Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I hope this index helps you to know what each section of this "What if" with Percy Jackson is about, you can also leave ideas in your comments for future chapters.

PJ x Star Wars | Storm among the stars

A version of Percy Jackson who has been alive for a few centuries and after stopping the titan of the stars and constellations ended up arriving in Felucia shortly before order 66 is given by Darth Sidius. How will the presence of the sarcastic son of Poseidon with centuries of experience, knowledge and much more powerful than he was at 17 affect the galaxy?

Ch 1 (2024-10-02)

Ch 1 part 2 (Currently being written, 5-10% progress)

Percy Jackson's Multiverse Journeys

This section "Percy Jackson's Multiverse Journeys" will be about different ways in which Percy Jackson could end up traveling to another universe beyond escaping from Tartarus which is the most used one.

Percy Jackson in the multiverse Ch 1 part 1

Percy Jackson in the multiverse Ch 1 part 2 (Currently being written, 10% progress)

Don't touch anything Ch 1

Don't touch anything Ch 2 

Clarifications 

A part of explanations and elements about the gods of Olympus, whether the Mionic/Mycenaean, Greek, Etruscan and Roman versions, whether from the myths or from the PJ universe, as well as various facts about Percy Jackson that are overlooked or forgotten that occurred in the books. Which will be used in the different parts of "What if Percy Jackson...?"

Clarifications (2024-12-27)

ASOIAF | Son of Neptune in the True North

Ch 1 

Ch 2 

Ch 3 (Currently being written, 10% progress)

Avatar TLA | The children of the sea and the sky in the 4 nations

CH 1 

Ch 2 (Currently being written, 5-10% progress)

Underworld | A demigod among vampires and lycans

Ch 1

Ch 2 (Currently being written, 10% progress)

ASOIAF | Wolves

Ch 1 

DC | Son of the sea in Themyscira

An adaptation where the DC universe and PJ are one, where Percy Jackson is reincarnated and has met the Amazons of Themyscira in his past lives. There will be only a few chapters.

Ch 1 part 1 (Waiting to be published on this site)

Ch 1 part 2 (Currently being written, 5% progress)

HP | Percy Jackson learns magic 

Kronos was not going to accept defeat in silence, nor the betrayal of the son of Hermes, so he tried to get rid of the son of Poseidon as a final act, but he did not have enough power to kill Jackson who had the power of Achilles' curse, instead he ended up sending him decades back to London.

Ch 1 part 1 (Waiting to be published on this site)

Ch 1 part 2 (Currently being written, 0% progress)

MARVEL | I got bitten by a spider

Complete, parts 1-3

Vampire Diaries | More werewolves, witches, and vampires?... Seriously?

Part 1 of 2 

Part 2 of 2 (Currently being written, 0% progress)

STAR WARS | Lost God

A version of Percy Jackson who achieved godhood and has been alive for a few centuries, but ended up arriving on Tatooine shortly before the events of The Phantom Menace.

Ch 1 part 1 (Waiting to be published on this site)

Ch 1 part 2 (Currently being written, 0% progress)

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom it corresponds.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters speaking"

"Characters thinking"

This is about another way for Percy to travel between universes, there will be two chapters.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

The echo of his footsteps was the only thing that accompanied him on his journey through the old, cavernous and dark tunnel.

But Percy Jackson, the demigod son of Neptune, now twenty-five years old, stopped dead in his tracks as he checked the time on his very simple phone that had almost run out of battery, plus it was damaged and barely worked just to tell the time, although helping him to know that he had been wandering for three days and some hours through that equally dark and treacherous place, attentive to any creature that might emerge from the shadows, as well as to the environment itself, which seemed to have a will of its own.

The air was thick with ancient dust, a faint metallic scent, like dried blood and forgotten magic, while a latent energy coursed through the walls, making him feel as if every stone could move at will, as if the place itself breathed… and in a way it did.

"Great…" the Roman muttered in a low voice "Almost four days without seeing the light of day and no signs of this ending… Thanks, Torrington" he finished growling with his last words said with anger.

After all, he had the right to do so, because the dark-haired, green-blue-eyed demigod was in the mythical and feared Labyrinth of Daedalus, but he hadn't gotten there of his own free will, on the contrary, he was dragged there by fate or his bad luck... and because of an ambush planned by a traitorous greek.

But how did that happen?

Well, it all started when the son of Neptune was returning home after his work day, only to end up being attacked by a trio of dracaneas and two empusai, but when he had almost finished them off was when Alabaster C. Torrington appeared, a demigod and son of the Greek side of Trivia who had fought on the side of the Titans.

Percy only knew him from the things the members of Camp Half-Blood had told him about what the fight against the Titans was like for them, but he never imagined that he would run into one of the few demigods who remained loyal to the Titans or at least to what they wanted, to destroy Olympus, because they were few and had fled or hidden. Besides, with the Titans having been defeated, the monsters the traitorous demigods had worked with would probably kill them as well, just like any other half-blood they came across.

Jackson also hadn't imagined Torrington would be so crazy or desperate as to attempt something so foolish. Alabaster had attacked him while he was distracted with the last dracaena, throwing a small glass bottle at him that shattered and released the breath of Somnus, the god of sleep, or Hypnos if you wanted to get technical with the Greek side of things.

The last thing Percy remembered was a ringing in his ears and a wave of irresistible drowsiness, then only darkness... and when he woke up, he was tied up to be used as a ritual sacrifice inside some old warehouse, though he surprised the Greek by waking up at all.

"You shouldn't have been able to wake up, Jackson... but it doesn't matter, it just proves that you're a great choice to restore Kronos. Thank you for your sacrifice, son of Neptune" Jackson remembers that's what the son of Hecate told him, at first with surprise and then with mockery.

"Sacrifice, huh?" Percy also remembers saying that to him before growling the following at him "You're going to need more than cheap spells to sacrifice me, you damn bastard"

Percy Jackson had never considered himself an expert in magic, nor in rituals, spells or incantations; that sort of thing was more the style of Greek demigods, or of the children of gods with magical inclinations. Because for the Romans, the use of magic and other powers had always been a thorny issue, because among the cultural differences that separated the two mythologies or sides of the Greco-Roman pantheon, the view on inherited powers was one of the most marked.

Because today, within the Legion and especially within New Rome, the open use of divine gifts was frowned upon because many of today's Romans descended from such diluted bloodlines that their abilities had almost completely disappeared or manifested themselves so weakly that they were barely useful. And as a result, a certain resentment had developed towards those who still retained these abilities or demigods who demonstrated having these gifts... or the legacies did not want others to use them because they did not want to lose the supposed power they believed they had.

Envy, some called it; wounded pride, others called it… and Percy's personal opinion was that most Romans had become fucking assholes.

To this day, Percy remembered what the ghost of an old centurion of the Fifth Cohort had warned him about during the first weeks of his time in the Legion, of whom Percy was almost certain that he must be the son of a water deity "It doesn't suit you to stand out too much... Here, what counts is steel and discipline... not your powers, son of Neptune"

That mentality among the Romans had put him in more trouble from the beginning, the distrust towards divine gifts only worsened with the distrust of the children of Neptune, which, along with the pressure to conform to a rigid structure, had begun to weigh on him over the following years. And over time, Jackson had come to understand that, although he respected many things about the Roman way, he simply didn't fit in there.

That was one of the many reasons he left the Legion... but also because of that deep-rooted prejudice among Roman descendants of the gods, the Greek who had captured him had underestimated him. Alabaster had assumed that Percy was like most Romans, lacking magical practice or any divine gifts he might have, unable to awaken the dormant powers of his divine heritage.

"Rookie mistake" Percy thought aloud, with a bitter smile as he remembered the last moments of Hecate's son's life, as he made his way through the labyrinth "I'm not a typical Roman... never was"

Because even though the son of Neptune was not a magician or an expert in sorcery, he had learned to listen to the call of the power in his blood, to shape the water as an extension of himself, to feel the currents as if they were part of his being since he was in the legion when he was out of sight of the other Romans and could practice.

He didn't need ancient Latin words, symbols carved in stone, or anything else to wield power; his approach was more instinctive, more visceral... and sometimes more dangerous.

So in an almost desperate act, Jackson manipulated the moisture in the air, condensing it into a thin blade of ice that, with lethal precision, he projected directly into the neck of the traitorous son of Hecate, before he could plunge the sword of Saturn into him.

The little ice blade did its work and Alabaster let out a scream choked with his own blood before collapsing heavily, and the sword falling from his hands with a metallic sound that somehow almost echoed like thunder inside the warehouse. But Percy didn't come out unscathed, because the cursed blade grazed the skin of one of his arms too close in the fall, leaving a red line almost like a scratch that burned his skin, as if the metal carried an ancient poison or something similar.

"That was close," Jackson recalls muttering through his teeth as he clenched his jaw to endure the pain.

But despite the Greek's death, Jackson had no time to grieve or complain about the pain or take a small breath, because although the son of Hecate had fallen, the ritual was already underway, and without Alabaster to control it while the magic circle was fueled by the sword of the king of the titans that stuck right in the area of ​​the ritual and the Greek's own blood, it began to destabilize.

Percy struggled against the remaining bonds before using the water in the air to cut them, but he barely managed to free himself when a blast of raw, savage energy shook the entire place. The walls creaked as if alive, and the floor cracked beneath his feet, opening into multiple fissures that stretched for more than two dozen meters in all directions.

The uncontrolled power of the ritual flung him across the warehouse, and though he tried to get up, it was too late. The magical wave reached him and enveloped him in a scorching mix of fire and arcane energy.

The son of Neptune only survived thanks to the last years of training he had had with the Greeks at their camp near New York, the city where he himself was born and where he moved after leaving the legion and New Rome; and especially by training with his half-sister Andromeda, because thanks to them he was able to develop a greater resistance to both physical and magical effects as a side effect of using his powers more and more, so his body held out... barely.

But he could do nothing to escape. The ground opened beneath his feet like a living trap, and he was swallowed by the darkness, falling uncontrollably, crashing against stones and dead roots, until everything went black. And the last image he had was of the ritual circle collapsing… before the floor closed itself over.

"Really?..." Jackson had managed to whisper, with bitter irony, as he was lost again in the blackness of unconsciousness. "Of course there was a part of the Labyrinth just underground..."

When Percy woke up, the pain hit him with the same force as the magical blast that had thrown him there, because he had injuries on his torso, legs, arms and face, as well as a persistent ringing in his ears.

However, the first thing he did, almost instinctively, was to close his eyes to concentrate, to be able to use the air that, despite being a little dry, contained enough humidity to work with, so with effort, the son of Neptune gathered every particle of water around him and channeled it into his wounds, purifying them and speeding up his healing process, as he had learned over the years.

It wasn't a perfect technique, but it was effective enough to allow him to remain standing, and fortunately, he hadn't been attacked while unconscious, though that alone was a miracle in the Labyrinth.

Furthermore, the second thing that surprised him was finding his half-smashed and charred cell phone still in the pocket of his burned and tattered pants, which could hardly be called pants from then on. The screen was cracked, the keyboard and battery were bent, but... it still powered on, but it only served to display the time, but at that moment, that was more than he expected.

"Three days…almost four…" but now Jackson was complaining again while checking the device for the umpteenth time "Great… three days trapped in a cursed maze…nothing out of the ordinary"

Because from the moment he healed his wounds in that dangerous and underground place, Percy hadn't stopped walking, nor had he missed the opportunity to curse his own luck, the lack of signal, the oppressive silence of the place... and especially, his own arrogance.

"Why didn't I at least take a couple of magic classes when I had the chance?" he grumbled, talking to himself as he walked. "But no, of course, 'I just need my sword and water'... Idiot..." because in the situation he was in, Percy had no doubt that some magical knowledge would be more helpful in finding a way out than his own set of skills or the sword of Saturn that had also fallen into the labyrinth (Note 1).

He knew that his resistance to magic had improved over the years, especially in the past 7 years, growing stronger with the constant use of his powers, but that had in no way taught him a miserable spell that would be useful to him. And in a place like Daedalus's Labyrinth, a lack of magical knowledge was practically a death sentence, and the little he could remember Andromeda and her girlfriend telling him about their journey through the labyrinth wasn't much help.

Not to mention that during those three days, which were going to become four, the son of Neptune had survived thirteen encounters with monsters, these being empusai, dracaenae, three ants the size of a person, giant spiders and a couple of things that he couldn't even identify.

Some fights were quick, others he barely survived, because he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, so hungry he could eat a whole cow in one sitting, but he couldn't stop and could only keep walking.

Until, after hours of advancing through irregular tunnels and twisting passages, he found himself facing something that completely shattered the archaic aesthetic of the place. Huge metal doors, half-open, appeared at the end of a cavernous tunnel, and they were embedded in a rock wall, but their design was completely different from anything he had seen before.

"What the fuck...?" he muttered, approaching cautiously with his spatha made of orichalcum and Stygian iron ready in his hand to defend himself. (Note 2)

The doors had plain panels, no ancient inscriptions or magical symbols to be seen, instead various but faint lights flickered at their sides. It was as if someone had decided to put the door to a laboratory or a secret, modern base in the middle of the ruins of the Labyrinth and for Percy how absurd that was, it only meant trouble.

"And now what have I gotten myself into...?" the son of Neptune muttered as he cautiously entered, ready to fight again to survive despite the tiredness, exhaustion, and hunger he was feeling.

—|—|—|—|—

Note 1: Kronos' sword is supposed to be able to create a portal, but it was only seen in the first book using that ability and since this Percy is Roman, he didn't see that happen and was never told that detail.

In the next part I will put where Percy has this sword

Note 2: The spatha was a bladed weapon of Central European Celtic origin, during the Second Iron Age, which later came to be used by the Roman army from the 1st century BC, first applied to cavalry and then, from the 2nd century AD, to Roman infantry as well. It finally became established from the 4th century AD as a bladed weapon, its use lasting until the Middle Ages.

Considering Percy's connection to horses, as they are the sacred animal of Poseidon/Neptune being the father of horses, it seems to me that it makes sense that a Roman version would have a spatha because it was used for Roman cavalry. Although in other “What if PJ?” I have put him with a gladius when I make Percy a roman demigod.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked me, comment and vote in favor, criticism helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom it belongs

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom it corresponds.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters speaking"

"Characters thinking"

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"This has to be a joke..." Jackson muttered in disbelief, pausing for a moment after passing through the metallic, technological doors, noticing that the interior of the place was similar.

The son of Neptune had spent nearly three minutes exploring the interior of that unusually modern space that was completely out of place compared to the archaic and mystical atmosphere of the rest of the Labyrinth.

But it didn't take long for him to recognize the place he had entered, even if it was the first time he was in it and saw the inside of the place, it was a huge and vast space like a gigantic factory and silent judging by what Percy could hear or see with the lack of good lighting, but with the few and dim lights, he noticed that it was full of old machinery fused with technology that seemed taken from a science fiction movie.

He was in Daedalus's workshop, but Percy still frowned, a mixture of shock and disbelief that he had ended up there.

On the one hand, I had heard of that place before, thanks to the stories of Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, and Andromeda, because both had traveled through the Labyrinth almost a decade ago during the war against the Titans, and although they had managed to briefly find the workshop, they did not have enough time to explore it thoroughly.

In fact, both demigoddesses along with the rest of the Greek half-bloods had assumed that the place had collapsed along with much of the Labyrinth after Daedalus' death.

"They thought the workshop disappeared with him..." Percy muttered, looking around cautiously.

But evidently, they had been wrong, the evidence was right in front of his eyes, even if the darkness in the place made it difficult for the son of Neptune to properly distinguish the place, but he could see many workbenches covered with impossible to identify tools, plans drawn on dimly shining surfaces, computer screens that looked like they had entered some sort of dim screen saver until they were used again as well as strange mechanisms that seemed to continue working despite the fact that no one had touched them for years and perhaps would continue working for centuries, if Daedalus' ability to create or innovate lived up to his reputation or beyond.

On the other hand, Percy knew something that all demigods eventually learned, and that lesson was that in the divine world, many things or beings don't stay dead forever.

The Labyrinth, for example, had returned to life during the rise of the giants and Gaea's attempted resurrection. Although at the time, no one fully understood how or why it had resurfaced, they only knew that the Labyrinth had changed, becoming more erratic, more dangerous, and… more alive.

However, even with that return, Daedalus' workshop had remained hidden, no one thought that it had also returned, because everyone believed that the heart of the Labyrinth, that is, the soul of the mythical creator, was irretrievably lost with the death of Daedalus himself... or perhaps it was, but they did not even try to look for it again.

"And with his death or soul in the mortal world, the workshop shouldn't exist... right?" Percy mused softly, his footsteps softly echoing against the metal floor.

By no means was the son of Neptune a connoisseur of the creation of divine-magical things or places, but he supposed that was the reason why the Greek demigods never thought to seek out the workshop again, because they thought it was tied to Daedalus' soul more deeply than any other part of the Labyrinth… that or the danger of walking the labyrinth itself.

But from the conversations he had with the Greeks, who were more impulsive, chaotic, and daring than the Romans, Jackson leaned toward the first possibility, but if that were the case, if it wasn't just a room or a physical workshop, but an extension of the mind and will of the mythical inventor... how was it possible that the place continued to exist after Daedalus' death?

"Or…" he added with a growing thought "is it that maybe this place never disappeared? "

But Jackson put aside those doubts when a slight chill ran down his spine, because even though the room didn't seem hostile, there was a persistent feeling of surveillance, as if something or someone was watching his every move from the shadows, or from within the walls themselves, so he gripped his spatha tighter.

Percy, who was holding his weapon firmly and had not let his guard down for a second since he entered, had no intention of doing so now either, looked around for any sign that might indicate some being or something else was watching him.

"I have a bad feeling about this..." he whispered to himself, a mixture of tiredness and resignation, as he moved deeper into the legendary inventor's workshop, but alert to any attack.

Not to mention the shadows in the room, as well as objects or machinery large enough to hide something or someone from his sight, made him nervous.

"I really need lessons in magic, spells... or whatever," Percy said to himself again in a low voice, his brow furrowed, slightly reproachful, as well as a mixture of frustration and resignation on his face.

It was clear that the son of Neptune didn't understand half of what he was seeing at that moment, and it wasn't due to lack of attention or lack of intelligence, but due to simple ignorance. Because various magical, mechanical, technological or divine artifacts were scattered around the place, as well as what looked like Greek, Roman, and other glyphs floating in the air, glowing very faintly, in addition to enchanted planes, objects that seemed to have a life of their own... all of this caused him a mixture of astonishment, caution and a huge headache.

Not only that, to make matters worse, the hunger, tiredness, and exhaustion accumulated since he fell into the Labyrinth made him feel even slower and clumsier, but the demigod definitely needed to learn more.

"I'm going to have to ask Lou to teach me the basics of magic... or the children of Hephaestus, even if they make fun of me or try to play a trick on me" Jackson decided while sighing and thinking quietly about the daughter of Hecate, as well as some children of the blacksmith and craftsman god, as was the case of Leo Valdez, although now accustomed to differentiating the gods with their Greek and Roman names after the last 7 years interacting with the members of Camp Half Blood.

Perhaps with a little help he could begin to understand these magical places, the enchanted artifacts, or even learn to detect traps or hidden presences before it was too late. Because honestly, being surrounded by magical objects without having any idea how they worked was about as useful as being in a room full of explosives without knowing what the detonator was.

But another thought crossed his mind, almost like a flash of lightning. "Or should I ask my father... or even Salacia?" he murmured, barely raising his gaze to the ceiling of the workshop, as if waiting for a divine answer.

Percy had read and heard about the ancient myths of Atlantis, and he knew that there were too many versions, but despite being the son of Neptune, he had never been to his father's kingdom, so he didn't know which myths were real and which weren't, but there were some that spoke of technology or magic beyond human understanding. Besides, there was no way he could forget that some cyclopes were technically his half-siblings, like his adorable, yet excitable Tyson who always seemed to speak with almost childlike enthusiasm, which to this day made him wonder how slowly cyclopes aged.

"And Tyson admires Andromeda… so maybe…" Percy muttered, trailing off as he shook his head.

It was not the time to get lost in theories, myths or familiar fantasies, because he was still trapped in the Labyrinth and the place, although seemingly empty, still caused him a constant feeling of danger and he felt that he was not alone.

The son of Neptune decided to refocus on the immediate and carefully observe every corner of the workshop, because there was no way Jackson wanted a monster or a trap to take him by surprise.

It was then that Jackson noticed something that he had missed when he entered the workshop, the darkness not only made it difficult for him to know how deep the place was, how long or wide it was, and that was that the shelves were so tall that they rose up to the ceiling, getting lost in the darkness, full of rolled-up plans with some scrolls that seemed to move by themselves and documents covered with symbols that shifted in shape as if reacting to his presence. He only noticed it because there were more shelves he saw as he walked closer to them, plus what looked like some scaffolding or platforms above his head, and he seemed to be able to see even higher, but he couldn't quite make out.

He also noticed a large number of workbenches were covered in tools of all kinds, some were familiar like hammers, pliers, soldering irons, though perhaps they were enchanted or bewitched, but others simply defied logic, like a floating metallic glove that spun on its axis without any visible power, or some sort of compass that spun in circles at an erratic pace, as if trying to find something… or someone.

"It's like a mix between Vulcan's forge... no, Hephaestus's, cabins 9 and 6, and probably what Athena's residence on Olympus would look like" Jackson commented, forming an image in his head of what the workshop looked like, since in the absence of light it was the best he could do, although his voice was lost in the shadows of the workshop.

Although Jackson was more careful in forming that opinion; in a place like this, wonder and death could be separated by just one false step.

He knew he had to tread carefully, in a place like that, wonder and death were usually separated by just one misstep.

But Jackson, in what was probably a bad decision, continued walking slowly through the workshop, still surprised by the magnitude of the place because he couldn't tell how many tables there were, or where that space ended, and also because they were still alert to the danger and to that feeling that the workshop felt as if it were alive and in constant transformation.

Every table was covered with plans, schematics, and miniature models, some of which Percy tried to examine in the hopes of understanding what he was seeing, but most of the designs were written in technical languages, mathematical formulas, or with magic symbols that he couldn't decipher.

Still, he did understand a few of them… and that was enough to surprise and unsettle him.

One of them was a detailed design of a warship… but not just any ship, this thing looked like a colossal beast made of steel and celestial bronze, a mix of modern and ancient technology. And just by looking at the map for a minute, Percy felt that this ship could pulverize any current fleet of the world's armed forces without much effort.

But what was most alarming to the son of Neptune was that he had the feeling that even if that ship were built today, it would still be superior to any human creation for at least the next two centuries.

Then another design that left him even more surprised... and confused, was a plan that detailed what looked like a floating city, suspended in the sky by some kind of unknown energy, but on the tables next to where it was, there were two other similar plans, only they were of underwater cities.

The first depicted a metropolis protected by enormous translucent domes or giant bubbles that kept water out and air in. But the second design showed a network of airtight buildings connected by reinforced tunnels, like a kind of underwater beehive.

"Oh, Neptune… What did Daedalus want to build…?" Percy whispered, with a mixture of fear and amazement, because he knew well the opinion of his father's Greek personality about Athena, so Jackson seriously doubted that the king of the seas would allow that in a certain sense, one of the sons of the goddess of wisdom invade his domains. Furthermore, after interacting with the Greeks over the past few years and everything Andromeda told him, the Roman demigod knew that the Olympian king's paranoia seemed ten times worse in his Greek form than it had as Jupiter.

But he didn't focus on that as he continued to look through the other tables with plans and models, where he also found some plans of what looked like amphibious combat bases, capable of diving under the ocean and emerging when necessary, all armed with what looked like retractable turrets, magic shields and something that looked dangerously like some kind of master bolt.

However, something that caught his attention and made him stop completely after spending almost an hour reviewing the work tables, were others further back in the workshop, slightly elevated, as if they occupied a prominent place... almost like altars, but they were not adorned with candles or offerings, but they transmitted an aura of reverence, as if what rested on them was sacred... or forbidden to anyone other than Daedalus… and perhaps it was so because on each of those tables rested some wings.

But they weren't wings of feathers and wax, like the ones Daedalus once built for his son Icarus and himself to escape the labyrinth more than 3,000 years ago... no... these were different, very different.

Because the wings resting on those tables were neither fragile nor ephemeral; they were pieces of Daedalus's incredible ingenuity, creations forged from better materials. Although Percy approached cautiously, still looking around because he hadn't let his guard down in the face of any danger, and when he arrived in front of one of the tables, he stood still for a few seconds while he watched the wings, almost as if the atmosphere itself demanded silence and respect.

Some of the first wings Jackson looked at closely were made of metal or some alloy that was impossible for the son of Neptune to classify. But Jackson could identify some immediately because he recognized the soft glow of celestial bronze in some wing pieces, the dull, somber tone of Stygian iron in other pieces, and even the deep gilding of Imperial gold.

Other wings, however, were made of metals he had never seen before: some with a blue hue that seemed to absorb the light, others with veins that changed shape as if they were alive, and another example were some wings of simple and elegant appearance, almost minimalist, that after the son of the king of Atlantis touched them, they folded like a fan.

Another set of them looked like they came straight out of a steampunk dream, with retractable plates, protruding gears, small thrusters hidden in the base, and in the center, a red crystal core that pulsed with a faint light… as if it had a silently beating mechanical heart.

"How many times did you try...?" Percy murmured, barely over a sigh.

His voice was lost in the shadows and the metallic echo of the workshop, but it wasn't a question waiting for an answer; it was more of a thought, a reflection that hung in the air.

Daedalus, the legendary inventor, had been many things: an unparalleled genius, a visionary who seemed to want to surpass the gods themselves, like his own mother or Hephaestus... but also a man deeply marked by guilt, and before those wings, Percy realized it.

"Each pair is a new version… one more attempt" the demigod whispered with a frown, observing the different designs "As if… as if he were trying to correct his mistake over and over again. "

Percy's fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his spatha, not out of fear, but from a slight mix of emotions... compassion, admiration, and sadness for the former owner of the workshop.

Because those wings weren't simple artifacts, they weren't weapons, they were... physical reminders of a loss impossible to heal. Each model seemed almost a silent tribute, almost a plea from Daedalus to the universe for a second chance that never came.

"He could never forgive himself..." the dark-haired man with green eyes added in a low voice, as if saying it out loud made it more real while the memory of what Andromeda and Annabeth told him about Daedalus in the short time they knew him also surfaced in his mind.

But the son of Neptune pushed those thoughts aside because it wasn't the time to get lost in reflection again, and he mentally scolded himself for getting distracted, since he wasn't yet in a safe place, nor out of the labyrinth. Then he took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before approaching one of the benches where a new pair of wings rested.

These seemed a much more primitive version than the previous ones, and reminded Jackson of the wings of myth: large, stiff, heavy... except they were metallic. They were crude, made of thick plates and exposed joints, as if hastily assembled, and they lacked the elegance of the others, nor the precise polish that betokened the evolution of a genius.

But the son of Neptune thought that those wings must be some of the earliest or at least some of the oldest models judging by the much simpler table where they were placed.

Then Percy cautiously reached out and brushed the edge of one of the wings "Ahh!" and immediately let go, pulling his hand back as if he had touched an electric fence.

A bolt of energy ran through his arm, fast and sharp, although for the son of Neptune it wasn't intense enough to hurt him, but it was enough to make the hairs on his skin stand up completely, as if a wave of static had penetrated to his bones.

Percy shakes his hand while frowning and muttering to himself, "Great... magic wings with a bad temper."

Then he looked back at the wings, with a certain mixture of distrust and renewed caution, while another idea arose in his head, that perhaps it was a protective mechanism that was still active or perhaps... the workshop simply didn't want him in that part or touching the wings

The demigod decided not to press the issue, so he moved away from that table and those wings to another, more advanced model, which had a much more aerodynamic design. The plates were thin and sleek, with curved edges and almost imperceptible joints, then he gently touched the metal… and this time there was no reaction.

No electric shocks, no rejections.

"Failed prototype?" Percy muttered, staring at the wings that had given him the electric shock for a moment, but he shook his head, he was not a son of the Blacksmith God or a genius in creating magical things to be able to discover the exact reason. That was just a guess, and he had no way to confirm anything without risking triggering a defensive system, so Jackson turned around to continue looking at other wings… but something different caught his eye.

One of the dark screens, trapped in its screensaver for who knows how long, was sitting on a nearby table, but it allowed something to be seen on the table in the dim glow of the screen. Percy squinted and could make out what looked like an object on the table… but it wasn't more wings, nor plans for underwater cities.

It was a weapon.

It was an elongated silhouette, with clean, symmetrical lines, but it wasn't a bow, a spear, or a shield; it looked modern, even futuristic, with a metallic casing and internal components that seemed to fuse science and magic in equal measure.

"That's not Greek... or Roman," Percy muttered, slowly approaching and seeing some symbols carved into the metal.

The design made him think of something closer to a rifle, or perhaps an energy device straight out of a science fiction movie… but made of celestial bronze.

"What kind of weapon is this…?" he wondered quietly, crouching down a little so his head was level with the table and he could see it better in the darkness.

But then, something else caught his attention.

To the left of the table where the screen was, Percy spotted a glass display case, partially covered in dust, as if it hadn't been touched in years, which it most likely had, but Jackson could see the silhouettes of several carefully arranged weapons as he ran his hand over to brush away some of the dust on the glass, though it was still difficult to make out details in the lack of light.

But turning his head to continue paying attention to the place, the demigod realized that to the right of the table, there was another curious thing, a huge block of metal, occupying the place where there should probably be another work table, which measured at least two meters high, three long and almost two wide.

Its surface was smooth, as well as polished, giving off a dull, faint shine that the Roman immediately recognized, as he would not after the last few years and that got along better with the Greek demigods than he ever did with the Romans.

"That's... celestial bronze... but why in such a large block?" he muttered, taking a step closer, but the darkness of the place made it difficult to analyze everything clearly, causing Percy to grow frustrated one more time, so he sighed in resignation and muttered to himself "I really need a flashlight"

Then the son of Neptune turned so that his fingers found and felt around on the table for a keyboard next to the screen, and when he found it he pressed the space bar, hoping that would disable the screen saver and light up the screen… or at least do something useful.

Luckily, it did.

The screen fully lit up, casting a faint glow over the table and the room, but brighter than with the projector. It wasn't much, but enough for her eyes to begin adjusting to the shadows better.

Percy blinked a couple of times, grateful for that tiny bit of respite from visibility.

"It's times like this that I understand why Nico and Hazel always seem so calm in dark places" he murmured "It certainly helps not to have to worry about tripping over something or activating something in the dark"

As he said that, Jackson felt a slight pang of envy, for he would have liked to be able to see clearly in the darkness like in the depths of the sea or here in the workshop, but he knew that his father, Neptune had originally been the god of fresh waters before becoming the lord of the seas, so perhaps that was why he had not inherited that kind of night vision.

"Or maybe I'm just out of practice" he thought aloud with resignation, while scratching the back of his neck at the thought that, with luck, it was a skill he has not yet developed or awakened.

But thanks to the new lighting, he could better observe the display case to the left of the table, and what had previously been only blurred shapes were now revealed to be a genuine personal arsenal. And there weren't just weapons in that display case, because as he moved his gaze around the place a little more, he noticed that there were several more, lined up neatly in front of the tables, all placed in a perfectly straight line.

To his right, in contrast, rose more of those celestial bronze blocks, large and heavy, as if forming a semi-wall guarding this part of the workshop.

Jackson left that detail for the moment because he approached the first display case with barely contained curiosity, sliding the glass that protected the interior from dust, thus observing that the contents were arranged progressively.

At first, there were what appeared to be flintlock pistols, very similar to those used in the 18th or 19th centuries… except these were made of celestial bronze and imperial gold, and their engravings weren't for decoration, those were ancient engravings, magical glyphs that seemed to be vibrating very slightly with power, as if waiting to be activated or used.

Percy checked the others and each display case he inspected showed a clear evolution of weapons, from what looked like automatic revolvers with complex mechanisms, energy guns with glowing cores that were probably magical or Daedalus discovered a new form of energy, and also very particular weapons like one that looked like a dangerous mix between a compact flamethrower and a science fiction laser rifle.

"They are definitely not weapons for use in the camp or the legion" Percy muttered with a sigh, as he continued to observe those modern weapons, not daring to touch them yet, as well as imagining the disaster that will occur if certain half-bloods were to have them, whether they be fucking assholes like the now dead Octavian, morons with no common sense or too impulsive like certain children of Ares he has met, or demigods with problems quitting caffeine like Valdez.

But as he looked at them he noticed that most of them had ancient Greek or ancient Latin engravings, which didn't surprise him, but there was one that particularly caught his attention, and it wasn't precisely because of the engravings on it, but because of the appearance of the weapon.

Yes, it was engraved with glyphs he didn't recognize and that weren't from the Roman or Greek alphabet... but the handle had a strange design, lighter than the rest, and the shape of its barrel was elongated, narrow, like a precision instrument, plus it seemed to shine and had a slight aquatic design.

"And what does this do?" He asked aloud, more to himself than to wait for an answer.

But with the reckless clumsiness of curiosity, Percy took the weapon carefully, weighing it in his hands, it felt... alive, as if a latent energy throbbed in its core, and a second or two later Jackson knew that the weapon used water as fuel, or rather the hydrogen in the water.

He also knew how to use the weapon, probably because Neptune was more militaristic and disciplined than Poseidon, the slightly aquatic design and because naval combat was also one of his father's domains even though it was not one of the original ones with which the Roman personality of the king of Atlantis arose, but one that he acquired after a few centuries of existence.

He hesitated for a second… and then, in what was probably one of those decisions that Jason, Reyna, and also Andromeda's girlfriend would immediately disapprove of, he aimed at the nearest block of celestial bronze and gently squeezed the trigger.

A burst of brilliant light, almost white except for a slight blue tint, shot out of the weapon with a high-pitched whine, and the impact was immediate, with an almost perfect red-hot circle forming on the surface of the metal block.

The heat or energy was so intense that some of the metal began to melt, dripping like glowing lava onto the ground and Percy summoned some water onto it before it could melt the floor as well.

"Okay! Okay, okay! Don't play with this..." Percy exclaimed, his eyes wide open, his hand moving away from the trigger before carefully returning the gun to the display case.

He could still smell the burning metal in the air, but now mixed with the water vapor he'd collected from the air, and even though no alarm had been triggered… the place felt different to Jackson, as if the workshop had noticed what he'd just done.

"Mental note: never use a gun and shoot at something that close" he added with a mixture of nervous humor and his own warning.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked me, comment and vote in favor, criticism helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom it belongs

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

I don't own Percy Jackson, it belongs to Rick Riordan and A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thones belongs to George R. R. Martin, as well as any other items that appear here, credits to their respective creators

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters speaking"

"Character thinking"

"{Characters speaking in another language}"

Well, this chapter doesn't have much dialogue, but it's Roman Percy, who at 36 is a veteran demigod and is analyzing the situation he's gotten himself into on the frozen land he crashed into within the sea of ​​monsters (the lands beyond the wall).

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

Previously

And in no way would it be like fixing some problem that human-made vehicles had. Although it seemed that the chariot of the sun was still working and he could use it to try to return home, but Neptune's son preferred not to risk it, and to increase his chances he could try to fix what he could, however little that helped.

But first the veteran demigod would try to get as close as possible to the entrance of the sea of monsters before using Apollo's chariot, that is why Perseus was traveling southwest which is where he thought he had come in Apollo's flying vehicle or at least from the west, only now Jackson stopped when he heard a soft noise that would be imperceptible to the hearing of a normal human.

Jackson calmly looked around for any danger, nothing happened for a moment, but then the noise repeated again with a little more force which helped him realize that it was coming behind him.

"Great," said Neptune's son dryly as he realized that the noise was not about a branch breaking and falling to the ground, snow falling from a tree, the sound of cold wind or this stirring the frozen leaves of the trees, but it was about hurried steps in the snow.

—|—|—|—|—|—

Thanks to his heritage as a son of Neptune and being blessed in his late teen years by the eldest daughter of Saturn, Percy Jackson not only possessed physical prowess above normal for a son of the Big Three, he also possessed keener and better senses than human, even beyond what most demigods possess.

It wasn't just a matter of sight or hearing: his perception of the environment had been honed over a decade among the Romans and almost two as a marine, constant training and the various encounters he had with monsters, since his father left him with the goddess Lupa, so Percy had learned to hear or feel the world in a different way than humans.

So when the crunching of snow grew louder in the distance, he knew it was no small feat. It was not the heavy gait of a large animal like a bear, nor the stealthy pace of a hunting wolf, nor the firm, confident step of an experienced explorer.

What Jackson heard... It was the chaotic sound of frightened and desperate flight.

Within two or three seconds he could begin to hear muffled gasps, along with small screams as the erratic echo of footsteps sinking uncoordinated into the deep snow, followed by something else.

But the Roman demigod had the feeling that it was something else that didn't quite belong to the human world and not just because he was within the sea of monsters was that he had that feeling, one way he could describe it would be as if there was a faint vibration in the air, like a warning suspended between the trees covered with nine and some ice in some cases.

Percy narrowed his eyes and stood completely still, his breath coming out in thin clouds that dissolved into the icy air while the forest until an instant ago, if the wind was discarded, was as silent as a well-sealed grave, but now it was beginning to stir with the footsteps and voices that were rapidly approaching, breaking the tranquility

He knew that sound, he had heard it many times on the battlefields in some of the Navy operations on foreign soil, sounds of people running, many of them, at least more than a dozen, but completely disorganized and terrified.

The logical part of his mind, the one that had survived countless situations and learned to analyze before acting, was already calculating escape routes, possible threats, better lines of sight. But another, older, more visceral part he had inherited from his father, tensed like a spring ready to leap into combat.

Something was coming and it wasn't just refugees.

But as his attention remained fixed on the path he had come, every muscle in his body ready to react to the slightest movement out of place and his breath came out in thin clouds from his nose, dissolving into the icy air like smoke from a freshly extinguished candle, at the same time that his fighting instincts tingled under his skin.

The footsteps were getting louder, more frantic, no longer just the crunching of snow under flailing feet, but the clashing of bodies with low-hanging branches, the growing panting of exertion as the screams also increased in volume so loud a normal human could now distinguish them.

The son of the sea still had his eyes squinted because visibility was almost as useless as most gods in a crisis. Too many pines and other trees, too much frozen foliage blocking what little the sun offered through the thick clouds that fewer and fewer rays of light managed to sneak through the treetops, casting long, misshapen shadows on the snow as the day was darkened by icy clouds.

Still, Jackson saw the silhouettes.

They moved clumsily, like cornered animals and he was right, there were more than a dozen, all poorly dressed for such brutal weather. He could vaguely make out that they were carrying wooden spears and weapons that looked more like makeshift tools than actual combat gear, but what was most striking, however, was the clothing: thick, large animal skins that he thought had been sewn together in haste, hanging awkwardly from their bodies in a desperate attempt to fend off the cold.

And from the way they looked back too often and their breath ragged, Percy didn't need any oracle or augur to know: they were fleeing something far worse than the horrible weather.

Jackson knew too many creatures capable of lurking in a place like this cold, dense, too inhospitable place to live without an adequate source of adequate resources, but the list was longer than expected and not at all encouraging: spectres, ancient beasts, monsters half forgotten by the gods... and that's not counting the more humane threats, which as a Marine he had learned that more often than he liked, turned out to be worse.

Uncertainty wasn't something he liked, but it wasn't a luxury he could avoid, so Neptune's son let his experience, more weathered than his favorite combat armor, speak for him.

He had two options...

Option one: advance to the clearing a few meters ahead, an open field covered with snow, without trees to obstruct the view.

There the demigod could see what was approaching clearly and face it on clear ground. In addition, there was good visibility, as well as more than enough room to move around, dodge or strike without worrying about tripping over a treacherous root, but he would also be completely exposed, no cover and nothing to protect him if things went wrong.

Option two: climb one of the nearby pines, take advantage of the height and concealment, from there he could observe undetected, perhaps even have the benefit of the first move if the opportunity presented itself.

The price, of course, was mobility, fighting from a tree was a bad idea, unless you had wings or an unconscious desire to die in style, but he had ways of avoiding that, so the advantage of the surprise factor could tip the scales in his favor... if what was coming was susceptible to an ambush.

Both options were valid, as well as both had their own risks, but the time to decide was running out and fast, so the veteran demigod of the sea and member of the Navy Seals narrowed his eyes, analyzing the terrain with calculated precision.

Every detail counted: the distances, the condition of the trees, the distribution of the terrain under the snow cover, in addition to the fact that it was much easier for him to recognize the state of the pines than that of the other trees, it did not matter that these pines were not Mediterranean or from the Balkans; a pine tree was still a pine tree.

The bond with his father, Neptune, was so deep that even the sacred trees of his lineage occasionally seemed to speak to him in a way that few understood, one of the pines to his right was especially useful: it had thick, icy branches, but strong and firm, which would allow him to climb it in less than ten seconds.

His training, without hesitation, kicked in faster than any boost he could have had. In situations like this, emotions didn't matter; only calculated action and experience.

In a move that would be impossible for an ordinary human, the demigod blessed by Vesta took a step back and leapt, reaching for the tree with an agility and speed that belied his size and build.

In the blink of an eye, he was already climbing the pine tree, feeling the cold digging into his fingers, but it was nothing he couldn't stand or bothered him like a child of the sea, plus his muscles were still cool from the walk along with the residual warmth of Vesta's blessing gave him and helped him stay focused, as well as improve their resistance to the elements.

Within seconds, he was already on the most stable branch, about five meters above the ground, with a clear view of the clearing and snowy field, as well as the interior of the forest.

With one hand still clinging to the bark of the tree, his other hand stroked the ring in his hand that was his disguised gladius, while the divine metal ring conveyed to him a comforting familiarity, like an extension of himself. There he stood, motionless, like a hunter waiting for his prey, the icy wind whipping his face, but he didn't feel it, nor did he care, only the silence.

The kind of silence that precedes something important, the silence before the storm.

It was almost a minute before the running figures became fully distinguishable among the trees and when they finally emerged in his field of vision, the Hestia champion's eyes widened in confusion and surprise.

They were not soldiers, or scouts, or even an organized patrol. They were men, women and children with faces weathered by the icy wind, their cheeks cracked, their lips bruised, they were dirty, some looked wounded, but all were exhausted and still... they did not stop.

There was a raw determination in their trembling bodies, an animal will to keep fleeing no matter the pain.

"They look wild" thought Hestia's champion without irony. The demigod didn't know their names, or what clan or culture they belonged to, but the thought just fitted.

It wasn't that Jackson was judging, it was a practical fact because some, as he had managed to distinguish, even vaguely from a distance, held weapons of stone, wood, and bone, and all of them were dressed in thick, poorly sewn skins, as if they had been torn from an Ice Age tribe and thrown straight into this frozen land. They weren't Romans, they weren't Greeks either, and they definitely weren't ordinary mortals, because they were so out of place for the 21st century, they looked like they're from another time or another world.

He had assumed that they would be monsters using animal skins or perhaps the low possibility of some of Circe's surviving apprentices, according to what Reyna told him before joining the Huntresses and he left the legion, the apprentices that Bellona's daughter had met before his greek half-sister arrived on the island and freed Blackbeard so that she could escape along with Minerva's Greek daughter.

Percy didn't expect to find any more humans... on the other hand, the demigod was somewhere in the sea of monsters, where only the gods know how many vessels have been lost in thousands of years, especially when the sea of monsters was still in the Mediterranean until more than 2 centuries ago... perhaps they were descendants of some ship that managed to survive by sailing in these waters.

The first man, crossed about twenty meters from his position, without looking up, then another, a child to be more specific, barely covered with a cloak of threadbare skin, along with a woman who did not seem able to move an arm, then came two men who quickly closed the distance with the child and the woman, even while one was limping.

Several more were running, but they were all looking back every few steps, with fear and terror covering their faces, as if waiting for death to emerge from the forest behind them.

Percy slid silently down the branches, being careful not to stir the snow too much on them so as not to give away his position and keeping out of the natives' field of vision while his hand was prepared to unfold his hidden Gladius like a ring, just one thought was enough and the blade would be in his hand, ready for action.

"They're running from something or someone," he murmured quietly, barely louder than the whisper of the wind through the branches. "But what are they running from?" he said himself, looking back into the forest where he could make out more silhouettes approaching

He stood still, his body tense, causing the snow on the branch to rustle slightly against his boots, while the forest seemed to hold its breath with him... and then... he heard it.

A dry and unnatural sound, like wet bones sliding on brittle ice, a murmur that belonged neither to the wind, nor to the trees, nor to the usual rustling of the forest, but an icy whisper that vibrated in the air itself, making each snowflake seem to hold a shiver.

But Percy stood completely still, waiting for them to come closer, having to wait another minute to see the possible culprit or cause of that sound

The first ones Jackson could best distinguish were three figures that emerged from the thickness of the forest like shadows that the world refused to swallow, they weren't human... at least, not quite because there was something deeply wrong with the way they moved: slow, rigid, unwavering, as if they were lifeless. Their bodies were pale as corpses, their skin almost translucent in the few light of day, but they all had blue, intense, inhumanly bright eyes, as cold as the Arctic sea, but empty of soul.

One still had remnants of rotten leather clothing or protection, hanging from his body, another had a broken arrow stuck in his neck, right in his windpipe... and yet he walked, indifferent to the damage and the third had hardly any flesh in his jaw with the bones were exposed.

Percy didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't even blink for a long moment. "What the... fuck...?" he muttered, more of a voiced thought than an actual reaction.

They were not illusions, they were not ghosts, they were not specters or curses cast by resentful gods, he knew the many monsters of the Greco-Roman pantheon: gorgons, giants, immortal beings and more. And he had had the occasional encounter with other divine pantheons, but walking corpses, he rarely encountered anything like that, but it didn't resemble those experiences either because there was no aura or familiar feeling in those corpses.

This was not from his pantheon... and that did that made him keep his guard, because being unknown creatures, despite the similarities, he was unaware of their weaknesses

From his perched position on the pine branch, the demigod kept his gaze fixed on each step of the creatures with sniper-like precision, counting those that appeared after those three "seventeen, eighteen, nineteen..."

Each one was in similar condition, body damage like missing different parts: jaw, eyes, nose, arm, etc.; or there were still those body parts but they were shattered.

It was a sight that would terrify anyone, but American demigod was not just anyone, Jackson had seen things that would have frozen the most hardened soldier in fear. He had fought dracaenae, wild cyclops, lestrygonian giants, hellhounds, as well as several more monsters, faced lesser titans on Mount Othrys, and giants due to the Alaskan quest, seen some of the creatures under the ocean on some of the few visits he made to Atlantis, so those things didn't scare him.

These bodies walked without soul, without rage or will, not like the skeletons that Nico Di Angelo, the Greek son of Pluto, who could order them to rise from the depths of the underworld.

But these, on the other hand, were cold. Not only because of the climate: cold inside.

"This is not Greek magic" thought Hestia's blessed half-blood "Not even Greek, nor is it Egyptian, nor from any other I have come across... Oh, Neptune... what is in this place?"

For the next few seconds, Neptune's son could feel his annoyance against the gods return, especially with the twin of the goddess Diana because it was because of his stolen chariot that he ended up in this place, because it is always up to the half-bloods to fix the problems of the gods instead of the damned slackers doing it themselves.

But he held back his anger, because not even his father or the other gods of Atlantis know much about the sea of monsters as it is out of his control unlike the Mediterranean Sea, most of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Basically, the sea of monsters was like the sea near the coast of Alaska, the land beyond the gods, or the territories of the other pantheons, where the authority and control over the water of the aquatic deities decreases at various levels depending on the location.

So Perseus concentrated on remembering and what he could draw from his past experiences to analyze these things, such as when he had been in the presence of Pluto while his uncle emanated a pressure of his power that caused the atmosphere itself to feel as if it was filled with lead when he had to go and find Jupiter's stolen master ray with Jason and they both ended up surrounded by the different guards of the underworld in Pluto's palace.

Jackson had also felt the power of Nico DiAngelo... well, the last time he felt the power of the Greek son of the Underworld, DiAngelo had an aura that froze the blood when he summoned skeletons or ghosts, like a mixture of sadness and authority, although it was quite brief and only noticeable if he was looking; but the point was that the dead they controlled knew who was in charge

But these corpses, there seemed to be no sign of who or what created them, so perhaps they had long ago been created or were created by someone less powerful than a child of the Underworld, so Percy closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated, using his instinct and supernatural demigod senses, that strange mixture of magical/divine perception and tactical sense that he had developed, as well as honed over the years to try to find the culprit.

There was no divine or magic pressure, no mark of a god or a powerful entity, no spark of the Mist, no kind of magical sensation that he was accustomed to or recognized.

He opened them again, just in time to see how one of the corpses tripped over a root half buried in the snow that caused him to fall, he got up again somewhat slowly, but without making a sound, without even a whimper.

"They don't have pain... They are not afraid... they are mere puppets... but where is the puppeteer?" thought the son of the sea to himself as he settled better into the branch he was on, although the branch and snow on it creaked slightly under its weight as it moved, but the walking corpses did not react

"There is no intelligence" Jackson thought at the lack of perception of such things because not a single one raised his head, they did not smell it as almost all the monsters he has known do, nor did they feel it as the gods do, and as the son of one of the big three, Percy was not exactly discreet with his aura or demigod smell, even when he's learned to control it over the years, because to most monsters he was like a beacon in the dark, but several of the monsters had learned to avoid it by recognizing that they could not defeat him or mistook him for some lesser god because of the strong divinity in his blood, at least several of the Greco-Roman monsters did so.

But these monsters... they didn't have any reaction he expected.

"Or they are blind and deaf because they do not seem to seek a greater meaning like the dracaeneas with their tongue or like the wild cyclops with their ears... or they seem to walk because someone or something forces them and does not want them to stop following those natives" The son of Neptune continued to analyze the situation, trying to determine the capabilities of these creatures, but he was also focused on feeling and trying to find where what created and controlled those things came from, which thanks to his instincts he is sure is further back where he has been walking the last two days.

Whatever it was was weaker than the son of Hades and was far from giving him the same feeling as a lesser god, it was weaker than a Nereid or an Oceanid, but perhaps stronger than a naiad and apparently had been following his trail, just like the natives.

"They must have mistaken me for a meteorite" Jackson thought, remembering the collision he had in the carriage of the sun

—|—|—|—|—

Well, here we have that Neptune's son already knows that it was humans who came after him, who were chased by reanimated corpses, although he has no idea that the mortals who live in those lands are members of the free folk, nor how they call monsters.

We also see that this 36-year-old Percy thinks more like a trained soldier than his teenage counterpart in the books, with Jackson climbing up and watching from a tree, noting that these creatures don't show pain, fear, intelligence, nor perception like some of the monsters he has faced and do not react to his presence/aura/divinity of a demigod as some of the immortals do.

So Jackson comes to the conclusion that they are like puppets controlled by something or someone weaker than a relevant god, possibly similar or stronger than a minor nymph thanks to Percy analyzing the situation to determine the abilities of the creatures and trying to determine the origin of them as best he can.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you are interested in reading more chapters of this fanfic or the other fanfics, before they are published here on fanfiction, AO3 and Wattpad

You can do it on P*t*e*n: Xifos&Gladius

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thanks to Commander Shepard, Alex, chris mannl, Alfredo Cordovez, James Hurst, Gravekeeper916, Gerardo Hernández Sánchez, Baba, Paulo Martinez, suonie jones, SG093, Archer FX, Luke Hunter, harjit singh, c_2003, Jesús Ernesto Ortiz Menchaca, OnTheRoof WithAWolf, Gojo Satoru, Samuel Quintero, Kieran Dunkley, Robert Addy, Tiran Sarukhanyan, theguyver1343, Gabriel Lopez, Traiton Moses, CaptPartyspock, Deathgrips099, Errin Jacob Villar, Yato. God, Yusuf Ahmad, cordell Moore, Mezz015, Adam, Nicholas Heringer, Logan65, Aaron Roberts, Primordial_Will, Jt5342,Kyan Coy, DarkSpider, joe nelso, Attmay33, Arashi Hayabusa, HugoH,  Alex Hershon, Tex, Julien, Helios, Justin Goetz, Rich, boby, remivaneldom, ONI1123, Chamar Ellis, Robin, Vegito Blue, c Meier, Michael Davis, Shawn Franks,  Junkurrji O'shane Nona, kevon deshazier,  Greg Robinson, Adam Doherty,  LarsGameS, Peter Johnson, Oi Oi, jorge castillo, Stremms, Sin Hunter, LT Butterfly287, UnknownSkiz, Dean, Wilver Onofre, D-Arius, D-Arius, Aidan Jones, M360, Alan Lasalle, MrE, David Nguyen, Nerd Side, Raphael Rietti Souto, Lachlan Mathison, Dillon, Kyle Schmitz, Guillermo Chuy, Alejandro Ruiz Conejo, Keith Thomas II, Nozibjon, Elaina Friedrich, nitsuJ, Adrian, Justin Roy van Westering, dawid Yisrael, Saint Maximus, kurtis trickett, Joseph Grant, Nathan Grindstaff, Zak_McD, Ryan McCaughan, Rocket The Raccon, Tuxford Rorke, Jeremiah Matthews, Audio Tool, arthur, trey linebrink, Adam Blackmore, Josh, Adam Blackmore, RobinHaren, Zirfala, Jeremy D Peak, Ryan Leyden, Ranmaru Kurosaki, Madelyn, Trent Roe, Wiliam Croston, Brandon Wilson, Kissa454, Yonko Magikarp, willowskeith, Scarlet Fox, dorian wilson, SVTM62vl, doompie, Andrew Steven, Damian syers, Anthony Baca, Dylan, twistedflame899, Zook, k, kolokolo, Soul, Aaron Clay, Kirito, Sbhat Asfaha, Alexander Cullison, Jose Castro, Sergio Avila Jr, Charles, Edavila, Doom 7bz, Robin DiWinter, Yorda, Red, Wesbrook, John Smith, Bear, DuranteEmrys, Kingjames2332, Hollow_d_wrld, Wat3rF0xKail, D3m0nRulerZ, Stephen Odom, Enrique Cristobal Luna, Christophe Dean, Jake, Leo Clark, Shrimp, Nicholas Fritz, Connor, Lachlan, Aiming, Brandon Ossandon, JamesNic20, Forgotten Frost, julio vega, Connor Lloyd, Godaken, Alex Hawthorne, Roger Gaulke, Kitsune, Jose Vazquez, Brad Rieman, Charles Beecham, WhoisMitch, Ken Harris, Ravunz, Stefan Gottlieb, joshua scroggins, Benji, Rocket22, Luis, Chronicle Clock, God of Wind 200, Alchem, Orioles Enjoyer, Raj, James Cavazos , United Federation, Daniel bridges , XVenomX159, Voidful 911, Malignance, luis a. v. r., Henry, Daniel R. and OettamLass for their support on P*t*e*n

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom they belong

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, and Underworld belongs to Lakeshore Entertainment, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whomever it may apply.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

“Thoughts”

“Speaking”

"Another language"

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"{Run, Perseus}" exclaimed a beautiful woman, but clearly exhausted and with her voice trembling with despair at the same time that her blue eyes, full of panic, looked constantly around.

Every creak in the woods, every shadow that moved, seemed to alert her more vulnerable, but her concern for her son didn't allow her a second of rest. They both made their way through the trees, fighting against the darkness that was beginning to envelop them.

It was late, the sun had almost completely set, leaving the moon, cold and distant, to rise with a sharp glow over the clear sky. The last vestiges of daylight faded as the divine chariots of Helios and his sister, Selene, slowly painted the landscape in shades of twilight, transforming the day into thick darkness.

But the boy, despite his efforts, could not keep up, Perseus' short legs struggled to keep up, while exhaustion threatened to knock him down at every step.

The woman, his mother, went forward with her senses alert, looking for signs of danger in the growing gloom. She knew that the beast chasing them was close, too close as the air seemed to be charged with a palpable threat.

Each breath each of them took became heavier, as the troubling atmosphere of the forest enveloped them as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the beast would catch up with them.

"{Don't stop, Perseus}" she murmured in a broken voice, trying to instill a little courage in him as she felt the weight of her own despair.

The boy, fighting against his fear and tiredness, gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move faster, as his mother asked him to, but exhaustion overcame him, his small steps were no longer fast enough.

Fatigue defeated him, his muscles turned to lead, his breathing more and more erratic. The woman, with a precision and decisiveness that only a mother's instinct could grant, lifted him without hesitation. The trees that closed around her seemed to want to hold her back, but she, fueled by fierce desperation, pierced them, barely seeing the branches that scratched and tearing her skin and leaving light cuts, as well as faint traces of blood.

Every wound she suffered from the branches of the trees was just a distant echo in her mind, but she didn't care because she couldn't stop.

The forces of nature itself seemed to have lined up to hold her back, but she thought of nothing but her son, of reaching the sea, the domain of her beloved, that he might hear her pleas. The need for protection for her son, to get him to safety, drove her through the darker forest.

But with each passing second, the sound of the beast getting closer and closer, like a dark heartbeat from the forest. The end was not far off.

She ran, her body already exhausted from the effort, but her feet kept moving at the speed of despair. Meanwhile the cold air crashed against her beautiful face as her breathing became more erratic and every second that passed, she felt as if the ground beneath her feet was crumbling, but she couldn't stop or look back.

As the sound of the sea grew louder, a spark of hope blossomed in her chest. The boy, frightened and exhausted in his mother's arms, began to feel a strange sense of calm, as if the sea could offer them some kind of shelter and comfort.

The closer they got to the beach, the more intensely serenity enveloped them, almost like a promise of salvation.

But that calm faded as quickly as it had come, for a deafening crack tore through the air, a sound that left no doubt that the beast was closer, too close. It was the sound of branches and trees that began to give way under the weight or force of its monstrous presence, torn apart by its violent step.

Each crack was a brutal reminder that the creature was not only chasing them, but was catching up with them.

"{No, please, no...}" the mother murmured, her voice cracking with despair.

The woman's blue eyes were filled with terror as she realized the inevitable, the beast was so close that she could almost feel its hot breath behind her. The hope that had blossomed so fleetingly began to fade... they would not succeed.

But just as she was about to give up, to be consumed by anguish, an opening in the tree line appeared before her eyes. The sea was in sight, the edge of the shore was glimpsed through the night and the trees thanks to the light of the stars and moon, a vision that gave her one last spark of hope, they had arrived... or at least almost.

The woman gritted her teeth and with one last effort, she went through the last group of branches that separated her from the sand.

When her feet touched the sandy shore, the woman's breath almost stopped for an instant in the relief, she had run so far, she had run with all the force inside her until finally the sea was there, within her reach. It was the shelter she had sought for her son, but the cry for help she wanted to let out choked down her throat.

"Help, save us, Pos-!" Her voice broke as her soul prayed to the wind, to the sea, to the world, waiting for the father of her child, her protector, to hear her... but before she could finish pronouncing his name, a brutal blow threw her as if she were a rag doll.

"Ahhhh!/Aarrgghh!" Both the boy and his mother shouted at the same time. But the boy's was driven by fear and surprise when he uttered his cry into the air, while she, tormented by excruciating pain, could barely contain her lament before releasing her son.

Her son, Perseus, was knocked down from his mother's hands... in an instant, he fell to the ground with a dull thud, landing right at the edge of the water where the waves of the sea that advanced and receded endlessly, licking the beach constantly, and barely the distance the size of one of his small arms separated him from the sea foam being able to reach his body

The sound of the water crashing against the shore seemed to deafen them, for their minds were too dazed with pain and fear to process.

A huge paw landed on the woman's back as she tried to get up despite the pain or wound bleeding from her back, and threw her to the ground, trapping her underneath.

"{Perseus, go! Go into the sea, it will protect you!}" the woman pleaded as the pressure on her back increased, knowing that her time was up, but her son's was not yet.

"{Mom...}" the boy's voice came out like a whisper from the fear and helplessness he felt as Perseus looked at his mother and then at the beast that had immobilized her. He looked the creature in the eyes, a deep red, unusual for any normal creature while one of its fangs had some blood... but this boar was anything but a normal creature.

But before Perseus could do anything, the creature crushed the child's mother under its giant paw with a sickening creak.

"{MOM!}"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"{MOM!}" A man sat up on his bed, cold sweat running down his face and soaking the sheets as he let out a brief exclamation in his native tongue

The dark room was filled only with the Greek's heavy breathing, which brought his hands to his face as he tried to calm his ragged breath. Little by little, he realized that he was not back on that beach, not close to his hometown, nor was he even in the Greece in which he grew up.

He was in his bed, in the safety of his current home, but he had been awakened by that damned memory, the one that every time it tormented his mind, it haunted him with the same intensity and emotions, the memory of the day his life changed forever, the day he lost his biological mother.

"Shit..." he cursed quietly, putting his hands to his face and wiping the sweat that ran down his face. He hated that dream, because he knew that every time it was repeated, something important was about to happen, whether it was in the mortal world or worse, something that might involve the gods "It better not be another world war..." he muttered with some anger, as if the simple act of speaking it out loud could prevent it from becoming a reality.

After a moment and pulling aside the sheets, he stood up, but his body still heavy from the nightmare and headed for the bathroom.

When he turned on the light, the glow of the bulb cut through the darkness, illuminating the small but familiar space, then he approached the sink and poured a handful of water on his face, trying to clear his head, feeling how the sensation of the cold water penetrated his skin and woke him up completely.

Then he looked at himself carefully in the mirror, his black hair falling over his face, soaked by water and sweat, while his eyes of a deep green like the calm sea stared at him. Those eyes, which had seen so much and witnessed so many battles, reflected a wisdom that only the years and the hardest experiences could bestow.

But he stood there for a moment, watching his face as if hoping to find some hidden answer in the features of his face, but his own face only reminded him of what he had been, what he had lived and what was yet to come.

Within a few more minutes he was on her hands, doing push-ups in the center of his apartment. His toned and well-defined muscles unfolded in the solitude of the place, each muscle flexing in unison with each movement

It would take a while for the sweat to begin to soak him, but it wasn't just the exercise he was looking for, it was the need to clear his mind of the nightmare that still tormented him and with each flexion, he felt how his body slowly woke up, as if he wanted to clear from his mind the vestiges of that disturbing dream.

He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, not after that dream, it was better to take advantage of the time and keep busy, but while his body exercised, his mind kept spinning, trying to analyze what might be coming.

There was nothing in the deadly news to indicate a possible catastrophe, no impending war, or anything that stood out from the ordinary. However, that feeling of danger continued to lurk, like an omen in the air and it troubled his mind.

On the other hand, it was more difficult to know what was going on in the divine world, since he had always been discreet about the fact that he is still alive and had learned to stay under the radar without attracting the attention of certain members of the Olympic council. Moreover, in the last twenty years, he had lost touch with many of his acquaintances and the few divine relatives he could trust.

Not to mention, it wasn't easy for him to keep in touch when most of the Greco-Roman pantheon has been across the ocean for more than two centuries and of course the gods like to do things their own way.

So Perseus seriously doubted that the current generation half-bloods and other individuals who were part of the Greek side or the Roman side could keep up with the advances of mankind in the modern world. He didn't think they had managed to find a way to use today's technology without exposing themselves to unnecessary risks, nor was he convinced that they realized how monsters managed to track down demigods and find them, even in such a vast and distracting world.

However, his skepticism was not unfounded, it came from the experiences he had had during the last centuries, especially the last one, when he had the opportunity to meet several demigods of different generations, and most of them did not seem to have any kind of preparation or understanding about the continuous changes in the world.

It was as if they had been trapped in time, unable to keep pace with humanity's progress as they tried to adapt as best they could, only for mortals to bring about another change. And many of those half-bloods trying to adapt to the continuous changes of the new age seemed more prone to making mistakes, not knowing how to remain anonymous or how to protect themselves from threats that never stopped lurking.

But the gods fared even worse, having heard from several demigods and the few divine beings he spoke to that various gods regarded science and other advancements in the mortal world as blasphemy.

In addition, these problems were especially notorious in the Romans, whose obsession with tradition, ancient forms of training, Roman discipline and the isolation of their small people kept them anchored to ways of thinking that, although glorious in their time, today were inadequate. The Romans clung to an idealized version of the past, not realizing that they were but a pale shadow of the great conquerors who once dominated much of Europe, part of Asia, and Africa.

But on the other hand, the Greeks were not exempt from their own problems: the lack of discipline, the chaos that sometimes reigned in their ranks, along with the inability to adapt to certain aspects of modern society, and the fact that many of them were left to their own devices by the gods.

So on more than one occasion, during the last 300 years, Perseus had encountered situations in which his patience was tested, wondering, not without sarcasm, what in the name of Chaos Chiron had been teaching those young demigods. How was it possible that they still couldn't adapt or realize other essential things after so many centuries of existence? (Note 1)

—|—|—|—

Hours later, after a quick shower that allowed him to clear his head a little more, the green-eyed man dressed quickly and efficiently, as if each garment had a specific purpose in its mission to go unnoticed, choosing simple and discreet clothes, those that would not attract anyone's attention in the crowded streets of the city.

He opted for comfortable boots, with resistant soles, perfect for walking long distances without causing discomfort, his leather coat, an old and worn dark brown coat that had been his faithful companion for years. Leather that once shone brightly, now showed obvious signs of use: some wrinkles, small scratches and time marks that only an observant person could notice, plus it was still your best bet for unpredictable weather and, above all, to keep out of the prying eyes of others.

Under the coat, there was a simple cotton T-shirt that fitted his torso with the naturalness of an outfit that had already become part of him. The jeans were of a dark tone and without ornaments, so they did not stand out in the least, allowing him to blend into the crowd without attracting attention and to complete his look, he chose a dark blue cap that partially covered his face, hiding his look and part of his identity.

Everything she wore seemed to be part of a carefully chosen costume to go unnoticed in the crowd. In his life it was not uncommon for him to mix with the mortals without a trace and that was the best way to stay under the radar.

He grabbed his wallet and watch from a nearby table, with almost automatic movements he put them on and then approached the window of his spacious and economical apartment to look outside, observing the urban landscape that stretched out before him, it was still dark and the rain was pouring down, hitting the windows hard.

The lights of the city flickered in the distance, but the streets were far from empty; People went about their daily chores as if nothing had changed because the human routine never stopped, even when the night seemed to embrace the city with its dark and damp mantle.

Perseus knew that the life of mortals did not pause, and even less so when the hours seemed to slip through their fingers without them being able to do anything to stop them.

He looked at his watch and a sigh escaped his lips when he saw the time because his watch showed that it was barely two thirty in the morning.

It didn't matter, little sleep was a trifle compared to other things he had dealt with throughout his long life, in fact, many times he had found himself working through the night, facing dangers and making decisions that mortals could not even imagine. Sleep had never been a priority for him, especially at times when the fates were determined to give him little room to rest.

But at that moment, a short and sharp beep interrupted his thoughts.

*BEEP*

The sound of his phone's answering machine was the only thing that broke the heavy silence of the night as Perseus kept his eyes fixed on the movement of the streets below, as if he was waiting for something to arrive or happen right at that moment, his eyes always alert, they were still watching, but his mind was already prepared for what could come.

"You have communicated with Percy Jackson's answering machine. Please leave your message after the ringtone." The calm and serene voice of the green-eyed black-haired man echoed in the room, like a routine he had heard thousands of times.

A brief silence filled the room, followed by a female voice that began to speak: "Hi, Percy, I'm Ivett. Just remind you that the 7th century art shipment will arrive later today, so we need you to be here to sign. We have also received an update on the delivery of ancient Greek weapons, apparently some boxes were delivered yesterday and we need your approval on what we should keep and what should be returned. I'll wait for you later. Goodbye."

The voice of Ivett, a middle-aged woman, died off at the end of the recording, leaving behind the echo of her message. The telephone line was cut with a soft click, but Percy, also known as Perseus, hardly paid attention to the content because the Greek's eyes were fixed on the outside world, watching the flickering lights of the city and the raindrops that slid down the windows, knew perfectly well what that message implied, but at that moment he did not have time for details such as the art or the museum's ancient armaments.

Without thinking twice, Percy turned off the lights in the place and left the apartment without looking back. The message could wait, the city never rested and neither would he, something more urgent was about to happen, something he surely could not ignore.

—|—|—|—

Well here we have a semi-immortal version of Percy Jackson, who was born in ancient Greece and has survived for over three thousand years, but has managed to make many gods and council members ignore his existence and survival for thousands of years.

I will show more of his past in every chapter and encounters he has had outside the Greco-Romans during the following chapters

—|—|—|—

Note 1 : Well, as far as I know, it's assumed that Lamia did something to the mist to make it easier for the monsters to track down the demigods. I'm not sure if that's what gave them a specific scent or made it more powerful for the monsters' sense of smell.

And I always wondered, why Riordan never wrote even a mention of some demigod trying to find a way for them to hide from monsters and to discover their abilities to track them?

So this Percy, being alive for thousands of years, has noticed and discovered various things, adapts and learns, so he found a way to stay hidden from the monsters, as well as from several of the gods.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you are interested in reading more chapters of this fanfic or the other fanfics, before they are published here on fanfiction, AO3 and Wattpad

You can do it on P*t*e*n: Xifos&Gladius

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thanks to Gerardo Hernández Sánchez, Baba, Dan Isay López Rosas, Paulo Martinez, suonie jones, SG093, Archer FX, Luke Hunter, harjit singh, c_2003, Jesús Ernesto Ortiz Menchaca, OnTheRoof, WithAWolf, Gojo Satoru, Samuel Quintero, Kieran Dunkley, Robert Addy, Tiran Sarukhanyan, theguyver1343, Gabriel Lopez, Traiton Moses, CaptPartyspock, Deathgrips099, Errin Jacob Villar, Yato. God, Yusuf Ahmad, cordell Moore, Mezz015, Adam, Nicholas Heringer, Logan65, Aaron Roberts, Primordial_Will, Jt5342,Kyan Coy, DarkSpider, joe nelso, Attmay33, Arashi Hayabusa, HugoH,  Alex Hershon, Tex, Julien, Helios, Justin Goetz, Rich, boby, remivaneldom, ONI1123, Chamar Ellis, Robin, Vegito Blue, c Meier, Michael Davis, Shawn Franks,  Junkurrji O'shane Nona, kevon deshazier,  Greg Robinson, Adam Doherty,  LarsGameS, Peter Johnson, Oi Oi, jorge castillo, Stremms, Sin Hunter, LT Butterfly287, UnknownSkiz, Dean, Wilver Onofre, D-Arius, D-Arius, Aidan Jones, M360, Alan Lasalle, MrE, David Nguyen, Nerd Side, Raphael Rietti Souto, Lachlan Mathison, Dillon, Kyle Schmitz, Guillermo Chuy, Alejandro Ruiz Conejo, Keith Thomas II, Nozibjon, Elaina Friedrich, nitsuJ, Adrian, Justin Roy van Westering, dawid Yisrael, Saint Maximus, kurtis trickett, Joseph Grant, Nathan Grindstaff, Zak_McD, Ryan McCaughan, Rocket The Raccon, Tuxford Rorke, Jeremiah Matthews, Audio Tool, arthur, trey linebrink, Adam Blackmore, Josh, Adam Blackmore, RobinHaren, Zirfala, Jeremy D Peak, Ryan Leyden, Ranmaru Kurosaki, Madelyn, Trent Roe, Wiliam Croston, Brandon Wilson, Kissa454, Yonko Magikarp, willowskeith, Scarlet Fox, dorian wilson, SVTM62vl, doompie, Andrew Steven, Damian syers, Anthony Baca, Dylan, twistedflame899, Zook, k, kolokolo, Soul, Aaron Clay, Kirito, Sbhat Asfaha, Alexander Cullison, Jose Castro, Sergio Avila Jr, Charles, Edavila, Doom 7bz, Robin DiWinter, Yorda, Red, Wesbrook, John Smith, Bear, DuranteEmrys, Kingjames2332, Hollow_d_wrld, Wat3rF0xKail, D3m0nRulerZ, Stephen Odom, Enrique Cristobal Luna, Christophe Dean, Jake, Leo Clark, Shrimp, Nicholas Fritz, Connor, Lachlan, Aiming, Brandon Ossandon, JamesNic20, Forgotten Frost, julio vega, Connor Lloyd, Godaken, Alex Hawthorne, Roger Gaulke, Kitsune, Jose Vazquez, Brad Rieman, Charles Beecham, WhoisMitch, Ken Harris, Ravunz, Stefan Gottlieb, joshua scroggins, Benji, Rocket22, Luis, Chronicle Clock, God of Wind 200, Alchem, Orioles Enjoyer, Raj, James Cavazos , United Federation, Daniel bridges , XVenomX159, Voidful 911, Malignance, luis a. v. r., Henry, Daniel R. and OettamLass for their support on P*t*e*n

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I do not own the images, credits to whomever they belong

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, I also don't own DC, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whomever it may apply.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters thinking"

"Characters speaking"

"{Characters speaking another language}"

This idea is with a Percy who was born in ancient Greece and met the Amazon women of DC, but it will not be one hundred percent faithful to the DC comics, I am going to play with the data about the bronze and iron age, the isolation of the Amazons, etc.

Although I don't know how far I'm going to go with this idea and others from PJ x DC, but several like this one, will be a combination of the DC Amazons who were created by the Greek goddesses and worship them, along with the Amazons from Percy Jackson's books who worship the gods/goddesses of war.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

The salty wind whipped across Lyra's face, carrying with it the scent of fresh air and sea breezes. The sun of Themyscira, a benevolent eye in the cerulean sky, warmed her skin as she sat perched on a steep promontory overlooking the shimmering turquoise expanse of the Aegean Sea.

Below, the waves crashed against the shore as if it were a rhythmic dance or a family lullaby that she had known since birth. For more than a millennium, Themyscira had existed in quiet isolation, a green paradise shrouded in magic, where its inhabitants favored by the deities and protected from the turbulent affairs of the outside world... the world of man.

Themyscira is their sanctuary, the sanctuary of the Amazons

Lyra was one of the Sentinels, the vigilant guardians of the island's perimeter. Duty was a thread that was part of their being, a tapestry of responsibility that despite the long peace had been held in complete seriousness among all the Amazons since they first made the island their home, as well as those who came later thanks to the goddesses.

Her spear, made by the best Amazonian artisans and blacksmiths, rested beside her; the tip was of blessed silver and the rest was made of wood from ash trees which, along with pines, were the most abundant in Themyscira after the goddesses Hestia, Demeter, and Amphitrite asked Poseidon for a new and safer home for them (Note 1). Her ash wood shield covered with a full layer of celestial bronze was also at her side, along with an ordinary bronze sword mixed with celestial bronze (Notes 2 and 3), a xiphos measuring about the size of her arm (Note 4).

The polished surface of her shield reflected the infinite sky, and beside her, Xanthe, her best friend and fellow Sentinel, shared the lookout.

The polished surface of her shield was reflecting the infinite sky and at her side, Xanthe, her best friend and fellow Sentinel, shared the observation post. Both women were exemplars of Amazonian grace and strength, with movements perfected by years of training and bodies sculpted by the rigorous demands of their warrior society, but made all the more beautiful by the blessings their people received from the goddesses.

But even after a thousand years of peace, there was an ingrained habit of vigilance that was hard to break. Their duty was not only to protect the island, but to preserve a way of life, a harmony of both tranquility and discipline that existed in stark contrast to the chaos they had only heard of in ancient stories, of the lore told by human women and descendants of some deity who were sent to Themyscira by different divine beings, in search of a new home or to be part of the amazons, as well as the occasional visits of a goddess... or god.

Only for more than a millennium it had become rarer and rarer for more women to come to Themyscira, for more Amazons to be created by the goddesses, or for a divine being to appear.

Since Penthesilea and Otrera were dissatisfied with Hippolyta's way of governing because they considered the decision to isolate themselves from the rest of the world for almost 300 years as cowardice and fear, but because of this, both Amazons along with many more who shared their opinion left Themyscira to return to the world of man  (Note 5).

That was decades before Xanthe and Lyra were created, but they had witnessed fewer and fewer Amazons emerge. Not even a new Amazon had emerged for nearly three hundred years, not since Queen Hippolyta's last was born.

So many Amazons wondered if they had lost the favor of the goddesses and feared that they had because they had also stopped answering their prayers as time went by and worries had increased during the last century.

Although Lyra wasn't as worried about it as the older Amazons, neither was Xhante, but they still wondered about it from time to time, especially when they had been patrolling for several hours in an almost meditative routine, but it was then that Xanthe reached out and grabbed Lyra's arm with a force that belied her slender figure.

"Look," Xhante said with surprise and urgency as she looked at the horizon

Lyra followed her friend's gaze, and her heart raced as she saw what was happening: a dark silhouette looming over the horizon.

A ship.

Not a like the Amazons' fishing boats or their warships that haven't been used in over a thousand years, but a ship of considerable size judging by the silhouette and size of the silhouette.

The sight should be impossible, the goddesses of Olympus had woven a powerful barrier around the island after Poseidon created it at the request of his wife and sisters, a magical veil that made it invisible and inaccessible to the outside world.

This was not normal. There was no way a mortal ship could get that close, which is why a shiver of unease ran through Lyra's skin as various possibilities raced through her mind.

If the silhouette were smaller she would have thought that it was some demigoddess, mortal or legate who was looking for them, as it was every time she witnessed a woman arrive on her island, and whenever it was like that they arrived in small boats like a fisherman's boat with the help of some deity who gave them a safe journey. That would have been great news for all the Amazons, but this silhouette was bigger

"This is not right," said Xanthe, who was usually so calm, but her voice trembled slightly. She looked at Lyra with her amber eyes wide open, with a mixture of concern and a flash of something that almost looked like fear of the worst possibilities.

"Go!" Lyra ordered in a firm voice, with no trace of her calm character. "Go back to town and warn them all. I'll stay here, watch them, and, if necessary, buy you time"

Xanthe, without saying a word, ran and mounted her magnificent chestnut mare, a creature as swift and sure as her rider. She spun the equine, its hooves clattering against the earth as it raced toward the gleaming city in the heart of the rolling hills, almost mountains of Themyscira (Note 6).

The sound of the mare's gallop faded into the distance, leaving Lyra alone with the approaching anomaly as she grabbed her weapons before going for her bow and quiver that were on her horse and then changing positions and heading for a higher rock formation that offered a clearer view, but a few minutes the worry in her increased drastically.

Not only could she get a better look at the ship with the sails billowing in the wind toward the coast that was getting closer and closer. But the worrying thing was that it was not just one, there were four.

Lyra couldn't help but grip her spear tightly, but the wooden hilt reassuringly familiar in her hand before switching to her bow. Her mind raced, trying to analyze the situation. Was the barrier weakening? Had some outside force found a way to outwit ancient magic, the power of the goddesses? Or, worse still, was this a deliberate attempt to enter their sanctuary in a hostile act??

Whatever the reason, Lyra concentrated her attention on the boats, being able to distinguish them better the closer they got, it did not resemble any of the vessels described on the scrolls, especially the largest one that went in front (Note 6), though looking at them a little more it seemed to her that the other three looked a bit like the last ships built based on what the last women to join their people told them about the changes in the world of man. Even so, they were long with the largest of them having five rows of oars on each side, while the others had three rows of oars on each side. (Note 7)

They had two masts, a large one in the center and a small one in front that had a smaller sail. But his sails were black... darkened, but she could see that they must have been white because they looked somewhat burnt and damaged, like some parts of the ships' wood.

Lyra scanned the coast and sea for other approaching vessels, but there was nothing else on the horizon. Just these 4 boats, sailing closer and closer and would reach the beach in just a few brief moments.

Below, the waves crashed with renewed ferocity, and each wave was a reminder of the unpredictable nature of the outside world. Lyra didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but she felt a strange sense of disconnection, as if the Amazons had torn a scroll from history and were writing a new one, full of uncertainty.

Lyra narrowed her eyes as the three smaller ships seemed to be slowing down, while the larger one moved on, as if this small fleet was cautiously approaching. She looked at the figures on the deck of the ship, a mix of what appeared to be heavily armored individuals and others that didn't make much sense to the Amazon. The way they moved, their postures, were unlike anything I had ever witnessed before. Were they warriors? Explorers? Or something more sinister?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising tide of anxiety that gripped her and her mind wandering instead of focusing. She was a Sentinel, a protector of her people, fear was a luxury she could not afford. She had spent her life training for times like this, honing her skills and strengthening her resolve.

Now, it was almost certain that she would have to put everything she had learned and trained to the test.

—|—|—|—

Note 1:

The sacred tree or tree associated with Zeus is the oak, while Poseidon is associated with two, the pine and the ash. Which is somewhat curious considering that Thalia Grace was turned into a pine tree when she first arrived at the camp when she was about to die.

Note 2:

The most important part of the panoply (armament) was the aspis, a large, round shield usually made of a layer of bronze, wood, and leather. The aspis was about a meter in diameter and weighed about 7.3 kg (16 pounds), making it uncomfortable to hold for extended periods.

Oak wood is very hard to use in constructions, but ash wood is even harder than it is used in heavy construction.

Note 3:

The original xiphos measure about a foot long while the most recent xiphos from ancient Greece measure almost 2.5 feet long. They were originally made of bronze as the Iron Age is supposed to have started in the Mediterranean after 1200 BC and iron forging was archaic compared to modern

Note 4:

On average, a woman's arm is 60 centimeters long, almost two feet.

Note 5:

The Amazons have been isolated on Themiscira since the Trojan War. According to the myths the Amazons fought on the side of Troy, with Penthesilea being remembered for dying at the hands of Achilles.

But there are a few things to clarify:

The Iliad was written around 750 B.C. but the Trojan War occurred sometime between 1200 B.C. and 900 B.C. or at least the opinion of historians coincides more between those dates, but there is quite a bit of debate about the exact years, for example Eratosthenes dated the Trojan War between 1194 B.C. and 1194 B.C. Timaeus places the war ten years before Eratosthenes, the Marmor Parium placed it between 1218 BC and 1209 BC, Herodotus around 1250 BC, Eretes places it around 1291 BC, Douris around 1334 BC, among others.

For this chapter of the "What if PJ?" I will use that they were a century after Eratosthenes' dates for the Trojan War, between 1094 B.C. and 1084 B.C.

Note 6:

Whether a mountain is considered such is quite arbitrary and relative, some say it has to be at least 700 meters high, others say it has to be 1000 feet high, others say it has to be 50 meters high, etc.

Note 7:

Pine and fir were the most commonly used trees for shipbuilding, but not the only ones, for example Greek ships such as the trireme were not built solely with the wood of a single kind of tree.

They also had a lifespan of 10 to 15 years, they could last longer with repairs, but it is important to note that the wood used in their construction would have been exposed to the corrosive effects of salt water, so they would have only survived a few decades at sea

Note 8:

The reason why the Amazons do not recognize the trireme and the other boats is because:

The Bireme was created during the seventh century B.C. It was 24 meters long and had a crew of at least 120 oarsmen, it was lighter, but slower than the Trireme

The Trireme was created before 600 BC, was 36 meters long and had a crew of at least 170 oarsmen.

The Quinquerreme was created between 413 BC and 400 BC, was 45 meters long, consisted of a crew of 300 oarsmen, 120 hoplites and 50 sailors.

And with what has been discovered, it was not easy to navigate any of them, it took great strength and coordination among the crew.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote, the review helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom they belong. 

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, and Harry Potter, it belongs to J. K. Rowling, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom appropriate.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Thoughts"

"Speaking"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Luke smiled at Percy, coughing up blood profusely. "I guess I can... be the hero in the end...huh, Percy?" He said with a slight but forced smile. It was evident that the pain on his face was not just physical.

Percy looked at Luke's now withered body and remembered the time he had considered him his friend, the only one besides Grover who hadn't rejected him when he arrived at camp... only to discover that Hermes' son was the traitor, nearly killing him thanks to that scorpion from the pit, the culprit of stealing Zeus' thunderbolt and Hades' helmet, which had prompted the accusation against his own father, Poseidon, and unwittingly dragged him into the dangerous and supernatural world of the gods and titans.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Percy muttered, although, to be completely honest with himself, those words sounded empty to the son of the sea.

On the one hand, he felt sorry for him, Luke had been used, manipulated, and controlled by Kronos, and had suffered too much at the hands of fate itself, and too many demigods, both friend and foe alike, had already died trying to stop the titans.

But on the other hand, Percy felt an inner rage that he had kept at bay for Annabeth, an uneasy feeling that he shouldn't feel sorry for Luke, rage that roared inside him to be released. Luke wasn't the only demigod with reasons to be angry at his divine parents, all demigods shared the bitter reality of living under the indifference most gods. (Note 1)

Gods who mostly only appear in their lives when it was convenient for them or they needed something, but Jackson could not forgive the fact that despite all that Luke had suffered, he was not the only one who had had a difficult life and although his pain was understandable, there was no excuse for the destruction, death and pain Castellan had caused by helping Kronos get back his power, simply because of his anger against the gods, especially Hermes, his own father.

Percy had only given him Annabeth's dagger, because he trusted his friend, not Luke

"No... It's not your fault, Percy... thank you... for giving me the chance to be the hero" Luke looked at Annabeth, his face visibly tired, and gave her a weak, almost imperceptible smile ""I'm sorry, Annabeth... I'm so sorry... Please forgive me"

Annabeth swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat, and shed a tear as she watched the son of Hermes slowly raise the cursed dagger.

"Luke..." Her voice trembled, but the pain in her words was even more palpable.

"I need you to tell me something, Annabeth... Luke's voice sounded broken, almost pleading, as if everything he's done could be forgiven with a simple apology.

"W-what?" Annabeth approached slightly, not knowing what to expect, her heart twisted at the words Luke was about to say.

"Did you love me?" The question floated in the air, so charged with despair that it seemed to stop time.

Something twisted inside Percy when he heard it, a violent impulse instigated him to yell at Luke, to tell him to stop manipulating Annabeth, to stop looking for one last redemption in the midst of chaos. Poseidon's son just wanted Luke to face what he had done, for Hermes' son to accept the consequences of his actions and stop trying to justify himself with empty words.

But the son of the sea held back and bit his tongue, struggling to keep silent as he watched Annabeth's tears fall, heavy and silent, like condemnation.

"Y-yes, Luke... I did it... I love you" Annabeth said finally, her voice broken but sincere, despite all that Luke had done to her. But her words came out between sobs, as if releasing that small piece of her soul was the only thing left to do.

As soon as Percy pressed his hands tightly as fury swept through his body again, but as he held his sword tightly he could feel a sense of calm, comfort, and tranquility, which for a moment made his eyes wander to Anaklusmos.

Luke smiled, though his expression was grim "Then I'm sorry," Hermes' son murmured, as if those words could erase years of wrong decisions, of betrayal, of all the hurt and pain he caused. Castellan turned to Percy, but his gaze was hesitant. "Take care of her for me, Percy... I leave her and the rest in your hands... promise me, Percy... promise me"

Percy nodded stiffly, his mind unable to properly process everything that was happening. "I promise," he said in a tight voice, as if that promise were the only thing he could offer at that moment.

"Thank you," Luke said, and he carried the blade of the dagger to the mortal spot of his body, his armpit. His face now a mix of both pain and resolution, he smiled again, although this time his smile was a farewell "Goodbye..." and with a last breath, pushed the blade inward

"Argh!! "

The scream that came out of Luke's mouth was not his. It was the voice of Kronos, the titan within him who at that very moment, seemed to scream in pain and agony.

Suddenly, a wave of pure energy erupted, pushing Percy and Annabeth back with outsized force, Percy could watch as waves of bright yellow energy came out of Luke's body, while the same energy began to burn him alive, devouring the flesh and soul of Hermes' son.

“AAHHHH/AAHHHH!”

"Luke!" Annabeth screamed, her voice desperate as she tried to crawl toward him, but another wave of energy pushed her back, so hard that it took her breath away as part of her skin was burned, causing her to let out a cry of pain. "AAGHH!"

Percy, driven by adrenaline and his own curse of Achilles, grabbed Annabeth tightly and pulled her close to him, seeking to protect her from the chaos that was raging around him. He then turned his head to Luke in horror, watching as the body of Hermes' son slowly began to burn, consumed by Kronos' titanic power.

Luke turned to Percy, his blue eyes being completely golden and shining with an inhuman intensity. He was no longer Luke. There was no longer any trace of the boy who had been the son of Hermes, in his place, there was Kronos, the titan who had taken over his body. "JACKSON! YOU! YOU DID IT! NO! I WON'T FAIL AGAIN! DIE, JACKSON! DIE!" His voice resonated with such devastating power that the air itself seemed to tremble around him.

A blast of energy, larger than all the previous ones, was unleashed on Percy and Annabeth with enormous fury. Percy quickly grabbed Annabeth by the hip and in his growing desperation threw her away from him, out of range of the explosion.

The impact of the energy hit him squarely in the back, with unparalleled pain it pierced him like lightning, but after a few brief seconds Percy knew nothing more, his mind shut down and his body fell into the void.

The last thing Percy heard was Annabeth's voice and what he believed were also the voices of Grover and Thalia

"PERCY!"

—|—|—|—|—

When Poseidon's son came to, he blinked slowly, as the constant sound of rain flooded his ears, with the sensation of the cold ground under his back and the rain falling on his body, combined with the revitalizing energy that the water transmitted to him, made him quickly return to reality.

He looked up, and the first thing he saw was a gigantic icon of the mortal world that looked strangely familiar, which only took a few brief seconds to realize what it was, a towering sight that everyone in the Western world would instantly recognize.

In front of his eyes stood Big Ben, proud and majestic, standing out against a gloomy gray sky. That vision, at that moment, seemed to be taken from a dream... or perhaps a nightmare, depending on how someone looked at it.

Percy blinked, bewildered at what was in front of him. It couldn't be real, could it?

He looked down, and seeing his body intact, he patted his torso, as if trying to check that he was still whole. There they were, their arms, their legs, their feet... everything in its place. Relief ran through his body, though confusion continued to cloud his mind, this's real

Fortunately, he was still wearing the orange T-shirt from Camp Half-Blood, jeans, and a pair of worn sneakers, his usual attire, but something stood out above the rest, because despite the rain and humidity, he noticed that on his now somewhat burnt clothes, his only armor shone brightly.

The Greek breastplate of celestial bronze, which he did not need thanks to the curse of Achilles, but which he had decided to put on without thinking much about it, but something was not right. The celestial bronze breastplate not only shone much brighter than it should, but it also vibrated, as if it had a life of its own.

That didn't give him a good feeling.

With instinctive rapidity Percy got rid of it, taking it off as fast as he could and throwing it with great force towards the Thames, without further thought.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"… I think it was nothing..." said Poseidon's son after a long moment of silence, in which nothing seemed to happen as the celestial bronze breastplate sank into the waters of the Thames, disappearing into the dark current of the river.

BOOM!

But just seconds after he had spoken, a powerful explosion echoed from the depths of the water, followed by a tremor that shook everything around him.

The roar of the explosion boomed in his ears, and the earth beneath his feet vibrated as if it was about to open. Immediately, panicked screams erupted everywhere as thousands or millions of gallons of water poured down on everyone.

People walking by, while some others were on bicycles, others in cars, began to scream in terror, quickly increasing chaos, panic and disaster.

"What's going on?!" A woman shouted, stumbling as she tried to get away from the place

"Oh, my God, run!" A man shouted who, seeing the chaos, pushed his companion to a corner to escape.

Percy also lost his balance as the ground shook beneath his feet, but he recovered much faster than any of the mortals as the chaos rapidly escalated. The screams were mixed with the deafening noise of cars braking and the slight creak of some of the buildings near the River Thames.

People were running in all directions, some crying and unable to move in shock, others just running aimlessly. Cars honked and brakes squeaked everywhere.

Percy, still stunned, watched as the crowd fled the scene, some stumbling, others falling in the frantic attempt to escape. Panic gripped people, and the tension in the air was palpable.

"Run! Run! someone near him shouted, and Percy needed no more words. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and ran, no matter where, he just knew that he couldn't stay there.

"Great, not even 5 minutes in England and I'm going to be wanted by the police," he muttered as he walked away with more speed and skill than terrified humans without the curse of Achilles acting, moving between them easily so as not to collide while his mind compared this situation with several previous ones in which he was involved and that always ended up as a suspect.

—|—|—|—

Percy ran for shelter, away from the chaos that enveloped Big Ben and the horrible London weather. Finally, he found a little relief under a store sign, where the bustle of people could be heard mostly, but in the distance the sound of car sirens of policemen, firefighters and others passing quickly as the din of disaster died down a little.

He sighed heavily, seeking some calm. "Okay, okay, I'm still in one piece, good news... Bad news... I'm in London!" exclaimed the son of the sea, raising his arms in annoyance and exasperation at his current situation. "How can things get any worse?" muttered Sally Jackson's son to himself, trying to process what had just happened.

But as if the universe wanted to prove him wrong, thunder roared loudly on the horizon, followed by a new torrential rain that began to fall violently, so Percy looked up at the sky, frustrated, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "That wasn't a challenge, Zeus!"

People walking around looked at him with a mixture of bewilderment and some fear, some even recoiling at the sight of his agitated attitude, but Percy didn't care at all, he was beyond caring about what mortals thought and because he had much bigger problems.

He looked at the opaque sky again, the dark clouds seemed to overload the atmosphere with uncontrollable energy, while Jackson didn't understand what was going on and was completely lost

"I'm not dead," he said to himself, but that conclusion offered him no consolation. Kronos' last attack had been devastating, but somehow he had survived when for all he knew, he should have died... and now, inexplicably, he found himself in London in the middle of a storm with more questions than answers.

The only thing Percy knew for sure was that he needed to find a way to get back, but how?... that was something he still had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Note 1:

Percy's fatal flaw is supposed to be loyalty, but loyalty goes both ways, so Luke's betrayal and him trying to kill Percy in his first summer at camp affected him more than the books showed, so Percy isn't as lenient about Luke, he doesn't think of Hermes' son as a hero in the end.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If you are interested in reading more chapters of this fanfic or the other fanfics, before they are published here on fanfiction, AO3 and Wattpad

You can do it on P*t*e*n: Xifos&Gladius

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, criticism helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom it belongs

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I do not own the images, credits to whomever they belong.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, MARVEL belongs The Walt Disney Company, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom it corresponds.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters speaking"

"Characters thinking"

These are just two parts of this fic that in summary is about Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon obtaining the powers of Spider-man, all from the perspective of the sarcastic and demigod.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

Percy Jackson's PoV

The first thing you need to know is that I'm not a fan of school trips, and I'm not saying this to be interesting or to sound like a mysterious teenager with an imaginary dark past.

I say this because, honestly, the last time I went to one, I ended up with a hydra head in my backpack, which didn't fit in the trash can where I had already thrown the others that didn't turn to dust like the rest of the body.

And of course, that's not even mentioning the two-week suspension I earned for, technically, 'vandalizing the parking lot and endangering my schoolmates'. As if it were my fault the hydra prefers hormonal teenagers to fast food.

So when one of my new professors announced with mild enthusiasm that we were going to visit Columbia University to learn about ‘modern advances in animal biotechnology’ or something like that, my first thought was "Great... Another excuse for a monster to try to eat me alive... maybe this time I'll get one with tentacles, I always wanted to feel like I was in a Lovecraftian version of Mythbusters"

But my second thought was “Why in Hades do I keep coming to school?”

Spoiler alert: I still don't have a logical answer.

I guess it was part of the deal... you know, that glorious 'return to normal' thing all us half-breeds try after the Greek gods nearly collapsed because they hid on Olympus and refused to solve their problems themselves, while the mythological giants tried to redecorate the world the way my great-grandmother wanted, and I disappeared for months thanks to Hera (or Juno, or whatever that divine psychopath wants to call herself who is stupidly obsessed with Zeus being a faithful husband to her and stopping having children with other women).

Yeah, it was a great few months... note the sarcasm, because trying to 'reboot my life', finish high school, be a normal teenager and blah, blah, blah... spoiler number two: It didn't work.

But there I was with my backpack on my shoulder, trying not to look too paranoid as I got on the school bus with twenty-eight other perfectly normal human students who were all talking about scholarships, colleges, how boring the tour would be, or how amazing it would be to study somewhere like Columbia.

I pretended to pay attention, nodding occasionally and saying “wow” at appropriate moments… but in reality, I was more focused on keeping my senses alert.

Because if there was one thing he had learned in all these years, several failed field trips or fights with monsters that exploded inside the school, it was this:

If the air gets too still, like the sea just before a storm... it's because something ugly is coming toward you and usually wants to eat your soul, or at least your face.

Which, unfortunately for me, because bad luck and I have a long-distance relationship that refuses to break, I wasn't wrong.

Anyway, it all started on the day of the tour when we were taken to a shiny, modern building, one of those with more glass than walls and that screams 'this cost more than your entire education.' It was so shiny that I felt like if one of us tripped and crashed into the glass, we'd probably get sued for damaging the architecture.

Our guides led us into a large auditorium already filled with other student groups from various schools, while the place smelled of cheap disinfectant, stale coffee, and that unmistakable aroma of people pretending to know what they're doing, but nothing can explode... basically the opposite of Camp Half-Blood.

Then a guy in a white coat, with 'I've-seen-things'-level dark circles under his eyes, with that expression adults get when they've slept less than three hours a day and are probably seriously considering moving to the woods or mountains and living like hermits... came on stage.

“Welcome to the visit to Columbia’s Department of Biological Sciences,” he said, with an enthusiasm that can only be described as 'I’m legally obligated to do this' "Here we are dedicated to exploring and discovering the secrets of the animal kingdom and how the natural abilities of diverse species can inspire scientific breakthroughs..."

And then the parade of cliché phrases began: blah, blah, blah… regeneration… neurotoxic poison… blah, blah… we innovate knowledge… blah, blah, blah… spiders lift 170 times their weight…

"…these are just some of the wonders we have discovered in the various organisms that inhabit our world" he concluded with that, as if he were revealing that spiders were the key to immortality while I half listened.

I mean, yeah, I guess it was interesting, but when you've spent your teens fighting fire-breathing dracaenae, sphinxes with riddles that kill, or had Zeus throw lightning bolts at you by a supposed accident (cough, cough, on purpose), a little spider that lifts over a hundred times its body weight just doesn't raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure, Mrs spider, very impressive, but let's talk when you start generating mini tornadoes and have a cursed sword instead of eight legs" and those were my thoughts even though I met Arachne herself

But like a good demigod with a history of public disasters, I forced myself to continue feigning interest while scanning the room for anything that even remotely smelled like a 'mythological monster in stealth mode'

Trust me, a lot of monsters smell like that, like swamp brine, sulfur, and... rotten hamburger meat from half a year ago, while the guy, spokesman, doctor or maybe a mad scientist with a god complex if my luck has anything to do with it, kept talking and talking with his monologue

"...We believe we only know a fraction of the hidden potential in the DNA of any living creature. For example... some species have capabilities that defy our perceptions of natural laws, so with our research, we seek to understand that… and perhaps, one day, replicate it to improve for the hum…"

That's when my brain hit the "out of service" button, but not before I muttered, "Cool... They're talking about playing gods, in that case, what could go wrong?"

Spoiler: Everything. It's always everything.

However, from my seat I had a good view of a window, so once I confirmed that there were no monsters spying on me from the corners, nor anyone with an evil aura disguised as a student sitting less than fifteen seats around me, I let myself be taken in by the appearance of the campus.

The trees were green, their leaves moving in the breeze, but with an almost offensive slowness. They moved as if time was in no hurry, as if the world weren't about to descend into a mythological disaster at any moment.

Beautiful, peaceful, and totally out of place for someone like me, for whom school trips always turn out to be a disaster, and for which I am often blamed.

My friends often say I have a knack for finding chaos anywhere, more than several of them combined, but I prefer to think the opposite, that chaos finds me... As if I were a poor, clueless tuna swimming happily through the ocean... and chaos were a three-headed great white shark with tentacles and a hunger for Greek tragedies.

And believe me, when you live with that, you learn to enjoy the moments of peace as if they were golden, even if you're trapped in an auditorium smelling of reheated coffee and a bit of dangerous or crazy science.

::::::::::::::::::

A while later

As I said, I was right, it all went to Hades about an hour and a half later when we were touring… some exhibits that were supposed to inspire us to ‘think about the academic future’.

There were machines that seemed almost futuristic to me, both people and screens explaining research, and explanations of careers that would probably make any son of Hephaestus or Athena cry with happiness. Although to be honest, I don't think Annabeth or her siblings were very happy with what came next... because in one of the stands there were more than twenty types of spiders inside rectangular terrariums that were raised inside the university laboratory.

Why would anyone want to lock up more than 20 spiders?

I don't know, maybe it was a Living Nightmares" themed day… and that's when a girl from another group screamed.

At first I thought someone had fainted, which is common on long hikes, little breakfast, too much walking for mortal girls who don't get any exercise and throw a complete tantrum over a broken nail as if it were a global catastrophe, or they are the type of girls who faint at the sight of a spider, a cockroach or a rat.

But then I heard the screech, and it wasn't human, not animal, it was something... deeper, older, and bloodthirsty. The kind of sound I'm familiar with, but for those who aren't, it makes your skin crawl as if you've been submerged in ice-cold water.

I turned just in time to see one of the girls transforming just a few feet away from me... and to throw myself to the ground before she could turn me into mincemeat.

Her skin rippled like molten wax, and underneath began to appear black scales, yellow eyes like those of a wolf with anger issues, and curved fangs that reminded me, much to my chagrin and shame, of an encounter I had with an angry Lamia who couldn't take "no" for an answer.

"Oh, great," I muttered after pulling away and standing up while brushing the dust off my jeans. "And I thought this day was going to be boring." And then, as if someone had shouted "unleash the kraken!", chaos broke out.

In a matter of seconds, screams, broken glass, and people running almost in circles or freezing in fear as if that made them less vulnerable to the monsters… classic.

While I have no idea what the Mist showed the mortals, because of course, seeing real monsters isn't part of the educational package, I imagine they saw something like a group of rebellious students, biotech terrorists, thieves of scientific breakthroughs and research, or maybe a gang of extreme cosplayers.

But whatever it was, the disguise of more monsters didn't last long as their screeches, hisses, and growls grew louder.

Because as soon as the screams got louder, the kind you can't ignore because they sound like someone has unleashed a hungry lion, real panic broke out and there was maybe one or another human with clear-sight like my mother or Rachel clear among all the mortals.

Students and teachers ran everywhere, several bumping into each other, as if that would actually help them avoid being crushed, devoured, or turned into mythological sushi. Some people were trying to maintain order, poor fools who must be more affected by the Mist, but chaos had already broken loose, like a wild horse whose reins had been cut... and then given a Red Bull.

But at least seven other girls from other school groups began to transform in front of me, skin burning, shapes twisting, eyes glowing like burning coals.

If I wasn't mistaken, they were empusae and dracaenae... a classic problem. And of course, they headed straight for me.

They didn't even say "hello" or "wanna fight?", just fangs and claws... Very friendly.

I quickly took out Riptide, removed the cover as I've done so many times, and blocked the first attacks without thinking.

I tried to fight back, but honestly, it was like trying to surf through a tsunami while knives were being thrown at you because there were so many attackers, so little room without colliding with something... and I had zero patience. Sure, I could use my powers, but since there were still mortals nearby, I couldn't use them to end this in a flash.

But then I noticed something worse, more students who hadn't yet fled also began to take off their disguises. Only they weren't empusas, or even dracaenas; they were male monsters.

“Really?” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I dodged another sharp claw. “Did they bring the special pack of monsters? Is this a school field trip or a festival to hunt for the son of Poseidon?”

Because yes, there were already enough empusae and dracaenae to put on a mythological parade, complete with choreography. Which made me think, Hecate was probably mad at me for something. Maybe for not offering her a magic pumpkin last Halloween?, Or simply for existing?... And both options were equally valid.

But the other monsters turned out to be worse, and don't get me wrong, it's not that the monster girls weren't dangerous... they were... very... but the guys were worse... much worse.

I'm not saying this because I'm being sexist or anything like that, by the gods, of course not, but because these guys were the kind of monsters who, if they hit you, will leave your spine in spaghetti.

On one side, there were the Cyclops, but the kind who were savages and brutes, on the Roman side, to be more precise. You know, the ones who don't even know how to use a hammer and think a rock is the solution to everything.

One of them ripped one of the machines from where it was and threw it like it was a toy, but it wasn't even a good throw, just poor technique and zero style. Luckily, though, there was no one else in the direction it was thrown.

“Great,” I muttered as I rolled to the side to avoid a concrete slab. “Caveman Cyclops and Canadian cannibals… My day is getting better by the second.”

I said that because the other monsters in the place were the Laestrygonians, because nothing screams 'school trip' like fireballs thrown by giants that smell of rotten meat and gym cologne.

It goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway... the place ended up a total mess with broken glass, scientific equipment reduced to dust or scrap, some people running in circles as if it made them invisible, and me blocking more claws with Riptide while thinking about how I'd be labeled on the news this time.

And yes... I know what you're thinking: Percy, at least you can use the Mist to cover everything up, right?

New spoiler: I'm not exactly good at it.

My talent for manipulating the Mist is on par with an octopus trying to write poetry on a broomstick. So, guess what... I'm going to have to ask for a favor, or worse... collect one.

But that aside, I had to run all over the place to avoid getting hit by the things the Cyclopes and Laestrygonians threw at me. I also dodged overturned chairs, broken tables, smashed furniture, and several backpacks abandoned by students who had fled in panic.

By that point, the place had become a makeshift obstacle course, with smashed objects, debris, and chaos everywhere. Honestly, all that was missing was the Minotaur being here with a stopwatch, too, for this to qualify as an extreme training competition.

Then I ducked just in time as one of the Laestrygonians launched a fireball that whizzed past me. And the projectile slammed into one of the exhibits at the back of the building, specifically a module that, according to the sign, contained "controlled combustible materials" Controlled?, Ha.

Because the fireball hit hard, and a second later, an explosion rocked the entire place as if someone had lit dynamite in a science lab. I felt the shock wave hit me from the side with such force that if it weren't for my training, my semi-divine genetics, and the fact that I am the son of Poseidon, I would have been thrown like a rag doll.

"Perfect!" I growled sarcastically. "Applied chemistry. Just what I needed... explosives!"

But I didn't stop and I couldn't stay where I was or I would be an easy target.

So I kept running through the chaos, changing direction every few seconds and trying to use things to cover myself and so they would lose sight of me, thus preventing the Cyclops and Laestrygonians from getting a clear shot.

At the same time, I was facing the empusae and dracaenae that were trying to corner me with their claws, blades and murderous looks, the good thing is that none of them had a look that could turn you into stone or something similar.

“Don’t you guys ever get tired?” I snorted, deflecting a Riptide slash and spinning around to decapitate a dracaenae coming up behind me. “Do you ever think about switching victims? Maybe stalk Ares? He’s got more brawn than brains, I’m sure he’d love it.”

Although to be fair, chaos had its advantages.

The bigger monsters were so busy throwing things around like crazy that they didn't care who they hit as long as they could hit me while I ran around trying to confuse them and tried to find a place that would give me cover or at least big enough and untouched so they couldn't see me.

But as I continued searching for that place, it came in handy, as a flying table slammed into a dracaena that was coming straight for me, knocking it out with a championship-worthy blow. Not to mention that a second later, a piece of machinery, courtesy of a furious cyclops with terrible aim and zero throwing style, fell squarely on the head of an empousa that was trying to surprise me from my left flank.

"Thanks for the help, big guy" I thought as I ran again, but this time on my knees and managed to find a place to cover myself temporarily, although I knew this kind of cyclops hadn't done me the favor on purpose.

But by then, there was not a single mortal left in sight, or at least that's what I wanted to believe, because the last thing I needed was some straggler hiding behind a smashed table with their cell phone in hand, recording everything to upload to Facebook or YouTube later... before the Mist had a chance to cover up the disaster and prevent me from being accused again of vandalism, terrorism and who knows what else.

Though to be honest, by now the place looked anything but part of an educational institution. It was a complete and utterly bizarre battlefield, with pools of green chemicals sizzling on the ground like alien lava, while debris fell from the cracked walls from everything the Cyclopes and Laestrygonians threw at them. Plus, chunks of the ceiling hung like twisted cobwebs, while pieces of machinery, technological gadgets, and twisted desks were scattered everywhere.

Several tables were also crushed as if they had been run over by a stampede of centaurs or turned into wrecking balls, and others continued to fly through the air because, apparently, the monsters had no respect whatsoever for modern architecture or other people's furniture.

Oh, and as if all that wasn't chaotic enough, several laboratory animals had also escaped. Yes, that's right... loose animals running around the 'battlefield.'

I saw mice, rabbits, something that looked like a lizard with more teeth than it should have, and a ferret with red eyes that looked at me like it wanted to rip my soul out, but the worst because there is always a ‘worst’ were the spiders.

More than one was the size of a tennis ball and was scurrying around as if the arachnid revolution had just started this morning. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a coward... but I have a very clear policy regarding spiders... if they're big enough for you to name, that's a problem.

So I muttered as I watched one crawl up a damaged and charred column. “Great… Because of course, the only thing missing from this madness was mutant spiders. What’s next? An octopus with a PhD in genetics?”

But the next moment, I had to spin on my heels and raise my sword to block another attack, just as the lab animals were running in all directions. Mice, rabbits, mutant lizards… all clearly more interested in surviving than participating in the mythological version of "school survival."

Frankly... I wanted to run away with them too, but I knew the monsters would follow me anyway. If there's anything with claws, fangs, or a terrible history of anger issues, you can bet it has my coordinates etched into a celestial bronze tablet.

But at that moment, I felt like I had something in common with those poor furry critters... we were all trapped in a disaster no one asked for, enduring or running from the chaos while a horde of creatures probably had a calendar with my face in the center, marked with a huge red circle and the legend “Goal of the Month.”

And as I grappled with the dracaena in front of me, it slashed again, but it was too slow. I ducked to dodge, feeling the air whizzing past me, and used the momentum to counterattack with a swift, sharp movement, , slamming Riptide right into its chest.

The monster didn't even have time to snarl as its body crumbled into golden dust before it hit the ground, leaving behind only a fleeting glow... and my desire for this all to be over with.

But I didn't have half a second to breathe, because an empousa threw a small bottle at me, which spun in the air, reflecting the light from the fire that had already spread across half the room, and I immediately moved away, almost instinctively.

"No potions!" I managed to grunt as I rolled on the floor to the side.

The small jar crashed to the floor and a thick, fizzy, yellow substance began to bubble, melting the concrete like hot butter. The smell was horrible, like rotten eggs mixed with battery acid and garbage.

"Oh, how nice," I mumbled, covering my nose with my sleeve, and if it weren't for the fact that I've smelled things or places that smell worse, I might have thrown up.

I didn't give the empousa time to throw another one, because I pushed off with force and launched myself at her, decapitating her in the air before she could retreat. Her body fell apart just like the others I'd killed, but this time I managed to catch the small bag she was carrying just before it fell to the ground and the other potions exploded.

"Thank you for the gift," I said with a half-smile, though no one was there to appreciate it.

But before I could check the loot, another empousa charged at me, so I reacted by reflex when instead of using the sword, I kicked it with all my might, straight to its torso and it flew backward, crashing into a damaged metal table with a rather satisfying crunch.

“This is…” I started, but stopped just in time and frowned. “No way. I’d rather punch Ares in the face than make my inner action movie geek happy.” Not even in the midst of a mythological apocalypse am I going to shout ‘This is Sparta!’ when its patron god was Ares.

But with the field clear for a few seconds and the Cyclopes and Laestrygonians apparently having lost sight of me, I knelt behind a half-destroyed structure and opened the bag I had taken from the empousa. Inside were at least eight small jars, each a different color and a suspiciously gelatinous texture.

"Oh, gods," I muttered, hoping there weren't any more empousai with potions and picking two at random.

Then I sat up a little and, judging the distance, threw the potions toward where I remembered the Laestrygonians were. A second later, I heard grunts, a deep scream, and a sound that sounded like an explosion mixed with laughter... yes, hysterical laughter.

"It worked... I guess," I said, before throwing more jars.

I was about to throw the last one when I instinctively had to throw myself to the ground because something flew over me at high speed, so fast and hot that I felt the heat burn my clothes. But the object crashed a few meters away, causing another explosion, though not as bad as the previous one.

When I raised my head, I saw the remains of one of those metal balls that the Laestrygonians threw wrapped in fire, which had destroyed two dracaenae and split in two or destroyed a metal table and more machines.

I didn't stay long to reflect or think about it because then I felt a sharp sting in my hand. As if someone has utter and utterly stabbed a red-hot needle right under my thumb.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, grabbing my hand to hold it against my body and then shaking it hard.

A tingling sensation ran down my arm, and when I looked, I saw a dark spot on the back of my hand and some thick liquid dripping slowly, but that wasn't the strangest thing.

There it was, still clinging to my skin before letting out its last breath, it was a black spider, with a rounded, thick body and thin, extended legs.

I'm no expert on Arachne's descendants, but she didn't look like an ordinary animal, and that says a lot considering who I am.

On its abdomen the spider had red spiral-shaped markings that moved slightly, as if pulsing with its own energy and the most disturbing thing... it glowed... and not like a normal bioluminescence, but rather it glowed like a mutant firefly with a bad attitude.

So I frowned at the spider, but something inside me told me that bite wasn't going to be something I could ignore with a little water or cover up with a band-aid and a good excuse.

"I hope it isn't poisonous," I muttered through gritted teeth. And I meant it, although after all the times I've been poisoned by snakes, monsters, the occasional Camp Half-Blood mess hall sandwich, and Annabeth's attempts at cooking; I should have the most resilient immune system on the planet.

Well... maybe not immune to all poisons, but at least to the ones known to mortals. And if not, well... this was about to get even more fun.

But I didn't have time to worry about that, because a dracaena leaped onto one of the nearby smashed furniture or tables, its eyes blazing with pure hatred, saliva dripping from its fangs as if it had just seen its favorite food... or me, which has been the same thing lately.

Out of pure instinct I dove to the side, rolling on the ground just before it landed where I was.

The dracaena growled angrily, but I didn't wait for its next move. So I grabbed the first thing at hand, a tubular stand that had once been part of what I believe was a very expensive information panel, and slammed it square in the face.

It didn't stop her, but it was enough to make her stagger back and slide to the ground. So I bought a few precious seconds while I dove toward where I prayed the side exits were, and also internally prayed that Riptide would soon reappear in my pocket.

It's not that I don't like improvising with metal pipes, but it's not exactly my style.

I ran through what remained of a hallway amid the ruins of what must have been part of the exhibits just a few minutes ago, but now in pieces. The few columns that gave the place some style were half-fallen, smoke in the air, a fire somewhere, twisted machinery, and some screens flickering like nightmarish Christmas lights.

However, with all the damage to the building, it looked like it was about to collapse, because as I looked around more closely I noticed the destruction was even worse than I had noticed in the middle of the fight. Debris everywhere, fractured columns, parts of the roof that had already given way and others that hung precariously as if waiting for the slightest vibration to collapse on the monsters and me.

I could see the walls were covered in scratches, claw marks, lots of gouges and gouges, as well as deep black burns from the metal balls and other things the monsters were throwing. Broken glass lay on the ground, pools of steaming chemicals bubbled dangerously as if they might join the fight at any moment.

A mural on the wall that if I remember correctly, showed a giant cell with garish colors when we arrived at the building, and was now completely covered in a black, viscous substance that looked like... slime? Oil? Both mixed with… hair gel?

"Great" I snorted "From educational cell to post-apocalyptic abstract art in less than an hour"

When photos or video of this hit the news, they would probably say something like, 'Columbia University Terrorist Attack' or 'Mad Scientist Experiment Failed,' and of course, right below it, in small print: 'Prime suspect: Young man with a troubled past, name withheld, but with a history of school destruction and suspicions of prior destruction of historical monuments' But I would say it can be summed up as 'Welcome to another typical school outing with me'

"Yeah, right... It's all my fault..." I grumbled as I crawled across the floor, while more fireballs whizzing past me a meter above my head, adding to the damage and threatening to bury us all. "I swear, it was the Cyclops. I was just a tour…"

I sighed, because as always, if I wanted to avoid another official, national report about how Percy Jackson had destroyed another educational institution, I was going to need help (again), and I'd have to call in a favor. But not just any favor, a big one.

"Hermes owes me at least three. This is a good opportunity to settle one... Maybe I can ask him to delete a few security cameras... or all of them," I muttered in annoyance as I dodged a fallen panel.

Then, among the wreckage and smoke, something moved, making me frown as I tried to make out what it was.

For a moment I almost thought the floor was shaking, if it weren't for the fact that I was face-first, dragging myself along it. Then I looked more closely, blinked, and realized it wasn't the ground at all, it was dozens of small, dark shapes, moving in all directions, running as if searching for something or fleeing, most likely the latter.

More spiders... Lots of spiders.

Most were small and black, but some stood out because they were larger with bright markings, and others were quite colorful; some were faster, others slower. All of them were looking for cracks, tubes, or crevices through which they could escape, but while they were doing so, I wondered how many spiders the scientists at a university needed, because there were many more of them than the ones they were exhibiting… and I swear some of them stopped for a moment and seemed to look at me.

"Great," I muttered sarcastically, because of course, I wasn't having enough of the monsters wanting to kill me, but I kept crawling while also continuing to complain. "More spiders, fantastic… All that's missing is for one of them to talk to me and offer me to join their eight-legged sect"

But then something felt... weird.

My breathing began to rattle, as if I had just run a marathon in the desert sun, but there was something else, something inside me that was burning.

Not like when I first started using my powers and felt the pull of the sea's energy, or that adrenaline rush when I manipulated the waves in my early years at camp. No, this was different.

It was scorching hot, as if a spark had been ignited right in my hand... yes, the same one that the psychedelic mutant spider decided to bite me with; and it was racing through my veins. The sensation crept up my arm, spread through my chest, like liquid fire, like pent-up electricity... like something that didn't belong in my body, but that somehow wanted to take control.

Obviously, it wasn't normal.

I wanted to stop, examine my hand, tear off my shirt and inspect if I had smoke coming out of my chest or something, but of course I couldn't. Because obviously, it's not like I could take a break while the monsters kept trying to chop me up to become their dinner, nor was it time to collapse in the middle of the place.

So I gritted my teeth and kept moving, ignoring the burning under my skin, ignoring the rapid drumming of my heart, and most of all ignoring that little voice in my head that said "Percy... this isn't just an allergic reaction"

Luckily, as I continued moving through the rubble, I stumbled upon what appeared to be a small bottled miracle… a batch of water bottles, probably part of a hydration stand at one of the university exhibits. They were small, less than half a liter each, and although some were broken or partially crushed, I found at least a dozen intact.

"Thank you, gods of bottled water," I murmured, relieved.

Without wasting any time, I unscrewed the cap of the first one and poured it all over myself, and the water ran through my body with a revitalizing freshness, and I instantly felt the infernal burning sensation that was climbing through my veins begin to fade, at least in part. It was as if someone turned down the volume of the pain from “burning to death” to “intense discomfort”.

I've learned to endure the pain from the injuries I've sustained over the years, and even more so from my time in Tartarus. In fact, it was fortunate that the damage I sustained in the Pit hadn't already started to bother me, but I still opened a second bottle and downed that one without even thinking about it...This wasn't the time to be skimping on miracles.

So I felt a surge of energy wash over me, more familiar this time, like a tide reconnecting to the shore after an earthquake, though my body was still shaking a little, but the fire within was beginning to calm, becoming just a murmur of light itching under my skin. And I poured water from a third bottle over myself, making any remaining discomfort disappear.

The remaining bottles, well, I stored them like any demigod with common sense and aquatic powers would... as ammunition. Never underestimate the tactical value of a water bottle when you're fighting bloodthirsty Cyclopes, Laestrygonians, Dracanes, or Empusai.

Of course, it's not the most elegant solution, but when all else fails, there's always the Wet-and-Run method. Then, just as I was about to grab the last few, I felt a very subtle and familiar weight in my pants pocket, so I immediately put my hand in and smiled with relief.

"It was time," I whispered as I felt the comforting cold of the Riptide handle reappear in its pen form. It was a good sign, and the chaos wasn't over yet, but at least now I had my sword.

"Okay," I said, standing up, with ten small bottles of water, but it was more than enough to finish this. "Time for round two."

:::::::::::::

Some minutes later

Thanks to the water I found, as well as a couple more bottles I managed to collect while finishing off the last monsters, I was able to recover and stay on my feet long enough to finish the fight in less than fifteen minutes.

But I didn't stay to admire the mess, or wait for the building to finally succumb to the damage; as soon as the last monster disintegrated into glittering dust and the area was more or less clear of fanged things, I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. I wasn't going to wait around for patrol cars, security guards, helicopters, or worse, some government agent with awkward questions and little patience.

Because let's be honest, if someone saw me in the middle of a destroyed building, partly burned, smelling of chemicals, sweating and armed with a magic sword that only the Moirai know what the Mist would disguise it as... who do you think they would blame?

But surprisingly, for once, the veil of Hecate was on my side, because according to what I heard later, the university administration declared it a 'Coordinated attack by extremists'. Which, in my honest opinion, is an improvement over the typical gas leak or accidental explosion in the chemistry lab excuses.

At least this time they didn't mention "paranormal activity" or bring out the ghostbusters, although Nico was with me that time, so it was probably his fault.

But the whole time it took me to get back home, there was one thing I couldn't get out of my head... or rather, out of my hand.

The place where the psychedelic spider bit me was still warm, not like 'I scraped it and it hurts' warm, but like someone had stuck a lighter under my skin and was waiting to see how long it would take to melt my arm.

No matter how much water I poured on myself, it didn't heal.

I also touched the area every few minutes, but it wasn't swollen, purple, or covered in black zombie-like veins, which was a plus... but it also wasn't normal, and I know "abnormal" pretty well.

"This isn't a common bite," I admit I told myself that, more than once.

So out of caution or paranoia, I drank part of the two bottles of water I had left over, and poured part of it on the spider's bite site, hoping I could get home and eat some of the ambrosia I had stashed in my room.

I secretly poured the first one on myself while we were still on campus, right after we were asked to give witness statements. A security guard gave me a strange look. I think she thought she recognized my name or that I was one of those hippies who think water cures everything, but if it was the latter, she wasn't that far from the truth.

But I poured the water from the second bottle when i's on the subway, while traveling home. Although I felt a little ridiculous dousing myself with bottled water in front of a group of half-asleep office workers, but I've honestly done much stranger things.

Except that when I finally got home, I was so hungry I could have eaten a whole cow. And I don't mean that figuratively; if I'd been served a roast cow, I probably would have asked if there were fries on the side.

I literally raided the refrigerator, emptying everything I found at a rate that even for me, who many of my friends say had an abnormal metabolism for a demigod, was absurd.

I didn't even heat anything up. Cold soup, pasta from the day before, the remains of a lasagna Paul was saving 'for later' (sorry, Paul)… Everything disappeared in my mouth in minutes.

"Percy?" my mother said from the kitchen entrance, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and concern, also surprising me because I hadn't realized she was there. "Are you okay?"

"Are you training for an eating contest or something?" Paul added, also peeking out from the living room with a raised eyebrow.

I paused for a second, half a sausage hanging out of my mouth, and shrugged.

"I had a long day," I muttered with my mouth full. "Fighting monsters makes you hungry... you know how it is."

They exchanged glances for a brief moment, as if they knew there was something else he wasn't telling them, but they decided not to press the issue… for now.

Instead, I still felt a great hunger in addition to that silent burning in my hand, as a sign that all this was far from over, so I turned on the sink faucet and let it soak my hand for almost half a minute and then continued eating.

:::::::::::::

After I finished devouring everything in the refrigerator, I slept as if I had been run over by a pegasus at full speed... twice.

But it wasn't just normal tiredness, nor was it the typical 'Wow, what a long day' It was more like someone had turned off a switch inside me... I don't even remember getting to my room, I barely remember leaving the kitchen, walking into the living room, and that's all.

But I woke up in my bed with the clothes I was wearing yesterday, including my sneakers, my mom must have stopped by to check on me because when I woke up I had a blanket over me and a note on the nightstand that said:

"I had to go see my editor. We ordered pizza, there was some left in the fridge. Try not to destroy anything, please. – Mom"

I smiled, albeit with a guilty grimace. My mom always knew when to let me rest... and when to prepare for the inevitable. And yes, the 'don't destroy anything' thing probably should have made me more nervous, but I was a little more focused on other things.

It was still a healthy precaution, considering what was about to happen, but before that… the dreams I had. And no, they weren't like, "Oh no! Olympus is in danger again!" or "Another god is doing something stupid."

They weren't prophecies, nor visits from gods giving cryptic messages amidst thunder and lightning, nor more crazy ancestors reciting mythological genealogies to me, promises of power, nor nightmares with my deranged grandfather or great-grandmother.

Were... rare and... different.

It was more like fragments and jumbled images, as if someone had wired my brain to an alien radio signal and I was only picking up static.

I saw ruins covered in thick, ancient cobwebs, then damp tunnels lit by a strange blue bioluminescence that pulsed with every breath. Distorted sounds as I felt like I was hanging from something, suspended in the air with my head dangling down, as if gravity had given up on me, and then... a voice?.

Well, not a voice, a voice. It wasn't human, nor did it feel like the voice of a god or a monster, more like... something else... as if something older itself were speaking to me, but not in words, whispering in patterns, vibrations. Something more instinctive than logical, something animal.

And when I woke up, I sat up with a start, but I was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily as if I had just win a triathlon through the Underworld, because Cerberus was snapping at my heels because he had some tasty steaks strapped to my legs.

"What the Hades..." I muttered, touching my chest, but it took me several seconds to realize something strange.

I was breathing... well, very well... and I don't mean like, 'I don't pant so much after climbing stairs anymore,' but like, for the first time since Annabeth and I got out of the Pit, my lungs felt like they were functioning at 100 percent, as if someone had changed them for new ones while I was sleeping.

Because after Tartarus, both Annabeth and I were left quite damaged, so much so that on the worst days of New York's polluted air, it was like feeling knives entering our lungs. Even with all the magical help, Apollo's care, several liters of ambrosia and nectar, we never fully healed... and there were often days when the smog mercilessly squeezed our chests.

But now… there was no pain, or no burning, and no tightness when breathing... Just pure, cold, soft, clean oxygen... well, as clean as it gets in the Big Apple.

Obviously, I frowned because this was strange, though welcome and not enough to scare me yet. After all, I've seen stranger things before breakfast.

I stood up, staggering a little, both from confusion and because my body felt… lighter, faster. As if something inside me was perfectly calibrated, every movement was fluid, effortless.

And I didn't even notice I'd taken four steps before I stopped and thought, "Do I always move this fast in the morning?"

Spoiler... NO.

It was also when I realized that I hadn't turned on any lights, the curtains were drawn preventing any light from entering through the window, and although my bedroom wasn't completely dark, my eyes had no problem seeing, it was as if it were completely illuminated.

What had previously been a slightly dark room at that time of day due to the thick curtains now had layers, tones, and depths. I could even make out faint specks of dust floating in the air, and that's when I noticed... the air.

A current as gentle as a breeze nymph's breath brushed my cheek. The curtain in my room moved barely an half-inch, but I felt it like a wave.

I stopped where I was and closed my eyes, then inhaled trying to focus to think about these small details, but instead I could feel it.

A small spider was walking on the wall, five meters away from me.

Don't ask me how I knew, I just knew... as if my brain was suddenly able to register everything happening in the room without having to look... as if my senses had expanded like a real-time 3D map.

Then came the accident with the washbasin...

I just walked into the bathroom, still processing what was happening and that strange tingling sensation running through my brain, which I took a while to realize, I admit. Then I turned on the faucet to rinse my face, the water was cold, but it didn't bother me, so I leaned over to splash it on my face.

It was then that, by reflex, I placed my hands on the edge of the washbasin... nothing out of the ordinary... until the washbasin broke.

Not a single crack, not a single squeak… it was completely broken.

The marble cracked with a sharp CRACK, as if someone had dropped an anvil on it. Shards fell to the floor, and the faucet came loose and began spraying water in all directions.

"What the Hades?!" I exclaimed, taking a step back before freezing the water, so that no more would come out.

Then I looked at my hands and realized they weren't bleeding, or bruised, and that wasn't my imagination either, but the fingers seemed... different... slightly thinner, and they were also about a third to a half inch longer.

But my eyes continued to scan the rest of my arms, and I noticed they were more defined, like they'd been before Hera kidnapped me; as if I'd been doing an intensive weight training routine for weeks without having the health issues I'd had for months.

Then I suddenly took off my shirt, with urgency because I didn't understand what had happened to me and I stood in front of the mirror and was in shock.

The muscle definition in my body was better, not just a little better than it had been in the past few months, but BETTER, as if I had regained what I had before falling into the Pit and had improved it. My arms, chest, abdomen, everything was firmer, stronger, but not only that, I looked… more symmetrical.

As if something had optimized my body to an almost unnatural level an my reflection flashed with me.

“This isn't normal” I said, but my voice sound clearer and former, not the hoarseness I’d had for months and thought would never go away.

Then I realized that the spider I'd felt on the wall earlier was there, looking at me. Well, probably not looking at me, but now I could feel it moving, the faint tap-tap of its little legs, like someone drumming their fingers on a table, even if that someone was three rooms away.

I didn't know what to do, other than lift the tap and squeeze the hand with the tap in my palm just to see if it had also regained the strength it had before, but it was more than that, the metal was crushed as if it were paper.

My heart was racing, not out of fear, but rather out of confusion, while my body felt energized and strong like I didn't think I'd ever feel again unless I was underwater. As if my body had shed the damage it had accumulated and yet improved.

And that's when I understood... they were not normal dreams.... It was not just any spider bite...

That spider had done something to me.

I didn't know if I should be scared or excited, because it wasn't the first time something strange had happened to me without warning me first, but it was something that wasn't divine or unless some of the scientists at the university weren't a normal human and were experimenting with magic, but I doubted that was it.

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom they belong

Chapter Text

I don't own Percy Jackson, it belongs to Rick Riordan and Vampire Diaries belongs to , as well as any other items that appear here, credits to their respective creators

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

"Characters speaking"

"Character thinking"

"{Characters speaking in another language}"

::::::::::::::::::::::

Well, I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so I wrote it down, but it's about how Percy could end up in the whole mess of Mystic Falls, having to face vampires, werewolves and other beings from The Vampire Diaries and the Originals

To summarize, the gods know about all these beings, most of them didn't pay attention to them, but with the increasing number of vampires, they are becoming a big problem, so they give several demigods the task of eliminating them.

So far, the idea is short, just parts 1 and 2, but maybe I'll add more in the future, but not soon.

I made Percy a son of Neptune, to remove some of the traumas he has in canon, like his trip to Tartarus, and to give him a more combative, warrior-like or soldier-like mentality when dealing with threats.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Growing up and living within the Legion had its advantages, but there were more disadvantages than advantages in the opinion of the son of the sea, and that isn't counting those that come with the equally ridiculous and absurd superstitions, as well as the quasi-institutional paranoia that the Romans showed towards the children of Neptune.

Because spending entire generations isolated in that small town they proudly called the 'city of New Rome' had come at a price.

For over a century and a half, the Roman side of the descendants of the gods remained distant from the rest of world, convinced that their way of life was more than enough, and almost closed off if it weren't for the demigods who occasionally joined the legion because they're born into the society of mortals.

In a way, they're right... as long as they never left their borders and the number of Romans remained below 4,000 or slightly above.

But the consequence of this was evident, most of the legionaries were dangerously disconnected from the rest of the world, especially the legacies, having been born and raised within the legion, but they're almost 90% of the population of New Rome.

They didn't know how to use a modern cell phone, although to be fair, half-bloods couldn't use modern technology without risk, but the televisions they used looked like they're from the 50s or early 60s, while the Greeks had TVs from the late 90s or early 2000s... if no one counts the televisions that the children of Hermes steal and secretly sell to other demigods.

But the Romans' ignorance was so great that when someone talked about simple pop culture things, most of them thought it was some kind of superstition of the mortals or one of the chaotic creations of the Greek demigods.

Except for the son of Neptune, the number of missions the Romans had undertaken in the last decade could be counted on the fingers of both hands. And in most cases, while carrying out these quests, they had been made to look ridiculous for their ignorance of the modern world, so they preferred not to talk about it or to alter that part in the reports or histories they gave.

It's almost a miracle that the few legacies who went on those missions didn't marvel at the sight of an automatic door in a supermarket, as if modern technology were a blessing from Vulcan himself.

So it was no surprise to several of the Greek demigods, and perhaps anyone living outside of New Rome, that more than half of the legionaries looked like they had been living under a rock for the past 20 or 30 years.

At least Percy Jackson and the other demigods who came from outside like Reyna and Frank, were the exception, especially Jackson because for years he's sent alone on supposed 'missions for the glory of New Rome', which in reality were nothing more than poorly disguised attempts by the Roman Council to get rid of him.

A son of the sea, for many, remained a bad omen… a threat to New Rome.

No matter how much he fought for them, or how many times he put his life on the line, for the more traditional or imbecile in his opinion, his existence was a mistake that shouldn't be prolonged any longer than necessary, although they didn't dare risk angering Neptune by killing Jackson outright.

Ironically, those missions were what ended up making the son of the sea stronger, because in a way getting to know the real world, walking through human cities where monsters roamed, and interacting with mortals, it's like his own version of the life of a Greek demigod.

But also because Jackson is more connected to the modern world than the rest and at the same time more distant from the Legion itself, it wasn't difficult to decide to go live with the Greeks in their camp since the fight with the giants and Gaea ended.

Of course, Camp Half-Blood was different and by no means perfect… in fact, they were in chaos most of the time, but they weren't as disconnected from the world as the Romans are.

Yes, their lives might have been shorter because they only had the camp as a safe haven and didn't live there permanently, or because they only had about one-fifteenth the population of New Rome. But they made up for it with ingenuity and adaptability, and they grew stronger from the challenge of their lives... something the Romans had long forgotten.

Moreover, almost any Greek demigod alone could accomplish what ten organized legionaries could barely attempt.

So living and training with the Greeks, free from the strict rules of the Legion and constant judgments based on ridiculous or stupid superstitions, not only gave Percy a new perspective, but made him stronger.

There he learned to better control his abilities, to use them with greater freedom and precision. He even began to experiment with aspects of his power that he had previously avoided so as not to frighten or provoke other Romans and end up in more trouble.

Water was no longer just a weapon or a shield he used from time to time; it was undoubtedly a part of him, an extension of his will, like a second skin. Although he still retained some of the essence of a legionnaire, such as the discipline to train, he no longer felt like one… and in a way, it was no surprise that, weeks before his nineteenth birthday, Olympus called him on a mission.

The summons was direct, almost urgent, but it wasn't about something like the possible end of the world. This time, the gods weren't talking about a great prophecy, or about the fall of the world as they knew it, or about Olympus being at risk.

Instead, Percy, along with over a dozen veteran Greek demigods, the most experienced of the camp like his half-sister Andromeda, Annabeth Clarisse, Travis, Connor, Chris, and others, had been summoned for a different mission.

One more... unusual.

"To sum up, there are many more werewolves" Hermes told them in a serious tone, unusually serious for Mercury's Greek personality, who is usually much more relaxed and joking "Many more than those that belong to our pantheon"

Percy frowned, exchanging a glance with Andromeda and the others, where he was the only Roman half-blood present, but it was his sister who spoke on behalf of the demigods.

"More? How more?!" she asked, interrupting the messenger from Olympus

"I thought all werewolves came from Lycaon or Lupa's pack," Annabeth added, in a sign of solidarity with her girlfriend who had earned a look from her mother and Zeus.

But the king of Olympus was the next to speak "Not all... There are other races, other curses... that do not belong to our world"

Although when the god of lightning said that he looked at the children of the sea and the daughter of Athena, and these three had the feeling that Zeus knew about the encounters they had with the Egyptians and the Nordics.

"But they've mostly been hidden, scattered in small communities, mostly in both Europe and North America. But they're not like Lupa's or Lycaon's wolves… they're weaker, yes, but also more unpredictable"

What followed was a lesson none of the demigods expected to receive, and before long they could already feel the headache or pain in their ass they would have in the coming days and weeks.

Because the members of Camp Half-Blood learned that there were werewolves who were not linked to either Lycaon or the goddess Lupa, but that their existence arose from an ancient curse cast by a powerful human witch more than a thousand years ago, roughly fifteen hundred years ago.

These werewolves were not immortal like the common monsters that some of the demigods faced almost once a week or every two weeks, nor did they reform in Tartarus upon death; if they fell in battle, died of old age or in some other way, their souls went to the Underworld, where they were judged like any mortal soul.

They lived in small clans, in isolated and often hidden communities, and had been escaping mortal sight for hundreds of years, but they were not alone.

"There are human witches too," Athena added, her sharp gaze sweeping over the group of demigods.

Although not everyone was as surprised or curious about that information as they were about the werewolves. Such was the case with Jackson, his sister, and Annabeth, who knew about it because less than a year ago they had to guard Hecate's mansion so Andromeda could get one of the letters of recommendation and they heard some things like that.

But the ancient patron goddess of Athens continued speaking "These witches and some men who have mastered magic without depending on the gods or learning from one, and they've also lived in secret for generations, but have been disconnected from the divine world for millennia"

Although the gods were vague with their explanations, the more they listened, the less the demigods liked it, because it seemed to them that once again the gods were letting problems grow under their noses, but they tried to pretend that this was not the case, even though they would send their children to solve the problems again.

And as always, they tried to act as if it weren't like that, even though it was obvious that once again it was their children's turn to solve the problems.

"And although many of them are long-standing descendants of the children of some god or goddess associated with magic, a mortal or demigod blessed with magic during the golden years of Greece or the early centuries of Rome, they no longer even possess 'the clear vision' or a shred of divinity"

"So they're weak?" Clarisse snapped with her typical bluntness, not bothering to measure her tone. Her comment earned her a withering look from Athena, who barely concealed her contempt, as well as an amused smile from Ares, proud of his daughter's tactlessness in interrupting Athena.

"That's how it should be, but…" a firm, feminine voice responded from the silver throne, but it wasn't Artemis who spoke… but Diana, her Roman aspect.

Percy noticed it immediately by the change in posture and the intensity of her gaze, before her appearance from a 13-year-old girl changed to that of a 20-year-old woman, as well as her clothing of blue jeans and silver jacket changed to camouflage clothing suitable for the forest.

Furthermore, at that moment Jackson remembered that unlike her Greek side, Diana was connected to witches and magic, and that part of her cult has survived to this day.

"However, over the centuries, many of those witches have learned not to lose their magic with the passage of time and each generation. Some retained most of the power each generation should lose through rituals or other means… and quite a few found ways to become even a little stronger"

An awkward silence followed that revelation from the demigods, who expected that the magic of most of the first generations of these witches was not at the level of a child of Hecate or a student of that goddess's school.

"Great/fantastic..." However, both Percy and Andromeda murmured in unison with their voices full of sarcasm.

The tone was so identical that several present, including the gods themselves, exchanged glances or cast flat glances at the children of the sea, although Clarisse let out a nasal laugh, which she had to control quickly.

"Well?... What's really the problem? Andromeda interjected, crossing her arms as she looked at the gods with a frown. "Do we have to take away their magic?, Cure werewolves? Destroy their source of power, the books with the instructions of their rituals or what? "

Percy glanced at her, he didn't need a mental connection to know what was going through his half-sister's head.

Andromeda didn't want to kill them, even if they were witches who did whatever they wanted, nor cursed werewolves, because with the explanation given, to Andromeda they were still human... and that was enough to make her conscience knot up at taking the life of a mortal.

However, Percy didn't share that dilemma because the son of Neptune had learned, out of necessity, that sometimes the line between what was human and what was monstrous blurred.

The years he spent on solitary quests as a teenager on supposed missions given to him by the New Rome council, surviving the divine and several times also the human, had made him more realistic to the harshness of the world despite how 21st-century society pretends to be

Because of this, Jackson had learned to make tough decisions without hesitation, without looking back. He wasn't insensitive, he was just... practical... If something threatened or was a danger to him, his friends, and those he considered family, then he had to do what was necessary.

He wouldn't stop to complain about getting his hands dirty... he didn't believe in the current mortal rules and perceptions of life, death, or taking justice into one's own hands. Though perhaps part of that way of thinking was Neptune's more military nature.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If you like it, comment and vote in favor, criticism helps me improve.

I don't own the images, gifs and/or videos, credits to whom them may concern

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, and Pacific Rim, it belongs to Legendary Pictures and Warner Bros. Pictures, as well as any other element of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom appropriate.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Thoughts"

"Speaking"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This fic along with others were among the first I wrote, but I'm just publishing it now and I still have to publish the others.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The icy curls of the San Francisco fog enveloped Percy like a shroud, as he gazed at the horizon through the fog that obscured the view from the famous Golden Gate Bridge, far better than any human.

He had thought that finally being able to return to normal, or rather as normal as the life of a demigod could be, would repair the invisible fissures that had fractured their relationship. But the normalcy of mortals, as much as he wanted to deny it, often felt as strange to him as the bottom of the ocean, a place he had come to know much more in the past two years, but could never truly call his home.

The son of the sea met his half-sisters a few weeks after Gaea's defeat, when he was summoned to Atlantis by a brusque message from his father Poseidon, delivered by none other than Tyson, who cried tears of joy and relief upon seeing him with life.

Atlantis had been… overwhelming this time. The gleaming coral palaces, the fast chariots pulled by elegant seahorses, the ever-changing landscape that could transform into terrifying trenches or impressive sea gardens at the whim of the sea gods. Even Triton, his older half-brother, who had been somewhat hostile the only time he had met him, had greeted him with a curt nod and murmured, "You're not dead. Father will be pleased."

But it was his sisters who surprised him. Herophile, with her quick wit and even quicker swordsmanship, had delighted him with stories of her underwater adventures. Benthesikyme, quiet and contemplative, had given him a book of ancient seafaring traditions, the pages of which were filled with her elegant calligraphy of the Atlantean language. And Kymopoleia, who had once threatened to turn him into a dolphin snack, looked at him with a flash of respect.

However, it was Rhode who saw through his forced smiles and carefully constructed façade of normalcy. He hadn't realized that she was watching him, that his every move, every muttered word, was analyzed by her sharp, knowledgeable eyes.

"You and Athena's daughter..." she appeared to him one day and had said that after having watched him for a few weeks or months without his knowledge, without his usual playful tone in her voice, "are drowning each other."

He didn't understand exactly what she meant, but he bristled and was about to reply, but she stopped him by raising her hand.

"You confuse dependence with love," she continued, in a softer voice. "They clung to each other in Tartarus not only because of how they feel about each other, but also because it was a matter of surviving or being consumed. But on the surface," she gestured around them "You need air to breathe. You need space to heal"

....

....

Percy hated that she was right. They had become each other's lifeline, but now that lifeline threatened to strangle them both.

Convincing Annabeth had been an Olympian effort in itself, requiring all of Rhode's considerable help and diplomacy, as well as a good dose of divine persuasion that Rhode somehow had over Athena. In the end, Annabeth agreed, but her gray eyes reflected the fear and suffering Rhode knew they had.

While he was in Atlantis regularly, thanks to Rhode also keeping an eye on Annabeth, he learned that Athena had Dionysus heal her daughter's mind, or rather as much as he could, the imprint of Tartarus was not something that even the god of madness could easily eliminate or completely.

Even though it was for the good of both of them, he missed Annabeth terribly. He missed her high-pitched laugh, her fierce intelligence, the way she could always see through his nonsense and catch his attention. But Rhode was right...

They needed this separation, this time to heal the wounds that were deeper than any sword could reach.

On the other hand, Rhode and the rest of his sisters, in addition to getting him to talk about his suffering, had helped him release the anger, fury and pain he had in the depths of the Ocean where no one was at risk and sometimes against sea monsters that threatened the inhabitants of the sea.

His sisters not only helped him heal, but also helped him better understand his power, the gifts he inherited from Poseidon. Although Kymopoleia now seemed to be the sister who wanted to spend the most time with him because the power he inherited from Poseidon was very similar to hers.

But now 3 years after Gaia's defeat, Rhode thought that both of them were well enough to see each other once again. Percy intended to surprise Annabeth who had joined New Rome University two years ago while he continued visiting Atlantis to heal and better understand his power.

Only now that he was on the San Francisco bridge thinking about all this while leaning with his back against the railing and the fence on one side of the bridge where mortals can pass, whether they are tourists or residents of San Francisco, and he was also remembering the last words his sister said to him "Time changes mortals and demigods much faster than gods can, Percy. It won't be the Annabeth you haven't seen in over two years... but she'll still be Annabeth"

"You seem more knowledgeable than her" Percy said out loud as he closed his eyes and thought that his sister was has more wisdom than Aphrodite, since Rhode was not only a goddess of the sea, she was also the goddess of love for the Atlanteans, which is why mortals assumed she was the daughter of Aphrodite when the gods still lived in Greece. Rhodes was right, Annabeth won't be the same girl who was just as broken as him, but like him, she had recovered. (1)

Percy could almost hear Rhode's voice, suffused with her strange mix of wisdom and mischief "Love isn't about need, brother. It's about choosing. Every day, you choose each other. But first, you have to choose themselves."

Percy snorted with a smile as he continued his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze that hit his face, bringing with it the salty smell of the sea.

But his calm only lasted a few more moments before a chill ran down his spine, an unmistakable sensation that crept up the back of his neck and made his skin crawl. It was not the pleasant cold of the sea breeze, but his innate fighting instincts, instincts of being a demigod that had saved his life countless times.

There was a monster nearby.

Percy's eyes snapped open, and instinctively his hand reached for his trusty pen-shaped sword in his pocket. He scanned the bridge, quickly monitoring his own heartbeat. Tourists and San Franciscans swarmed around, oblivious to the danger lurking unseen. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, no telltale gleam of a monster in disguise, no eerie gleam in anyone's eyes.

He closed his eyes again and focused on the sensations swirling inside him. The sea breeze had changed and now carried with it a sense of danger that resonated deep within him. It didn't come from the bridge, but from the bay. Sally Jackson's son concentrated and let his senses be guided by the flow of the water under the bridge, thanks to the ancient connection he shared with the sea...

And then he felt it.

An immense being that moved under the surface of the water towards the bridge. It was something colossal, something that made his hair stand on end. This wasn't a sea monster like the ones he fought during his time in his father's kingdom or the ones his sisters told him about... It was something different, something more.

But he's not the same Percy Jackson from three years ago either...

He could almost see what the monster looked like in his mind, he could distinguish its silhouette, its appearance, so he concentrated more, as his sisters had taught him to really connect with the sea and the ocean, to see it better.

Because the monster was in the sea, Riptide probably wouldn't be much help in this case, but his hand remained in his pocket and his fingers closed around the familiar shape of his pen-sword out of habit.

"What is this?" he said to himself, his voice lost in the wind, but attracted the attention of passers-by who passed very close to him, who looked at him for a second or two before continuing on his way

He opened his eyes and turned to look at the water, which now seemed darker, almost black in places. He paid close attention, looking for and feeling any signs of movement, any changes in the rhythm of the water that would give away what the creature was going to do.

But then it moved and Percy barely heard the sound of a guttural growl, like the horribly distorted song of a whale when the bridge shook. Making him lose his balance a little and scaring the mortals on the bridge that shook.

Suddenly, the water burst out, as the creature came out of the water.

"By the gods" Percy murmured when he finally saw the appearance of monsters. As he had sensed, thanks to the water, the creature was about 90 meters tall, but the son of the sea could not observe more closely when the monster let out a roar that shook the air.

"GGGGGRRRRRR!"

Panic soon broke out among the crowd, breaking most of the mortals out of their shock and amazement. People screamed and scattered, trying to get off the bridge as quickly as possible and get away from the monster.

Percy instead felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. He had already faced monsters since he was 12 years old and many sea monsters in the last two years, but the visibility of this one... Why could mortals see it?...

The Mist covered the most dangerous monsters in the mythological world, it even covered Typhon when he escaped and the gods confronted it... And yet, there they were, watching in horror as this monster from the deep prepared to launch its catastrophic attack on the bridge.

With adrenaline pumping through him, Percy called upon the power of the water flowing beneath and around him. Now he doesn't even need to raise his hands, he just needed to channel his intention for the waters to respond. Giant hands formed from the water, roaring as they leapt towards the monstrous creature.

Giant hands formed from the water, quickly rising and growing towards the monstrous creature. But Percy's heart raced as he heard screams that were still nearby. He turned his head to see…

It was a boy, no more than ten years old, he was frozen in place, eyes wide as he pointed at the creature above. “Monster! Monster! "It's a monster!" he shouted, grabbing his petrified mother's leg like many more people who were still on the bridge.

"What are you waiting for?! Run! Percy gave a loud shout that took out the woman and many more petrified people, who quickly began to escape like the rest of the humans who beat them

Now seeing that people were moving away he could focus better on the monster. The giant hands of water that held the creature, , were supported by enormous tentacles of water that wrapped around the monster's arms and neck, pulling it further away from the bridge.

"GGGGGRRRRRR!"

The monster roared and writhed trying to break free, but the water under the son of the sea's control contorted and pulled harder, but still, the creature struggled against its bonds, bellowing in anger and pain.

"GGGGGRRRRRR!"

A fleeting thought crossed Percy's mind, thanks to the time he spent with Kym, he knew what to do. Being also a child of the storm Percy's eyes flashed and storm clouds quickly formed over the creature, with the winds blowing away the fog, Jackson had to raise a hand to reinforce his grip against the monster.

Many more tons of water rose to envelop the monster's body.

"I hope the thunder-face is not angry about this," the son of Poseidon thought out loud absently before numerous and powerful lightning bolts from the storm clouds fell on the monster incessantly.

The roars of the monster were not long in coming

But Percy did not stop, he raised his other hand to further reaffirm his authority over the sea and the storms while a large bubble of water emerged from the water under the bridge that had lowered the height level and quickly rose into the air towards him, until he was engulfed before raising him into the air while giving him even more momentum in his power that could be seen in the water that held the monster more firmly and the amount of lightning that fell from the storm clouds increased...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

About Percy and Annabeth, it was to give Percy a little more boost/enhancement/control on his powers

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I do not own the images, credits to whomever they belong

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson to Rick Riordan, as well as any other elements of any other work, creation that appears, credits to whom it may concern

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Thoughts"

"Speaking"

"{Speaking in another language}"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The metallic sound of metal against metal echoed through the arena of Camp Half-Blood. Percy Jackson, a twenty-year-old demigod and a skill that could only be achieved by fighting against a large number of mythological monsters and power in abundance, stopped a clumsy thrust from a fourteen-year-old daughter of Hermes.

"You must be faster!" Percy said, disarming the girl with a blow of Anaklusmos "And remember what I told you about footwork. You're everywhere like a satyr in a tin shop"

Hermes's daughter blushed before she said, "I'm sorry, Percy. I let myself go a little"

Percy chuckled before saying, "Getting a little excited is fine, but getting excited in a controlled way. Think of it like surfing, you have to surf the wave, not get carried away by it" These were the words of the son of the sea who, although he had only tried surfing two or three times in his life because Piper dragged him and the other seven of them to the beach a couple of times during the last three years, was a natural at it. But Percy patted the young demigoddess on the shoulder before addressing the whole class. "Well, that's all for today, guys! Remember, practice when you can and don't let your guard down"

The next thing that happened was a chorus of similar responses after those words

"Thanks, Percy!"

"Yes, Percy"

"Sure, Percy"

Jackson stood there as the young demigods dispersed, radiating their enthusiasm like the heat of a forge as Percy watched them depart with a faint smile on his lips. He never thought he would come to enjoy teaching sword fighting as he does now, even if only during a few of his visits to the camp, it was nice to pass on some of the wisdom he had so painstakingly gained (and which for the most part he obtained by fighting monsters) over the years.

The end-of-year holidays had just begun, and most of the campers who don't stay the full year at camp were returning home, eager to swap out the new manuals created on Greco-Roman monsters for the various festivities and their celestial bronze weapons by the magical telephones that Hephaestus had begun to create with the help of several cyclops who work for him or who are part of Atlantis, which they had begun to create 6 months ago when the gods of the Olympian council finally agreed that it would be an easier way to keep the half-bloods and satyrs in communication, because it is sometimes very difficult to resort to a Iris message. (Note 1)

However Percy would stay a few more days at the camp before going home, Athena's children were designing new additions to the camp's defenses, and he thought he could offer his... unique... perspective. In addition, he missed the smell of camp pines and the constant threat of being ambushed by a stray hellhound.

But as it emerged from the arena, the air vibrated with a strange energy. It wasn't the typical buzz of energy caused by a demigod, the kind that made your hair stand on end when a demigod is playing a magic joke, an elaborate joke if he's a son of Hermes, or when Zeus is particularly prone to throwing one of his tantrums.

This was... different, but it smells vaguely like burnt ozone and... lavender?

He followed that trail of smell that took him out of the main area of the camp and into the forest until he reached bunker 9 of the camp, when he entered the sight that greeted him left him speechless and confused. (Note 2)

A chaotic scene unfolded before him, the sons of Hephaestus, covered in soot and holding blowtorches as they ran around a gleaming metallic arch that crackled with blue energy. Among them were some of the students of the Hecate school that reopened two years ago after he did a 'job' for the goddess, demigods with stronger magical inclinations than the rest, chanting in ancient Greek, Etruscan and ancient Latin at full speed, plus they were waving their hands that glowed with purple light, while they were guided by the children of the goddess herself, with Lou Ellen at the head.

There were also thick bronze wires that were haphazardly welded to ancient Greek symbols etched into the metal of the metal arch, and the air was permeated with the combination of metal smells, magic, and absolute chaos.

At the center of it all, Leo Valdez, with a manic smile and a half-climbed welding mask, shouting orders like a drill sergeant who consumed too much coffee and several energizers.

"More power to the flux capacitor!" I need more flow! And someone get me a screwdriver! A sonic screwdriver! No, wait, that's from Doctor Who. Forget it, a normal one!"

Percy moved closer, raising his eyebrows more and more. "Leo? What the Hades is going on here?" Jackson asked as he approached Hephaestus' son

Leo tore off his mask, revealing a face stained with grease and full of enthusiasm. "Percy!" Friend! You have to see this! We're sweeping away inter-camp travel!"

"Inter-camp travel?" Percy repeated, his voice full of scepticism and confusion. Do you mean something like... a bus?"

"No, uncle! I'm talking about a portal!" Leo pointed dramatically at the gleaming arch "Think of Stargate mixed with... well, probably Stargate again, because it's the only portal movie I can think of right now. But you get the point! No more road trips to Camp Jupiter, infested with monsters! Just go in and BAM! You're in Nueva Roma, ready to eat ice cream and have Reyna yell at you"

Percy stared at the artifact, it looked like something out of a fantasy movie directed by a cyborg addicted to caffeine. "Are you trying to build a... portal?... To Camp Jupiter?

"Exactly!" Leo clenched his fist and raised it. "Think about the implications, Percy! No more stressful road trips dodging cyclops! Immediate access to Roman training techniques! And best of all," Leo paused as if to add more drama, "IT'S OVER THAT THE ROMANS KEEP TRYING TO MAKE US BELIEVE THAT THEY'RE BETTER THAN THE GREEKS!"

Percy folded his arms, looking bewildered. "And do you think it's a good idea?" asked Poseidon's son and he had good reason to worry about it "A group of demigods, manipulating things they barely understand, creating something that connects two of the groups of demigods on both ends of the country?" Percy knew about the Norse and the Egyptians, and the last thing he wanted was for the camp members to create a portal that leads to one of their realms or territories by mistake.

"Hey, we're not just doing experiments," Leo protested. "We are innovating! We're pushing the boundaries of demi-god technology!" Percy was going to ask where he got that term from or when Leo invented it, but the demigod of Latin descent kept talking. "Besides, we have great magical power behind us." Leo pointed to a group of Hecate students who were arguing among themselves about the proper spell to stabilize a rift in space

One of the students, a girl with bright purple hair and a question mark-shaped nose piercing, looked up and caught Percy's gaze. "It's totally safe," she said in a voice overflowing with sarcasm. "We've only had about three minor explosions and an incident with a rebellious garden gnome."

Percy sighed. "A  rebellious garden gnome?... "You brought a garden gnome to life? Seriously?" Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, then said, "I don't want to know."

"Hey, don't criticize the gnome incident!" Leo said defensively. "It turns out that garden gnomes are surprisingly resistant to magic explosions. And they get really angry when you try to throw them out the portal"

Percy massaged his temples, this was exactly the kind of improvised plan he expected from Camp Half-Blood if a son of Hermes is behind it or someone like Valdez. Jackson appreciated the... ambition and a desire to make things easier for the rest of the demigods, the new Waystations were a good example, but he also knew that the combination of demigods, unchecked power, and rather questionable engineering skills was a recipe for disaster.

Seriously, it seemed that since the war against the giants and Gaia ended, the demigods, specifically the Greek side, seemed to have too much free time on their hands and to have been infected by Leo's particular way of thinking. The computers Hephaestus had sent to his children, with which they could watch movies, did not help, and his children seemed to draw TOO much inspiration from science fiction, magic, and supernatural movies.

"Well, look," said the son of Poseidon, and he was personally surprised to be the voice of reason. "I appreciate the... enthusiasm... But Leo, have you forgotten that most Romans, even though they know I was possessed when you attacked New Roman, haven't forgiven you?, Or that they are obsessed with traditions... very ancient?"

"Minor details," said the Latin, waving his hand and dismissing the subject, so Percy tried another approach

"Have you considered the possible risks? What if this portal collapses halfway through? What if something... more... If it ends up sending you or someone else to a den of monsters?, evil versions of ourselves?, or interdimensional zombies?" Percy may have said the last parts with sarcasm and exaggeration, but he didn't care considering that either way and even if he was not a scholar of magic or magic forge, it was somewhat risky to create a portal that would take you elsewhere

"We've thought of everything!" Leo insisted. "We have security systems, emergency protocols, and a lot of adhesive tape!"

Poseidon's son blinked at the last part said by the other demigod before looking at Hephaestus' son with a dry, unimpressed look, who had pulled out an electrical tape and an adhesive tape in his other hand as an example. "Adhesive tape?"

"It fixes everything!" Leo declared, "From broken automatons to interdimensional cracks!"

Percy kept staring at him unconvinced before looking at the gleaming arc of energy and power, which seemed to be getting more and more unstable, sparks were flying, chants were getting louder to control it, and the smell of ozone was intensifying.

"Leo... How much coffee did you drink today?" asked the son of the seas quite seriously

"HEY!"

"Well, that's it," said the savior of Olympus, stepping forward. "I'm going to end this"

"Hold on, hold on for a moment!" Leo protested, grabbing the arm of the son of the sea and planting his feet on the ground as hard as he could to try to prevent the Jackson from moving, although that didn't make much difference because Poseidon's son pulled his arm along with Hephaestus' son without any problem "We're almost done! Just a few more tweaks and the portal is ready!"

"Ready for what?" replied Percy, almost letting out a growl. "Ready to accidentally summon a horde of interdimensional squirrels mounted on miniature battle tanks?"

Suddenly, the bow pulsed with a bright light and the demigods with qualities for magic increased their chants trying to control it, and the air crackled with such energy that Percy's hair stood on end.

"Oh," Leo said, his eyes widening. "That doesn't look good."

Before Percy could react or zap Leo in the head, a figure staggered out of the portal. He was not a Roman legionary, nor a mystical creature, nor even a homicidal garden gnome. It's...

"Chiron?" Percy exclaimed, looking incredulously at the centaur, who now blinked in confusion at the assembled demigods and had his body covered by something.

The centaur who was usually impeccably dressed in his wheelchair (disguised as a human from the waist down, of course), was covered in soot and something else, his normally well-trimmed beard, was singed and looked completely bewildered.

"Percy?... Leo?... What the Chaos is going on here?" he asked hoarsely. "And why am I covered in... is this... marshmallow fluff?"

Leo looked embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck while the other demigods suddenly found anything else inside Bunker 9 interesting "Well, you see, Chiron... we were trying to build a portal to Camp Jupiter..."

Chiron's eyebrows rose so high that they almost disappeared into the hairline. "Were you trying to build... A portal? Without consulting me? Without consulting anyone?—

Before Leo could answer, a muffled voice came from behind the arch.

"Is it safe to go through? I think I swallowed a spark plug!"

Another figure emerged from the portal. This time, it was Argos, the camp's security guard, his hundred eyes blinking in a dizzying range and he was also covered in marshmallow fluff and soot.

The portal flickered, sputtered, and then, with a final burst of light and a loud BANG, collapsed, leaving behind a pile of smoldering, shattered metal, along with a lingering smell of ozone and burnt marshmallow.

Percy stared at the scene, then looked at Leo, then looked back at Chiron and Argos, who were still trying to get the marshmallow fluff out of their hair and eyes in Argos' case.

Jackson couldn't help himself and started laughing.

It was the kind of laughter that came from deep within, a mixture of relief, exasperation mixed with pure, unadulterated amusement.

"Well..." she said, wiping away her tears "... it turned out just as I expected."

Leo, ignoring the comment of the green-eyed demigod, looking somewhat chastened by Chiron's gaze, smiled shyly. "So... maybe we should work on those aspects?"

Chiron sighed, a sound that could have moved mountains. "Indeed, Leo... Perhaps we should start with a thorough risk assessment... And maybe... just maybe... leave the creation of the portals to professionals."

As Chiron began to lecture Leo and the rest as soon as he realized that some were trying to discreetly leave the bunker about the dangers of uncontrolled initiative to create things and the importance of proper safety protocols, Percy leaned against a nearby workbench, shaking his head and still laughing lightly.

Camp Half Blood... There's never a dull moment.

And always, always, a story to tell, though Percy only hoped that the next one wouldn't involve any rogue garden gnome, or marshmallow fluff.

—|—|—|—|—

Note 1:

The demigods are not supposed to be able to use modern technology, but when Leo arrives at Hephaestus' hut for the first time part of the hut seems to be described as somewhat futuristic or at least with modern technology, but adapted by the sons of Hephaestus, so for this, several changes have occurred since the war against the giants, where now some demigods have telephones and computers that look a bit like Daedalus's.

Note 2:

Throughout the PJ books, especially during the first saga, Percy seems to have a better sense of smell than most because he repeatedly gives descriptions about what he smells

—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—|—

If you liked it, comment and vote in favor, the review helps to improve.

I don't own the images, credits to whom they belong