Poseidon helped build the first Atlantis, a hidden settlement on the coast meant to be a wing of Olympus, a sanctuary for Witchbreed and a staging ground for the larger uprising. It thrived in secret, under his guidance, until cracks began to show. He uncovered a growing faction within the city, pacifists who planned to reveal Atlantis to neutral powers, hoping to negotiate peace. If word had spread, it could have dismantled the rebellion’s secrecy. It risked exposure not just of Atlantis, but of every hidden cell, every Witchbreed rebel in hiding. The movement could’ve been crushed in its crib.

That night, he watched from the cliffs as a man-made tsunami wiped the city from the map. Officially, it was a “natural disaster.” though more than a few. has their suspicions.

He forged a new weapon: a trident crafted from a warship’s anchor, its massive, forked head detachable from the haft by a thick chain wielded with precision in close quarters, or swung like a spiked flail to crush enemies from range.  He became Poseidon in name and legend. His power grew, drawing from deep currents, storms, underground springs his reach extended across the continent. His vision, however, began to diverge.

Where Zeus and the Olympians fought for coexistence, Poseidon saw only a war of survival. He believed humans would never accept Witchbreed as equals and that any dream of peace was naïve at best, an acceptance of their own extinction at worst. Poseidon was not without rivals particularly Hades, who questioned his ideology and his methods. Some saw Poseidon’s ruthlessness as pragmatism. Others saw it as betrayal. The rebellion split. 

Eventually, he was cast out not by force, but by consensus. The council could not condone his tactics. They feared that no amount of his water could wash their hands from the blood he intended to spill in the rebellions name, in the name of a superior race.

Poseidon built a second Atlantis, this time deep beneath the sea, unreachable by surface dwellers, and untouched by compromise. Here, the most devoted warriors followed him those disillusioned with Olympus’ diplomacy, those willing to do whatever it took. It became the rebellion’s most dangerous weapon, but also its sharpest fracture. Officially, they no longer serve Olympus. But in the eyes of Linguardia, they are the rebellion’s extremity, the fist to Olympus’ open hand. 

Poseidon remains in command, revered by his followers, feared by many. But his rule is cold. No children are allowed to be born or raised in Atlantis. Officially, it is because they would distract from the fight, dilute discipline, or be endangered. But the truth is simpler. He fears them. He remembers the coup that ended his first Atlantis. He knows that families soften resolve. He knows children grow into critics. He will not be overthrown again.

Poseidon no longer seeks worship alone. He seeks ascension. Time in exile has not tempered him it has clarified him. Once, he spoke of Witchbreed as the next stage of evolution. Now, he calls them a divine correction in the food chain. Humanity, to him, is prey that has lingered too long atop the world. He teaches that compassion for humans is as absurd as pitying a deer before the hunt.