Reincarnated As Poseidon
Chapter 73: War cry

Chapter 73: War cry

The sea had never known silence like this.

Not even during the Hollow surge.

Not during the Choir’s awakening.

Not when the Door of Names shattered.

But now...

As Ares stood before Poseidon, axe dripping molten foam, grinning like war itself—

The ocean held its breath.

Because it remembered this god.

And it remembered that he had never bled.

---

The First Blow

Ares didn’t waste words.

He swung.

His axe tore through the water like fire underwater—

a blazing arc of violence honed by centuries of conquest.

Poseidon blocked it, barely.

The impact sent a shockwave through the reef.

Coral shattered.

Trench walls cracked.

Tidecallers screamed.

Poseidon skidded backward, muscles groaning, Trident glowing wild.

Ares grinned wider.

> "You’ve got weight now, boy. I can feel it."

> "I’m not a boy," Poseidon growled.

> "Then stop holding back."

---

Maelora and Varun Join

Before Ares could strike again, Maelora darted in, her sea-blades flashing.

She aimed for Ares’s side—fast, surgical, no hesitation.

He caught her blade with his hand.

No armor.

Just flesh.

And laughed.

> "Cute."

Then he hurled her aside like a ragdoll—slamming her into a nearby reef wall with a force that made Varun yell in rage.

Varun charged next, forming whirlpools around his fists.

Ares let him hit him—twice.

Then grabbed him by the throat and whispered:

> "I like you. Shame you won’t survive."

---

Poseidon Rises

Poseidon roared—finally releasing the current within.

The Trident surged.

His body glowed.

Not divine.

Not mortal.

Something in between.

The sea moved with him, coiling like a serpent around his form.

Ares turned, finally serious.

> "Now we’re getting somewhere."

Poseidon launched himself forward—clashing with Ares in a flash of coral and crimson light.

---

The God Who Bled

The ocean churned violently as their weapons met—again, again, again.

Poseidon ducked under a swing and drove his Trident forward—

It pierced armor.

Then flesh.

Just a graze.

But it was enough.

A single drop of red floated from Ares’s side.

The sea gasped.

Because he bled.

---

Ares Laughs

Ares looked at the wound... then licked the blood off his fingers.

> "Do you know how long it’s been since I felt that?"

> "You’re insane," Poseidon hissed.

> "No," Ares whispered.

"I’m alive."

And then he struck back—harder than before.

---

Final Scene – The Storm Breaks

As the sea above boiled, and the Trench fractured from the pressure of battle, Olympus looked on.

Zeus stood, unmoving.

Athena turned to him.

> "He wounded Ares."

Zeus didn’t blink.

> "Then we’re already too late."

Far below, Aegirion limped toward the collapsing reef, watching Poseidon rise through a spiral of foam and lightning—

Eyes blazing.

The tide behind him.

Not as a prince.

Not as a boy.

But as the god of the sea.

The ocean had seen wars.

But never like this.

Not where every strike rewrote currents.

Not where divine power was shaped by grief, fury, and a name once forgotten.

Poseidon wasn’t just fighting Ares now.

He was fighting for every name the sea buried, every scream the waves swallowed.

And the Trident knew it.

It burned in his grip—alive.

---

The Clash Escalates

Ares lunged again, axe roaring with warfire, teeth bared in something between bloodlust and joy.

Poseidon didn’t retreat.

He met him.

The Trident moved like lightning in water—

A spiral.

A crash.

A rip in the current.

Their weapons collided—

And the ocean screamed.

Maelora, barely conscious, watched in awe as the trench walls rippled like fabric.

Even the Reef Choir fell silent.

Varun, now rising with a cracked rib and burning fists, whispered:

> "He’s not holding back anymore..."

---

Poseidon Awakens the Sea

Poseidon’s voice cut through the chaos.

> "Trident—wake."

And the weapon responded.

Ancient carvings along its shaft blazed.

The metal groaned with memory.

Currents spun into whirlpools that orbited Poseidon like blades.

From the deep... the sea began to obey.

He raised the Trident.

The waters behind him surged upward, forming a tidal spear—massive, spiraled, and glittering with shelllight.

He hurled it.

Ares was struck.

And this time—it tore armor from bone.

---

Ares Falls

For a moment...

Just a moment...

The God of War stumbled.

His shoulder hung open. His axe floated from his hand, tumbling in slow motion.

He touched the wound.

Looked at the blood.

Then at Poseidon.

And laughed.

> "YES!" he roared. "That’s what I came for!"

He rushed forward again, wounded but euphoric.

> "SHOW ME MORE!"

---

Poseidon’s Final Strike

Poseidon didn’t speak.

He didn’t taunt.

He gripped the Trident with both hands.

The sea turned black behind him.

A silence. A calm.

Then—

He spoke its name.

> "Torrimar."

The Trident shifted.

A third prong emerged.

The ocean twisted into a vortex.

Ares slowed. Confused.

> "What—?"

Then Poseidon struck the trench floor.

A wave of raw oceanic force exploded upward, catching Ares in its core, lifting him, bending the current around him like a prison of crashing tides.

For the first time—

Ares screamed.

---

Olympus Reacts

Up above, the sky darkened unnaturally.

Zeus watched from the Hall of Mirrors, unmoving.

Hera stepped beside him.

> "He’s not supposed to be that strong."

Zeus finally spoke.

> "He’s not supposed to exist."

---

Final Scene – Ares Defeated

When the sea settled...

Ares floated, unconscious, armor broken, axe buried somewhere in the reef bed.

Poseidon stood over him, breathing hard.

Bloodied. Exhausted.

But still standing.

Maelora swam to his side, clutching her ribs.

> "You won."

Poseidon didn’t respond immediately.

Then he looked at her, eyes glowing faintly blue.

> "No. The sea did."

And as he turned toward the surface...

The Reef Choir sang his name.

Not Dominic.

Not the boy.

But Poseidon.

Above the clouds, the air shifted.

It wasn’t just the lightning.

It was the silence that followed.

Ares had fallen.

The gods felt it—not through prophecy or whisper—but through the weight of divine failure ringing through the heavens like a bell struck off-key.

And now... Olympus stood at the edge of something they had not faced in centuries.

Fear.

---

The Storm King’s Wrath

In the throne chamber carved from stormcloud and gold, Zeus sat—his knuckles whitening around the edge of his seat.

Cracks ran down the sides of his scepter.

His breathing was heavy, not with fatigue, but with restraint.

Athena stood to his right, frowning deeply.

> "He defeated Ares. You saw it."

> "I felt it," Zeus muttered.

> "This is no longer a mortal uprising."

> "It never was."

Hermes entered, eyes wide.

> "The sea... it’s glowing. Not just Earth’s. Neptune’s realm felt it too. Even the moons of Triton are shaking."

Zeus rose.

> "Enough."

He turned toward the pantheon’s gathering.

> "He calls himself Poseidon now."

> "Then we remind him what happened to the first one."

---

Gods Divide

As murmurs filled Olympus, not all gods stood united.

Demeter crossed her arms, voice low.

> "He has not desecrated the sea. He’s awakened it."

> "And threatened Olympus!" bellowed Apollo.

Artemis whispered, "And yet... I heard the ocean sing his name."

Hera stared at the flame of divinity in the chamber’s center—dimmed now.

> "Perhaps this is not war... but a reckoning."

Zeus raised his arm.

> "Enough talk. If Olympus will not act together—then I will."

He slammed his scepter to the ground.

Storms ignited across the sky.

---

The Fracture of Olympus

That night, the Pantheon fractured.

A schism formed—silent and dangerous.

—Demeter vanished, descending toward the earthly springs.

—Hades remained quiet in his realm, watching shadows stir.

—Artemis lingered near the Veil, neither agreeing nor fleeing.

—And Hermes... whispered secrets into the stars.

But Zeus?

Zeus gathered his loyal.

Apollo. Ares (now healing in Olympus’ forge). Hephaestus. Hera.

And they began to plan the Sundering.

> "He will come for us," Zeus said.

"So we strike first."

---

Back Beneath the Sea

Poseidon knelt alone near the Trench.

He had washed the blood from his hands—but not from his soul.

Ares’s axe now lay in front of him, pulsing with residual rage.

He studied it.

> "It’ll never be mine," he muttered.

Varun stepped beside him.

> "Doesn’t have to be. You’ve already got something heavier."

> "What?"

> "The sea’s trust."

Poseidon looked out to the horizon.

He could feel it.

Even now...

Olympus was moving.

---

Final Scene – The Storm Is Coming

Above, on the highest peak of the world, clouds cracked open.

Zeus stood at the edge, overlooking the Earth, his form ten times his size, eyes filled with storms.

He raised his arm.

Lightning coiled around his body like serpents.

> "If you want to call yourself Poseidon," he said aloud,

"Then you’ll drown in the name."

And with a single motion—

He hurled a bolt of divine fire toward the ocean.

A challenge.

A warning.

A war cry.

It came like judgment.

Not a warning.

Not a trial.

But wrath.

The bolt hurled by Zeus tore through the clouds, slicing the sky into flame. Oceans below sensed it before they saw it—currents reversed, whirlpools churned in protest, and even the deepest leviathans fled.

But it was too late.

The lightning struck the sea with a sound that made the waters scream.

And then...

Silence.

---

The Sea Shakes

Poseidon’s head snapped up.

One moment, he was speaking to Varun.

The next, the horizon lit white—then black—and a heatwave rolled through the depths like a punch to the ribs of the world.

Maelora felt it too.

> "What... was that?"

Before anyone could respond, the ocean around them collapsed inward, a massive tremor splitting the trench floor open.

Tidecallers dropped to their knees.

The Reef Choir silenced mid-hymn.

The gods had made their move.

---

A Weapon Made to Kill the Sea

The bolt did more than burn.

It didn’t just evaporate water.

It unstitched it.

Every thread of salt, memory, and current torn from itself. For a few horrifying seconds, the ocean forgot it was ocean.

Poseidon felt it in his bones.

A raw, echoing pain—like his veins had been turned inside out.

He screamed, falling to his knees as the Trident flickered.

But the sea didn’t abandon him.

It fought back.

From the hollow places, coral walls rose. From the depths, currents rushed in to replace the void. Whales wept. Eels twisted. Old spirits stirred.

The ocean was trying to survive.

---

Dominic Rises Again

But not as Dominic.

Not anymore.

Poseidon stood slowly, shoulders shaking, body cracked with energy, eyes blazing—not just blue, but a shifting storm-sky hue. The Trident pulsed as if answering something older than language.

> "He’s starting a war," he muttered.

> "What do we do?" Varun asked.

Poseidon turned to him—calm, terrifyingly calm.

> "We answer it."

---

To the Surface

Poseidon ascended alone, rising through the ocean like a shadow made of salt and power.

Above him, the storm still raged, Zeus’s mark in the sky glowing like a brand.

He broke the surface.

The wind howled.

Clouds crackled.

And standing on the wave as if it were solid, Poseidon looked toward Olympus and raised the Trident.

> "So this is how it begins."

He thrust the weapon upward.

The sea beneath surged.

The sky recoiled.

Lightning was caught midair—twisted, pulled, and absorbed into the Trident.

The sea had just answered lightning with its own storm.

---

Final Scene – The God in the Deep

Far below, where no light dares to go, a creature stirred.

Ancient. Bound. Patient.

It had no name.

Or rather—it had too many.

It sensed the war.

It tasted the chaos.

And it smiled.

> "The storm will break them both," it whispered.

And slowly...

It began to rise.