Reincarnated As Poseidon
Chapter 66: I am Poseidon 2

Chapter 66: I am Poseidon 2

In the deepest trench of Thalorenn, where light was only a rumor and the bones of forgotten leviathans lay untouched for ages, the war had begun.

Not of blades.

Not of kingdoms.

But of names.

One to remember.

One to erase.

The newly awakened Poseidon hovered above the abyss, eyes blazing like the calm before a storm. His voice was no longer mortal. No longer just Dominic.

It was ocean-born.

And the creature rising below him?

It had no name left—only hunger.

A hunger to unwrite everything.

---

The Thing Without a Name

It writhed upward in silence, dragging a trail of fading memories in its wake. Schools of fish forgot how to swim. Currents stopped obeying gravity. Whole reefs withered mid-bloom.

Maelora clutched her chest.

> "I... I can’t remember the sound of my own voice."

Varun’s face twisted in panic.

> "I thought I was—wait, who are we even—?"

Poseidon’s voice cut through the unraveling like a blade of thunder:

> "Hold on. Your names are tied to the sea. As long as I stand, you will not be forgotten."

And with that, the Trident flared in his grip—like lightning held underwater.

The pressure of his will pushed back against the erasure.

---

First Clash

The creature struck with tendrils made of pure forgetfulness.

Not shadows.

Not water.

Absence.

Where it touched, coral collapsed. Water fell still. Even time seemed to bend and stutter.

Poseidon raised the Trident.

A surge of waves coiled around him like armor.

The sea refused to forget him.

Not this time.

> "Your power is ancient," Poseidon growled, "but so is mine."

He plunged the Trident downward.

It didn’t stab.

It spoke.

A shockwave of memory exploded outward, flooding the trench with forgotten tides:

Songs sung by drowned sailors.

The laughter of sea-children in lost cities.

Whispers from the first whales, carried across centuries.

The creature screamed—not in pain, but in defiance.

> "YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ERASED."

> "But I wasn’t," Poseidon said, voice calm like thunder held in check. "You want silence. I bring the storm."

---

Maelora and Varun Remember

Varun’s eyes cleared.

> "Dom—no. Poseidon. I remember."

Maelora smiled through her tears.

> "Your name... it never left me."

The power of remembrance fed Poseidon’s strength.

The sea rallied.

The currents bent around him like a cloak.

And the creature finally hesitated.

> "What are you?" it hissed.

Poseidon’s answer was low.

Not shouted.

Just true.

> "I am the voice the sea chose to keep."

---

Olympus Reacts Again

Far above, Athena’s eyes widened.

> "The power he’s tapping into... it’s not just divine. It’s primal."

Zeus nodded slowly.

> "He’s become the soul of the ocean. A living memory."

Hades cracked a smile.

> "And memories are the only thing death can’t steal."

---

Final Strike of the Chapter

The creature lunged.

Poseidon didn’t retreat.

He surged forward, Trident first.

And this time, he sang.

Not in words.

But in memory.

His voice was the tide crashing over forgotten shores.

His roar was the call of krakens.

His silence—when he paused—was louder than any scream.

The Trident struck the creature in its center, and for the first time since it was born...

It forgot how to be forgotten.

The name it had buried deep inside—the one it once possessed—flashed briefly in Poseidon’s mind.

But he did not speak it.

Not yet.

The sea shook.

Not from waves.

Not from wind.

From remembrance.

Poseidon hovered above the creature, the Trident still pulsing from the last strike. The beast writhed, not in pain, but in confusion—as if it had tasted a part of itself it had long buried.

A piece of its name.

A taste of its identity.

And it hated it.

---

What Was Forgotten

The waters around the trench stirred violently as the creature began to fracture—not physically, but conceptually.

Its form shimmered. Limbs bent in impossible ways. Every ripple tried to correct what it was, but now a seed had been planted.

A name.

A forgotten origin.

And Poseidon had unearthed it—though he didn’t speak it aloud.

Not yet.

> "You wanted to erase everything," Poseidon said quietly. "But even you... had a beginning."

The creature’s voice surged like a riptide.

> "I was born from silence. From the first shadow the sea could not claim."

> "Even a shadow needs a light to be cast," Poseidon replied.

---

The Sea Begins to Split

All around them, the trench cracked.

The deeper layers of the ocean peeled open like ancient scrolls.

And within them—memories sealed by gods themselves.

The fall of the first city beneath the sea.

The god who tried to tame the abyss... and was devoured.

The pact that sealed the creature’s name in silence.

Poseidon’s head throbbed.

Each vision was a blade of thought slicing into his mind.

Maelora called from behind.

> "Stop! You’re bleeding."

> "It’s not blood," Poseidon said, voice steady. "It’s memory."

Streams of light dripped from his eyes like tears.

> "This is the cost. If I choose to remember... I carry it."

---

Varun’s Warning

Varun floated closer, his voice hoarse.

> "Dom—Poseidon, this thing’s feeding on every name we’ve ever given the sea. We can’t stop it if we don’t bind it."

> "And how do we do that?" Maelora asked.

Poseidon turned slowly, eyes dimming under the strain.

> "We give it its name back."

Maelora’s eyes widened.

> "But if you say it—won’t that free it?"

> "No," Poseidon whispered. "It will give it form. And once it has form... it can bleed."

---

The Forgotten Name

Poseidon closed his eyes.

And the sea whispered into him—not as language, but as song. A note so old, it cracked the coral. A syllable older than water. A word that had never been meant for mortal tongues.

He spoke it.

A name.

Simple.

Dreadful.

"Tharamos."

The trench gasped.

The waters above curled and churned.

And the creature froze—because that name was its soul.

> "You... you brought me back," Tharamos said, voice now human in rhythm, but still wrong in pitch.

"Why?"

Poseidon gritted his teeth, blood-memories running from his ears.

> "Because now I know you.

And I can end you."

---

Olympus Watches the Reckoning

Athena stood rigid, her eyes shining with awe and dread.

> "He named it."

Zeus looked grim.

> "Then he must bear it. The sea will never forget that name again."

Hades smiled thinly.

> "And now the balance tilts. Either Poseidon becomes the sea’s eternal memory... or its next shadow."

---

Poseidon’s Power Grows – At a Cost

As the Trident surged with radiant energy, it began to fracture.

Not break.

Not shatter.

Split.

The power flowing through Poseidon was no longer just divine. It was ancestral.

He now bore the collective memory of every drowned dream.

Every sunken prayer.

Every cry that went unanswered beneath the waves.

Maelora reached for him.

> "Poseidon, please! You’re not a god—you’re still... you."

He looked at her gently, and for a second, his voice was Dominic’s again.

> "That’s the price, isn’t it? To protect this sea... I have to stop being someone."

> "No!" she cried. "You can be both. Don’t lose you."

But already, his name had started slipping from the mouths of the waves.

The ocean no longer whispered Dominic.

Only Poseidon.

---

Tharamos Prepares to Strike

Now aware. Now named.

Tharamos began to change.

No longer shapeless.

He grew limbs. A face. Something resembling a spine twisted with coral and bone.

He smiled.

> "Now you’ve made me real. Let’s see if your memories can withstand what I truly am."

Poseidon lifted the Trident, voice quiet.

> "Then come. I’ll show you what the sea remembers."

The name Tharamos echoed across the trenches like a curse finally remembered. With it came a shift in everything beneath the waves—currents reversed, pressure changed, and even the temperature dropped like a dying breath.

Poseidon stood, radiant and still, his grip on the Trident steady but strained.

Before him, the creature once forgotten... took form.

---

The Becoming

Tharamos no longer drifted like mist.

He walked.

Step by step across the seabed, bones twisting into shape, tendrils tightening into limbs. His skin was not flesh—it was made of reef fragments, shipwreck steel, and the forgotten scales of extinct sea beasts.

His mouth opened—

—but instead of sound, silence spilled out like oil.

Maelora flinched as her voice caught in her throat.

> "I... I can’t speak."

Varun gripped his dagger, panic on his face.

> "I can’t think."

Poseidon narrowed his eyes.

> "He’s made of everything the sea tried to forget."

> "And now," Tharamos rasped, his voice stitched together from old storms and dying screams, "you’ve made me real."

---

Tharamos’ First Breath

As Tharamos raised his arms, the sea trembled.

Whirlpools twisted into the shape of eyes.

Dead water stirred.

The spirits of those who had drowned ages ago began to twitch in their sleep.

> "This world buried me," Tharamos hissed. "But you... you named me. And with that, you fed me."

He stretched a hand.

And the sea obeyed.

Fish began to swim backward. Coral collapsed into dust. The lights of deep-sea creatures flickered and died.

> "Do you see what I am?" he asked, stepping forward. "I’m the rot beneath the reef. The last breath before a sinking ship breaks."

Poseidon twirled the Trident and flung it forward—

A spiral of oceanic force thundered toward Tharamos.

But Tharamos caught it... and breathed it in.

> "You fight with memory. I am the forgetting."

---

Poseidon Staggers

The impact of that truth hit hard.

Poseidon felt something inside himself falter—not his strength, but his anchor.

For a moment, the memory of his mother’s voice faded.

Then the way Maelora smiled.

Then... his own face.

He growled and slammed the Trident into the sea floor, sending a shockwave of memory spiraling outward.

> "Then I’ll remind the sea of what it fights for!"

Visions burst like bubbles from the ocean floor:

A child saved from drowning.

A sailor’s final prayer answered.

The first pact between sea and sky.

Maelora gasped as color returned to her cheeks.

Varun wiped a tear.

> "He’s giving it back to us..."

---

Tharamos Laughs

> "Beautiful," the creature sneered. "But it’s not enough."

He opened both arms—and from him, shards of erased history erupted.

Sunken gods no one remembered.

Cities swallowed whole and removed from time.

Echoes of songs that were never sung.

And they flew—straight toward Poseidon.

---

The Shield of the Trident

Poseidon raised the Trident, spinning it in an arc that summoned a tidal wall. It surged upward, crashing against the storm of erasure.

But every blow left scars. The Trident itself began to crack—veins of glowing blue spreading along its length.

> "It’s too much!" Maelora shouted. "He’s pulling from every memory the sea ever lost!"

Poseidon’s body flickered with light and darkness battling for control.

> "Then I need more."

He thrust the Trident skyward.

---

Olympus Responds

Far above, in the clouds above Olympus, the gods stood on edge.

Zeus gritted his teeth.

> "He’s trying to draw from us now."

Athena nodded.

> "He must. The ocean was never meant to face Tharamos alone."

She stepped forward and sliced open her palm. Blood ran golden.

> "Let him borrow it."

Her divine blood shimmered in the air, then vanished—pulled downward toward the sea.

Hades exhaled slowly.

> "So it begins. The new sea god... becomes a god not just of water, but of legacy."

---

Final Moments – The Birth Is Complete

Tharamos spread his arms wide. His body towered now, over ten meters tall, surrounded by weeping water and sobbing currents.

> "I am whole," he said simply. "And now I will unmake you."

Poseidon’s wounds glowed with Olympian gold.

The Trident mended.

His armor reformed.

And from his mouth came a new voice.

A voice not of Dominic.

Not just of Poseidon.

But of the sea itself.

> "Then come, Tharamos. You want silence?

Let me show you the symphony of the deep."