CHAPTER 237: CHAPTER 237: PERMISSION

Poseidon’s words hung in the air, heavy as the sea itself. "And how does a mortal scientist presume to correct the structure of divinity?"

Elias met his gaze calmly, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "With observation," he said. "And a working brain."

Poseidon’s eyes glimmered faintly, and his lips curled into a dangerous, beautiful, and completely insufferable smile.

"Are you sure you want this punk as your mate?" he asked, tilting his head toward Victor with studied indifference. "You are not soulmates. There’s still time to reconsider."

Victor froze mid-motion, fingers still at the button of his cuff, and turned his head slowly toward Poseidon. The smile on his lips was the type that caused storms to change direction.

Elias sighed. "You do realize," he said evenly, "that you just invited an extinction-level event before breakfast?"

Poseidon only arched a brow, utterly unrepentant. "Merely offering you an escape clause."

Victor’s voice dropped, quiet and lethal. "He doesn’t need one. He’s already pregnant with my child."

For a heartbeat, the wind itself seemed to recoil. The sea stilled, then exhaled, a low groan rolling through the waves like a creature awakening. Poseidon blinked once, very slowly, as though trying to process whether he had just been threatened, mocked, or offered a declaration of divine war.

Elias rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Wonderful," he muttered. "That’s going to make the headlines of Underwater Politics Weekly. ’Ocean Deity Provokes Numen Idiot, Local Scientist Regrets Being Conscious.’"

Victor didn’t look at him; his crimson irises burned faintly, his cuff was still undone, and power coiled beneath his skin like lightning sealed in flesh. "Do you want to test it, old god?"

Poseidon’s laughter came soft, low, and edged with something wild. "Careful, boy. I was ancient when your ancestors still prayed to rocks."

"And yet," Victor replied, stepping forward, "I’m the one called Executioner of Gods. Do you want to test that?"

Poseidon’s smirk faltered, just barely enough for the horizon to flicker, as if the ocean itself hesitated to breathe. The tide pulled back from the shore, a thousand tons of water pausing in indecision before slamming forward again in a slow, deliberate bow.

Elias exhaled, the kind of sound that belonged to a man already too tired for divine dramatics before noon. "Fantastic," he muttered. "This is how tsunamis start. Over testosterone and bad metaphors."

The tension between Victor and Poseidon thickened, the air vibrating faintly with the clash of two distinct energies, Victor’s heat, sharp and electric, meeting the cold, endless rhythm of the sea. The dock beneath their feet groaned, and somewhere deep below, something ancient stirred, curious but unwilling to interfere. Jonathan’s intertwining with the ether flickered once, then sank back into silence, buried beneath layers of water and salt.

Poseidon tilted his head, his eyes narrowing to slits of glacial blue. "You think yourself untouchable, mortal-born?"

Victor’s lips curved. "No," he said, voice quiet, almost conversational. "I think myself inevitable."

A crack of thunder rolled through a cloudless sky.

Poseidon’s laughter followed it, dark and amused. "I see why the scientist stays," he said finally, turning toward Elias with a faint nod of respect or perhaps warning. "You’ve chosen something that eats gods for breakfast."

Elias gave him a flat look. "He’s also the reason I need three cups of coffee before I can look at a sunrise, but sure, let’s romanticize it."

That earned him a faint, unwilling smile from Poseidon and an unmistakably smug glance from Victor.

"Are you finished?" Elias asked, gesturing to the restless horizon. "Because while you two are busy posturing, the ocean’s ether is still unstable and the last thing I need is it developing an ego too."

Poseidon chuckled under his breath, the sound like waves against marble. "Very well, mortal. For today, your storm survives."

He stepped back, the sea shifting to cradle his retreating form. Within moments, he was gone, swallowed by the water, leaving only the faint echo of a tide that refused to settle.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Elias yelled at the water. "Who’s going to kill Johnatan now?"

Victor didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the waves where Poseidon had vanished, his expression unreadable, too calm for someone who had just stared down a god. The faint red glow beneath his skin dimmed, leaving only the faint pulse of restrained power.

Elias waited. The silence stretched until even the sea breeze seemed hesitant to intrude. Then, finally, Victor exhaled.

"He’ll handle it," he said simply.

Elias blinked. "Handle it? Handle it? We came here to handle it for him, didn’t we?"

Victor hummed. "We came here because you said it could be a honeymoon. Poseidon just wanted to know if he would break the rules by dealing with him. Me being here confirmed that Uno gave him the right to kill him."

Elias stared at him, blank for a full second. Then, slowly, his mouth opened. "You mean to tell me," he said, tone deliberate, "that you dragged me halfway across the continent, into divine jurisdiction, just to act as Poseidon’s moral compass while he commits sanctioned murder?"

Victor finally looked at him, eyes glinting faintly crimson again, a small curve at the corner of his lips. "You were the one wanting to help Uno to have time for Connor, plus... I’m here to make sure Poseidon does the job well. I want to have a nice wedding and soulbonding ceremony without your estranged father doing stupid things... again."

Elias blinked, utterly speechless. "I... what?" He stared at Victor as if the man had just rewritten the laws of physics. "You call divine assassination supervision romantic now?"

Victor’s expression didn’t shift; if anything, he looked faintly pleased. "It’s practical," he said. "Efficient."

"Efficient?" Elias repeated, voice rising. "You’re overseeing a god’s murder spree to improve wedding logistics."

Victor’s lips curved, slow and unapologetic. "You deserve a ceremony uninterrupted by resurrected lunatics and ether ruptures. I’m being considerate."

Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. "Considerate," he echoed. "Right. Nothing says love like preventive smiting."

Victor hummed. "Exactly."

"Not a compliment," Elias muttered.

"I took it as one."

Elias gave him a long, incredulous stare, but the faint warmth behind it betrayed him. There was something so fundamentally Victor about the statement, terrifying, ridiculous, and sincere in equal measure, that arguing almost felt pointless.

"You know," he said finally, "normal couples plan flower arrangements, not divine interventions."

Victor’s crimson eyes glimmered faintly as he adjusted the cuff Poseidon had interrupted earlier. "We are not normal, and Ego and the others can handle that. "Let’s enjoy our vacation," he said, reaching for Elias.