Reincarnated As Poseidon-Chapter 68: I am poseidon 4

Poseidon hovered still, facing the vast, ancient presence that had once been forgotten by time itself. The Leviathan—the First Depth—had not attacked.

It had asked.

> "Then show me."

Those words didn’t echo in sound.

They vibrated through the currents, carved themselves into the water, and lingered in Poseidon’s mind.

He lowered the Trident slightly.

> "You want to remember," Poseidon said softly.

The Leviathan coiled slightly, its form still an ever-shifting mass of memory and sea matter. Its single pale eye flickered, pulsing with a curiosity that felt ancient and childlike at once.

> "The sea has changed," it replied. "Its voice is broken. There are islands now. Sky-burners. Builders of iron. Gods who rule above. I do not understand what became of the water’s will."

Poseidon inhaled deeply.

> "Then I’ll take you back to where it started."

Poseidon raised the Trident high. Light flickered along its blade—each flicker a memory drawn from the ocean itself. He closed his eyes, letting the Sea’s Symphony flood his body once again.

And then—

He struck it against the water.

The current didn’t move forward or backward—it spiraled.

A whirlpool of memory opened between him and the Leviathan.

---

First Memory – The Birth of the Sea

They saw it—both god and beast.

An endless blue void. No sky. No stars. Just water stretching in every direction. The sea was wild, untamed, young.

Creatures without names drifted lazily. There were no gods, no kings. Only current, silence, and instinct.

The Leviathan floated silently beside Poseidon, watching.

> "I remember this," it said. "I remember being... everything."

---

Second Memory

The spiral shifted.

Stars ignited. Sky formed. Earth rose from beneath the tide.

Then came the first sparks of power—Chaos, Gaia, Nyx, Uranus.

And from them, the balance shifted. The sea was no longer everything.

Poseidon watched his past self—the idea of him—still unformed.

> "The gods were born. And with them, came names. Rules. War."

The Leviathan pulsed again.

> "We did not understand names. We only swam. We only remembered motion and salt."

The spiral darkened.

Poseidon saw it now.

A council of early deities—ancient ones—fearful of the Leviathan’s strength. Its mind was vast, unknowable. And so they bound it in chains made of silence, frozen it beneath the coldest layer of the north, and forgot it on purpose.

The Leviathan’s voice grew quiet.

> "You buried me. You cut me from the water."

Poseidon clenched the Trident tightly.

> "Not I. Not anymore."

The spiral closed with a soft shimmer. The water calmed.

The Leviathan hung there in silence, its mass dimming slightly.

> "You are not what they were," it said.

> "No," Poseidon replied. "I remember. And I want the sea to remember too."

The Leviathan curled in on itself—its tendrils withdrawing, its body lowering toward the deepest rift again.

> "Then I will not bring ruin."

Poseidon exhaled.

> "Will you sleep again?"

> "No," it rumbled. "But I will not rise in war."

> "Then what will you do?"

The sea rumbled, and with it, the creature spoke one last time:

> "I will watch.

And if the sea forgets itself again...

I will remind it."

Poseidon broke through the waves hours later. Maelora and Varun were waiting on the rocks, wide-eyed and silent.

> "Is it over?" Maelora asked.

Poseidon nodded.

> "For now. The Leviathan understands. It remembers. And it’s choosing peace."

Varun let out a dramatic sigh.

> "Well, I’ll take peace over more world-ending sea monsters."

Poseidon smirked, though his eyes looked far away.

> "We’ll need to be better keepers of the sea. Or next time... it might not listen."

Back beneath the north, the Leviathan coiled in stillness once more—not in sleep, but in awareness.

And far beyond the Leviathan’s nest... something else stirred.

A crack in the ocean floor.

Not part of the north.

Not part of memory.

But something buried... beneath even the Leviathan.

The war was paused.

But the ocean’s story was not done.

The Leviathan had returned to its stillness.

But deep beneath even its forgotten nest, past the roots of Thalorenn’s trenches and the oldest veins of the sea, the ocean pulsed with something older than memory.

Not asleep.

Not awake.

Simply... waiting.

A tremor rippled through the farthest reaches of the abyss, unnoticed by sea creatures and unrecorded by gods.

Something was beneath.

A thin crack split open along the deepest fault line—blacker than black, where no light from any god had ever touched.

There was no roar.

Just a single, silent shudder.

From the gap, tendrils of shadow seeped into the ocean like ink in clear water. They didn’t move like liquid. They slithered—searching, testing, tasting.

Something in that place had not heard the Sea’s Symphony.

It had heard the silence that followed.

And it liked it better.

Poseidon sat on a calm beach near the coral ridges, staring out over the horizon. The air was still. The sea was soft. For once, nothing pulled at him.

Maelora sat beside him, her legs stretched into the water.

> "So... do we get a real break now?" she asked.

Poseidon chuckled softly.

> "Maybe."

Varun appeared, carrying a giant fish skewered on a trident that was definitely not his.

> "I caught lunch. But I think the fish caught trauma first."

Maelora rolled her eyes.

> "You say that like it’s a surprise."

Poseidon’s smile faded slightly.

> "I felt something. Just now. Far below. Lower than even the Leviathan."

Maelora stilled.

> "The ocean goes that deep?"

Poseidon nodded slowly.

> "It doesn’t end. It only forgets what it buried."

In the celestial halls, the gods gathered once more.

Athena stood over her mirror pool. The image was faint, almost fuzzy, like trying to look through murky water.

> "I don’t like this," she said. "Something’s forming. But it’s not a god. Not a creature."

Zeus frowned.

> "Then what is it?"

Hades stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.

> "A void."

The room fell silent.

> "Something from before shape. Before song. Before even the ocean belonged to itself.

That evening, Poseidon dove again—not toward the Leviathan, but beyond. Past familiar currents, beyond sunken ruins, through tunnels of pressure and silence.

The deeper he went, the less the Trident pulsed.

Even its divine essence dimmed in this place.

> What is this?

Below him, the crack pulsed faintly. Shadow tendrils reached out, sensing his presence. Not attacking. Not defending.

Just aware.

Poseidon hovered near the edge.

> "What are you?" he asked the dark.

A reply came—not in words.

But in feeling.

A cold whisper behind the heart. A memory of drowning where no water existed.

And a thought formed:

> "You remember too much."

Poseidon flinched.

> "Show yourself."

The crack didn’t answer.

Instead, it deepened.

The shadows spiraled... and then retreated.

Not out of fear.

But as if saying:

> "Not yet."

Poseidon broke the waves again, his breath heavy, his expression dark.

Maelora met him with a towel and a worried look.

> "What did you see?"

> "Nothing," he said.

> "What do you mean—"

> "That’s what scared me."

Far below, in the rift unseen by all, the last light flickered out.

And something deep within began to stir.

A name not yet spoken.

A shape not yet imagined.

And a hunger not yet unleashed.

The Sea’s Symphony had awakened many things...

But now, it had stirred something that had never been meant to wake.

The sea was calm again.

But only on the surface.

Beneath, in the place where even the Leviathan dared not descend, the crack had widened. Not by force, but by will. Something beneath the abyss had begun to feed—not on flesh, but on memory, on silence, on the spaces between sound.

And with each stolen moment of peace, the ocean forgot a little more of itself.

In the farthest reaches of the northern trench, the currents grew colder.

Fish that once darted through coral now floated aimlessly.

The whales that sang across miles had fallen quiet.

And even the Leviathan, deep in its coiled watch, stirred with unease.

Its pale eye blinked once.

> "It is not part of the sea," it whispered into the current.

"It is what the sea cast out.

Back near Thalorenn, Poseidon walked the shoreline at dusk, bare-footed, his trident slung across his back. The waves whispered against the rocks—but the sound didn’t feel natural.

> "The rhythm is off," he muttered.

Maelora walked beside him, her brows furrowed.

> "Again?"

> "It’s like the ocean is forgetting what it sounds like."

She paused.

> "That thing you sensed last time... you think it’s growing stronger?"

> "No," he said quietly. "I think it was always strong. We’re just now hearing its shadow."

A scream echoed across the waves.

Moments later, a rider burst through the sky—a hippocampus knight, bloodied, wild-eyed.

> "The Coral Isles," he cried, "they’re gone! Not destroyed—gone!"

Poseidon stiffened.

> "Gone?"

> "The sea’s just... flat where they were. No coral. No sand. No bodies. Like they were erased."

Maelora’s spear slid into her hand.

> "Something’s eating the sea."

Poseidon nodded grimly.

> "Not just the sea. It’s feeding on the existence of things."

In Olympus, panic bloomed.

Athena stood in front of a swirling pool of water—only now, it showed nothing but static.

> "I can’t see it anymore," she admitted. "Even time resists me when I search the deep."

Zeus’s eyes narrowed.

> "Something’s wiping the board clean."

Ares cracked his knuckles.

> "Then we go down and smash it."

> "No," Hades interrupted darkly. "You don’t smash what refuses to be remembered."

Silence fell.

> "Then who will stop it?" Hera asked softly.

They all turned to the same unspoken answer.

Poseidon stood at the edge of a glowing reef, his trident humming with unease.

> "This isn’t just about saving the sea," he said to Maelora and Varun. "It’s about stopping the sea from being erased."

Varun frowned.

> "So how do we fight something like that?"

Poseidon looked out toward the abyss.

> "We descend."

> "You mean there?" Maelora asked, eyes wide.

"Even the Leviathan wouldn’t go back."

> "I have to," Poseidon said. "If this continues, the sea will forget not just its gods... but its own purpose."

Maelora stepped forward.

> "Then we’re going with you."

Varun groaned.

> "Great. Back to drowning nightmares. I missed this."

That night, Poseidon dove again—deeper than before.

The Trident flickered with each pulse of pressure. The deeper he went, the more the water refused to remember him.

Images from earlier battles faded. His own name grew quiet in his mind.

But still... he kept going.

Until—

He reached the edge of the abyss.

A gaping maw in the seafloor.

No fish.

No sound.

No current.

And from it...

A whisper.

Not in words.

Not in voice.

Just absence.

A feeling like being unwritten.

Within the rift, something uncoiled.

Not a creature.

Not a god.

A presence that was never given shape.

It moved like a thought erased mid-sentence. Like a song hummed and then forgotten.

And in its core, it sensed Poseidon.

It did not fear him.

It only wondered how long until he, too, would be forgotten.