Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 679 Trident

Poseidon did not experience Scáthach's ordeal, nor could he comprehend the technological explosion of the wasteland. He was like an old man abandoned by the times, a phantom from the past, which is why he could not understand the development of technology and humanity.

"There is no longer a divine realm in this world," Tang Zijun replied. "The authority of the gods has returned to the heavens and earth."

No longer controlled by any being, if one had to name a special dimension... it would probably only be the surface world.

The Shadow World, the Mirror World, and even the Inner World cannot be classified as the Divine Realm because these three special worlds have broken away from the real world, or rather, they have become independent entities. However, the Outer World is different; it is parasitic on the real world, which is similar to the Divine Realm.

Tang Zijun knew perfectly well that this ancient sea god's understanding and his anchor were firmly nailed to that era of divine might and the coexistence of gods and men.

He had never witnessed the distorted process of technological alienation, nor could he imagine the bizarre and fantastical picture of the information age, where mortals wielded non-divine power. To Poseidon, the world described by Tang Zijun and Avran, composed of steel, electricity, and a torrent of data, was like an absurd dream written in a foreign language.

He was like an old man who had been asleep for too long in the river of time. When he woke up, the familiar courtyard had become a jungle of steel and concrete. His former subjects rode by in roaring steel behemoths, talking about things that he could not understand at all. He could understand the words, but not the meaning they represented. He could see the scenes, but could not incorporate them into his own cognitive framework.

This utter and fundamental separation is more capable of severing a once supreme god than any sword.

Therefore, He did not question the surface world, nor did He demand an explanation of what those nuclear weapons, networks, and spacecraft were. He simply sat there in silence, His enormous body of light and shadow appearing even more illusory, like a flickering candle blown by the winds of time, which could dissipate completely at any moment.

Finally, that hoarse voice, echoing from the depths of the ocean, dissolved into a long, drawn-out sigh, imbued with the vicissitudes of time and boundless desolation—"Alas..."

'

That sigh seemed to drain the last bit of life from His heart.

The demise of the divine realm means that everything that was known, protected, and symbolized—that glorious era belonging to Olympus, that era in which the sea god ruled over the vast waves and the gods roamed the earth—has been completely and utterly reduced to the dust of history, leaving not even a trace of a sacred place for mourning.

His very existence seemed so abrupt at this moment.

Tang Zijun offered no words of comfort, nor did he attempt to challenge this ancient phantom with more modern knowledge. His deep black eyes calmly observed Poseidon's condition, like an experienced physician examining a patient's physical signs.

He saw it very clearly.

The Poseidon before her was not the real Poseidon, nor even a shadow clone like Scáthach's, which contained a mad will and possessed a partial physical form.

He is more like an energy phantom maintained by remnants of divine power, shattered divine essence, and the strongest obsession, like a castle built of sand. It looks magnificent, but its foundation has long been washed away by the tides of time, and it is barely supported by the last bit of stubborn memory and sense of existence.

Its state is more stable than Scáthach's shadow. At least its core logic has not been completely eroded by madness. It still retains basic communication ability and mental clarity, and is not as full of destructive violence as Scáthach's shadow.

But beneath this normalcy lies a deeper emptiness and powerlessness. It is like a statue built on quicksand, retaining only its former majestic outline, but its interior has long been hollowed out, leaving only an empty shell destined to vanish with the wind.

Tang Zijun's keen sense of space and time detected that, with that sigh, the energy fluctuations around Poseidon's phantom became weaker and more unstable, and the dark blue halo flickered like a faulty light bulb.

His existence is rapidly consuming the already dwindling fuel with every thought and every emotional fluctuation.

Just as Tang Zijun was observing Poseidon, Poseidon slowly raised his head.

"Since... there are no gods left in this world, and you are unaware of my pact with the Mirror God, then why have you come here? What is your purpose?"

"I've come to find your trident." Tang Zijun didn't expect Poseidon, but spoke truthfully. "We only recently began to learn about the War of the Gods and established connections with other worlds. The battlefield of the Dream World cannot be abandoned, but it is now fraught with danger. I need your trident to help me defeat those Great Old Ones."

"My...trident?"

Poseidon's eyes flickered slightly, as if he had suddenly remembered something.

Yes, the reason I set up this energy illusion here was to use the power of the trident to lead my people to hold out until reinforcements arrived. It's just a pity...

With a soft sigh, the complexity and bewilderment on Poseidon's face, outlined by a pale blue light and shattered starlight, gradually faded, leaving only a sense of almost liberated clarity. He slowly raised the enormous hand made of light and shadow and gently clenched it in the empty void of the temple.

Immediately, an indescribable, pure, and boundless oceanic divinity suddenly permeated the temple.

It was not an aggressive pressure, but a special kind of echo. In the void in front of the palm, tiny golden particles of light, as dazzling as liquid sunlight, appeared out of thin air. As if drawn by an invisible force, they quickly gathered, flowed, and took shape.

In the blink of an eye, a golden trident, forged entirely from flowing liquid gold and over ten meters long, radiating immense divine power and the aura of the ancient ocean, silently floated before Poseidon's giant hand. The trident's body was wrapped with eternal wave patterns, and its tip gleamed with a sharpness that made the space itself tremble. This was the symbol of the sea god's authority, the Trident of Poseidon, lost for countless years!

Poseidon's swirling, deep blue eyes calmly gazed at Tang Zijun, his voice still hoarse, yet carrying a detached indifference.

"Is this what you wanted?"

His gaze swept over the enormous golden halberd.

"Take it; it's useless to me now."

Tang Zijun looked up at the enormous trident, nearly fifteen meters long and radiating a terrifying divine power, held by Poseidon. Even with his resolute will, he couldn't help but be somewhat taken aback at this moment.

Poseidon seemed to sense what Tang Zijun was thinking. On the face formed by light and shadow, the deep blue curly beard seemed to be pulled upwards in an extremely subtle way, and the corners of the mouth, outlined by pure energy, even faintly showed an extremely faint arc.

A barely audible chuckle, like the friction of an underwater current, resounded directly in everyone's minds.

"...How could a divine artifact be such an inconvenient thing?"

Before he could finish speaking...

The massive and solid golden trident suddenly disintegrated.

Like a sand sculpture under the scorching sun, it instantly transformed into a pure, viscous, liquid golden torrent flowing with the radiance of the sun. This golden torrent was no longer bound by gravity, and as if it possessed life, it carried a warm and sacred aura as it surged toward Tang Zijun below.

It wasn't fast, but it carried an irresistible force.

Tang Zijun's eyes narrowed, and without the slightest hesitation, he calmly extended his right hand to meet the flowing golden divine liquid. In his palm, the power of the origin of greed had already been quietly circulating.

A strange scene unfolded when the liquid gold, containing the primordial authority of the Sea God, came into contact with the eerie blue light in Tang Zijun's palm.

The surging golden torrent seemed to have found its home. Instead of crashing or overflowing, it flowed gently and continuously into the radiance in Tang Zijun's palm, like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, where silver and gold intertwined and merged.

Tang Zijun's palm seemed to have become an invisible furnace, where the vast divine power of the ocean was rapidly refined and reshaped by his primal power, and the golden light quickly converged within the silver light.

In just a few breaths, the surging torrent of liquid gold completely disappeared.

Instead, a card the size of a playing card floated quietly above Tang Zijun's palm.

The card is made of neither gold nor jade; it feels warm and heavy to the touch, with a faint, water-like golden halo flowing around its edges.

On the front of the card, a miniature yet lifelike golden trident pattern is clearly imprinted, with every detail meticulously rendered. The waves swirling around the trident seem to be flowing, and the sharpness of the trident tip seems to pierce through the card's boundaries. A restrained yet incredibly pure divine power of the ocean subtly emanates from this small card, revealing the terrifying power it contains.