Reincarnated As Poseidon

The morning sun never rose over Aetherion.

Not because it couldn't—but because the celestial realm existed beyond such mortal constructs. Here, light and time bent to the will of gods. Yet today, the divine halls of the Pantheon were darker than ever, shrouded beneath a veil of storm clouds that churned in defiance of the gods' own design.

Poseidon walked alone.

Not as Dominic.

Not as a mere vessel.

But as something the gods couldn't define.

He entered the Sanctum of Accord, its towering gates parting as if the ocean itself bowed to him. The gods watched from their thrones, a semi-circle of judgment. No words of welcome. No titles. Only silence and scrutiny.

Aegirion stepped forward, armored in tidal steel, his face grave.

"You know why you're here."

Poseidon's voice was calm, but the power beneath it rumbled like a distant quake. "To prove I am not the monster you fear."

Pyraxxus snarled. "You are the monster. You just haven't devoured the world yet."

"I could," Poseidon said simply, eyes flickering ocean blue, "but I haven't."

Tension snapped like a taut rope. From the side, Isirielle stepped forward, her frost-covered staff gleaming. "This is not a debate. This is the Rite."

With a gesture, the Trial Circle formed. The marble floor split, revealing a ring of raw cosmic water—liquid woven from the First Sea, shimmering with memories and power. It was said to reveal a god's true essence when walked upon.

"Enter," Aegirion ordered.

Poseidon moved.

Each step echoed, not just in sound but in sensation. The waters of the Trial Circle rippled, revealing visions. Glimpses of Dominic's past—his hospital bed, his mother's tear-streaked face, the cold, sterile halls of mortality.

Then... a shift.

The waters darkened, revealing Thalorin's prison, the chains, the screaming void of ancient gods.

The circle shimmered again.

Now, visions of Poseidon himself—standing atop roaring waves, a trident of pure sea-stone in hand, armies of sea creatures kneeling before him.

The gods murmured.

Kael'thar, the god of Balance, leaned forward. "He is all of them. The boy. The god. The threat."

Suddenly, the water surged, rising into a column.

A voice boomed—not Poseidon's, not the gods'. It was the Trial itself, sentient and ancient.

"Name thyself."

Poseidon's eyes narrowed.

"Dominic... died."

He raised his hand, the water bending to his will.

"I am Poseidon. The Tide Sovereign. The one who stands between chaos and salvation."

Lightning cracked.

The Trial Circle froze.

Then shattered.

A shockwave knocked several gods from their thrones. Aegirion stood firm, his gaze hard.

"You've declared yourself. Now you fight for it."

Suddenly, Veydrax, god of Storms, stepped into the circle, lightning coiling around him.

"No words. Show us your will."

Poseidon didn't hesitate.

He raised his hand—water erupted from the shattered circle, spiraling around him like a living serpent.

Veydrax struck first.

Lightning speared through the air, but Poseidon stepped aside, the bolt crashing into the floor behind him. In a fluid motion, he swept his hand, sending a tidal surge toward Veydrax, slamming him against a pillar.

The gods roared—some in awe, others in fury.

Veydrax rose, blood at his lip.

"Not bad."

He launched again, this time with a storm vortex, but Poseidon countered, his trident forming mid-air—called, not summoned. It wasn't the trident of Thalorin. It was his.

They clashed—lightning and tide, fury and calm.

At the apex of the battle, Poseidon raised his trident high, the waters rising with him.

Then—

He stopped.

Lowered his weapon.

"I don't need to prove myself by destroying you," he said, eyes locked with Veydrax.

The god of Storms paused... then laughed.

"That's the answer I wanted."

He stepped back.

The battle ended.

Poseidon turned to the others.

"I'm not Thalorin. I'm not your weapon. And I'm not your enemy—unless you make me one."

Aegirion stared at him.

And nodded.

The Rite was over.

Poseidon had passed.

But high above, unseen by all, Eshkar, god of Secrets, whispered to himself.

"He walks the path not of gods... but of kings."

Far beneath the calm surface of the world's oceans, deeper than even the gods dared to tread, lay the Trench of Thalorenn—a place untouched by time, light, or memory. Here, in the darkness where pressure crushed even divine steel, something ancient slumbered.

Or had.

Now, it stirred.

The water pulsed with a rhythm not felt in eons—a call, unintentional, yet impossible to ignore.

Poseidon's power, released during the Rite, had resonated through the sea like a siren's cry. And in the trench, the Leviathan responded.

A single, slow beat—like a heart encased in stone—echoed through the abyss. Then another. Then a surge of movement.

Flesh like mountains shifted.

Eyes, blind for centuries, snapped open—glowing an eerie blue, not unlike Poseidon's own. The creature was older than the gods, a remnant of the primordial sea, banished by Thalorin himself out of fear.

And now, the seal placed over the Trench—woven by ancient hands—cracked.

The Leviathan moved.

Chains the size of cities strained and snapped one by one, their breaking cry shaking the ocean floor. Entire ecosystems fled. Whales and serpents alike darted from the trench as darkness bled into the water, staining it with the Leviathan's presence.

Above, in the mortal realm...

Storms began to churn across the sea, with no cause, no wind—just waves rising unnaturally high. Fishermen cried of monsters in the deep. Port cities felt tremors beneath the sea floor.

In the capital of Nereidra, Queen Naerida stood at the palace balcony, watching the tides rise against the moon's pull.

Something was wrong.

Beside her, the seer Vallis trembled, clutching his staff. "It's awakening… the Leviathan. The Trench seal is broken."

Naerida's eyes widened. "That seal was meant to last forever."

Vallis shook his head. "Poseidon's return has changed everything. His very existence disturbs the sea's oldest laws."

Naerida turned, her voice sharp. "Then we must warn him. He may have power, but he does not know what slumbers beneath our feet."

Meanwhile, in Poseidon's stronghold...

Poseidon stood atop the cliffs of Aeonis Reef, the wind pulling at his cloak of sea-threads. He felt it. A stirring in the deep, far beyond mortal ken. His connection to the ocean was clearer now, almost painful.

"What is that?" he whispered.

From behind, Neriah emerged. "You feel it too?"

He nodded slowly. "Something ancient is waking."

Suddenly, the sea before them boiled—literally boiled—as a massive form broke the surface miles away. It wasn't the Leviathan, not yet. It was a herald, a beast bound to the Leviathan's will—a Tidebreaker Serpent, thought extinct.

Its body was longer than a city, scales jagged like coral, its head crowned with bone and kelp. It screamed—a noise that made the sea itself recoil.

Poseidon's eyes narrowed. "So it begins."

He leapt into the air, water rising to meet him.

Aegirion appeared beside him, trident in hand. "You summoned it?"

"No," Poseidon growled. "But I'll end it."

They charged.

Water rose in twin spirals beneath their feet, forming steeds of pure tide.

As they neared the beast, Poseidon summoned his trident, Wavebreaker, and hurled it with precision. The weapon struck the serpent's skull, sending a ripple of force that split the ocean for miles.

The beast screamed again, but it did not die.

Instead, it bowed.

Poseidon's eyes widened.

"It recognizes me…"

Aegirion stared. "Or it serves what you've awakened."

Far below them, in the Trench, the Leviathan's eye closed again—but not in sleep.

In patience.

Lightning streaked across the sky above Olympus, but this was no ordinary storm. The clouds roiled unnaturally—shot through with threads of black and gold, divine energy clashing with something older, more primal.

Inside the Hall of Verdict, the gods stood in a tense circle, their eyes locked on the swirling orb of vision in the center—a pool of divine water, showing glimpses of the Leviathan's awakening.

"By the stars…" muttered Seraphin, the Goddess of Flame, her fire dimmer than usual.

"The Leviathan stirs," Zephyros said, voice cold and steady, though a vein throbbed in his temple. "Poseidon's presence has broken the Balance."

Athena stood at the edge of the council, her eyes never leaving the image of Poseidon riding the waves toward the Tidebreaker Serpent. "He didn't summon the beast. But it bows to him."

"Which is worse," snapped Pyraxxus, the Warbringer. "He commands the creatures of the deep now. What happens when he commands the Leviathan?"

Athena glanced at him. "We don't know that he will."

"Do you doubt what you saw?" he thundered. "He is no longer mortal, no longer one of us. His presence is poison to the natural order."

A silence followed.

Until Eshkar, the God of Secrets, spoke.

"He is the order. Or rather, he is what the sea wants. The Leviathan is not waking to challenge him. It is waking to follow."

That drew murmurs from the gods.

Athena frowned. "And if Poseidon cannot control it?"

Zephyros stepped forward. "Then we must act before the Leviathan reaches the surface."

"By killing Poseidon?" Seraphin asked.

Zephyros hesitated, then nodded once. "Yes."

Athena's voice was sharp. "He's still Dominic. Still a boy."

"No," Eshkar said softly. "That boy is gone. What remains… is something new."

---

Meanwhile, over the raging sea…

Poseidon hovered in the sky, rain slicing sideways like blades. Beneath him, the Tidebreaker Serpent coiled around the remains of a sunken warship, bowing low.

"This thing knows me," he muttered.

Aegirion floated beside him, trident ready. "It knows Thalorin. That's who it bows to."

"No," Poseidon corrected. "It bows to the Trident… and the power I now wield. Not as Thalorin's shadow. As Poseidon."

Thunder cracked.

And then—silence.

Not just above, but below.

The ocean floor trembled.

And from the depths… it rose.

First came the tentacles—massive, barnacle-encrusted, larger than any mountain. Then came the head—a beast forged from nightmare, all jagged teeth and ancient scars. Its roar sent tsunamis in every direction, even as far as the distant shores of Olympus.

The Leviathan.

Aegirion whispered, "Gods help us…"

Poseidon didn't blink.

He stepped forward in mid-air, trident in hand.

"I am the sea."

His voice echoed across the waves.

The Leviathan froze.

Its massive eyes locked onto him.

Poseidon raised his trident.

The ocean stilled.

And the world held its breath.