Atlantis was once the jewel of the world, its brilliance unmatched, its towers gleaming beneath the sun. At the very heart of the empire stood the Temple of Poseidon, crowned with domes of gold and walls etched with waves of silver. Its halls resounded with chants and hymns, offerings laid before the god of the seas, prayers rising like mist from the people's lips. It was a city of marvels, a civilization at its height. Yet glory cannot endure when arrogance festers at the core.
The earth split. The heavens roared. From the depths rose waves so vast they devoured palaces, gardens, and markets alike. The marble streets of Atlantis shattered, fountains collapsed into rubble, and towers crumbled in showers of gold dust and stone. Mothers clutched their children, merchants abandoned their treasures, and priests cried out to silent gods. Ships were torn from their harbors, hurled skyward like toys, then dashed into fragments upon the cliffs.Thus Atlantis, the greatest of civilizations, sank beneath the sea—temple and all.
Yet the temple did not break. Though the empire fell, the Temple of Poseidon stood, shielded by a power older than kingdoms and older even than gods: the force of the Aqua Crystal.
Legends tell that in the beginning, the Creator scattered fragments of divine essence across special places of the world. Over endless ages, these fragments condensed into crystals of living light—Aqua Crystals. Two such places are known today: the heart of Atlantis's temple, and the hidden caves of a secret isle called Suiland. But whispers speak of others, forgotten or undiscovered, lying dormant in lands beyond mortal reach. Some say they slumber beneath mountains, others in caverns untouched by sunlight. Perhaps, even now, they wait.
Poseidon stood before the great crystal at the temple's core, its glow flooding across his bronze crown like liquid fire. The prophecy of the coming reset weighed heavily upon him. Outside, he could hear the cries of his people mingled with the roar of the ocean. He felt their desperation like a tide pressing against his chest. His heart thundered with rage and sorrow. To intervene was to bend the Creator's will. To remain still was to abandon the world to ruin.
His hand tightened on the shaft of his trident. With a voice that shook the stone, he declared:"In the name of the Trident, I summon the Gate of Tides!"
The floor convulsed and cracked apart. From the broken stone rose a massive arch of pillars, each carved with runes that pulsed like veins of blue fire. Within the arch, seawater welled upward, swirling into a wall of liquid light. The Gate of Tides shimmered into being, rippling as though it were the surface of the abyss itself. The chamber quaked with its presence, and even Poseidon, lord of the seas, felt its weight pressing upon him.
From beyond that luminous threshold, shadows stirred. Then two figures stepped forth.
The first gleamed like polished silver beneath moonlight, a sentinel of flawless design. His body bore no seam, no imperfection, as though he had been forged by a law higher than mortal craft. His eyes blazed with radiant blue, casting reflections across the crystal walls. He was not a creature of this world, but of another, summoned across dimensions. This was PoseiBot.
At his side came a smaller figure. Otter-like in form, his fur shimmered with a faint sheen, and his eyes sparkled with mirth and wisdom beyond his size. Though small, his presence carried both warmth and gravity, as though the rivers and tides had granted him their secrets. This was Moro.
Together they crossed the gate, summoned by the sea god's call. PoseiBot stepped forward, his movements precise, and sank to one knee. His metallic voice rang with conviction, resonant yet steady."My lord, while you sleep, I shall guard this temple. I will preserve the balance of the sea."
Poseidon studied them, his gaze heavy with thought. He had not forged these beings, nor had Atlantis birthed them. They were not of his divine hand, but they bore the sea's blessing. "You are not of this world," he said at last, his tone solemn. "And yet, the sea accepts you. So shall I."
Turning to the Aqua Crystal, he pressed his hand against its glowing surface."Into this crystal I leave my will. And I shall retreat into slumber, until balance is restored."
The crystal pulsed, its light throbbing like a heartbeat. PoseiBot lowered his head, his eyes gleaming brighter. "Your command shall be honored. Even should centuries pass, we will remain."
With slow, deliberate steps, Poseidon moved into the temple's inner chamber. There, a room of coral and obsidian awaited him, adorned with shells, pearls, and carvings of the sea. A bed of stone rested at its center. He set his trident beside him, removed his crown, and lay down upon the cold slab. His breath slowed. The sea's rhythm merged with his own.
Thus Poseidon entered his long slumber—a sleep that would last three hundred and fifty years.
The temple fell silent. Outside, the ocean raged with unending fury, but within its sacred walls, stillness reigned. The guardians took their watch: PoseiBot, the sentinel of silver, and Moro, the companion of the tides. Together they bore witness as the ruins of Atlantis vanished into the abyss.
As his consciousness drifted into darkness, a final thought lingered in his mind:"When I wake again… will this world still remain?"
And with that, the god of the seas surrendered to sleep, leaving the fate of the world to the currents of time.