Deep within the now-quiet ocean, Poseidon stood alone.
His gaze seemed to pierce through the endless seawater and the chaotic battlefield beyond, locking onto a distant figure.
There, the primordial sea god Pontus overlooked the carnage from afar, standing in a posture remarkably similar to Poseidon’s own.
Within Poseidon’s perception, Pontus’s ancient, colossal divine body was wrapped in a dense, tangible, ink-green ghostly aura.
The eerie energy seemed almost alive, extending countless sinister tendrils that connected to every marine creature fighting under his command.
Whether they were mighty sea monsters or graceful nymphs, each bore the same ghostly light flickering within their eyes—a light devoid of self-awareness.
To Poseidon, Pontus resembled the corrupt, decaying evil gods from the fantasy stories of his previous life—beings who delighted in enslaving the souls of others.
“…Good grief.” Poseidon sighed softly.
“Ever since I became a god, life has certainly become far more exciting than it ever was in my previous life.” His expression instantly sharpened.
The carefree laziness vanished from his face.
With a flick of his wrist, his trident appeared in his hand, and he let out a soft whistle.
Neeeigh—!
A majestic cry echoed across the sea.
It carried the deep resonance of a dragon’s roar while retaining the unmistakable neigh of a divine stallion.
Moments later, an extraordinary steed burst through the waves.
It was no ordinary horse.
Its powerful body gleamed with a bronze-like luster, every muscle flowing with elegant strength.
Most striking of all were its eight powerful legs.
Its hooves never touched the seabed.
Instead, they effortlessly parted the surrounding water, allowing it to gallop across the ocean as though racing over solid ground.
This was the divine mount Poseidon had casually created.
Out of sheer amusement, he had named it— Sleipnir.
“Come on, old friend.” Poseidon vaulted onto its back with an easy grin.
“Even in another world, you’ve still got to live up to the name of the Eight-Legged Divine Steed.” Neeeigh!
Sleipnir answered with another dragon-like cry.
All eight hooves moved in perfect harmony, propelling horse and rider into a streak of azure light as they charged toward the battlefield.
BOOM—!!!
At the center of the battlefield, the clash between Poseidon and Pontus had become the most dazzling—and deadliest—spectacle in the entire ocean.
One was the newly crowned King of the Sea, riding his magnificent eight-legged steed while bathed in brilliant azure light.
The other was the primordial sea god Pontus, standing atop a colossal eight-tentacled abyssal beast, surrounded by murky, deathly green radiance.
These two completely opposing forces— Life and death.
Order and chaos.
Renewal and decay.
—collided again and again.
Each impact unleashed terrifying shockwaves that distorted space itself and shattered entire sections of the ocean floor.
It was as though the eternal battle between a hero and a demon king, between light and darkness, had descended into the depths of the sea.
The armies beneath them reflected the same stark contrast.
Poseidon’s forces—composed of sea nymphs, Dolphin Knights, and willingly allied sea spirits—moved with remarkable fluidity.
Their formations shifted like flowing water.
One moment they stood together like an unbreakable reef.
The next, they scattered effortlessly like ocean currents, displaying the adaptability unique to living beings.
Pontus’s army, however, was horrifying to behold.
Whether monstrous sea beasts or once-beautiful nymphs, every one of them moved like a puppet manipulated by invisible strings.
Their ranks were unnaturally perfect.
They charged forward without fear… Without hesitation… Without emotion.
Only the eerie green flames burning within their eyes proved they were still alive.
“For Lord Poseidon!” “For the pure ocean!” Blue-haired sea nymphs rode swift and gentle seahorses, forming agile cavalry that swept across the battlefield.
Crystal spears flashed as they thrust into the enemy ranks.
In response, Pontus’s corrupted followers let out distorted, inhuman shrieks.
Their limbs bent into unnatural angles as they lunged forward like rabid beasts, attacking with claws, teeth, or even by throwing themselves bodily at their opponents.
Clang!
Splat!
Even when crystal spears pierced straight through their bodies, they felt no pain.
Instead, they became even more ferocious.
Some even grabbed the spear shafts and dragged the mounted warriors from their saddles.
In contrast, Poseidon’s sea spirits displayed astonishing adaptability.
Many could partially liquefy their bodies, allowing fatal attacks to pass harmlessly through them before reshaping themselves for a counterattack.
The battle resembled a struggle between lifeless war machines programmed only to kill… …and living creatures that instinctively adapted to every change around them.
Watching the grotesque fighting style of Pontus’s army, Poseidon’s expression darkened.
Disgust flashed across his face.
“Pontus…” “You madman.” “You actually turned your own followers into puppets?” “A madman?
Hahaha!” Pontus swung the pair of massive war hammers fashioned from the bones of gigantic sea beasts, shattering an incoming high-pressure blade of water.
His shrill laughter echoed across the battlefield.
“Ignorant child!” “This is the wisdom accumulated through endless ages!” “Absolute control is the only path to absolute power and absolute efficiency!” He proudly gestured toward another part of the battlefield.
“Look.” “Those children who once admired you…” “…aren’t they now willingly back by my side?” “So obedient.” “So efficient.” Following his gaze, Poseidon’s eyes grew even colder.
He saw wounded sea nymphs and lesser spirits who had previously retreated from the front lines.
At some point, their wounds had become tainted with traces of ink-green corruption.
Now… Their eyes were empty.
Their movements stiff.
They had turned around to attack their former comrades.
This vile method… This corruption of both mind and soul… Filled Poseidon with revulsion.
“You trample on free will.” “You twist souls into tools.” “And you still dare call yourself a god?” His voice was colder than the deepest abyss.
Pontus merely sneered.
“That’s because immature children like you understand nothing.” “Nothing about true power.” “Nothing about the art of ruling.” The ghostly aura surrounding him intensified.
“Do you even know who stands before you?” “I am the oldest—and rightful—ruler of this boundless ocean!” “My divine body has long since become one with the endless seas.” “My will is the voice of the deep.” “My strength comes from the oldest, darkest reaches of the primordial ocean.” He looked down upon Poseidon with naked contempt.
“And you?” “A newborn god who gained a little authority through luck.” “What could you possibly possess to challenge the power I have accumulated over countless eons?” Poseidon offered no reply.
Silently… He raised his trident once more.
This time, he summoned no towering tidal waves.
Instead— The weight… The wrath… Of the entire ocean seemed to descend at once.
Invisible pressure weighing millions of tons crushed toward Pontus from every direction.
Pontus’s expression finally changed.
With a furious roar, he swung both war hammers as torrents of ink-green divine power erupted around him, forming layer upon layer of distorted force fields that struggled to withstand the overwhelming pressure.
Their duel entered an even deadlier stalemate.
Yet as the battle dragged on… The overall situation gradually shifted against Poseidon’s forces.
The greatest problem lay with their high-level combatants.
Styx, Metis, and the newly arrived Eurynome were all immensely powerful.
Each possessed the ability to resist—or even purify—the eerie corruption spreading across the battlefield.
However, they were constantly forced to divide their attention to rescue ordinary soldiers and lesser sea spirits as they became infected by Pontus’s corruption.
As a result, they could never unleash their full strength.
Pontus’s side, meanwhile, enjoyed a cruel advantage.
Amphitrite… Nereus… And Doris… These three highly respected sea deities had unwillingly become the strongest defensive line protecting Pontus’s forces.
Not because they desired to.
But because their children… Their relatives… Their loved ones… Had either already fallen under Pontus’s control or remained trapped within his grasp.
To protect them, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and stand upon the front lines.
Rather than attacking, they devoted themselves entirely to defense, desperately buying time in hopes of preventing even greater tragedy from befalling those they cherished.
Caught in such an impossible dilemma… Poseidon’s strongest allies could never fight with their full strength.
And little by little… The scales of war began tipping toward the only side that fought without conscience— Pontus.
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