Hey guys, how are you, well I'm fine and I wanted to thank everyone for the support you gave for this story, without you I don't know if I would have tried so hard to improve the reactions I wrote so much.
So thank you very much!
This interlude will be a little different, it will be divided into two parts, the first one will be the introduction of the new guests and then we will have the rest of the interlude.
But once again, thank you guys and visit discord and the other platforms I'm posting by clicking on the links in my profile!
"I will grant you a few hours of rest," Chaos's voice echoed through the room, firm but with an almost casual tone. He waited patiently for the emotional impact of the previous song to dissipate before continuing. "However, I will be bringing the new guests in sooner than expected this time, so prepare yourselves."
Chaos's words plunged the theater into tension. Although anxiety lingered in the air, curiosity prevailed. After all, if the last guests had already been unusual — something some were still processing, with the subjects in question ignoring those thoughts — who could possibly be added this time?
" The first guest is... a bit troubled. However, I believe it's best to bring him in now and deal with it at once ," Chaos said, his voice subtly weighted as if choosing each word with extreme care.
What had previously been mild anxiety transformed into palpable apprehension. Quiet murmurs spread among the audience, but the tension grew heavier with Chaos's next statement:
" He is someone known to all here, but not the same as you know."
Before anyone could question the cryptic meaning of Chaos's words, a brilliant light began to glow in the center of the theater. The intensity of the light increased until a figure slowly emerged, a man whose appearance was familiar to some — and, at the same time, deeply unsettling.
The man's appearance was striking, almost supernatural. His luminous blue skin radiated a vibrant, youthful energy, soothing to the eye but charged with a latent power beneath the surface. Glowing markings adorned his body, pulsating with an aquatic rhythm, suggesting an intrinsic connection to the element of water and perhaps untapped mystical powers.
His hair was long and fluid, with strands in shades of blue and green blending like ocean currents, cascading messily. This disorder gave him a carefree appearance, reinforcing an aura of natural ease in his movements. His simple torso kept the focus on his nearly ethereal presence, while his youthful eyes radiated intense curiosity toward the surroundings. Yet beneath this curiosity lay an undercurrent of caution — a wariness that quickly shifted to near-awestruck admiration as he observed the gathered group, as though seeing something beyond what others could perceive.
Telemachus, still perched on his grandmother's shoulders, slid to the ground and approached the stranger, his childlike fascination overpowering any sense of danger. His movements were quick, almost imperceptible to his family, who were so focused on the god that they failed to notice the boy's bold action.
The boy stopped before the imposing figure. Though small in comparison, his body was tense, and his hands gripped the small trident he carried tightly. Instinctively prepared for any threat, he nevertheless tried to maintain as much respect as he could muster.
"Hello, my name is Telemachus, son of Odysseus and Penelope of Ithaca. Who are you?" His voice aimed for formality but carried the hesitant innocence of a child still learning how to address a god.
The imposing figure lowered his gaze to the boy, curiosity flickering in his aquatic eyes. His voice was deep but carried something undefinable, like genuine confusion.
"My name is Poseidon, son of the Titaness Rhea. And what might you be, little one?" The question held a bewildered tone as he scrutinized the boy carefully, as if attempting to decipher something invisible.
Poseidon paused for a moment, and then, almost unconsciously, murmured "your... future." His voice betrayed a perplexity that even he seemed not to fully understand.
Telemachus furrowed his brow in confusion but didn't back down.
"I'm a human, of course. Haven't you ever seen one? But you're the god of the seas and one of the oldest gods — how do you not know this?" His genuine curiosity made him oblivious to the gravity of the situation.
Odysseus and Athena, alarmed, quickly advanced toward Telemachus and Poseidon. However, before they could reach them, something stopped them.
An agile figure stepped in front of them, blocking their path.
"Hermes," they said in unison, their voices heavy with urgency and a hostility they wouldn't normally direct at the messenger god. "Step aside."
Hermes stepped back slightly, surprised by the intensity of the pair, but his posture remained firm. His sharp, attentive eyes met theirs with determination.
"Don't you both notice something different?" Hermes asked, his voice grave and laden with meaning. "Look closely at him."
Hermes held his position, the tension in the air thickening as everyone tried to grasp what was unfolding before them.
Athena was the first to see it. "He looks younger?" she murmured, her voice laced with incredulity. She knew Poseidon never took on a younger form; the exact reasons were unknown to her, but it was a fact that he always preferred his aged appearance, a symbol of authority and experience.
But something else caught her attention, something that made her frown. Poseidon always carried himself with the bearing of a king, a ruler. Anyone who thought of him immediately imagined the majestic sovereign of the seas. Yet, what Athena saw before her was not a king. He was a warrior. And not just any warrior — a soldier in the midst of war, with the eyes of someone still on the battlefield.
Odysseus felt it too. He recognized Poseidon's mannerisms, not as those of an intangible god, but as those of someone he intimately understood. They were the same gestures and expressions he himself carried during the Trojan War. When Odysseus looked at the young god before him, he didn't see the lord of the seas who had wrecked his fleet and haunted his nightmares for years. He saw something far more unsettling.
He saw himself.
That realization terrified him more than any divine pursuit or wrath. Because what he now saw was a reflection — a human reflection, burdened with war, exhaustion, and something deeper he dared not name.
The reverie of both was broken when the god, seemingly bored of focusing solely on the boy before him, turned his attention to the rest of the theater. His gaze slowly swept across the room, examining each face like a river flowing gently, but with a depth capable of swallowing everything around it.
His eyes stopped on Athena and Hermes. He raised an eyebrow, his expression vaguely curious. "I can see that I'm in some sort of future," he remarked, his voice calm but weighted with something that made the air heavier. His eyes continued their journey, scanning each figure in the theater.
When his gaze landed on Circe and Calypso, it lingered slightly longer. Calypso took an involuntary step back, beads of sweat trickling down her temple. There was recognition in her eyes but also denial, as if she refused to accept what she saw before her.
Poseidon smiled. It was a slow, sharp smile, as cold as the ocean depths.
"Daughter of Metis," he said, his eyes locking onto Athena like harpoons. "Son of Maia," he continued, his gaze shifting to Hermes. Then he looked at them more broadly. "Nephews."
His gaze hardened, and the smile became as cutting as a blade of ice.
"I would like to know what's happening here."
His trident glowed with a menacing pulse, like a conscious extension of his will. The weapon seemed to vibrate in the air, demanding, like its wielder, an immediate answer.
The reactions were instantaneous. Athena and Hermes flinched, feeling a wave of unease ripple down their spines. Beads of sweat ran down their temples, a reflection of the impact of Poseidon's words and presence. They were used to their demanding uncle, but his voice usually carried explosive anger, acidic taunts, unbridled arrogance, and an almost unbearable pride.
But the Poseidon before them was different — and infinitely more terrifying.
His voice lacked any trace of irrational fury or theatrics; what they heard was a chilling coldness, a calm that froze the bones. This calm was something neither of them had ever associated with the god of the seas. Poseidon, the hothead, was never known for controlling his emotions. He was the raging storm, unpredictable and devastating.
But the god standing before them was something else entirely. He wasn't a storm that roared with uncontrolled force. He was a tsunami, immense and silent, waiting patiently for the right moment to engulf everything and everyone. A calculated danger that didn't need shouting to be frightening — his mere presence was enough to crush resistance.
Poseidon kept his gaze fixed on the two gods for a few moments longer, as if weighing them in his mind. But upon noticing how unsettled they were, he turned his attention to someone more familiar.
"Daughter of Atlas," he practically spat the name of the Titan, his voice dripping with disdain like acid. "You know what I want to know."
Calypso felt her breath catch, as if the air had been torn from her lungs. She wasn't sure if such a thing was even possible for a deity, but Poseidon's presence seemed to defy all rules. Her mind raced, but fear kept her paralyzed.
Before the god could say anything further, Chaos's voice echoed through the room, cutting through the tension like a blade — to everyone's palpable relief.
" Now, now, there's no need for hostility," Chaos declared, his voice blending a careful tone with subtle authority. " Don't worry, Poseidon. What's happening is quite simple: I brought you here to see the future."
Poseidon furrowed his brow and looked around, as if searching for the source of the voice. Calypso, sensing the god's focus shift away from her, practically melted into her seat, relieved but still trembling.
"The future, huh?" Poseidon finally spoke, his voice laced with skepticism. "And why would I care to know more about the future? In case you're unaware, I myself have the gift of foresight."
That statement surprised almost everyone except Athena. She recalled stories her father, Zeus, had shared about her uncle. Poseidon had been a crucial player in the victory against the Titans, his ability to foresee events ensuring strategic wins for the Olympians. However, that power was shrouded in mystery — the god had never explained how he could do it, not even to his siblings. Athena also knew that after the birth of the twins Apollo and Artemis, Poseidon had never uttered another prophecy.
Athena froze, realizing something critical about her uncle's figure: his younger form, his warrior-like demeanor, his emotional control. Athena paled. This was the Poseidon from the Titanomachy, one of the key gods in Olympus's victory and the god who made her father shudder when recounting tales of battle. From what Athena remembered of those stories, Poseidon in that era was something entirely different from the god he had become. She could only hope her young uncle would be reasonable.
" You may have the gift of foresight, but only fragments of it," Chaos's voice was calm yet firm, like the tide advancing relentlessly. "You are a god with the gift of prophecy, but we all know how enigmatic oracles can be. Here, however, you have the chance to see the future clearly — to witness how your family has changed, grown, and expanded."
Poseidon frowned, his arched eyebrows reflecting deep thought, like a sailor lost in uncharted waters. He remained silent for a few moments, pondering, before finally relaxing his posture — though, to the keen-eyed, it was evident he remained on high alert.
"Very well," Poseidon decided, his voice resonating like the crash of waves on a silent shore. He turned back to the room, his gaze sweeping over the assembled figures with the intensity of a maritime storm. Then, with a simple yet power-laden gesture, he struck the tip of his trident against the floor.
The sound echoed through the hall, like the murmur of a calm lake suddenly churned by fierce waves. Every mortal and deity present felt the weight of the gesture, the energy reverberating through the air as though the ocean itself had been summoned there.
"My name is Poseidon," he began, his voice carrying an authority rarely witnessed, even among the gods. "Fifth son of the Titan Kronos and the Titaness Rhea. Younger brother of Hestia, Demeter, Hera, and Hades, and elder brother to Zeus. Future god of oceans, earthquakes, horses, islands, and marine creatures."
As he spoke, his eyes narrowed, gleaming like sunlight on turbulent waters, and a sharp smile graced his lips.
"Known in the future as Ennosigaios, Hippios, Prosklystios, and Poseidon Anax. But also as Gaieochos, Phytalmios, and Asphaleios," he declared, each title crashing against the room's silence like a powerful wave. Then, with an unexpected motion, he offered a small bow, his voice soft but firm as he concluded
"But you may call me simply Poseidon."
Poseidon's introduction deeply unsettled everyone in the theater. Only Athena and Hermes managed to remain standing under the crushing aura of the god, whose presence seemed almost tangible, like a wave poised to engulf everything around it. To everyone's surprise, Poseidon didn't wait for any reaction or response. With a disquieting calm, he strode to a corner of the room, where an intricately detailed armchair adorned with marine motifs materialized, seemingly at his will. Sitting naturally, he observed the room in silence.
Odysseus felt a wave of concern as he looked at his son. Telemachus, unable to withstand the pressure of Poseidon's presence, had clung tightly to the god's leg throughout the presentation. Even so, Odysseus couldn't ignore the fact that this Poseidon was not the same one who had sunk his fleet and haunted his nightmares. Despite his calm demeanor, Odysseus knew better than to let his guard down.
The tension was broken when one of Scylla's heads, with a gentle yet firm motion, grasped Telemachus's shirt in its teeth and returned him to his parents' arms. The visible relief of Odysseus and Penelope was palpable. Poseidon, meanwhile, observed the monster with a cold interest, his eyes analyzing Scylla's every movement as though cataloging each detail.
"Well, with introductions done, it's time to bring in the next guest," Chaos's voice echoed through the room, pulling everyone back from their thoughts. The tension remained thick in the air, but the announcement diverted the attendees from their musings.
However, most lacked the energy to worry as they had before. The sheer experience of facing Poseidon's presence had drained much of their emotional reserves. When the familiar light began to glow at the center of the room once more, many members of the crew instinctively began praying silently.
Their thoughts were unanimous "Please, let the next guest not be another Poseidon or Scylla."
A slightly shorter figure emerged at the center of the room, looking around with an expression of almost childlike curiosity. Her appearance was as vibrant as it was magical. Her fair, sun-kissed skin radiated a unique energy, but the most striking feature was her hair. Long, voluminous, and flowing, it seemed to have a life of its own, animated by an invisible magical force. Shades of blue—dark, light, and gray—blended seamlessly in fluid waves, evoking the image of both ocean currents and sky breezes.
In certain places, her hair shimmered as if made of energy or perpetually moving water. A long strand was adorned with a circular gold ornament, centered with a small glowing jewel or sphere. Her attire reflected her magical essence: a fantastical, oriental-inspired dress of predominantly light blue and white, with gold details and patterns resembling spirals and waves. Gold bracelets and other accessories complemented her ethereal appearance. Despite being in an unfamiliar place, her posture was relaxed, her expression more animated and curious than cautious.
However, the most intriguing feature was her completely white eyes, devoid of pupils, making it impossible to determine where she was looking.
Odysseus, Hermes, Athena, and Circe recognized her immediately.
"Aeolus!" Hermes exclaimed, his surprise and excitement evident. The goddess turned toward him, breaking into a wide grin and waving enthusiastically. "Hermes!" she called back, raising her hands high.
Athena sighed deeply, already appearing exhausted just from seeing her. Circe, standing beside her, shared the sentiment.
"What is this place? Why are we here? What are we doing here? Is this some kind of meeting of gods and mortals I wasn't informed about?" Aeolus began firing questions in rapid succession, her attention alternating between Hermes and Athena. Before either could answer, she looked around, taking note of the other figures in the room.
"Oh, hello, Odysseus!" she exclaimed casually, her tone contrasting sharply with the overall tension in the air. "Tell me, have you aged? Have you made it home yet? Hmm, judging by your worn-out face, I'd say not. And who's the mini-you beside you? Oh, of course, that's your son! I didn't realize he looked so much like you."
Odysseus blinked several times, trying to process the barrage of words. He remembered Aeolus as chaotic, but his last encounter with her hadn't been this… intense. He wondered if the battle against Poseidon's storm had drained some of her energy before, making her less turbulent.
After tiring of pestering Odysseus, Aeolus began floating around the room, examining the other attendees. She attempted to interact with Circe, who firmly ignored her, and with Eurylochus and Polites, who did their best to avoid her. But then, her eyes—or what could be called eyes—fell on Poseidon.
She blinked once, twice, before visibly paling. Her hair, once vibrant, subtly dulled, losing some of its luster. "Fa-fa-father…" her voice was hesitant, almost trembling, laden with fear and caution. "I… I didn't see you there. Forgive me for not greeting you properly. Forgive this daughter of yours."
Her breathing was short, and she seemed on the verge of fainting as she quickly knelt. Since the incident with the bag of winds, Poseidon had never visited Aeolus, which only heightened her nervousness.
Poseidon calmly rose from his seat and walked over to her. "Stand up," he said, his voice firm but devoid of anger.
Aeolus obeyed immediately, standing with her arms pressed to her sides and her legs together, in an obvious attempt to appear as harmless as possible. She tried to mask the panic on her face, but it was a futile effort.
"I am not the Poseidon you know," he declared after a few seconds of silent analysis. "I come from another time. However, I am still Poseidon, so you may call me father." He extended a hand and gently placed it on her head.
Aeolus was utterly confused, her mind struggling to process what he had just said. Unable to reconcile the man before her with the god she knew, her body entered autopilot. Poseidon, sensing her state, guided her to his former armchair, now transformed into a sofa. He sat beside her while Aeolus stared fixedly at the floor, unable to make sense of it all.
" I'll give you all some time to process what has happened in this latest saga," Chaos's voice once again filled the room. "Your rooms are open to those who wish to rest. New chambers have been added, and surprises await in certain places. Rest well." With that, the doors opened once more.
Some timeline context:
Odysseus is from the end of Charybdis.
Calypso is from the beginning of Love in Paradise.
Athena, Hermes, Circe, Penelope, Telemachus, and Ctimene are from the end of Thunder Bringer.
Scylla is from the end of God Games
The Lotus Eater is from before Polyphemus
Jorge is from after the Revenge Saga.
The rest are from the beginning of Full Speed Ahead.