Poseidon lifted his trident , trying to summon the sea and storms forming behind him. Waves crashed and thunder roared—but they had calmed slightly.
He pointed his weapon at me, trying to mask the fear in his voice. "You are a fool to take up the power of that cursed godslayer. His story ended in ruin."
I smiled coldly. "So does yours."
The first blade blasted through the air like divine thunder—its edge a comet of golden fury—and struck the sand, passing by inches from Poseidon's ear. It didn't just hit—it exploded, kicking up a pillar of golden dust that sizzled with leftover mana. The sound cracked like a whip across the coastline.
Poseidon's eyes widened. He hadn't even seen it properly. Not the glow. Not the swing. Just the impact. He hesitantly touched his cheek that was grazed by the weapon, now bleeding golden ichor.
The sea behind him faltered. The waves rolled back, uncertain—like an army of foot soldiers suddenly unsure of their commander. Even the ocean, bound to his will, now hesitated.
Poseidon gripped his Trident tightly, jaw tightening with the weight of wounded pride. He could feel it—divine blood already staining the sand from the earlier strike. His godhood was being challenged.
By a damn mortal.
No—something that used to be mortal.
I stood still, golden armor blazing under the storm-darkened sky. My red cape whipped behind me, crackling with energy. My eyes, red as rubies, never left his.
My voice cut through the sound of crashing waves—sharp, cruel, calm.
"That one missed on purpose, mongrel."
Poseidon's knuckles whitened on his trident shaft as he yanked it upright. The storm above rumbled like a wounded beast.
"You dare mock me, mortal?" he snarled, his voice carrying the weight of crashing oceans. "I am POSEIDON! The god of the sea! I have fought titans and won. You may possess divinity—but you remain a human. You are beneath me."
I took a slow step forward.
The sand beneath my boots hissed and melted, liquefying from the sheer heat of the mana pouring off me in waves. Each step echoed like a verdict.
Behind me, the Gate of Babylon pulsed—portal after portal swirling with gold, humming in rhythm with my heartbeat. Righteous. Cold. Unrelenting.
I tilted my head, eyes narrowing.
"Mock you? No, mongrel. This is your judgment. And I am the executioner."
My hand lifted.
And then—
Hell was unleashed.
Tens of weapons fired from the golden gates in perfect formation. They cut through the air like streaks of lightning. Swords, spears, halberds—all Legendary weapons once wielded by kings and gods. Now, they all obeyed me.
Poseidon roared in defiance, spinning his trident into a defensive cyclone. Sparks erupted as the first few blades struck steel—but even as he deflected them, more slipped through his defenses.
A spear of obsidian pierced through his upper shoulder. A golden axe slashed across his thigh. Divine ichor—golden and seething—splattered across the beach, hissing as it touched the ground. The Greek god staggered backward, dazed.
"This... this can't be... You are just a mortal! How are you—"
He didn't finish.
Because in the blink of an eye, I was in front of him.
Face to face with a god.
It was quite underwhelming.
I said nothing. My answer came in the form of a crimson, demonic spear driving through his abdomen—clean and brutal. His breath caught in his throat.
He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a choked gasp.
Then I twisted the spear.
The sound he made was not divine—it was human. Guttural. Raw. Animalistic. The kind of cry that only comes from pain too vast to name.
Cracks split his divine armor as golden lightning surged from my hands. Vajra, the divine weapon of Indra blasting him backward like a cannon. His body slammed through rock, shattered stone, and tumbled across the battlefield like a puppet with cut strings.
He rose slowly, coughing blood, one eye burning with disbelief, the other with hatred.
"I will drown this world for your insolence!"
He raised the trident and slammed it into the earth and shouted , "Amphitrite : 40 days of flood!"
The sea answered instantly. The ocean behind him erupted, birthing titanic tsunami waves that raced toward us—walls of death, towering and hungry. The sun completely vanished behind storm clouds, the sky turned black, and the roar of the waves was deafening.
And me?
I just stood there. Unmoving.
Then I laughed.
It wasn't madness. It was clarity.
I raised both arms, and lightly spoke.
"Come forth, old friend."
The sky cracked open.
From golden light descended the dovine chains—Enkidu. Holy bindings, sacred and capable enough to bind even the gods. Chains that sealed divinity itself.
They struck like serpents from heaven, coiling around Poseidon's limbs, his waist, his throat. His eyes widened in terror.
"What are these chains?! I feel my divinity... being sealed! What have you done to me!"
His voice was hoarse. Desperate.
I stepped closer, smiling coldly.
"How does it feel, lowly insect? Now that your precious divinity is gone..."
I clenched a fist.
"...You're just like the rest. A pitiful, weak, pathetic mongrel that has no use further existing."
The chains pulled tight, forcing him to his knees.
"Kneel before the King , sinner."
Behind me, the Gate of Babylon erupted.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of portals tore open the fabric of the sky. The golden light from them painted the battlefield in holy fire. The weapons within were endless—blessed by demons, cursed by angels, forged in the flames of myth.
This was no longer a fight.
This was an execution sentence.
"This is for Polyphemus."
I snapped my fingers.
They all launched.
Poseidon's roar was drowned out as the golden storm crashed upon him. He tried to deflect the weapons with his Trident, yet his movements were bound by Enkidu.
The tidal wave he had summoned was annihilated, torn apart mid-rise. Weapon after weapon pierced the sky, the sea, and the screaming form of Poseidon. The air was filled with the sound of steel meeting flesh, of bones cracking, of blood spraying.
The earth shook. The sea fled. And Poseidon, god of the sea, was buried under divine judgment.
*****
Poseidon was down—broken, bloodied, gasping through torn lungs—but the war wasn't over. Not yet. Not until I was certain he understood the price.
He tried to rise, despite his body being mangled grotesquely.
One hand digging into the blood-soaked sand, his trident gone, his body limp and trembling. He looked more like a shipwrecked survivor than the god of the sea.
But I wasn't here for pity. I didn't care if he rose again.
Because I was already standing beside him.
He didn't see me move. One second I was twenty feet away—then I was there, my golden gauntlet clenched.
I drove my fist into his left side with no hesitation.
CRACK
The sound of bone and divine muscle snapping echoed across the ruined beach. His left arm dislocated, then tore loose entirely, sent flying into the shallows. It landed with a wet thud, steam rising as his ichor boiled the water around it.
Poseidon screamed—not a proud war cry, but the ragged shriek of a beast in agony.
He turned, tried to crawl away.
I wasn't feeling merciful.
I slammed my boot on his head and leaned down.
"You thought yourself invincible," I said, my voice low, deadly. "But your divine skin tears apart just like any other mongrel's."
He gasped. "Stop… Please—"
I didn't.
Instead, I grabbed his other leg.
And ripped it from his body.
The joint cracked first, then muscle tore, then tendons snapped with a sickening splat. His golden blood sprayed in a wide arc, staining the sand, the sky, me. His screams had turned hoarse, raw. His body flailed in twitching convulsions.
But I wasn't done.
I hoisted him upright by his seaweed-matted hair. His body dangled like a broken puppet. His divine aura—once crushing, relentless—had dwindled to a faint shimmer.
He managed to cough, spraying ichor. His one good eye burned, not with fury anymore—but with fear. He spat out, " They will come for you.... All of them.. cough."
"You don't look like a god anymore, and you think I'll be afraid of your brothers?" I muttered.
He tried to conjure something—maybe a final spell, a call to the sea—but before he could finish, three blades erupted from behind him. One through each shoulder, one through the base of his spine.
From the Gate of Babylon, the armory of kings, judgment had come.
He writhed, impaled mid-air, groaning.
I circled him slowly, watching as ichor dripped from each wound like molten mercury.
"I've seen better resistance from newborns," I said coldly. "Was this the Earthshaker? The so-called strongest 3 of the Olympians?"
"Y-you don't…" he choked, "You don't understand… I was protecting him. The world would never accept him. He… he was a monster to them…"
I froze.
Just for a moment.
I saw something in his face. Not pride. Not wrath. Just fear and regret—buried deep, twisted by centuries of arrogance.
Not a god. Not a king.
Just another creature broken by fear.
I looked away from his eye.
"He was never a monster," I said quietly, voice stripped of its earlier venom. "He was gentle. He loved sheep. He learned how to fist bump. He wanted to see the world like everyone else."
Poseidon let out a shuddering breath.
"He just needed someone to believe in him."
I raised a sword and drove it through his other leg.
The howl that tore from him shook the mountains. He buckled—if he even had knees left to fall on—and collapsed in the sand, now more ichor than grains.
He knelt there.
Armless. Legless. Fountains of golden blood spread around him.
And I stood above him.
Untouched. Gleaming. A golden monarch wreathed in cold fire.
"Do you understand now?" I asked. "This is what happens when a god plays tyrant. When a father kills his son for daring to dream."
Poseidon coughed, trying to raise his head. His voice was a whisper.
"This power… it's not yours… you're just a vessel. The gods will end your pitiful existence."
I stepped forward slowly, kneeling in front of him. His blood pooled at my feet.
"Maybe they will," I chuckled . "Maybe I am just a vessel. But so what?"
A strange calm took over me. The fury remained—but it was no longer mine alone.
I could feel him. Gilgamesh.
The original King of Heroes.
The one who stood above gods, above men. Whose rage knew no equal. Whose love, once lost, turned to divine scorn.
I looked Poseidon in the eye.
"But you know what that means?"
He swallowed, barely able to nod.
"It means the world is changing. Your times are over." I gestured to his broken body. "You're just the first to suffer my wrath."
He tried to speak. Some final prayer. Some last delusion.
I raised my hand to silence him.
"Now perish, Poseidon. Contemplate your existence in hell."
His eyes widened, "Wait...Stop!"
Then, from the Gate behind me, a shape formed—a long spear, glistening with gold and crackling with divine lightning.
His own trident.
It hovered in the air for a second.
Then with a shuddering burst of speed, it drove itself through his chest, bursting out his back in an explosion of golden blood and divine energy.
CRACK.
The sound was final. His body convulsed once… then stilled.
He wasn't dead. Not fully. Gods don't die so easily. This was worse.
He bled. He suffered. And now, he knelt.
Defeated. Stripped of divinity.
Not a deity.
Just a another creature cowering in front of death, a ruler with no throne, a being whose legacy was now stained in his own blood.
The oceans howled and the storm was ripped apart. The dark clouds fading away, showing hthe sun.
I stood over him, breathing steady. My armor shined with his ichor. My hands clenched with quiet fury. My gaze burned.
Silence fell like judgment from the heavens.
Only the sea stirred, timid and unsure—no longer commanded, but mourning.
I turned away. Not in triumph. But in sorrow.
The wind tugged at my cape as I walked back to Pham's body, lying where it had fallen. The glow of battle faded. The gold dimmed. My eyes burned—not with rage this time, but with grief.
I knelt beside my friend. My first and only friend in this world. The fury faded. My voice cracked.
"Hey, buddy… I did it."
I placed a hand over his chest.
"I avenged you." I closed his eye gently. "You mattered."
But there was no joy in the words.
Only silence.
And the endless crashing of waves
*****
The storm had faded away completely.
The sky, once thundering with divine fury, now stretched quiet and gray above the broken coastline.
The sea no longer howled in rage—it wept, soft waves brushing the crimson-stained sands as if trying to cleanse what remained of a battle between god and man.
I stood over Pham's lifeless body.
Even in death, he looked peaceful. His one great eye closed, lips curled in a soft smile as if he'd found peace in the end. I had seen many things in my old world—movies, games, anime—but nothing prepared me for what it meant to lose someone who truly mattered.
He didn't deserve this. Not from his father. Not from this world.
I crouched down beside him and gently brushed back the tangled mess of seaweed-hair from his forehead.
"You should've gotten to see it all," I whispered. "The mountains. The stars. The cities. Maybe even get a Cyclops girlfriend. Or whatever fate had in store for you."
A broken laugh escaped my throat, quickly drowned by the lump forming in my chest.
I stood and turned toward the sea. I needed to give him a farewell worthy of a king—not the mockery Poseidon turned him into.
From behind me, the Gate of Babylon shimmered into life, its golden ripples humming in tune with my heartbeat. With a slow breath, I reached into its depths—not for a weapon this time, but something gentler.
A beautiful ship emerged from the gate.
It was old—ancient, yet preserved in majesty. Carved from black wood and adorned with gold leaf and faded red sails, it resembled the ceremonial vessels of old Mesopotamian kings.
A ship that had once carried heroes to an adventure. Now, it would carry a friend to peace.
I carried Pham's body aboard with care. He was heavier in size, but there was no burden too great when weighed against memory. I laid him gently upon silk coverings, conjured from the gate's depths.
Around him, I placed small mementosas Greek tradition. bread, cheese, a poorly carved sheep's figurine he once made while humming some dumb modern tune I taught him off-key.
Then I whispered a short incantation, drawing on the divine knowledge lingering in my veins.
With a pulse of gold, the ship became veiled. Cloaked from sight. Invisible to all but me. No god, no mortal, no being would see it.
But it would sail. It would sail forever if it had to, carried by the winds and tides, following the stars.
I stepped back and gave the vessel one final push.
"Go, Pham," I said, my voice quiet, trembling. "See the world… for both of us."
The ship drifted out slowly at first, then caught the sea's breath and moved beyond the breakers. As it vanished into the horizon, I raised my hand—not in farewell, but to see him off.
"You weren't a monster," I whispered. "You were my friend."
The winds answered softly.
Silence returned.