Demon amidst Gods

Chapter 1:

Dawn approached. Glimmering, orange rays of light enveloped the horizon. The sun, a raging red, peaked above the surface, its ascension lifting the darkness that coated the dead, barren fields. The land that was once smug of its luscious greenery yet now rotted in its bleak state. A vast expanse of rough hills with nought but yellow covering them-not a single tree in sight; not a single sign of life. Amidst the dishevelled landscape, a hill stood, shadowing its much smaller relatives. Past that hill lied a beach.

Hope.

Running from monsters from the crack of dawn to the coming of dusk would tire any mere demigod. Kariya however was not any mere demigod. In fact, he had no godly parenthood at all. A half demon. Demon... He was very fond of the name. Demon was a fitting name for one that craved bloodshed. Born of a monster, it was not very surprising. A mythological monster- his mother. A shame she disappeared after his birth. No memories of a mother.

Kariya had never known love- be it motherly or through friendship. His power-crazed father pitied him; the half-blood had survived through the minimal that was necessary for a human. A ghost of a smile became visible on his pale face, the shame of sustaining one's life through the pity of an embarrassed father. He hated it. He hated his father; the regret of not killing the man himself always frustrated him. The man that had continuously revived the thoughts of Kariya being nothing but a vile beast, fit to be hunted down by his men.

Kariya was not what most would recognize as a handsome man. He had (what he acknowledged to be) beautiful eyes, though they may be mismatched- the right dark blue and the other devilish silver, with a black, vertical slit going through the middle: fitting, in perfect harmony, with his nickname. Grey hair capped his head, thick locks obscured parts of his eyes, and deluded people of his young age, only a ripe 17. He wore a dark blue hoodie, a white stripe tracing along the middle of his sleeves and the hood covering over half of his head; Kariya wore dishevelled trousers as black as night, close to becoming purple.

Running from monsters was the only way he could survive. Fighting one monster usually attracted many others and before you know it the battlefield is thronged with monsters with undying lust to kill the traitor. When he escaped the mansion, he had stolen his father's most prized possession: a beautiful black rapier that no one was permitted to use. 'A gift from your mother' he had said to Kariya. A long, approximately 50 inches, slender sword with the blade as dark as obsidian, and the complex hilt a bright silver. Unlike most rapiers, though you could not visually see it, one side of the blade was very sharp; sharp enough to slice a man to ribbons. Kariya had been trained, along with his brothers, in the art of fencing by professionals from across the world. His father had intended to train only his other sons but a promise he had made to Kariya's mother had made him train the half blood also, with obvious trepidation of course. It was the only thing that he had enjoyed, fencing. He had mastered it to such a level as to call himself a prodigy, surpassing, both, his mentors and his father.

Now, Kariya needed to enter the camp.

As he began to continue across the dead grass, gentle, but strong, hands wrapped him in a hug, from behind. In this position, he could not reach for his sword which was strapped, diagonally, across his back. He panicked. He had been caught off guard. Kariya began to struggle, attempting to free himself from the iron grip. 'Calm hero, Calm,' whispered a smooth, silky voice. As he started to settle, he noticed that the arms across his chest were covered in a sleek, loose, black cloth. 'You must place your trust on me, and only me,' continued the voice. 'Beyond that hill, lies a camp. Camp half-blood. You must enter with extreme care. They must not know who you are. The border will yield before you-you have me as your patron after all'. He felt the goddess (no human carried such a beautiful voice). She was his patron?

'Who are you?' Kariya had regained enough courage to speak. Why was she his patron? What would she gain? 'I am the warmth in your heart,' the goddess replied. What a cryptic reply. Was this meant to be a riddle? There was no warmth in his heart- there was nothing but frost. 'The heavens call, I must go. Remember child, no one must know of your heritage. The camp builds a ship; you must venture on it along with the seven,' the voice quietened to a whisper, 'the conqueror's horse is yours'. The voice faded. The arms lifted. The moment he was free, he turned. He was struck by a bright golden light and then...nothing.

He turned back, facing the hill. He ran. Kariya would enter from the side. The hill couldn't be the only way into the camp. Coming from the side of the hill, he could see that he was right. A cold breeze brushed past him as he entered the infamous camp. He had made the right decision as, looking to the top of the hill, he could see a dragon- asleep beside a pine tree. 'Hmph, what can be more grand a guardian than a dragon,' he mused to himself. The sound of feet on grass startled him. 'Damn it! The second time today I let my guard down!' he chided but before he got the chance to reach for his rapier, he felt a short burst of pain in the back of his head and he fell to the ground, motionless.

Before his senses abandoned him he heard a high pitched squeal (a female), 'Wow, stealth Annabeth.'