Chapter 284: Gathering my legion army
The trench had no name in mortal tongues. Sailors whispered of it only as the Maw — a wound in the ocean floor where light dared not descend and even sound seemed to choke. For centuries it had slumbered, silent but hungry. Tonight, it awoke.
Poseidon stood upon its edge, the god’s presence alone forcing the waters into unnatural stillness. His eyes, twin abysses themselves, glowed faintly blue as he gazed into the endless dark below. Around him, currents spiraled into a vortex, all converging into the Maw like worshippers bowing before their king.
He had drowned a city. He had defied Olympus. He had broken the seals the pantheon thought eternal. But none of that mattered if he remained only one god. Alone, even he could be cornered. Alone, even he could be shattered.
But armies — armies of the abyss — could not be cornered.
Poseidon raised his trident high. The weapon hummed, not with steel but with resonance, vibrating with the same tone as the earth’s deepest plates. The seabed itself groaned, and cracks spiderwebbed outward from where he stood.
"Come forth," his voice rolled, carrying across leagues of black water. "I call you from the forgotten tides. From the drowned pasts. From the bones that line this trench. Rise to me, and let the abyss breathe again."
The Maw answered.
At first, it was soundless — only pressure shifting, as if the ocean itself inhaled. Then came the glow. Faint blue pinpricks lit the trench like stars emerging in midnight skies. Hundreds. Thousands. Each one burned in rhythm with Poseidon’s trident.
From the darkness, the first shape rose. A corpse, bloated and skeletal, barnacles clinging to rotted armor. But as it breached the light, water poured into its hollow chest and lungs — and the thing moved. Its empty sockets glowed with abyssal flame, and the barnacles peeled away, reshaping into jagged armor plates.
The First Legionnaire had awoken.
Then came the next. And the next.
From drowned sailors whose bones had lain forgotten, from leviathans long slain by gods, from nameless horrors that had been cast into the trench during the wars of creation — Poseidon drew them all back into motion.
The ocean roared as thousands of silhouettes clawed their way out of the trench. Serpentine forms of drowned wyrms slithered upward, their scales now etched in glowing abyssal runes. Armored revenants marched in phalanxes, tridents of bone and coral clutched in skeletal hands. Jellyfish the size of ships pulsed above them, carrying inside their translucent bodies the screaming souls of men drowned at sea.
Each one bowed. Each one knelt.
The water trembled with their unified voice, though none of them spoke in tongues mortals could understand:
"ABYSS CLAIMS US. ABYSS SERVES."
Poseidon lowered his trident, and silence fell. He stepped forward, placing his hand upon the head of the first risen revenant.
"You are no longer nameless," he declared. "You are my Abyssal Legion. You will march when I command, strike when I will it, and drown those who raise their blades against me. You are tide, you are hunger, you are inevitability."
The revenant’s sockets burned brighter, its spine straightening. All around, the legion thrashed the waters in fervent response.
The sea floor shook.
Even Olympus felt it.
---
Olympus
Far above, where the peaks of Olympus split the sky, the gods turned their gaze seaward.
The oracle shrieked as blood poured from her eyes, her body convulsing with Poseidon’s awakening army. "He calls the abyss!" she cried. "He stirs the trench that should never open! Thousands rise! No—millions!"
Zeus himself gripped his throne, lightning crawling across his knuckles. His face darkened as the vision poured into his mind — the image of Poseidon standing upon the trench, surrounded by a host not of mortals but of things worse. Things meant never to walk the world again.
"Abyssal Legion..." Zeus spat the words like poison. "He dares."
Athena, standing beside him, did not speak. But her mind raced. Armies of men could not stand against this. Even divine hosts would struggle. Poseidon had not just declared war — he had birthed inevitability.
"This is no longer rebellion," Hades said, stepping from the shadows. His cloak dragged the stench of grave soil across the chamber. "This is conquest."
Zeus turned to him. "Then we cut him down before his legion breaches the surface."
"Too late," Hades replied, his voice calm but sharp as obsidian. "The drowned are loyal to him now. The abyss answers only one master — and it is not you."
---
The Legion Takes Form
Beneath the waves, Poseidon’s army continued to grow. For every corpse that rose, ten more followed. Where there had once been only silence, now ranks formed.
Phalanxes of drowned soldiers, shields of coral, eyes lit with abyssal blue.
Serpents large enough to coil around ships, their scales turned to jagged obsidian.
Squadrons of manta-like beasts, wings trailing streams of ghostly flame, ridden by revenant knights.
And towering above them all, colossal constructs of water shaped into humanoid titans, eyes glowing, awaiting Poseidon’s command.
The sea was no longer sea. It was an army waiting to march.
Poseidon spread his arms wide, feeling the weight of power settle upon his shoulders. The ocean itself seemed to kneel.
"This world has forgotten the sea’s truth," he said, voice booming through abyss and surface alike. "It is not peace. It is not bounty. It is hunger. It is reclamation. I will remind them."
The legion responded in perfect unison, their voice rolling like underwater thunder:
"POSEIDON. LORD OF THE ABYSS. WE MARCH."
The First March
Poseidon lifted his trident and pointed toward the surface.
The trench exploded.
Columns of abyssal soldiers surged upward, riding currents as though the ocean itself bore them. Mortal sailors miles away screamed as black silhouettes rose beneath their ships, blotting out the moonlight. Waves spread outward in rings, not of storm but of marching feet.
On distant shores, priests felt their temples tremble as saltwater poured from the eyes of their idols. Bells tolled not by mortal hands but by the shifting of the ocean’s heart.
And far above, Olympus lit with lightning as Zeus bellowed his command. "Summon the pantheon! If Poseidon has raised a legion, then Olympus will raise a warhost to meet him."
But deep in the trench, Poseidon only smiled.
For the first time since his rebirth, he was not alone.
The Abyss had given him an army.
And soon, the world would kneel.