Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the cocoon exploded outward. Where Athena had stood now stood Jesua, her form identical to the one they had seen back in the apartment. Her ebony hair framed her face perfectly, and her pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement. Her slick, eerie smile returned as she surveyed the stunned crowd. "Miss me?" Jesua said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stretched her arms lazily. The room was silent for a heartbeat before the Swan Maidens reacted. They shouted in alarm, their weapons snapping to attention. The tension in the air thickened like a storm about to break. Jesua glanced at the weapons pointed at her, then turned to the woman on the throne with a grin that was equal parts mockery and menace. "My, my, such a warm welcome. Is this how you greet all your guests?" The throne woman's expression hardened, her wings flaring slightly. "You…" she began, her voice a mix of awe and dread. Sylus and Cyrus exchanged a quick look, both gripping their weapons tighter as Jesua stood between them and the growing hostility of the Swan Maidens. Jesua tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What? Did I interrupt something important?" As Jesua's presence filled the room, a palpable wave of unease rippled through the Swan Maidens. Their initially hostile stances faltered, and their weapons dipped slightly. One by one, they dropped to their knees, their foreheads touching the emerald-encrusted ground. The only one left standing was the woman on the throne, her expression shifting from surprise to cautious reverence as she studied Jesua. The sudden shift left Cyrus and Sylus standing awkwardly in the middle of the grand hall, their weapons still drawn. They exchanged a glance, their faces deadpan and unamused. "Well, this is unexpected," Cyrus muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he gestured with his bound hands. "First, they kidnap me, now they're worshipping her? What's next, a parade?" Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a tired sigh. "You just had to get yourself tied up, didn't you?" "Hey, I'm the victim here!" Cyrus shot back, though his tone was more exasperated than defensive. Jesua, meanwhile, seemed thoroughly entertained. She turned to the kneeling Swan Maidens with a bemused smirk, casually brushing nonexistent dust off her shoulder. "Now, that's more like it," she drawled, clearly enjoying the sudden display of deference. The woman on the throne finally stepped forward, her voice calm yet tinged with a mixture of awe and wariness. "Warlock of Trickery... Why have you come here?" Jesua didn't immediately answer, instead turning back to Sylus and Cyrus. "You two look like you're about to die of boredom. Relax a little, would you? This is just getting interesting." Cyrus raised a brow. "Oh, yeah. Real interesting. I'd clap, but—" He held up his bound wrists. "Bit tied up at the moment." Sylus just crossed his arms, his expression as flat as ever. "Are we supposed to bow too, or can we skip the theatrics?" Jesua let out a sharp laugh. "Skip the bowing. Wouldn't want you straining something." The Swan Maidens remained prostrated, their wings folded tightly against their backs, as the surreal scene played out. Jesua's gaze swept across the kneeling Swan Maidens, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of impatience. "Now, I've had enough of the bowing and reverence," she began, her tone cutting through the silence like a blade. "Tell me, has anyone approached you? A cult, perhaps? They've been spreading like wildfire, haven't they?" A few of the Swan Maidens exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to respond. The Queen, still kneeling with her head bowed, was just about to speak when—without warning—her head flew clean off her shoulders, landing with a dull thud on the ground. A collective gasp echoed from the remaining Swan Maidens, their wings fluttering in panic. From the shadows, a figure materialized, moving with unnerving speed. He was dressed in long, flowing black robes, a pitch-black mask covering his face, hiding all features and giving him an air of eerie anonymity. His hands were clad in tight gloves that shimmered faintly with dark energy, and the ambient light around him seemed to bend and distort, as though he were sucking in the very surroundings. The figure bowed before Jesua, his movements graceful but unsettling, before lifting his head with a slow, deliberate motion. His mask was as smooth as obsidian, revealing nothing of his identity, his face an absence of anything human. Jesua didn't flinch, her expression utterly indifferent. "And who might you be?" she asked, her voice calm despite the chilling display. The figure straightened, his voice low and smooth, dripping with a sinister calm. "I am a representative of Simple Chaos," he said, his words deliberate and weighty, as though the name itself carried a sense of foreboding power. Cyrus and Sylus, still standing near the entrance, exchanged a quick glance before stifling snickers. "Simple Chaos?" Cyrus muttered under his breath, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Talk about edgy." Sylus, smirking, added, "Yeah, sounds like someone spent too much time reading bad poetry." Jesua shot them both a deadly glare, her eyes flashing with a silent warning. Instantly, both men straightened, trying to look busy and avoid eye contact, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The man in black didn't seem to care about their mockery. His tone remained cold and collected as he spoke. "I would prefer if you came with me, Jesua. I'd rather avoid any unnecessary conflict, especially given your... current state." At that, a palpable wave of bloodlust radiated from both Cyrus and Sylus, their bodies unconsciously reacting to the threat. Jesua, however, remained unshaken, flipping the man a casual middle finger, her smirk widening. The figure's response was a long, drawn-out sigh. "Very well." In an instant, the room plunged into pure darkness. A suffocating, oppressive blackness enveloped everything, so thick that it seemed to swallow the air itself. When the darkness dissipated as suddenly as it had arrived, the man in black was gone, leaving behind nothing but silence and confusion. Cyrus blinked, his senses still reeling from the abrupt shift. "What the hell just happened?" he muttered, his voice low and uncertain. Jesua slowly turned to face them, her expression now serious, though she was lightly sweating. "They've taken Athena," she said quietly, her voice tinged with a rare, quiet frustration. "This is part of my plan, yes, but what they didn't expect was to take all of her—including her soul. And that means..." Her voice trailed off as the implications set in. Athena wasn't just gone—she was fading from existence. Jesua looked directly at the Swan Maidens, her eyes narrowing with a fierce intensity. "Where is their base of operations? I need to know." The Swan Maiden Queen, whose head had miraculously reappeared after her decapitation, spoke up, her voice trembling with fear yet laced with determination. "They've contacted us many times… We know where their base is. It's on Floor 6 of the dungeon." Cyrus's fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "What do you mean 'they've taken all of her'?" he snapped, his voice trembling with restrained fury. "You're the one who let this happen! You dragged us into your mess, and now Athena's—" "Enough!" Sylus barked, his own voice sharp and cutting through the rising tension. He turned his glare on Jesua, his expression cold. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew you'd put her at risk, and you didn't care. Was that part of your 'plan' too? Use her as bait?" Jesua didn't flinch at their accusations. She stood firm, her arms crossed, her eerie smile gone, replaced by a flat, almost bored expression. "Are you done?" she asked, her tone calm and dismissive, which only seemed to stoke the flames of their anger. "Don't you dare shrug this off like it's nothing!" Cyrus growled, stepping forward. His aetheric sword began to hum faintly in his hand as his frustration threatened to boil over. "Shrug it off?" Jesua raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with a hint of mockery. "I told you. This is my plan. Do you think I wanted them to take her soul too? That part, I didn't expect." She sighed, looking visibly irritated. "But standing here, shouting at me, isn't going to get her back. You're wasting time. Do you want to help her or just whine about it?" Sylus's jaw tightened, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. "Don't you dare act like this isn't your fault," he said coldly. "We trusted you—" Jesua let out a harsh laugh, cutting him off. "Trusted me? Spare me the righteous act, Sylus. You didn't trust me; you tolerated me because you had no other choice. And guess what? You still don't have a choice. Athena's life—and her soul—are hanging by a thread, and you need me if you want any hope of getting her back." Cyrus's energy faltered, the tension in his body waning as her words began to sink in. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Their anger wouldn't change anything. Sylus exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Fine," he said, his voice tight with reluctant acceptance. "But if you're playing us, Jesua, I swear—" Jesua cut him off again with a raised hand. "Save the threats, Sylus. I've heard better from toddlers. Now, if we're done pointing fingers, let's focus on the real problem. Athena is in their hands, and every second we waste here is a second closer to losing her for good." The room was silent, thick with frustration and unspoken tension, but neither Cyrus nor Sylus could deny the truth in her words. With a deep breath, they both nodded, their anger simmering but contained, their focus shifting back to the task at hand.