Reincarnated As Poseidon

The sea was never quiet anymore.

Even when the waves slept, even when the horizon lay flat and silver as polished steel, the deep trembled with a pulse that belonged not to tide or current, but to a will. A living will. Poseidon's.

And Olympus felt it.

Storms bent away from their old patterns, rivers rose without rain, and whole coastal kingdoms vanished overnight, not with crashing tempests but with silence. One moment villages stood, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. The next, there was only water, glassy and still, as though the land had never been.

But now—Poseidon's enemies gathered.

---

The War Council of Olympus

The marble dome of Olympus split the heavens, gilded in light that never dimmed. Yet even here, shadows clung where they had no right to. The gods had gathered again, not out of ceremony, but desperation.

Zeus's thunderbolts rested across his knees, but his hand never left them. His once-calm expression had hardened into a mask of fury. Hera stood beside him, her face pale, her fingers wrapped around the haft of her scepter. Ares leaned against a cracked pillar, armor scorched from his last battle against Poseidon's tides. Even Athena, whose wisdom was never shaken, had gone silent as she studied the maps painted across the marble floor—maps that no longer made sense. Coasts shifted daily. Islands disappeared. Even the seas under their dominion obeyed another master.

"He grows," Athena said finally. Her voice, though calm, held steel. "Not only in power. In influence. He no longer moves the sea. He is the sea."

Zeus's fist slammed down, thunder echoing through the chamber. "Then he has forgotten his place. I cast him into the depths once. I will do it again."

"Will you?" Hera murmured. "Or will the depths swallow you, as it has swallowed every city that dared defy him?"

Ares's laugh was dry, bitter. "I fought him once already. Three of us. We could not pierce him. His body bends as water bends—his wounds close as rivers do. Strike one part of him, and another rises stronger. He does not fight like a god. He fights like an ocean."

Zeus turned to the gathered council, sparks crawling across his arms. "Then we will not fight him as gods. We will fight him as executioners. No mercy. No chains. Death."

But even as the decree fell from his lips, the dome trembled.

A booming voice rolled upward, one that did not belong within Olympus.

"You speak of my death as though it were possible."

The sea answered inside the sky.

Every pool of water—every fountain, every sacred spring—erupted. Waves burst from marble basins, flooding across white stone, crashing into the thrones of the gods themselves. Columns cracked as saltwater thundered upward, dragging barnacles and deep-sea creatures with it.

From the heart of the deluge, he emerged.

Poseidon.

No longer bound by mortal flesh. No longer Dominic the vessel. He was the abyss clothed in form, a body carved from tide and salt, eyes two endless whirlpools that reflected no light. His trident glowed with abyssal blue fire, each spike humming with drowned voices.

Olympus gasped. Mortals were never meant to breach this realm, yet here he stood—divinity made ocean.

"You drown kingdoms," Zeus thundered, rising to his full height, lightning wreathing his arms. "But Olympus is no harbor to be claimed!"

Poseidon's smile was cruel. "Olympus is already drowning. You just cannot hear it yet."

And with that, he raised his trident—

—and the dome cracked.

Above them, where eternal sky had always stretched, a spiral of water opened, black and endless, the true ocean pressing against Olympus itself. The air grew heavy. Every god felt it—not a storm, not a tide, but inevitability.

Ares roared first, leaping forward with his blade aflame. His war cry split the heavens as he brought the sword down on Poseidon's chest.

It passed through water.

And the water closed again, blade trapped, twisting. Ares's eyes widened as his arm was dragged into the god of the sea's chest as though sinking into quicksand. Poseidon's form shifted, hardened, and Ares screamed as his arm nearly snapped under crushing pressure.

Only Athena's spear saved him, cutting through the tide and forcing Poseidon to withdraw. She pulled Ares back, her eyes burning with calculation.

"Do not strike blindly," she hissed. "He is the sea. We must strike as one."

Zeus did not wait. Lightning tore from his hands, splitting the chamber with blinding light. Bolts hammered Poseidon again and again, the smell of ozone filling the sacred air. Each strike would have shattered mountains.

But Poseidon only stepped forward. His trident spun, catching the lightning and splitting it across currents of his own making. What should have scorched him only lit the chamber with dazzling arcs, harmless against his tide-forged skin.

"Your thunder dies in my depths," Poseidon said coldly. "And your reign ends here."

He struck the marble floor with his trident.

The cracks spread instantly. Water poured upward, not from rivers or seas below, but from everywhere. From the air, from the light, from the fabric of Olympus itself. The white marble floor blackened as saltwater flooded the chamber. The gods staggered, their perfect sanctuary tilting beneath them.

And in that flood—voices rose.

Not mortal voices. Not divine.

The drowned.

Shadows formed in the water, faces twisted in silent screams, eyes wide with endless terror. They reached upward with hands of foam and brine, grasping at the gods, pulling at their limbs, dragging them down.

Hera shrieked as phantom fingers clawed at her ankles. Ares swung wildly, cutting shadows that only re-formed around him. Even Zeus faltered as the drowned dead clawed at his legs, their whispers filling the chamber with promises of suffocation.

Athena's voice cut through the chaos, firm and unyielding. "This is not merely Poseidon. This is the abyss itself. He has awakened what should never have been touched."

Poseidon raised his head, and the drowned voices hushed, listening.

"They speak the truth," he said. "I am not your brother. I am not your enemy. I am your replacement."

The trident gleamed. The abyss shuddered in answer.

Olympus had never known fear until now.