Chapter 136: Atlantis 2
The ocean pulsed with a rhythm that was not entirely natural.
Poseidon stood upon a jagged pillar of obsidian rock, his trident thrust into the seabed. Every current bent toward him, swirling in obedient spirals, as if the ocean itself recognized his claim. His cloak of kelp and foam drifted like a living shadow, the water dancing around his figure as though afraid to touch him.
And yet, even as the ocean bent to his will, Dominic’s heart thundered beneath the godly exterior. The human boy that once was had not disappeared completely. Fragments of his fragile mortality clung to him like barnacles to a sunken ship. Every time he drew upon the god’s power, he felt the reminder—the whisper of something ancient, watching him from within his very veins.
That whisper belonged to Thalorin.
> You wield my power well... mortal. But you are still bound by fear. Fear is a leash that Olympus will yank until you choke.
Poseidon gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the trident. "And yet you sit inside me, chained. If I’m nothing but a leash, then what does that make you, ancient one?"
The voice chuckled, low and resonant, echoing through the marrow of his bones.
> It makes me patient. And patience is deadlier than rage. Do not mistake silence for weakness.
The whisper faded into the undertow, leaving him alone again with the weight of his dominion.
He turned his gaze outward. From where he stood, the ocean stretched endlessly, a kingdom unbroken, filled with mysteries no Olympian foot could tread. Yet something felt... wrong. The fish darted nervously, schools scattering at shadows. The currents, once steady, stuttered as if disrupted by a deeper pull. And in the far distance, somewhere beyond the veil of trenches, he felt tremors—like the beating of a leviathan’s heart.
Poseidon drew a slow breath, tasting salt, and let the sensation wash over him.
"The seas are stirring," he muttered.
---
The silence of his thoughts shattered as a figure approached—cutting through the waves with ease. A merman, armored in coral plates and bearing a spear tipped with glowing pearl, knelt before him. His long hair floated like seaweed, his expression grim.
"My lord Poseidon," he said, his voice reverent yet heavy. "The Council of the Deeps has gathered. They demand your presence."
Poseidon tilted his head. "Council?"
"They who have guarded the balance in your absence. The oldest clans of the sea... they bow to no one easily. But now that you have risen, they seek judgment."
Poseidon smirked faintly. So even here, politics finds me.
"Very well. Lead the way."
---
They swam downward, deeper and deeper, until sunlight surrendered and the abyss consumed them. The darkness grew thicker, the weight of the sea crushing against his shoulders. Yet Poseidon moved unhindered, the water bending lovingly to his will, carrying him like a throne.
Finally, they arrived.
The trench opened into a vast chasm, lit by the glow of volcanic vents. At its center rose a colonnade of black coral shaped like an ancient hall. Within, gathered around a ring of shells larger than ships, sat the Council of the Deeps.
Sea witches with eyes of milky white. Crustacean lords armored in shells harder than bronze. Serpent-kin, their bodies coiling endlessly, whispering in sibilant tones. And presiding among them—an ancient leviathan, its massive head resting across the chamber floor, eyes burning like lanterns in the gloom.
All turned as Poseidon entered.
The merman who escorted him struck his spear upon the seabed. "Behold! Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, returned to claim his dominion."
For a moment, silence. Then the leviathan stirred, its voice deep enough to rattle the very water.
"Returned?" it hissed. "No. This is no Poseidon we knew. This is... something else."
The serpent-kin hissed in agreement. The sea witches whispered curses under their breath. A murmur spread through the Council, suspicion heavy as lead.
Poseidon stepped forward, his trident glowing faintly in his grip.
"I am Poseidon," he declared, his voice carrying through the chamber. "But I am also more. The seas answer to me once again, whether you kneel or not."
The leviathan’s massive eye narrowed. "The ocean does not forget. The last Poseidon abandoned us, retreating to Olympus. He feasted in their halls while the trenches bled. Why should we believe you will not do the same?"
The accusation cut like a blade. Dominic’s mortal heart burned at the injustice, but he held his composure. He could not afford weakness here.
"I am not the god you once knew," he said, his tone cold. "I carry the power of Poseidon, but my soul is forged from pain Olympus cannot comprehend. I will not abandon these waters. Nor will I bend to Olympus’ will."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the chamber. The witches stilled, the serpent-kin’s eyes glowed brighter.
The leviathan’s jaw creaked open, revealing teeth longer than ships.
"Strong words. But words are shells without the flesh of proof. If you are truly the Lord of Seas... then prove it."
The trench fell silent. Then the leviathan rose. Its body, vast as mountains, uncoiled from the shadows. The chamber trembled as its coils wrapped the hall, eyes burning with challenge.
"Defeat me, and the Council shall kneel. Fail... and you are nothing but another false god."
Poseidon’s lips curved into a sharp smile.
"Finally," he whispered. "A challenge worth my trident."
---
The duel began in silence.
The leviathan struck first, its tail whipping with force enough to shatter cliffs. Poseidon spun his trident, summoning a vortex to deflect the blow, but the shockwave sent cracks racing through the coral pillars.
The serpent roared, jaws snapping, fangs dripping venom that burned even in the water. Poseidon dove aside, thrusting his trident forward. A beam of compressed ocean shot forth, slamming into the leviathan’s scales. The beast recoiled, but not broken—its laugh rumbled like thunder.
> Good... very good. But you are not enough.
The fight raged on, the Council watching in hushed awe. The trench shook with each collision—trident against fang, wave against coil. Poseidon’s body moved with godly grace, but every strike demanded more power, more control.
And beneath it all, Thalorin stirred.
> Release me... and this beast will fall in an instant. Why do you restrain yourself, boy?
Poseidon clenched his jaw, sweat—or was it seawater?—burning his eyes. He refused. To surrender to Thalorin now would mean losing himself.
But the leviathan’s coils closed tighter, constricting around him. His ribs screamed under the crushing pressure. His trident flickered, light dimming.
"Yield," the leviathan hissed. "And prove yourself a pretender."
Poseidon’s vision blurred. His heart hammered. And then—he roared. Not as Dominic, not as a frightened boy, but as a god reborn.
The ocean answered.
A surge of power erupted from him, shaking the trench to its foundations. The currents screamed, spiraling outward in a storm. His trident burned with divine fury, splitting the leviathan’s coils apart as he drove forward, striking at the beast’s throat.
The leviathan reeled, scales shattering, its massive body crashing against the chamber walls. Silence followed, broken only by the distant crack of the sea floor splitting.
Poseidon floated above, trident poised, eyes blazing with cold fire.
"Do you yield?"
For a long moment, the leviathan stared. Then, slowly, it lowered its head.
"...You are more than Poseidon. Perhaps... enough to rule."
The Council bowed. One by one, the witches, serpent-kin, and lords bent in reverence.
And yet, as victory settled, the whisper returned.
> Do you feel it now? The seas bending, the abyss kneeling... This is only the beginning. Olympus will come for you. And when they do, you will need me.
Poseidon’s grip tightened on the trident. His triumph tasted of iron.
He had won this battle. But the war—for the seas, for his soul, for the very right to exist—was only just beginning.