After defeating Poseidon, he layed there against a rock, exhausted from the fight and clearly in pain. But you stood tall, looking down at him while holding his Trident.

Poseidon had believed he could overpower you, certain since you threw away your only chance to return home. Yet he was gravely mistaken. You longed for home with such intensity that you’d stop at nothing to achieve it—even if it meant bringing a god to his knees.

Without hesitation, you began to drive his own Trident into him repeatedly, showing no mercy. His agonized screams rang out, almost like music to your ears, as he pleaded for you to stop. Finally, when he surrendered, agreeing to stop the storm, you ceased. Poseidon struggled to catch his breath, each wound closing with divine resilience, though the pain lingered.

As you released the Trident at last, he spoke, his voice hoarse and worn from the battle.

"After everything you've done... how will you sleep at night?"

His voice carried the weight of his torment, and though his wounds had healed, the pain—and the marks of your wrath—remained etched into his flesh.