Chapter 140: Zeus vs Poseidon 2 scene 2
The ocean was never silent. Beneath the waves, the whispers of currents, the creaks of shifting tectonic bones, and the distant calls of unseen leviathans spoke in a language older than gods.
Poseidon—once Dominic—floated within that symphony, but the voice that surged loudest was not the sea’s.
You are no longer merely a god... you are the vessel of inevitability.
Thalorin’s presence thundered within him, like a tide pressing against the walls of a fragile harbor. His mortal heart—though now divine—still pulsed with the uncertainty of a man who remembered hospitals, IV drips, and the pale glow of machines.
Yet, his body answered differently. Each breath he took churned whirlpools around him. The sea bent closer, obedient, hungry for command. He clenched his fist, and a column of water spiraled upward like a blade.
"Enough," he whispered to himself, shaking his head. "I am me. Not a monster. Not... whatever you are."
But Thalorin laughed, a sound that made the ocean shiver.
And yet, when they come for you, what will you do? Whisper your humanity into their blades? Pray Olympus will show mercy? No. You will drown them in their arrogance. As you were born to.
His gaze shifted upward. Far above, past leagues of crushing depths, Olympus glittered in the unreachable sky. He did not need eyes to feel it; the thrum of power, the gathering of gods, their plotting. He had felt the shift the moment Zeus’ paranoia took root.
"They’ll come for me," Poseidon murmured. "Sooner than I thought."
The sea stirred in response. Creatures stirred with it—schools of fish darting into spirals, dolphins breaking the surface far above, shadows of colossal beings gliding deeper still. Even they knew their master was awakening.
Yet doubt gnawed at him. Dominic, the boy who had wasted away in a hospital bed, still lived in fragments within his godhood. Do I want this power? Or is it just survival wearing another mask?
But the ocean gave no room for hesitation. A ripple in the current brushed his senses—unnatural, foreign. He spun, raising a hand instinctively, and the waters hardened into a barrier.
A spear of pure lightning pierced the ocean around him, hissing and sizzling, before fading. The sea roared, shaken.
And from the depths above, a voice thundered:
"Poseidon."
It was no mortal call. This one carried weight—the authority of Olympus itself. The sea itself trembled at the name, acknowledging its speaker.
A second bolt cleaved downward, illuminating the intruder. A tall figure wrapped in bronze and white fire descended slowly, untouched by the crushing depths. His hair was wild gold, his eyes storms caged in flesh. In his hand rested a weapon that had ended empires—the Master Bolt.
Zeus had come.
Poseidon’s chest tightened, not with fear, but with memory. This was not the warm embrace of family. This was judgment made flesh.
"You’ve been quiet, brother," Zeus said, his voice rumbling like thunder across the seafloor. "Too quiet. And yet... the ocean sings of something else. Something darker."
Thalorin hissed within him, pressing against the seams of his form.
Strike him down now. Tear his arrogance from his bones. Show Olympus who rules the depths.
But Dominic—the shadow of who he once was—tightened his fists. He could not give in. Not yet.
Poseidon’s eyes glowed, not from rage, but restraint. "You came alone?" His voice echoed across the trench.
Zeus tilted his head, studying him as one would study a beast caged too long. "Would you prefer Olympus itself? Do not mistake this as mercy, brother. It is warning."
The sea around Poseidon pulsed. Sharks swirled in the distance, their instincts roused by the charge of godly tension. A leviathan’s silhouette shifted far below, restless, sensing battle.
He stepped forward, the seabed cracking beneath his bare feet. "Then say your warning, Zeus. Speak it and be gone."
Zeus’ smile was thunder sharp.
The waves whispered around him, restless, echoing the turmoil inside his chest. Dominic—Poseidon—stood with his trident driven into the seabed, the vibrations of the ocean pulsing through his veins like a second heartbeat. Every current carried fragments of his awakening, a resonance that was no longer just his but something older, heavier, far beyond mortal comprehension.
Yet in the silence between the tides, he still heard his own name. Dominic. A reminder of the boy who had once lain in a sterile hospital bed, fragile and fading. That boy was supposed to be gone. And yet... he remained, trapped within a body that bore the title of a god.
A flicker stirred in the water, and suddenly, it wasn’t silence anymore. The ocean spoke.
"You are fractured," the voice rumbled from the abyss. Deep, ancient, like tectonic plates grinding beneath the sea. "One vessel, two identities. Dominic, the mortal. Poseidon, the god. But beneath both lies something greater still."
His grip on the trident tightened until his knuckles burned. "I don’t want riddles. I want control. I won’t be a puppet for gods or... or whatever you are."
The waters darkened, curling into a spiraling vortex, and from it rose a shape—no body, no face, just a colossal silhouette of shimmering water. Its presence pressed down on him like an ocean trench, suffocating and vast.
"You are control," it thundered. "But to claim it, you must stop clinging to what you were. Poseidon’s name is a mantle, not a cage. Dominic’s memories... they are the chains. You are more than either. You are Thalorin reborn."
The name struck him like lightning. His chest constricted. He had heard whispers in dreams, half-formed visions of a being who devoured storms and bent oceans. But to hear it spoken aloud made his skin crawl.
"No," Dominic rasped, forcing his voice through the pressure. "I am not your monster. I am Dominic. I choose who I am."
The water-being surged closer, waves crashing in fury around him. "Choice?" it echoed, voice a storm. "Do you think the gods above will allow such freedom? Even now, they convene. Even now, their blades are sharpening, their schemes aligning. They fear you. They will not see Dominic. They will not see Poseidon. They will see only a threat—and they will strike."
Images flooded his mind without warning: Zeus raising his thunderbolt, Athena’s eyes sharp as knives, Hera’s lips curled in disdain, Ares with his blood-stained grin. Olympus united not in reverence, but in fear. His fear.
Dominic staggered back, clutching his head, the visions leaving his temples throbbing. His breaths came ragged, yet the truth of it lodged deep in his gut. Olympus would not wait. They would test him, and if he faltered, they would destroy him.
The sea stilled suddenly, the voice fading into silence, leaving only its final words echoing like a curse:
"Choose swiftly, vessel. Mortal, god, or abyss. For the tide waits for no one."
Dominic dropped to one knee, the trident vibrating with a low hum beneath his hand. His reflection in the water below split and shifted—one moment his human face, weary and young, the next Poseidon’s regal visage with seafoam eyes, and for the briefest flash, something else: a monstrous silhouette crowned with abyssal tendrils.
His jaw clenched. "I’ll choose. But it will be mine—not yours, not theirs."
The waters rose in response, almost approving, wrapping around him like armor before dispersing again into calm ripples. He stood, pulling the trident free, the weight of destiny pressing heavier than ever.
From above, a streak of lightning tore the sky.
Zeus was watching.