Reincarnated As Poseidon

The silence inside the Rift was deceptive. The black waters stretched endlessly, their surface calm, but beneath them lurked currents that could tear apart the bones of gods. Poseidon's trident pulsed faintly in his hand, the runes along its shaft glowing with an ancient light that felt… foreign to him, as though it belonged to a thousand lifetimes before this one.

His breathing was slow, controlled, but his heart's rhythm beat hard in his chest. Somewhere ahead, through the shadows of twisting coral spires and drifting clouds of black silt, he could feel it—the presence. Thal'Zir's essence was here. Watching. Waiting.

A faint ripple touched the water around him, though no physical movement caused it. It was like the entire Rift sighed. Then a voice echoed—not from any direction, but from everywhere at once.

"You carry my name without my permission, mortal vessel."

The tone was deep enough to make the trident's runes flicker. Poseidon gritted his teeth. "I carry my own name," he said, his voice steady, though his grip tightened. "And I'm no vessel."

A low chuckle swelled through the Rift, rumbling like a deep-sea quake. "You have the arrogance of a godling. But your soul bleeds human. I can smell the mortality rotting within you."

Shapes began to take form in the shadows ahead—first as a mass of darkness, then slowly unraveling into something serpentine. Gleaming silver eyes appeared first, then the jaw of something far too large to be real. Its body was covered in scales the color of midnight storms, and its long fins were tattered like ancient banners shredded by centuries of war.

Thal'Zir's essence was not fully physical, but it was real enough to fill the space between them like a mountain.

Poseidon steadied himself. "If you're just a shadow, then you can't stop me from sealing this place."

The massive head lowered until the god's essence was level with him. "Seal the Rift? Fool. Without it, your precious seas will starve. Without me, your powers will dry to nothing."

"Then I'll find another way," Poseidon said, raising the trident.

In a heartbeat, the Rift exploded into motion.

The water shifted from stillness to a roaring maelstrom, currents slamming into him with the force of siege catapults. Poseidon spun the trident in a tight arc, anchoring himself with a burst of azure energy that locked the water around him in a temporary shell. But Thal'Zir's laughter returned—louder, sharper, slicing into his mind like hooks.

"You think your mortal resolve can bend the tides? Let me remind you… what it means to drown."

The essence's body coiled and struck.

The first impact slammed into Poseidon's side, the force sending him spiraling through the churning depths. His protective barrier shattered into fragments of light, and cold water rushed over him like knives.

He didn't even have time to draw a full breath before another shadowy strike came—this time from below. He twisted away, barely catching the motion in the corner of his eye. The trident moved instinctively, its tip slicing through the black water and unleashing a stream of compressed ocean energy.

The beam struck Thal'Zir's chest, dispersing some of the shadow, but the wound sealed almost instantly.

"A god's weapon in mortal hands… pathetic."

The voice now was not just heard—it was felt, vibrating through his bones.

Poseidon exhaled sharply, planting the trident into the sea floor. His mind went still. He had been in battles before—both in this life and in memories he didn't fully understand—but this wasn't a fight he could win by matching strength.

He reached into the core of himself, into the place where the ocean's heartbeat resonated. He could feel the pull of the tides, the weight of currents a thousand leagues away, the voices of every drop of water in his domain.

And he pulled.

The water around them began to churn unnaturally. A dome of crushing pressure formed in the Rift, collapsing toward its center—toward Thal'Zir.

The shadowed god recoiled slightly, its form warping. "Interesting… you dare command my domain against me."

The currents obeyed Poseidon's will, forcing the essence back. Black fragments peeled off Thal'Zir's body like smoke burning away in sunlight. Poseidon pushed harder, his muscles screaming from the effort.

But then, without warning, the currents stopped.

Not because he lost control—because they were taken.

The entire Rift bent. The flow of the water reversed instantly, crashing back into him with crushing weight. He felt it—not just in his body, but in his lungs, his blood. The ocean itself turned against him.

"You can command the sea," Thal'Zir said, his voice filling the water like thunder, "but I am the sea."

The shadow's form surged forward, engulfing him completely. Darkness swallowed all light. The pressure rose until it felt like his ribs would snap.

Memories began to bleed into his mind—scenes not his own. An age where the seas were red with blood, when ancient gods fought not for worship but for survival. Armies of scaled titans, whirlpools the size of continents, storms that shattered mountains.

And in all of them—Thal'Zir stood victorious.

Poseidon gasped, his mind reeling, but through the vision he saw something else—faint, almost forgotten—chains.

Not around Thal'Zir's body, but buried deep in the Rift itself.

A weakness.

The trident's runes burned hot in his hands, as though they too recognized the sight.

He drove its point forward.

The darkness shattered for a moment, revealing the essence's eye. The tip struck true, and a shockwave of pale blue light ripped through the water.

Thal'Zir's roar was deafening. His form tore away from Poseidon, scattering into a thousand fragments that bled into the Rift walls.

The water calmed instantly, but the silence that followed was heavier than before.

"You've learned to wound me…" the voice whispered now, faint but still full of venom. "…but to kill me… you must become me."

The last of the essence vanished, leaving Poseidon alone with his breath ragged and his grip on the trident trembling.

He knew this wasn't victory. It was only the beginning.

Far above, the ocean shifted—as if something ancient had just opened its eyes.