Reincarnated As Poseidon
Chapter 79: ocean 2

Chapter 79: ocean 2

There was silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that follows a scream so loud, it breaks reality itself.

The Hollow had collapsed.

The Choir was gone.

And now, only Poseidon and Varun remained... drifting in a pocket of stillness at the ocean’s lowest memory.

What Survived the Collapse

Poseidon looked around.

Everything once vibrant and dangerous in this realm had gone still. The coral-thoughts had dimmed. The cathedral of voices was now just black stone—silent, forgotten.

The Trident in his hand no longer glowed.

It throbbed.

Like it had swallowed something it didn’t want.

"Is it done?" Varun’s voice broke the silence, cracking around the edges.

He still trembled. The Choir had invaded his mind too deeply.

"Not done," Poseidon said. "But delayed."

"You don’t kill a Choir. You silence it... until it learns a new song."

The Aftermath in the Water

The current began to move again.

Gently.

The water felt clearer now, even this far down.

No longer twisted with the memory-sorcery that haunted it.

But something else had changed.

Poseidon didn’t feel alone.

Not in the companion sense.

In the watching sense.

Like something ancient had marked him.

And was now waiting.

When they finally broke through the last pressure barrier and breached the upper layers of the ocean, the sun was rising.

Orange streaks shimmered across the water’s surface.

Their ship—thank the gods—was still where they left it, protected by the runes Aegirion had imbued.

They climbed aboard in silence.

Varun collapsed against the deck, face wet with more than seawater.

Poseidon looked up.

"Feels like we’ve come back to a different world."

Varun nodded.

"Or we’ve changed so much, the world doesn’t recognize us anymore."

On the Deck – The Conversation That Had to Happen

Varun finally broke the silence.

"Dominic."

Poseidon turned.

"You called yourself that. In the Hollow."

A pause.

"Is that... your real name?"

Poseidon didn’t answer at first.

He stood by the edge of the deck, watching the tide roll in and out.

"It was."

"Before I became what I am."

"Before Thalorin’s essence rewrote me."

Varun sat up slowly.

"So... what are you now?"

Poseidon closed his eyes.

"A god. A vessel. A memory that refused to die."

"And a boy trying to make sure no one else drowns in what I did."

The Message Left Behind

As the ship powered back toward the nearest outpost, Poseidon sat inside the communications room.

A small orb of water floated in front of him—what the ancients called a "Memory Pearl."

It recorded thoughts, sights, and fragments of soul.

He pressed his thumb to it.

"To the Council of Surface and Sea—this is Poseidon, bearer of the Deep Trident and heir of Thalorin’s essence."

"The Hollow has been sealed. The Choir silenced. But the Rift still exists."

"Its edges are fraying. And other things stir in its cracks."

"I’ll find them. And I’ll stop them."

"But I won’t be alone."

He looked toward the doorway.

Varun stood there, silent but unwavering.

Elsewhere – The Council Awakens

Far above, in the floating city of Aetheron, the gods gathered.

Zephyra, goddess of storms.

Ignion, lord of flame.

Nyra, dream-shaper of the Forgotten Vale.

And in the center... Aegirion.

The orb pulsed with Poseidon’s message.

Silence followed.

Until Nyra spoke:

"He’s becoming more than just a vessel."

Ignion frowned.

"That is dangerous."

Zephyra nodded slowly.

"Or necessary."

Aegirion spoke last.

"Then it’s time we prepare him for the Second Chorus."

"The one that doesn’t sing underwater."

As Poseidon slept aboard the ship, the sea far below began to shift.

A single ripple.

Then another.

And from the blackest part of the Rift... came a sound.

Not like the Choir’s song.

This one was deeper.

Older.

Angrier.

A whisper in a voice no god dared name:

"He broke my silence."

"Now... I’ll drown his world."

The world had barely begun to breathe again after the Choir’s silence.

But peace never lingers long where gods walk.

The Shifting Waters

Poseidon awoke with a start.

Sweat clung to his skin despite the cool sea air. The deck above groaned with each sway of the ship, but that wasn’t what disturbed him.

It was the dream.

Or rather, the voice inside it.

"He broke my silence. Now... I’ll drown his world."

He rose, bare feet brushing the runed deck, and walked to the edge. The sea was deceptively calm, the morning sun glinting like a blade across the waves.

But something was wrong.

The wind didn’t breathe like it should.

Even the seagulls were gone.

Varun stepped up beside him, yawning.

"You felt it too?"

Poseidon nodded.

"The Rift isn’t closed."

"We silenced a voice. But there’s something beneath it."

The Trident Reacts

The Trident buzzed with unease in his grip, not glowing—shivering.

Its silver shaft cracked slightly, exposing the ancient blue runes beneath, like veins of deep magic rising to the surface.

Poseidon held it tighter.

"It’s calling out. Not to me... to it."

Varun looked confused. "To what?"

"To the Deepmind. The original will that formed the Rift."

Varun stepped back, eyes wide.

"You told me the Rift was a scar in the world’s soul."

"Now you’re saying it’s alive?"

Poseidon didn’t answer right away.

Because he knew the answer wasn’t simple.

Not anymore.

Council in Motion

Meanwhile, in Aetheron, the city of drifting clouds and spires, the gods gathered again.

The Council Hall pulsed with ethereal energy. Starlight rippled through the glass floors, and reality bent subtly around each divine presence.

Aegirion stood at the head.

"The Hollow was merely a test."

Zephyra scowled. "You knew."

"I suspected. The Choir’s silence has stirred something deeper."

"The Second Rift."

Ignion slammed his molten fist into the air, sending sparks flying.

"You mean the place even Thalorin feared?"

A murmur passed through the gods.

Nyra, half-dreaming as always, finally spoke:

"Then we must awaken the Wellsingers."

A silence thicker than death fell across the chamber.

Even Aegirion hesitated.

"Are you certain?"

"The last time we used them—"

"The Sea of Skulls happened."

Nyra nodded slowly.

"Then perhaps we need someone who has already crossed into the impossible."

"Poseidon."

Back on the Surface – Arrival at Iskara

Poseidon’s ship reached the floating isle of Iskara, a neutral city between divine and mortal affairs.

A place where legends walked without crowns.

The moment they docked, they were met by a cloaked envoy. She moved like rain—silent, graceful, and barely noticed unless you stared too long.

She bowed.

"Poseidon. The Council has summoned you."

"You are to appear in Aetheron by moonrise."

Varun looked alarmed.

"Is that even possible in a day?"

The envoy turned. A circle of silver light opened midair, and the air bent around it like water drawn into a drain.

"It is now."

Aetheron – First Time Among Gods

Poseidon stepped through the portal.

The shift was violent—like being turned inside out, then stitched back together with starlight.

He stood in Aetheron.

The sky here was endless and black, dotted with slow-drifting constellations that moved like eyes.

Spirals of floating land spun calmly below.

And the gods watched him.

Each one radiated pressure and presence. Not weight—but meaning. Like standing near an idea so large it distorted thought itself.

Aegirion approached.

"You’ve grown."

"Not just in power. In understanding."

Poseidon bowed slightly.

"You brought me here for a reason."

"So speak it."

Aegirion motioned toward the well of stars in the center of the hall.

"The Rift has a heart. And it beats again."

"You must find it."

"And kill it."

Mission: Into the Second Rift

Zephyra stepped forward, silver hair flowing like a cloud’s tail.

"We will send you with the Wellsingers."

"They are relics of song—half-creature, half-memory. They know how to weave silence."

Ignion added:

"But they’re unstable. Unpredictable."

"They obey only one with true dominion over water and will."

Nyra smiled faintly, dreamlike.

"In other words... you."

Poseidon raised a brow.

"And if I refuse?"

Aegirion’s voice dropped to a low hum.

"Then the Rift will awaken without resistance."

"And everything you’ve bled to protect... will drown."

The portal returned them to Iskara.

Poseidon stood on the edge of the dock, staring into the evening sea. Varun stood beside him.

"Are you going alone?"

"No," Poseidon said.

"You’re coming."

Varun blinked.

"Me? I’m no god."

Poseidon looked at him with quiet certainty.

"No. You’re braver."

"Gods are forged in war, yes. But heroes are born where no one is watching."

Varun swallowed hard.

"Then let’s stop this Rift... before it sings again."

Deep Below – A New Song Begins

Miles beneath the crust, beneath the Hollow, beneath the first Rift...

A chamber of nothingness pulsed with light.

Not red. Not blue. Just... void.

Within it, a figure stirred.

Its body was shaped like a man, but its skin was made of reflection—like water dreaming of being flesh.

It opened its mouth.

And began to hum.

The sea above shivered.

So did the sky.

And somewhere aboard a ship far from shore, the Trident in Poseidon’s hand cracked once more.