DISCLAIMER I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.
Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.
Chapter 3 -
Get up.
The sudden voice erupted through his aching skull.
Move.
No other noise penetrated the absent whine that reverberated against Perseus' ear canal.
Time flows. Move.
Peering through the rapidly crusting goo about his eyes, an blurry image of a body slam against the wall beside him, crushing the skull, pink and red mash exploding outward, coated Perseus in another layer of grime and filth.
Gaining focus, Perseus glanced past scorched corpses, and figures fleeing unseen enemies, the figure of a pale young man missing limbs, muttering to himself caught his attention.
The coughing man.
Despite the large distance between them, and the still present whine that gained volume each second, turning from whine to screech, Perseus observed eyes turn violent green, and lips move, constructing words on the lips, morphing to voice in his head.
Time flows, I will not do it. Time grows, I will not do it. Time slows, I will not do it. He crawls closer, stained teeth bared, staring at me with those eyes. THOSE GOLD EYES. I CAN NOT DO IT.
The man began jerking, convulsing into wild seizure, foam gathering, the severity of his movements causing a crack in his elbow as he rolled about. Suddenly collapsing, still and lifeless, the man was left to nothing but a heap of meat.
Eyes now wide, Perseus began to lift his still recovering body, leaning on a newly discovered crippled leg, his shin shattered.
"Resilient"
Perseus heard the vague hum through his screeching ears. Turning towards the voice he saw bright red eyes burning through the shadow of the Winged helmet.
"A Demi? Shame about your chains then."
Perseus was slammed from the side, skittering to the floor, already cracked ribs splintering.
A jagged white rib pierced skin and jutted out of the chest.
Standing again, Perseus turned to his assailant, placing his flat palm against the protruding bone.
Confused red eyes widened slightly, repulsed by the vicious sight before him.
Ramming his hand down, Perseus pushed the rib back into chest. A sickening 'thunk' sounding as the tension of the rib slackened, and a yelp escaped Perseus' lips.
Red blood began trickling from the remaining hole.
Perseus spat, red spittle flying towards the Demigod. Lifting his arms in an aggressive stance, Perseus glared.
"Stay down boy, easier for both of us." The man was Grimacing, visibly shocked.
Perseus' blood began fading in colour, turning lighter and lighter, until it ran a bright gold.
"Unnamed" the words escaped in a panicked burst. Red eyes first widened, then narrowed.
Any previous nonchalance the man had held in the fight was gone.
Perseus could feel the tension and fear flowing from the man. Solid tendrils of it lurched towards him, writhing tentacles that reeked of desperate fear.
Stepping forward, Perseus watched a spark ignite, and fire burst from the man's palm.
A son of Apollo or Hephaestus. Helios perhaps.
Taking another step, Perseus was blasted from his feet, a resounding crack sounding as he connected with the outer wall of the ring.
Hearing the cheering crowd slowly fade, Perseus sat still, head lulled forward as blood seeped from the back of his skull.
There was no point fighting like this. The winged helmet didn't even need to make physical contact to squash him like an insect.
But Perseus wouldn't just lie until his death; there was even less point in that.
Unnamed didn't fear death, they welcomed it. Dying a vicious death would award you a place amongst gods, Perseus had heard that a hundred times over.
The only portion of the Essence Perseus had ever been able to grasp, was Ichor.
He had more than enough opportunity to practice; there was barely a day that went by where he didn't severely injure himself.
And constant use of Ichor had given Perseus something most Demigods didn't have. Whether it was natural for an Unnamed he didn't know, But the Ichor had granted Perseus serious physical superiority over men and Demigod alike, and Perseus thought colossal strength could be his ticket off the carcass of a life he currently led.
Feeling a tug in his gut, he blocked the path of Ichor from reaching his head, and let it circulate the rest of his body, replacing his regular mortal blood.
Feeling it bolster him, Perseus slowed his breathing.
Sound left him.
Sight left him.
Touch left him.
All that was left was a pulsing heartbeat.
Lying still, he hoped to appear dead, luring the Helmet closer.
What seemed an eternity later, He couldn't see, feel, or hear the man approach, but he somehow knew.
Launching forward, his hand gripped a throat, and he squeezed. His senses returning, the windpipe crushed beneath his grasp.
Tossing the body to the floor, Perseus swung his fists downward in a frenzy.
The stress of his hits crumpled the metal helmet in a single hit, but he would have to go further to ensure some victory.
He continued slamming fist after fist down, until the skull cracked, splintered, and shattered, his fists connecting with nothing but mushed organ.
Breathing heavily, Perseus leaned back.
Glancing back down at the pulverized opponent, he noticed the design of the heavily damaged helmet.
It was simple, little decoration bar a the Inscription of XII, and a blue plume.
Remembering the Winged helmet, adorned with red plumage, Perseus simply shrank. He'd attacked a regular Roman ranker.
Defeat loomed.
A depressed wretch began surging forward, attempting to retake his mind.
It truly was pointless.
Words Perseus thought long dead began coursing through his skull, corrupting consciousness.
"Struggle is pointless, play the hand dealt you, and life comes easier."
A dark skinned face grinned.
"it's not so bad besides. Free food yea Percy?"
The cheeky brown eyes continued their assault on Jari.
"I told you, rat. That my name is Jari."
The grin faltered briefly, a sad look reigning, before returning twice as wide.
"A dumb name. You're Greek. Perseus suits better."
Jari narrowed his eyes at the skinny boy. He appeared 3 or 4 years younger than Perseus' own 15.
"I'm not some filthy Greek. My parents are Unnamed, just like me."
This time the grin faded completely. Theseus opened his mouth, but closed it and turned before replying.
The next few hours passed quietly, as they normally did when you waited for the next Siege run.
But when the horn finally blew, the Camp jerked to life, Soldiers gathering weapons and armor with anxious haste.
Another supply caravan was headed for the fort, and the Greeks sought to intercept before the Romans could resupply, lengthening the 2 year assault for even longer.
Finding his place at the side of his Siege Tower, Jari knelt beside the huge wooden structure.
It was around 20 feet wide, and 60 feet high, shaped like a staircase. Used for scaling fortified walls, the sturdy structures were built to withstand defending onslaught.
However, The machines were enormous, and weighed accordingly, making Perseus' job what it was; a punishment.
The base of the tower had two large (and largely useless) wooden wheels. Spread around them were handholds, carved at intervals, shortening closer the the front, which was higher and heavier.
While the physical effort of lugging the tower around was hard as it was, what caused the task to be truly dreadful, was the strategic advantage of halting the advance of the towers for the Romans.
Offering prayer to Ares, Jari stood and gripped the wooden handle to his left. Another horn blew, and his fellow Tower runners began rolling the tower, along with the 13 other towers.
The assault was as successful as usual, Capturing the caravan was unsuccessful, as the Greeks intel was hours late.
Presumably angry at the failed skirmish, The Greek war leader ordered a full scale attack on the fort.
14 Towers fronted legions of soldiers, armed with bronze spear and sword.
Greeks began loosing arrow after arrow toward the stone keep, and drums boomed through the sounds of hundreds of yelling men, signalling the march.
Jari pushed forward, a huff leaving his lungs as he exerted himself. The Towers rolled towards the fort at steady pace.
Until they came within range.
The sun was blackened as arrows reigned down onto Tower runners.
Jari heard a mangled yelp and thud from immediately behind him, as the pressure on his shoulders and hands increased, the Towers weight growing.
In front Jari watched as an arrow traveled through the air, flying straight towards him. Panic burst, but the momentum of the bridge, and it's weight on his shoulder ensured he held his position.
The arrow flew straight down, sinking into the skull of the man directly in front of him. Falling back, Jari had to run straight over the fallen corpse, ignoring the horrific sight of vacant white eyes staring into the sky.
Finally reaching the walls, The remaining runners dropped the Tower and sank to exhausted knees. Jari scanned the survivors, looking for dark skin.
A hand slapped his back, and a voice stated "lucky tower hey. 6 didn't even make it halfway."
Theseus collapsed next to his friend.
Jari breathed a relieved sigh, and stared down at his blistered hands.
They were bleeding less than usual. He was growing used to the daunting task, calluses forming thick skin.
The single trickle that dribbled down his palm began tinging gold, and Jari quickly formed fists, hiding the oddity.
"We have to get out of here Theseus. This place is killing us. Or we should get some armor or something. Why don't they give us armor? We could survive each run, and more towers would reach the walls." frustration etched Jari's face. He couldn't bare the thought of his current existence. It didn't make sense.
A grin formed on the boys face, but Jari could see the terrified sadness underneath.
"that's the point Percy. We're not supposed to live."
He got up, and slowly walked back towards the camp, casually walking past the throngs of soldiers charging toward the fort, ignoring arrows felling men left and right.
Light Returned to Perseus eyes.
Sad thoughts reverberated through his skull, bouncing from wall to wall.
The dark skinned boy's words repeated in his head, "We're not supposed to live."
Lowly men like Perseus weren't supposed to die. The whims of Rich Emperors holding Gladiator skirmishes for entertainment, or Generals sending young boys to the slaughter so he can attain a pointless victory decided that. Men like Perseus were expendable, just tools to be used or playthings to watch.
Anger surged through his veins.
Perseus drew fists, leaning them against the dusty floor.
"Do not get close. And let me finish him."
Anger grew, pooling in his mind. Veins pulsated beside eyes.
Anger crumbled under the pressure of fury, which was in turn crushed by a ferocious, uncontrollable rage. Ichor was overflowing from his system, surging rapidly from every unsealed wound and cut, gushing from his nose and eyes.
Those surrounding him in a cautious ring, bar the winged helmet, who was busy recuperating strength he'd lost slaughtering 30 or so gladiators, noticed the runes adorning Perseus chains begin to glow a hot red.
"Sir, his chains-" a ranker began notifying the Demigod
"I know, he's useless, I know. I wish to smite him. The emperor will see."
"No sir, they're-"
The runes began squealing, pulsating with now purple light.
Winged helmet finally turned, and in shock, simply flew his hands towards Perseus, attempting to fling him with telekinesis.
On contact, Perseus felt a shockwave slam into his back, but he wasn't toppled or battered away.
The chain circling his neck burst outwards, fragments slicing into those surrounding.
A second shockwave erupted, knocking many to their feet; others held arms affront faces, protecting sight.
Perseus, one eye glowing a deep sea green, and the other a rich purple, stretched his hands forth on instinct, and felt power fly towards his enemies.
Those still standing flew backward.
Perseus glanced towards a man behind him, rushing forward, gladius in hand. Courageous Perseus thought.
Simply picturing it in his mind, the man was lifted from the ground, and slammed back to earth as he'd seen Winged helmet do. The result was more graphic than before. Spine and neck snapped alike, hips shattering upon impact with the ground. Feet touched the back of the mans head, resembling a scorpion.
Scanning his surroundings, Perseus searched for the red cloak.
Stalking about, slaying Romans left and right, arrows began descending into the ring from perches high among the stands.
One caught Perseus on the cheek, tearing the flesh apart, but his Ichor enriched blood healed the wound in moments.
Finally descending upon a huddled form shying behind several corpses, Perseus noticed a Winged helmet tossed several feet away, and a ragged red cloak discarded to the side.
Rage still clouding his every thought, Perseus lifted the man with his mind, pinning arms behind his back.
The man's left leg was snapped backward, Femur slicing through thigh leaving a jagged mess of torn flesh. An impact injury from landing badly after Perseus' first shockwave.
Red eyes wide, the man gasped rapidly.
Perseus noted a sigil of a lute circled by a flaming sun emblazoned on the man's tunic.
Without missing another beat, He used his mind to yank the man in seperate directions.
A mask of contorted pain spread across the face.
Until Perseus compressed all his power into a single area, and the man's head cracked, and crushed under the pressure, leaving a mangled mass hanging limply from the suspended body.
Fury leaving his mind, unexplainedly calming down, Perseus glanced around him.
Arrows continued to rain down, though none came close to contact.
They circled him, creating a perfect glowing ring.
Several men and women ran towards him.
The women wore strange robes with high collars, an intricate sigil encircling a torch emblazoned in gold and crimson fronting the robes.
The sect of Hecate. More Demigods.
The men held more Binding chains, but they weren't simple guards, these each held enormous Hammers slung across their backs.
Emperors Engineers. Sons of Hephaestus.
Perseus, previous rage subsided, merely sighed and sat cross-legged in the centre of the circle, watching as crimson light began emanating from the arrows lodged in the sand.
Another Crack was heard, and the world again went black.