Reincarnated As Poseidon

The sea was not calm.

It was never calm anymore.

Where once waves danced with rhythm, now they writhed like living serpents, answering only to the will of one god—the god who had returned from exile, carrying both the title and curse of Poseidon.

The ruins of a thousand temples littered the coasts of the mortal world. Their shattered columns jutted out of the rising tide like gravestones, each one a reminder that the old order was cracking.

And in the middle of it all, upon a throne of black coral rising from the abyss, Poseidon sat. His trident pulsed with abyssal light, drawing power from the drowned cities below. Every mortal prayer whispered on trembling lips—whether of fear, anger, or supplication—flowed into him like tributaries feeding a river.

But his gaze wasn't fixed on mortals. It pierced upward. Toward Olympus.

High above the mortal seas, Olympus had ceased to shine. Once radiant with golden towers and white marble colonnades, the mountain-palace now trembled under storms that even Zeus could not tame.

The council chamber resounded with raised voices.

"He is no longer the boy," Nymera spat, her cloak of shadows twisting like smoke. "He is Poseidon—sea and abyss bound together. To treat him as mortal is folly."

"He is corrupted," Seraphin flared, her body blazing with fire hot enough to crack the stone. "The abyss sings in his veins. If we do not cut him down now, none of us will remain!"

Zeus slammed his palm upon the table, thunder shattering through the skies. "Enough!" His eyes, lightning-filled, narrowed. "You speak as though he is untouchable. He is still one of us. A brother who must be bound, not destroyed."

Aegirion, younger but already scarred from battles with his tides, rose to his feet. "You saw the drowned bell. You felt the city sink. That was no brother—it was judgment."

The chamber fell silent, save for the storm raging outside.

And then, from the farthest corner, Hades spoke. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of inevitability.

"The abyss answers him." His cold eyes lifted. "If the abyss rises, then death itself may have no dominion. If Poseidon claims what lies beneath Tartarus…"

He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.

The gods shivered.

Far below Olympus, Poseidon rose from his throne of coral. The sea churned around him, pulled by a power older than Olympus itself. He walked across the waves as though they were stone, every step leaving whirlpools spiraling in his wake.

"Three came before me," he murmured, recalling the gods who had tried to strike him down in earlier chapters. His fingers tightened around the trident. "And three fell broken."

He raised his hand, and the ocean split. Not like the mortal seas parted for prophets in forgotten tales—this was deeper, darker. The ocean cracked downward, revealing the black, yawning throat of the abyss.

From its depths, something stirred.

Chains groaned. Ancient wards screamed. A thousand voices—neither mortal nor divine—howled in despair and ecstasy.

And Poseidon, eyes burning like drowning stars, whispered:

"Rise."

The abyss answered.

A tide unlike any the world had ever known surged upward, not of water, but of shadowed essence. Shapes broke the surface—behemoths with shells like mountains, leviathans with eyes like suns long dead, serpents that coiled around themselves and vanished into infinity.

The Forgotten Tides had awakened.

Mortals in Terror

In the cities that still stood, mortals saw the horizon rise like a wall. Ships capsized where no storm touched them. Rivers reversed their flow. Wells bubbled with salt.

The priests of the Seven Currents tore their vestments and screamed warnings in the streets:

"He is no longer god of the sea! He is the sea!"

Children cried. Kings emptied their coffers in frantic offerings. Armies marched to the coasts, only to see their banners dragged under by invisible hands.

No one could escape his reach.

No one… except those who knelt.

And already, thousands knelt. Whole cities drowned themselves willingly, throwing open their gates to the flood, begging for mercy from the Abyssal Sea Lord.

Poseidon accepted their surrender with silence. Their prayers only deepened his tide.

On Olympus, the council reached breaking point.

"We cannot wait any longer," Seraphin snapped, her flames flaring high. "If he rises further, there will be nothing left to save."

Hades leaned forward, cloak whispering. "Then let us test him. Not with words. With war."

Zeus's thunder rolled. "Who will face him? Speak now."

Silence stretched, until at last, three gods stepped forward.

Seraphin, flames wreathing her body.

Aegirion, waves breaking against his trident.

And Nymera, shadows clinging to her like a veil.

Together, they bowed their heads.

"We will strike him," Aegirion declared. "And see if the drowned god bleeds."

The sea split once more as the three gods descended, their presence making mortals scream and fall to their knees.

Poseidon stood upon his abyssal throne, waiting.

"You come to me," he said, voice rolling like thunder across water. "Brave. Or foolish."

"Both," Seraphin hissed. Flames surged from her hands, forming a spear of pure fire.

Nymera's shadows slithered around her, forming blades that dripped with silence.

Aegirion leveled his trident, eyes grim. "For every life you drowned, for every temple you shattered—I will see you fall."

Poseidon lifted his trident lazily, its abyssal glow cutting across the waves. "Then come. Test your faith against the tide."

They came.

Seraphin hurled fire across the horizon, turning the very sky into an inferno. Nymera vanished into mist, her blades slashing from every angle. Aegirion clashed head-on, trident against trident, waves towering a hundred feet high around them.

The ocean roared.

The world bent.

And the abyss… laughed.

With one sweep of his trident, Poseidon split the waves. Seraphin's fire sputtered, steam exploding into clouds. He caught Aegirion's trident mid-strike, twisting it aside with impossible strength. His shadows met Nymera's blades—and devoured them, reshaping them into serpents that turned back against her.

The three gods staggered.

"You think yourselves strong," Poseidon said, stepping forward, aura crushing the sea itself flat. "But you are children clinging to thrones built on fear. I was cast down, forgotten, drowned—and still I rose."

The abyss surged behind him, leviathans shrieking as they surfaced, their eyes reflecting starlight and death.

"I am no brother. No vessel. No prisoner." His voice thundered like collapsing worlds. "I am Poseidon—sea, abyss, and judgment combined!"

The battle raged, but already the tide leaned.

And Olympus, watching from above, trembled.

Because for the first time in an age, gods bled.