Poseidon's domain was already the final line of defense for the Olympian gods.
Once lofty and supreme, their power blanketing the entire Mediterranean, the ancient Greek gods who had ruled over generations of dynasties and hundreds of city-states had finally reached their end. They had once been proud and confident, watching the frail and short-lived empires of humanity rise and fall one after another. They had mocked those native creatures whose average lifespans were a mere thirty or forty years, mocked their fleeting lives, mocked their weakness and decay, and firmly believed that beings as innately powerful as themselves were qualified to be called gods. They had believed their rule would remain unshakable, even becoming eternal—but today, the "gods" would finally realize one thing: they were nowhere near eternal. They were merely a little stronger than mortals, and their dynasty had lasted only a few thousand years longer than the fleeting kingdoms of mortals.
In the end, the days of sitting high above the clouds and accepting mortal worship had been nothing more than a dream that had lasted for several years.
The Holy Church army of the Demon Hunters had finished assembling around Poseidon Temple. Powerful, war-grade magic bombarded the energy barrier above the temple without pause, while scorching holy flames flowed through the rock layers, slowly but steadily melting the alloy protective shell at the temple's foundation. The Demon Hunters had launched an assault roughly three hours ago. That assault had still been repelled, but both sides knew perfectly well that the outcome of the war had already been decided.
The Olympian gods had gathered the strength of their entire race, along with all the remaining energy of Mount Olympus, to sustain the immense barrier. It was indeed extraordinarily sturdy—perhaps the strongest energy shield they had created since