam. His trident pierced through the god's armor, not killing him—but tearing one wing from his back. Zephyros crashed into the waves, screaming, his blood scattering like burning stars.

---

The Goddess of Shadows

Nymera returned then, her voice echoing from every corner of the flooded dome. "You cannot win, Poseidon. Even if you slay us, the council will bind you again. The Rift will become your grave."

Her shadows rose like an army—blades, chains, spears all striking at once. Darkness filled the water until no light remained.

But Poseidon closed his eyes.

He did not need them.

The sea was his sight. The ocean hummed in his veins. And shadows, no matter how endless, could not exist without the water to cradle them.

His trident struck once.

The entire shadow army collapsed, drawn into a vortex of crushing depths. Nymera screamed as the water seized her, dragging her form into its grip. For a moment, her face appeared—pale, desperate—before the sea swallowed her whole.

Silence followed. Her presence vanished.

Only Aegirion remained, battered but not broken, staring at Poseidon across the shattered sea.

"Why?" he whispered. His voice cracked, torn between loyalty and despair. "Why bring ruin to mortals who only sought to live? Why slaughter gods who once shared the currents with you?"

Poseidon's gaze softened—not with mercy, but with sorrow.

"Because they caged me. Because they feared me. Because they thought the ocean could be bound."

He lifted his trident, the storm roaring back to life around him.

"And because the tide does not ask for permission—it takes."

Aegirion raised his trident in defiance. His body shook, his power faltered, but he still stood. "Then if you are the tide… I will be the stone that resists it."

Their weapons met.

The clash split the sea dome entirely, a whirlpool forming that dragged the battlefield into chaos. Wreckage of drowned cities, bones of leviathans, and corpses of gods long dead spun in the abyssal spiral.

Aegirion screamed as Poseidon's strength overwhelmed him, his trident shattering under the weight of the ocean itself.

Poseidon pressed forward, his voice a whisper heard across every current of the world:

"The sea does not resist. The sea consumes."

And with that, he drove his weapon through Aegirion's chest.

The young god's cry was swallowed by the waves. His body dissolved into foam, scattering like tears across the abyss.

Silence fell once more.

The storm collapsed, waves sinking into stillness. Where once three gods had stood, only Poseidon remained. His chest rose and fell, blood still leaking black into the sea, but his trident gleamed brighter than ever—fed, renewed, hungrier.

The council would know. Olympus would rage. More gods would come.

But Poseidon smiled, teeth sharp as coral.

For the first time since his rebirth, he felt it clearly.

The sea was his again.

The battlefield was no longer mortal ground.

What had once been a sprawling coastal plain was drowned beneath walls of water rising and falling in impossible arcs. The sea itself stood upright, sculpted by Poseidon's will into living monuments of wrath. Lightning tore through sheets of rain, thunder booming like war drums as the heavens and oceans clashed.