Reincarnated As Poseidon-Chapter 67: I am poseidon 3

The sea no longer whispered.

It sang.

A sound like no music ever heard on land—a vibration so old it echoed through bone, coral, and salt. Every drop of ocean trembled with the rhythm of something that wasn’t just divine...

It was inevitable.

Tharamos stood tall, his form now fully born, a twisted monument to forgotten wars and drowned names. The water curled around him like a cloak made of nightmares.

And Poseidon?

He hovered in silence.

But the silence was pregnant with sound—

With memory.

---

The First Note

Poseidon closed his eyes.

The Trident no longer pulsed with power—it hummed in harmony with the sea.

And then—

He moved.

He raised it to the sky and struck the sea.

The waves didn’t crash.

They harmonized.

A deep, resonant note rang out from the ocean floor to the highest tide.

It wasn’t noise.

It was the first note of the Symphony of the Deep.

---

The Sea Responds

The currents surged—not wild, not chaotic, but orchestrated.

Whales, miles away, turned and began to circle the trench.

Eels spiraled upward in perfect timing.

Ancient sea turtles formed a wide ring, their shells glowing faintly.

Every living thing in the ocean began to move—in rhythm.

Tharamos snarled.

> "What trick is this?"

Poseidon’s eyes glowed, steady and calm.

The sea had never felt like this.

Not in centuries.

Not since before the gods built Olympus.

Not since before names like Poseidon were even whispered.

It was calm.

Alive.

Listening.

After the storm of sound and shadow, silence no longer meant death.

Now it was rest.

Poseidon stood on the ocean floor, no longer glowing with divine rage or battle-ready fury. His armor had faded to a softer shimmer, his face less harsh. The burden of war had lessened, if only slightly.

---

The Deep Breath

Varun let himself fall onto a patch of glowing reef, panting.

> "Tell me that’s the last one," he said.

"Please, gods. No more ancient sea monsters for a while."

Maelora chuckled weakly as she sank beside him.

> "We just faced the echo of everything the sea ever wanted to forget... I think we earned a day off."

Poseidon said nothing at first. He stood still, his eyes looking upward—as if hearing something beyond their reach.

Varun followed his gaze.

> "What are you thinking?"

> "The sea’s singing has stopped," Poseidon answered, "but above... the gods are still watching."

---

Olympus Watches

High above the waves, Olympus stirred.

Zeus leaned against a marble pillar, silent.

Athena sat with her arms folded, contemplative.

> "He’s changed," she said.

> "Yes," Hades murmured beside her. "He is no longer Dominic. He is no longer even Poseidon as we knew him."

Zeus finally spoke.

> "He is now the tide."

---

Returning to Thalorenn

With Tharamos defeated, the trench slowly healed.

The coral that had gone white began to shimmer again with color.

Old shipwrecks shifted and settled.

Even the once-screaming currents fell into a gentle hum.

Poseidon turned to his friends.

> "We need to seal this place."

Varun blinked.

> "Seal it? Like, bury it?"

> "Not bury. Protect," Poseidon said. "There are still things beneath the surface here. Not evil... just broken. Forgotten."

Maelora nodded.

> "Then we make a pact. This place stays guarded."

> "By who?" Varun asked. "You’re not planning to sit on a rock here for the next thousand years, are you?"

Poseidon’s lips lifted in a faint smirk.

> "No. I’ve got other things to fix. But Thalorenn will have guardians."

---

The New Guardians

From the currents, four shapes emerged—creatures of the sea called by the last notes of the symphony.

A colossal turtle whose back held a garden of blooming coral.

A serpent-like eel with markings of stars.

A hammerhead shark older than any living sea chart.

And a glowing jellyfish that pulsed with ancient wisdom.

They circled the trench once.

Poseidon raised his hand.

> "Guard this place. Not as a prison—but as a resting place."

They dipped their heads and vanished into the deep.

---

Above the Surface

Later that day, Poseidon broke through the surface for the first time since the battle.

The sun hit his face like an old friend.

Boats floated in the distance—fishermen, unaware that history had just rewritten itself beneath their hulls.

He stood on a rock just offshore, eyes closed, breathing the air.

> "Dominic..." Maelora called from behind him.

He opened his eyes slowly.

> "That name..." he murmured, then turned. "You can still call me that. But it’s not who I am anymore."

> "Then who are you?" she asked softly.

He looked to the horizon.

> "I am the tide. I am the sea. I am Poseidon."

---

Final Scene – Peace... for Now

In the depths below, Thalorenn slept again.

But across the ocean... something stirred.

Deep beneath the frozen sea near the Northern Edge...

A slumbering eye cracked open.

Not Tharamos.

Something older.

And it heard the sea sing again.

Far from Thalorenn’s rebirth, beyond the coral bloom and peaceful tides, the ocean turned cold.

Not gently.

Not naturally.

But with intent.

The Northern Edge—the frozen corner of the sea where maps ended and myths began—had always been a place ships avoided, where compasses spun mad and whispers of old gods drifted through the glaciers.

And now... something moved beneath the ice.

---

The Awakening

A single crack spread across the surface of the ancient frost shelf, spiderwebbing outward like lightning frozen mid-air. The sound wasn’t loud, but it carried—through the water, through the seabed, through memory.

And into the bones of the deep.

Below the frozen mass, wrapped in coils of ancient chains covered in rune-etched barnacles, lay a massive form—dormant.

Until now.

A glowing pulse ran through one of the chains.

It flickered once...

Then again...

And then broke.

The creature’s eye opened.

Pale, pupil-less, and enormous—like a moon sunken beneath the sea.

It did not roar. It breathed—and with that breath, the northern currents changed direction, slipping down toward the heart of the ocean.

---

Unknown to the South

In Thalorenn, the warmth of peace lingered like morning dew.

Poseidon floated near the shallows, watching dolphins leap through calm waves, still basking in the aftermath of victory. Beside him, Maelora sketched patterns in the sand with her spear while Varun snored in the sun, curled on a smooth rock.

For a moment, everything was normal.

But Poseidon’s eyes flicked northward.

And he frowned.

> "The sea is changing again."

Maelora looked up.

> "More danger?"

> "Not danger," he said, "but something ancient. Something I didn’t awaken... but may have heard the song."

---

Olympus Reacts

On Mount Olympus, a council stirred again.

Athena stood over a pool of divination.

Faint ice bloomed on the edges of the water.

> "There’s movement at the Northern Edge," she said.

Zeus narrowed his eyes.

> "That place was sealed."

> "Not sealed," Hades corrected, stepping out of a shadow. "Just forgotten. Like Tharamos. But Poseidon’s song reached further than we planned."

> "So now another stirs?" Hera asked softly.

Athena gave a grim nod.

> "The First Leviathan."

---

A Whisper Returns

Back beneath the ice, the beast stirred again.

It had no name now.

Not because it was erased.

But because it was never given one.

This was the god before gods. The tide before names.

It heard the Sea’s Symphony.

And it wanted to sing back.

Chains continued to snap.

The glaciers cracked louder.

And creatures of the north fled for deeper water.

---

Back to Dominic

That night, Poseidon sat at the edge of a cliff, legs in the water.

He didn’t glow. He didn’t radiate divine energy.

He just looked... quiet.

Maelora approached with two fish skewered and grilled, sitting beside him.

> "You’re not sleeping."

> "The sea’s not letting me."

> "Still hearing things?"

Poseidon nodded.

> "Something ancient. From the north. Something that doesn’t speak in words, but... in pressure."

Maelora shivered.

> "Then maybe the peace was only an interlude."

Poseidon didn’t answer right away. He looked up at the stars.

> "If it comes... I’ll face it. But I won’t face it alone."

He placed a hand over the Trident, then closed his eyes.

And somewhere far away, a deep, slow hum echoed under the ice.

The Northern Edge cracked open.

What was once an ancient glacier—unchallenged, unmapped, and untouched by the sun for centuries—now trembled under the weight of something immense.

Not a god.

Not a beast.

Something older.

The final chain snapped, vanishing in a burst of runic dust. The ocean moaned—like it remembered the pain of forgetting.

And then, the water bowed.

Because the First Leviathan had awakened.

---

The Shape Without Form

It rose slowly.

Not in anger.

In curiosity.

A monstrous shape so vast it eclipsed the trench beneath it. Its form was ever-shifting—tentacles longer than city towers, a body made of ocean matter itself: ice, salt, bone, and fossil.

No eyes.

No voice.

Just presence.

Its movement sent vibrations through the deepest currents, calling out—not in rage, but in hunger.

It had forgotten everything.

And now, it wanted to know what had disturbed its sleep.

---

The Whisper of the Song

Far south, in a calmer ocean, Poseidon stirred from his meditation.

The water near him rippled unnaturally—currents tugging in directions they shouldn’t.

> "Maelora," he said, rising quickly.

"It’s here."

She stood up sharply.

> "The northern presence?"

He nodded.

> "It’s awake."

Varun grunted from behind a rock.

> "Please don’t tell me it’s another shadowy sea god. I’ve had enough cryptic threats to last a lifetime."

Poseidon turned toward the wind.

> "It’s not a god. It’s... the ocean’s first child. Before the gods. Before Olympus. Before even chaos found a name."

Maelora blinked.

> "Then how do we fight it?"

Poseidon’s voice was calm, but his eyes told the truth.

> "We don’t."

---

Olympus in Panic

On Olympus, divine tremors shook the temples.

Lightning danced on Zeus’s palms without command.

> "The Leviathan moves. I feel its breath across the clouds," he said.

Athena pressed a hand to her chest.

> "It remembers us now. That’s the problem."

Ares grunted, stepping forward.

> "Let me go down. I’ll face it with a storm army."

Hades shook his head.

> "Your army would vanish in its first breath. You don’t kill what came before death."

> "Then what do we do?" Hera asked.

Zeus looked toward the sea.

> "We pray our newest god... remembers who he is."

---

Poseidon Faces the Deep

That night, Poseidon dove alone into the deepest current. The stars above vanished as the ocean swallowed him whole.

The Trident pulsed faintly, but even it seemed unsure now.

And then, far beneath—

He saw it.

Not a creature.

Not a god.

A truth that the ocean had buried too deep for memory.

The Leviathan loomed.

Its size defied logic. Just its tail stretched longer than the Great Trenches.

But it wasn’t moving to attack.

It was... watching.

Poseidon floated before it, his voice steady.

> "Do you remember?"

No reply.

> "I woke the sea with a song. Did you hear it?"

Still no reply.

Poseidon raised the Trident and struck it lightly against the current—creating a ripple of the Sea’s Symphony.

The Leviathan twitched.

The waters trembled.

And then... it sang back.

---

A Song of the Beginning

It wasn’t a melody.

It was a sound too vast to understand—like thousands of whales calling in perfect time.

Like tectonic plates shifting in harmony.

Poseidon gasped.

It wasn’t rage.

It was a question.

> "Why was I forgotten?"

Poseidon lowered the Trident.

> "Because even the sea feared you. And the gods were afraid your name would unmake them."

The Leviathan began to circle slowly.

> "I remember... the silence. The song of the deep. But it is fractured now. You brought it back. You woke me."

Poseidon bowed his head.

> "Yes. Because we needed to remember the truth."

The Leviathan paused.

And then it said something no one expected.

> "Then show me."