(1st Bonus Chapter) Amid the azure abyss, Poseidon gazed at the vast outlines of the Cyclopes’ engineering projects, lost in thought.
In the original myths, although Poseidon was revered as the King of the Sea, his authority did not seem to be truly established until after he married the sea nymph Amphitrite.
Yet the massive conflict now unfolding before him made him question whether that version of history had ever truly existed.
What troubled him even more was that the Thetis in his memories bore little resemblance to the Thetis standing before him now.
“Strange… Thetis never had such a strong presence before…” Poseidon rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
He understood that ever since he had replaced the “original” Poseidon, the course of fate was destined to diverge.
But the extent of that divergence had already exceeded his expectations.
There had to be another reason behind Thetis’s abnormal behavior.
Just as he was immersed in thought, the calm seawater beside him silently parted.
A tall, graceful figure descended without a ripple.
It was Styx.
The Goddess of Oaths and the River Styx had long since shed her wartime armor.
She now wore a flowing gown as dark as midnight, its hem drifting gently through the water like liquid shadows.
She stood barefoot, her fair ankles contrasting beautifully against the dark sea, while her silver-gray hair flowed like a waterfall, accentuating her dignified yet slightly aloof beauty.
“Poseidon, don’t you think you’re being a little too relaxed given the current situation?” “Oh?
Styx.
What brings you here?” Poseidon turned with his usual easygoing smile, seemingly unsurprised by her arrival.
“The unrest in the ocean has already reached the Underworld.
What do you make of it?” “Hahaha, so even the Underworld has heard about such a trivial matter?
Now that the war is over, the gods really have too much free time.” Styx walked over gracefully and stood beside him, gazing upward at the hazy sunlight filtering through the seawater.
Hearing his carefree response, she chuckled softly, resting her chin on one hand.
“Oh, my Sea King.
News that ‘the ocean itself is in turmoil’ is hardly trivial among the gods.
If I told you Hades personally sent me here, would you believe me?” Poseidon raised an eyebrow.
“Tsk… That guy Hades.
He’s still sulking over not getting Olympus.
Obsessing over Zeus’s throne wasn’t enough—now he wants to meddle in my family affairs too?” “I couldn’t say.” Styx shrugged elegantly, the lines of her shoulders and neck graceful beneath her flowing dress.
“I’m merely a messenger, carrying out the duties entrusted to me.
I’ve simply come to see how you’re handling the situation, Lord Poseidon.” “Enough, Styx.
You won’t fool me with diplomatic nonsense.” Poseidon waved dismissively before patting a giant mushroom-shaped fluorescent coral beside him.
“Come, have a seat.
Standing gets tiring.
It may not compare to your Underworld palace, but the scenery here is unmatched.” Styx accepted the invitation and sat beside him, her long gown blooming around her like a flower of night.
The two sat shoulder to shoulder, quietly admiring the breathtaking underwater world before them.
Sunlight pierced through thousands of meters of seawater, diffusing into soft, hazy beams that bathed the colorful coral forests in an ethereal glow.
Schools of luminous fish darted between the coral branches, creating the illusion of a dreamlike world untouched by time.
“Styx, look at this ocean.” Poseidon gestured toward the scenery.
“It’s so beautiful.
In a place like this, why should there be war or endless struggles for power?
Things should simply follow their natural course.” “As for the current turmoil… I see it as nothing more than the growing pains the ocean must endure before it becomes stronger.” Styx listened quietly, taking in the miraculous landscape shaped by Chaos and the primordial sea, Oceanus.
Then she turned toward Poseidon.
He had restrained nearly all of his divine aura, appearing as nothing more than a handsome young god with sea-blue hair flowing freely like gentle waves.
The baptism of the Titanomachy had left traces of regal authority upon him, yet beneath the soft light of the deep sea, he looked less like a supreme deity and more like a carefree youth wandering through his own garden.
But Styx had seen another side of him.
Beneath that relaxed and unrestrained exterior lay raging tides capable of overturning heaven and earth—overwhelming power that could shatter divine bodies and tear stars apart.
“Poseidon.” She called his name softly.
“What do you intend to do about my sisters… and my nieces caught up in this?” “From what I know of that Lord…” she said, referring to the primordial sea, Oceanus, “I fear he will remain silent again, just as he always has.
He has never liked these kinds of conflicts.” “And…” She paused.
“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Someone is orchestrating all of this from the shadows.” Poseidon did not answer immediately.
Instead, he quietly watched the shifting light dancing across the distant coral forests.
Taking another bite from the sea apple in his hand, he finally looked at Styx.
“Who knows, Styx.” “But one thing is certain.” “No matter who is stirring up these undercurrents…” “…since they’ve chosen this path, someone among them will have to sleep forever in the deepest reaches of the primordial sea.” “To make this ocean truly stable…” “…some gods who no longer deserve to exist must become the cornerstone upon which the new era is built.” For a fleeting instant, Styx saw something terrifying within Poseidon’s calm blue eyes.
Beneath the tranquil surface surged endless, violent tides capable of swallowing every ray of light.
Almost simultaneously, while Poseidon and Styx were speaking, the outside world had descended into chaos.
The oceans of the world had gone mad.
This was no exaggeration.
It was reality.
Towering waves rose like mountains, stretching from sea to sky before crashing violently into the continents and swallowing entire coastlines.
Raging hurricanes and colossal waterspouts tore across the ocean’s surface, blending sea and sky into a single maelstrom.
The ancient seabed itself shifted beneath unimaginable force, triggering relentless super-tsunamis and catastrophic volcanic eruptions.
Amid this worldwide maritime catastrophe, the so-called Golden Race—those mortals who still worshipped Kronos and Pontus—suffered the worst.
Their immortal bodies might survive the initial destruction.
But endless drowning… Relentless suffocation… The crushing darkness beneath the sea… To them, it was a fate far crueler than death.
Just as the Olympian gods had silently agreed beforehand, not a single deity intervened to protect these final remnants of the old age.
The last traces of the Era of Kronos were being washed away beneath the fury of the endless sea.
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