Reincarnated As Poseidon

The ocean roared with ancient fury.

Blackened waves surged across the sea, crashing against cliffs and swallowing islands whole. The horizon twisted with unnatural storms, and lightning split the skies with eerie green light. In the heart of this chaos stood Vortheos, a titan of the deep, risen from the Trench of Kharon, armored in rusted coral and scaled bones. His eyes burned with hatred—fixated on one name.

"Poseidon…"

He raised his trident, and the sea obeyed.

The storm parted for a moment, revealing a figure walking calmly across the surface of the ocean.

Poseidon.

Clad in flowing robes of seafoam and shadow, his eyes shimmered like ancient tides, calm and unwavering. Around him, the ocean stilled—recognizing its true master.

"You've returned from the depths, Vortheos," Poseidon said. His voice echoed like waves against the shore. "But the sea no longer bows to you."

Vortheos snarled, his voice deep and jagged like shifting stone. "You are not the sea. You are a pretender—a child born of chaos."

Poseidon stepped closer.

"No. I am its will."

Vortheos roared and thrust his trident forward. A massive wall of water surged, laced with death and debris. Poseidon raised his hand, and the wave froze mid-air, suspended by pure force.

With a flick of his wrist, Poseidon shattered the wave into mist.

"You control tides," Poseidon said, eyes narrowing. "But I am the tide."

Vortheos launched forward, weapons clashing. Their tridents collided, sending shockwaves through the ocean. Fish scattered. Whales cried out. The sea itself trembled beneath the weight of their power.

Undersea Battle

Below the surface, armies clashed.

Vortheos's monstrous followers—creatures twisted by the trench's darkness—swarmed like a plague. Against them stood Poseidon's sentinels, sea spirits, merfolk, and guardians of the reef.

Amid the chaos, Aegirion led the charge, striking down abominations with his spear.

"This ends tonight!" he cried.

But the numbers grew.

Vortheos was awakening something deeper.

Poseidon, battered but unbroken, summoned the Heart of the Sea, a glowing orb of pure oceanic power. With it, he channeled the full force of the deep—ancient, relentless.

He struck Vortheos with a blast of tidal energy, sending the god flying into the trench wall.

Vortheos snarled, rising slowly.

"This is not over."

Poseidon's eyes narrowed.

"No… this is just the beginning."

The ocean had never been silent like this.

After the clash, the sea felt heavy, like it held its breath. Floating above the Trench of Kharon, Poseidon stared into the yawning darkness below. Vortheos was gone, vanished into the deep—but the storm in Poseidon's heart only grew.

Beside him, Aegirion surfaced, wounded but alive.

"He retreated," Aegirion said, catching his breath. "But why? You had him."

Poseidon's gaze didn't move. "No. He didn't run from me. He ran to something."

Inside the Trench

Far below, Vortheos stumbled through ancient corridors of coral and stone, lit by eerie green fire. He dropped to one knee before a colossal gate, etched with symbols older than Olympus.

A voice slithered from behind it.

"You've stirred the sea, old king. But the real tide… is yet to rise."

Vortheos bowed. "Lend me your strength."

Chains rattled behind the gate.

"Then break the seal."

Poseidon's Suspicion

Back above, Poseidon turned to Aegirion. "Something else is moving in the trench. Vortheos isn't alone."

"You think… Naelthar?"

Poseidon shook his head. "No. Older. Hidden. Watching."

He summoned his trident.

"I'm going in."

The waters grew darker with each step.

Poseidon drifted downward, leaving the light of the surface behind. Beside him, currents whispered in tongues he hadn't heard since the beginning—the language of the deep, a forgotten dialect only the abyss remembered.

He had entered the Trench of Kharon, a place where even gods hesitated to tread.

Around him, ghost lights flickered—souls lost to the sea, drawn to his divine presence. He ignored them, focusing on the pulse—the call—coming from below.

"Don't go alone," Aegirion's voice echoed through the water behind him. He swam fast, catching up.

Poseidon glanced at him.

"You've seen what lies here?"

Aegirion nodded grimly. "Only once. As a mortal. I barely made it out."

Poseidon's gaze hardened. "Vortheos is down here. But something else is waiting. Something older."

As they descended, the sea turned cold and heavy. Light was swallowed. The pressure became unbearable, even for gods. Strange creatures loomed—serpents with many eyes, coral beasts with bone maws—but none dared attack.

They felt it too.

The presence.

A pulsing force, deep in the trench, beating like a heart.

The Gate

Poseidon and Aegirion reached it at last—a massive gate, embedded in the trench wall, covered in seals and runes long corroded. Water rippled unnaturally around it, and the stone bled a dark ichor.

Vortheos was already there, chanting.

Poseidon stepped forward, voice thunderous. "Stop!"

Vortheos turned, eyes glowing with madness. "It's too late. He's waking."

Before Poseidon could move, the gate cracked open—just enough for something to slither out.

A hand.

Not of flesh. Not of bone.

Of pure abyss.

The Thing Behind the Gate

A voice echoed from beyond.

"Poseidon… my child."

Poseidon froze. He didn't know it. Yet… it knew him.

Vortheos laughed. "Meet the true god of the sea. The one you replaced. The one the Olympians buried."

The hand stretched further, grasping the trench wall. The sea around them churned violently.

Poseidon shouted to Aegirion, "We need to leave. Now!"

They fled as the gate began to shatter.

Behind them, Vortheos howled in triumph, his form merging with the abyssal energy leaking from the gate.

Back in the open sea, Poseidon gasped.

"He wasn't after power. He was freeing him—the true god of the trench."

Aegirion's eyes widened. "What do we do?"

Poseidon's gaze turned cold.

"We start a war. Before he finishes waking."

The ocean was in chaos.

From every corner of the sea, strange currents spiraled toward the Trench of Kharon, drawn by the dark presence leaking from the broken gate. Marine life fled. Coral reefs withered. The water grew colder, unnatural.

Poseidon stood atop an ancient reef, staring into the distance, feeling it—the Abyssal God stirring.

He clenched his trident.

"We don't have time."

Aegirion landed beside him, breathless. "We need help."

Poseidon nodded. "We can't face this alone."

He raised his trident, sending a pulse through the sea, a call to every corner—summoning ancient powers long dormant.

From the Sea of Mirrors, the Tidewalkers emerged—giant armored beings once guardians of the sea.

From the Coral Spires, came Kaeli, leader of the sea spirits, her eyes glowing with defiance.

From the Frozen Deep, the Kraken, long thought extinct, answered Poseidon's call.

And above, Olympus stirred.

Athena stepped through a portal of light, her gaze fierce. "The sea is your domain, Poseidon—but this war threatens all realms."

Poseidon nodded once. "Then fight beside me."

War Preparations

Allies gathered.

Weapons were forged—tridents, spears, sea glass blades.

Aegirion spoke to the troops. "This isn't just about Poseidon. If the Abyss rises, nothing survives."

Poseidon addressed them all.

"Tomorrow, we dive into the trench. We end this before the abyss consumes us."

The sea was restless.

Armies gathered across the seafloor—an assembly unlike any before. Tidewalkers, towering warriors of stone and coral, stood beside sea spirits wielding enchanted blades. The Kraken, its massive tentacles curling with anticipation, loomed behind them. Even Olympian warriors shimmered within protective bubbles of air, weapons at the ready.

At the front, Poseidon floated, trident gripped tightly.

Before him stretched the Trench of Kharon, a black maw splitting the ocean. Darkness pulsed within it—alive, calling.

Aegirion appeared beside him. "Ready?"

Poseidon's eyes were sharp, focused.

"We dive. Now.

Poseidon led the charge, cutting through the water like a spear. Behind him, his forces followed—wave upon wave of sea-bound warriors.

As they entered the trench, darkness closed in. Strange whispers echoed. Currents twisted unnaturally.

Creatures emerged—Vortheos's spawn, twisted abominations of coral and bone, charging with shrieks.

Poseidon raised his trident.

"Hold the line!"

The armies clashed.

The sea erupted into battle.

Tidewalkers crushed enemies beneath stone fists. Sea spirits danced through the water, slicing through foes with speed and grace.

Poseidon struck with divine force, each blow sending shockwaves through the trench walls.

But the enemy was endless.

Aegirion called out, "They're stalling us!"

Poseidon's eyes narrowed. "He's waking it."

Breaking from the fight, Poseidon and Aegirion surged deeper.

They reached the gate, now fully cracked. From within, black tendrils of abyssal energy slithered outward.

And before it stood Vortheos, transformed—merged with the abyss, eyes glowing, body pulsing with dark power.

"You're too late," he growled.

Poseidon stepped forward. "We end this. Now."

The trench rumbled.

Stone walls cracked as the Gate of Kharon groaned under unseen pressure. From its broken seals, thick black tendrils coiled outward, wrapping around nearby rocks, choking the life from them. The water pulsed with a dark heartbeat—slow, heavy, unstoppable.

Before the gate stood Vortheos, no longer just a god of the trench. His body had transformed—armor of jagged coral fused with living shadow, eyes burning like abyssal stars. His voice, when he spoke, echoed from every direction.

"You've come to die, Poseidon."

Poseidon, unfazed, raised his trident.

"No. I've come to end you."

The Battle Begins

Vortheos lunged first—faster than before, a blur of shadow and bone. His weapon, now fused with dark energy, clashed with Poseidon's trident in a shockwave that shook the trench. The sea itself recoiled, currents fleeing the battlefield.

Poseidon held firm, parrying and striking. Divine sparks lit the abyss.

Aegirion stayed back, watching the gate, eyes wide.

"It's opening."

Behind them, the gate split further. A massive eye opened within the darkness—slitted and ancient. A voice, deep and impossible, murmured from beyond.

"I… awaken…"

Poseidon broke from Vortheos's strike, gathering power in his trident. With a roar, he summoned a colossal vortex, slamming into Vortheos and flinging him into the trench wall.

But Vortheos only laughed, rising from the rubble.

"You cannot stop this."

He raised both hands. The darkness from the gate surged, wrapping around him. His body expanded, turning into a giant of abyssal might.

Poseidon braced himself.

The true battle had just begun.