Poseidon snapped out of his shock and no longer dared to show the slightest carelessness or contempt. The trident in his hands pulsed with the crushing rhythm of the ocean depths as he swept it out in a horizontal cleave.
The eerie deep-sea force field surrounding his body absorbed most of the impact, constantly tugging and dragging at his opponent's movements, warping their trajectories and sharply accelerating their Ether consumption.
Yet the oceanic blessing upon Samael's body offset at least forty to fifty percent of Poseidon's divine authority.
On the contrary, under the Ancient Serpent's dominion over time, the spearhead alternated between blistering speed and abrupt stillness, impossible to grasp or predict. With spatial manipulation layered atop it, the blade appeared and vanished without warning, its cutting power multiplied severalfold. From time to time, cryptic Words of Destiny were woven into the attacks, rendering them treacherous and utterly impossible to defend against.
After dozens of exchanges, Poseidon, having lost the initiative, was forced into a largely defensive stance. His once-proud deep-sea force field, suppressed by counteracting forces, now barely made a difference.
He should have excelled in prolonged combat, yet fatigue was beginning to show. His opponent only grew more ferocious with every clash. That absurd, monstrous strength sent numbing tremors through Poseidon's palms, nearly wrenching the trident from his grasp more than once.
Though both sides had taken damage, Poseidon knew all too well that his own condition was far worse. His enemy possessed beastlike instincts, always evading vital strikes at precisely the right moment.
And yet, he had once joined forces with his son-in-law, the hundred-armed giant Briareos, to purge the majority of the decayed primordial sea gods and seize exclusive dominion over the seas.
Pontus, the first-generation sea god who had long since vanished; Oceanus, the second-generation sea god whose authority had waned; the feeble and powerless old sea god Nereus; even Phorcys and Ceto, progenitors of sea monsters who possessed only brute force and no intellect—all of them had been reduced to stepping stones for the foundation of his marine divine authority.
In theory, no ocean deity should have been able to weaken his power to such an extent.
Damn it. Where in the world did this monster crawl out from?
With his thoughts in turmoil, Poseidon grew increasingly strained, his fighting spirit rapidly eroding.
The moment Samael's spear repelled him once more, Poseidon caught a glimpse, out of the corner of his eye, of the ocean gods stabilizing the islands of the Ten Great Kingdoms beginning to stir. He immediately realized that this battle had to end quickly.
The Ancient Serpent decisively raised his spear upright before him, gripping the scaled shaft with both hands. Thin streams of blood seeped from his palms, staining the weapon as a dim crimson-gold radiance surged forth, and he began chanting the ordinance.
"I descend in a graceful dance, my body a living gem. Glory, majesty, power, and authority all gather here. My might stands above, your dominion bows below…"
Golden, wedge-shaped runes flew forth and branded themselves along the spear shaft as a solemn, restrained authority rippled outward.
"My iron bulwark! My eternal fortress! Born of the stars, risen from the sea, never to fall—
Undying Kingdom, Atlantis!"
From the spearhead laced with floating golden lines, Poseidon felt a suffocating pressure that made his scalp prickle. He hurriedly adjusted his stance, raising his trident horizontally before his chest. Deep azure divine power surged wildly as the towering phantom of a godly temple rose behind him, endless rivers of starlight igniting one after another.
"Mandate of Heaven: Suppression!"
At the same instant, Samael's golden wings snapped open and beat violently. In a blink, he crossed thousands of meters, descending directly before Poseidon. The dark cross-shaped spear in his grasp erupted with several meters of dark-gold flame. With the command issued, its restrained edge burst forth like lightning, cleaving straight toward the Sea King locked in desperate defense.
Boom!
Golden and blue divine light detonated, blasting away all the clouds within a hundred-mile radius. A vast, umbrella-shaped halo of intertwined gold and blue spread outward, while the two figures at the heart of the collision were both hurled back.
Bang!
Poseidon shot backward like a fired cannonball, slamming into the Sea God Temple at the center of Atlantis. Walls collapsed and structures crumbled in his wake, clouds of dust billowing skyward.
Pfft!
At last, the Sea King spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered to his feet. His scales were shattered, and faint golden flames continued to scorch his chest.
Crack!
At the same time, the sea god statue behind him split apart. Its divine radiance dimmed as dense golden mist, thick as flowing rivers, converged from all directions, pouring into Poseidon's body like countless streams returning to the sea.
In response, the wounds across his body rapidly closed. Vast, surging sea-blue divine power flooded forth, forcibly snuffing out the golden flames burning on his chest.
This time, even the millennia of accumulated faith power within Atalanta was completely drained.
At that very moment, golden light fell like a crashing comet, slamming down before the half-collapsed gates of the Sea God Temple. From the conical crater, a figure emerged while leaning on a spear, as though dragging an overwhelming shadow behind him as it crept toward the heart of the temple.
In that final exchange, he had been gravely injured, while the other side suffered only light wounds.
Too dangerous. I have to go all in!
Poseidon's expression darkened. He immediately raised his trident, frustration and madness flashing in his eyes as he prepared for a desperate final struggle.
"Cough… Your Majesty… perhaps we… should call a ceasefire…"
As the man entered the hall supported by his spear, that unexpected, subdued voice following a light cough left the Sea King frozen in place, his expression stunned and filled with disbelief.
"If we keep fighting like this, either one of us dies, or the commotion grows large enough to draw Zeus here. When that happens, none of us will walk away unscathed…"
At that moment, Samael's Golden Cloths were simultaneously breaking apart and repairing themselves. Most of the metallic feathers on his wings had fallen away, his left side was coated in frost and ice shards, and dark purple bruises marred his skin. Clearly, enduring such an intense battle had not been easy on him either.
After all, Poseidon was fighting within Atalanta, where he enjoyed an overwhelming home-field advantage.
Grinding away the divine protection of the Ten Kingdoms' islands, exhausting the Sea God Temple's thousand years of faith, and leaving Poseidon heavily wounded, even with the oceanic blessing of Mother Goddess Tiamat, was not something Samael could achieve without paying a price.
"You're not working for Zeus?"
Poseidon caught the implication. The wariness in his eyes eased slightly, though deep caution and vigilance still remained.
"In a sense, I am Zeus's enemy. And you, Your Majesty, have been painstakingly preparing to overthrow Olympus as well. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Perhaps we should sit down and talk."
Samael's tone softened as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. He glanced toward Atalanta and gave a meaningful, tight-lipped smile.
The choice was obvious. Either both sides benefited, or everything ended in mutual destruction.
Poseidon narrowed his eyes and studied this monstrous opponent for a long while before speaking coldly.
"Why should I trust you?"
It worked.
The smile between Samael's brows grew gentler as his posture relaxed. He even took the initiative to put away his cross spear. The corners of his lips lifted, and a faint olive-green aura surfaced around him like a symbol of peace.
"I come from Areopagus, bearing Athena's will. I came to see whether His Majesty Poseidon is worthy of our gamble, and whether you can be put forward as the next King of Olympus."
"So that gives you the right to barge into Atalanta, abduct my daughter, and destroy my temple?"
"Those were just minor misunderstandings. Compared to the great undertaking ahead, they're hardly worth mentioning. We're talking about rebelling against Zeus. This isn't a child's game. If we fail, we either die or end up as cellmates in Tartarus. The power of Areopagus is plain to see. Surely we need to know how much weight our future ally truly carries."
"Hmph. Those Greek heroes aboard the Argo. They weren't loyal to Zeus. Were they yours?"
"Of course. Athena is the Mother of Heroes. Most of the Argonauts have deep ties to Areopagus. I can guarantee that once they leave, none of them will speak recklessly. If you still don't trust me, I can even have them swear an oath to Styx to keep your secret forever."
As he spoke, Samael voluntarily lowered his guard. Holding an olive branch, he spread his arms and walked toward Poseidon with an easy smile.
At this moment, Poseidon's hostility gradually faded. After a brief hesitation, he finally reached out and accepted the branch of peace.
Since brute force couldn't suppress the other party or eliminate this hidden danger outright, a mutually beneficial alliance was undeniably tempting.
As for how much truth there was in this monster's words, once this immediate crisis passed, he could verify everything with Areopagus at his leisure.
Besides, strength on par with his own was more than enough to earn the right to sit down and negotiate as an equal.
However, just as the Sea King was about to take the olive branch, Samael tightened his grip on the end of it. With a faint, knowing smile, he pointed toward the smoke-filled sea, his voice dropping low.
"Your Majesty, before we start discussing terms, shouldn't we first declare a ceasefire? Continuing to fight now would only weaken the strength we need to oppose Olympus…"
Poseidon looked deeply at his opponent, then slowly nodded.
Soon after, the two figures emerged one after the other from the half-collapsed Sea God Temple, walking side by side. Together, they raised the olive branch that symbolized peace, announcing the end of the conflict.
The ship's hull belched black smoke, teetering on the verge of collapse. The wounded Argonauts, battered and exhausted, slumped onto the deck one by one, then burst into laughter, cheering for having survived the ordeal.