Reincarnated As Poseidon

The Rift quaked like a living beast beneath Poseidon's feet. Jagged shards of light cracked through the darkness above, illuminating the vast ocean of shadows that swirled endlessly in every direction. The cold wind here didn't just bite—it gnawed, pulling warmth from the soul rather than the flesh.

The ocean god stood still for a moment, letting the weight of the place press down on him. Even here, in the deepest reaches where mortal and immortal currents collided, the waves obeyed him. The black water rippled outward as if it feared brushing against his boots.

From the far end of the horizon, a presence stirred.

Thal'Zir.

The essence of the ancient tyrant rose like a storm front—formless at first, then solidifying into a towering figure of liquid midnight. His voice rolled across the Rift like the crash of thunder against cliffs.

"Poseidon… or should I say… Thalorin's vessel."

The name sent a cold shiver through Poseidon's spine. It was no longer just Dominic, the boy who had once suffered quietly in a hospital bed, watching his body waste away. It was no longer even the man who had been reborn with command over the seas. It was something more. Something older. Something dangerous.

Poseidon drew his trident slowly, its tip glowing faintly with cerulean light. "You're mistaken if you think I'm here to bend to you, Thal'Zir. This ocean—" he stabbed the trident toward the churning black waves "—answers to me."

Thal'Zir's laughter was low and corrosive, slithering under Poseidon's skin. "This 'ocean' is mine. You swim in my waters. You wield my birthright." The shadow-lord stepped forward, his body rippling like an endless tide of venom. "But perhaps… I'll let you keep it—if you kneel."

The words triggered something deep within Poseidon. A flicker of another life—chains clamped around his wrists, the suffocating stench of salt and blood, the sound of a whip cracking across his back. He'd bowed to no one then. He would bow to no one now.

"I am no one's servant."

The ocean floor beneath them split, sending geysers of black water roaring into the air. Poseidon slammed his trident into the ground, and a tidal shockwave tore outward, forcing Thal'Zir to stumble back.

For the first time, the shadow's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in calculation.

"You've awakened more than I expected," Thal'Zir hissed. "But tell me—how long can you stand against the tide when the tide is me?"

The black sea surged upward, forming serpents of liquid shadow that lunged for Poseidon. He moved instinctively, spinning the trident in a tight arc. Each swing tore rifts of shimmering blue through the air, slicing through the serpents before they could coil around him. The clash of blue and black lit the Rift like lightning against a stormy sky.

But Thal'Zir wasn't done. His form dissolved into the water itself, becoming the sea around Poseidon. The pressure rose, the current trying to drag him down into the abyss. For a heartbeat, Poseidon felt the weight of an ocean pressing against his chest, cold and crushing, like hands clawing him into darkness.

Then a voice—not Thal'Zir's—whispered through the water.

"Remember who you are."

The voice was deep, ancient, resonant. Thalorin.

Poseidon gritted his teeth and drove his trident downward. A massive whirlpool tore open beneath him, but instead of pulling him under, it threw him upward on a pillar of water. From that height, he could see the entire Rift's expanse—a world of endless black waves and impossible distance.

He could also see Thal'Zir reforming, his shape growing monstrous. A hundred arms of water sprouted from his form, each one tipped with claws like obsidian blades.

"You'll drown in me," Thal'Zir roared.

"Then let's see who drowns first," Poseidon spat back.

They collided.

The sound wasn't just heard—it was felt in the bones, in the blood, in the air itself. Poseidon thrust his trident forward, each strike detonating in explosions of water and light. Thal'Zir countered with clawed limbs, forcing Poseidon to twist, dive, and strike again.

A blow grazed his side, the cold burning into his ribs like liquid ice. Poseidon bit back the pain and summoned a wall of solid water, smashing it forward. Thal'Zir absorbed it, but the impact gave Poseidon a second to launch his next attack—an undercurrent so sharp it sliced through the shadow-lord's midsection.

Thal'Zir staggered, the wound sealing almost instantly. "Good," he snarled. "You'll make a worthy shell when I take your body."

The fight became a dance of tides—Poseidon weaving through Thal'Zir's onslaught, answering every crushing wave with a rising one of his own. The Rift itself began to shift under their battle; great towers of water rose and collapsed, whirlpools opened and closed like breathing lungs, and every breath Poseidon took tasted of salt and fury.

Then, Thal'Zir made his move. He feigned a collapse, letting his body fall into the water. Poseidon surged forward for the killing strike—only to feel the ocean around him come alive with chains.

They erupted from the depths—chains made of water and shadow, each one latching onto his arms, legs, and neck. They pulled him down, dragging him into a darkness so deep it felt like he was falling through eternity.

In that abyss, he heard Thal'Zir's voice again.

"It doesn't matter if you call yourself Poseidon. You are Thalorin's flesh, and I am his shadow. You belong to me."

The pressure built again, harder this time, threatening to crush his lungs. His vision darkened. His grip on the trident began to slip.

But just before his fingers lost their hold, a surge of power flared in his chest—a heartbeat that wasn't his own.

Thalorin's heartbeat.

Blue light exploded outward, shattering the chains. Poseidon's eyes burned with a glow as deep as the ocean's heart, and the water around him obeyed instantly. He rose, not swimming, but carried upward by a vortex of pure will.

When he broke the surface, Thal'Zir was waiting—but this time, Poseidon didn't hesitate.

"Thal'Zir," he said, voice carrying like a storm across the sea, "the tides answer only to me."

He thrust the trident forward, unleashing a beam of condensed oceanic force. It tore through the Rift, parting the black waves as it struck Thal'Zir dead center. The shadow-lord's body convulsed, his form distorting under the sheer force.

Thal'Zir howled, dissolving back into the sea, his voice echoing even as his form vanished. "This is not the end… Poseidon…"

Silence returned to the Rift.

The ocean was calm again, but Poseidon's breathing was ragged. His wounds ached, his muscles burned, but his grip on the trident was unshaken.

For now, the tide was his.

But somewhere, deep in those black waters, Thal'Zir still waited.