As the world expanded and the status system was implemented, more mortals started to believe the gods with all their hearth. No longer they fear the gods, instead the miss them. Temples rose, shrines were built, and churches dedicated to the gods spread across the lands like veins in a growing body.
Kingdoms dedicated to certain gods were being born and conflicts between mortals were growing.
At first, the gods merely observed. The concept of faith had always existed, but its power had been passive—a simple acknowledgment of their divinity. But then something changed.
The more mortals prayed, the stronger the gods felt. It was subtle at first. A small surge of energy when a prayer was uttered. A flicker of strength when offerings were given. But as churches spread and believers increased, so did their influence.
It was Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, who noticed it first.
In her grand temple, Hestia watched the flickering flames of the sacred hearth. The warmth of devotion filled her, but this time, it felt different. Stronger.
She closed her eyes, feeling the threads of faith weaving into her very being. Every time a mortal gave thanks before a meal, her power swelled. Every whispered prayer, every candle lit in her name, strengthened her essence.
"This… is new," she murmured.
Taking a deep breath, she focused, reaching out beyond her own domain. And then she sensed it—the same thing was happening to the others.
She had to tell them.
---
Olympus was abuzz with divine energy. The gods had all felt it by now. Zeus called for a meeting, and nearly every god attended, eager to understand what was happening.
"It is undeniable," Poseidon said, arms crossed. "Faith is fueling us. My power in the sea has grown with every temple erected on the shores."
Hades, who rarely came to Olympus, said "Even the underworld feels the change. The belief in the afterlife strengthens the walls of the underworld, making it more stable. The rivers flow stronger, and my dominion over souls has never been firmer."
Hera tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. "Marriage vows taken before my priests now bind with a strength beyond mere oaths. A broken vow weakens them, but a kept promise feeds me."
Apollo and Artemis exchanged glances.
Apollo spoke first. "The stars… the constellations grow brighter. The faith of mortals allows me to grant clearer visions through prophecy."
Artemis added, "And my huntresses feel my presence more than ever. Every offering given under the moon empowers me."
Then, all eyes turned to Ares. He leaned forward, a dangerous grin on his face. "And war…" He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power surging through him. "Every battlefield is now a temple in its own right. When warriors call my name before battle, I feel their rage. Their thirst for blood fuels me like never before."
Athena's expression remained unreadable. "War is not only rage, Ares. I feel it too. Every strategy used in my name sharpens my presence."
Tension crackled between them. Zeus raised a hand, silencing them.
"This power is real," he said. "Faith has become the lifeblood of divinity. The mortals empower us, but we must be careful. If faith gives us power… what happens if we lose it?"
A heavy silence filled the hall.
It was Hephaestus who finally spoke. Unlike the others, his voice was calm, analytical.
"We now have something that connects us to mortals in a way we never had before," he said. "But faith is not infinite. If mortals turn away, our strength will fade. We must ensure that faith remains."
The gods exchanged glances, realizing the deeper implications.
For the first time in history, their power was no longer absolute. It was tied to the belief of mortals.
And that meant it could be taken away.
As the gods left the meeting, a new thought took root in their minds. Faith was now a resource. A currency of divine power.
Some, like Hera and Hestia, sought to nurture it, ensuring the faith of their believers grew steadily.
Others, like Ares, saw it as something to be taken, something to be fought over.
In Gaia, the sun cast golden light upon the land as mortals gathered in an unnamed city, their hands weary from labor, their hearts filled with uncertainty.
The world was changing, gods walked the earth more frequently now, their presence undeniable as faith surged through temples and altars. But these people, still without a patron deity, had no one to guide them.
That would soon change as two gods, both mighty in their own right, had set their sights on this rising city. Each sought dominion over it, knowing that the devotion of these mortals would not only strengthen them but also shape the world itself.
Poseidon came first. His arrival was heralded by the rolling of the tides, the scent of brine carried on the wind. The earth trembled beneath his footsteps as he strode forward, trident in hand, eyes glimmering with the vastness of the ocean's depths. His voice was thunder, his presence an unrelenting force of nature.
"Follow me," he declared, his words crashing like waves against the shore. "With my power, you shall rule the seas. Your ships will sail beyond the horizon, your might will be unmatched, and your enemies will kneel before the storm."
Then, with a single strike of his trident against the ground, the earth split open. From the fissure, a great torrent of seawater erupted, rising high before settling into a shimmering pool. The mortals gazed in awe, feeling the raw strength that Poseidon offered.
But then came Athena. She did not arrive with the fury of the sea, nor did she command the sky to tremble. Instead, she walked with measured grace, clad in bronze and wisdom alike. Where Poseidon's presence was an unstoppable force, hers was an unshakable foundation.
"Strength fades," she said, her voice calm yet firm. "Empires rise and fall with the tide. But wisdom endures. Knowledge, strategy, and progress—these will shape the world far beyond brute power."
Then, she knelt, placing her hand upon the earth. A whisper of divine power flowed from her touch, and from the soil, a single olive tree grew. Its leaves gleamed silver under the sunlight, its roots stretching deep, anchoring it to the world itself.
"This tree will nourish you," Athena continued. "It will provide oil for light, fruit for sustenance, and wood for trade. It will give you peace and prosperity, not just for today, but for generations to come."
The people of the city hesitated. Poseidon's gift was raw power, the strength to conquer. But Athena's gift was something more enduring—something that would help them grow, not just survive. And so, they made their choice.
They knelt before Athena, swearing their devotion. The city would bear her name: Athens.
Poseidon watched in silence. He did not rage, nor did he strike them down. But beneath the surface, something stirred.
As Poseidon left Athens, the sea called to him. He stepped into the waves, letting them wash over his feet. For the first time in an age, he was still. Not a conqueror, not a warrior—just a god listening to the depths.
And in those depths, something called back.
A memory from his past incarnation, Pontus.
Deep in the abyss, where light had never touched, an ancient race had waited. They were older, more secretive, remnants of an age before Olympus.
The Merlocks. Decendants of Pontus when he ruled the sea.
Poseidon dove deep, the water growing darker as he descended. And there, in the silence of the deep, they awaited him—tall, slender beings with webbed fingers and bioluminescent eyes that shimmered like the stars in the night sky.
They knelt before him, not in fear, but in recognition. They knew him not as Poseidon, the Olympian, but as something older—something they had long awaited.
"You have always belonged to me," Poseidon spoke, his voice rippling through the water. "And now, I shall give you a home worthy of your kind."
With a wave of his hand, the currents shifted. Stones lifted from the ocean floor, coral spread like wildfire, and in the heart of the sea, a city began to rise.
Atlantis. A city of wonders, built by magic and the will of the ocean. Towers of pearl and marble, streets paved with glowing shells, and grand temples dedicated to the sea's endless power. Here, the Merlocks would thrive, away from the world above, a kingdom of their own.
And Poseidon, though spurned by the land, had claimed the sea completely.