Chapter III -Percy's P.O.V.


If you kept track on all of my adventures as a mere 12 year old, you'll know that, including this one, it is my second time seeing Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, at age 18.

"Ah, Percy Jackson, we meet again. I presume that you didn't drown in a bathtub now?" he had this obnoxious sneer plastered on his face that I so badly wanted to rip off that man. Although he wore an irritating smirk, I maintained a cold and steely face that obviously meant that my patience―if I ever had one―would soon run out.

Charon was wearing an Italian pin stripe suit that was, obviously, way out of his paycheck's league. Charon, for a while, loaded souls into his boat until he noticed me, once again. Charon looked at his boat and eyed me.

"Looks like we have some room for you, Jackson." I was walking towards his boat, walking by past him, when he teleported in front of me, blocking my way. I wanted to snap at him, seeing that I haven't gone through the most amazing day of my life but, alas, I know my position here in the Underworld, rather entrance to the Underworld.

"What?"

He had smug and impatience written all over his pathetic, lowlife face. "Coin. I don't give free rides to ungrateful passengers." 'But I have to save the world for ungrateful bastards!', I retorted in my mind. I searched both of my pockets but not a circular bulge in any of my pockets.

"Well, it looks like the hero of Olympus would just have to wait in line for his turn―" I cut him off by fashioning Riptide in front of him, in which he carelessly disregarded. "Jackson, you shouldn't try to kill me. I am not someone you would want as an enemy, let alone get on my bad side." I let out a short and curt humorless laugh and a cold smile before turning Riptide into a pen once more and finally throwing it to him.

"Here, this blade will fetch you a hefty price with Poseidon." His eyes widened and immediately picket it up and wiped the dirt that already stained the pen's exterior. "Oh, and did I tell you that it's probably enough for a whole closet of Armani's?" I glared at the passengers of the boat and they all scooted over to one side, giving me all the space I could have.

"Oh," I gave Charon one last and final look. "Keep the change."


"Perseus "Percy" Jackson! Step forward!"

I stepped forward to face the three judges. William Shakespeare, Thomas Jefferson and the newest member of the Judgment Pavilion, King Aeacus. Someone beside them, dressed up in a tattered rag like how a slave ghoul would wear, announced something.

"Percy Jackson, son of mortal Sally Jackson and god of seas, Poseidon. Vanquisher of the Minotaur, the Gorgons, the Hydra, Titan Atlas, Titan Hyperion, Titan Iapetus, the war god Ares, the misery goddess Akhlys, the king Titan Kronos and the Earth goddess Gaea.

Savior of Olympus twice, redeemer of the Golden Fleece, redeemer of the Master Bolt, explorer of Tartarus and the Labyrinth, bearer of the Titan Atlas' curse, redeemer of the lost weapons and golden eagle of the Twelfth Legion of Camp Jupiter and former Praetor of Camp Jupiter."

The three judges were mostly impressed. "Perseus Jackson has done much for Olympus and the Western Civilization therefore worthy of Elysium―" the doors to Elysium were about to be opened when he was interrupted by the slave ghoul, who was being glared at by the judges. The slave ghoul, in turn, cowered in fear before resuming, clearing his throat with a cough and unrolling the scroll he had a bit more, revealing the bottom most part of the scroll.

King Aeacus huffed before allowing the slave ghoul to continue. "My lordships, my apologies, but the one detail I might have forgotten to mention is that Perseus Jackson committed suicide." Thomas Jefferson's eye has twitched. He was obviously judging me―he had fought for our independence so that we, the next generation would have a better life. For me, well. . .that obviously didn't work out.

The three judges huddled and after some murmuring and discussion, they finally turned to the entire council and the entire body of dead souls. "Suicide is a major offence, Jackson, but you have done so much for the gods so for this reason, as well as to prevent offending Lord Poseidon, you are to achieve the Fields of Asphodel." William Shakespeare broke the deafening silence, but I didn't really care. He was about to pound his club, his mallet, on the platform when I found myself speaking, when I found myself interrupting the judges.

"What is the use of Asphodel when you condemn me to Hell?" I sneered at the ghoul who gave me a curious look before I turned to face the judges again. "I know you want to—just do it already!" I shouted, the shackles firmly locked on my arms shook as I glared at the judges. "Send me to Hell—let my soul rot in Hell for my life has been nothing but Hell!" I gave out a bitter laugh when a guard punched me. I could taste something metallic and smirked at the smudge of blood on the guard's fist.

"Very well, Percy Jackson is worthy of Tartarus!" as the club was pounded, I was being brought to a hole leading to Tartarus. The ghouls had their swords drawn and pointed at me, gesturing for me to jump in the pit. I did not look behind when I had no doubts that this is what I want. Let my soul rot in Tartarus for all I care, I care not for such a soul who is immortal in length of a lifetime but mortal and killed therefore empty and craving for justice that could never be redeemed.

I jumped into the pit.


For 5 years, I have been a tortured slave for Tartarus, I have been his gladiator and his pet to torture for his own amusement. I can't kill his creatures that he makes me face and yet I can't just stand there. I'm damned if I didn't fight and I'm damned if I did fight but wait, I was damned a long time ago! I was damned the moment I was born!

I was left with dirty water mixed with blood, dirt and sweat. I was so thirsty that I've drank the whole vase and left a drop or two for me to heal myself with it though it could just lead to an infection. If you think that my current water's gross, then you don't know how disgusting is to share with the hellhounds. Technically, it's the same thing except for the fact that it's mixed with hellhound drool.

I was wincing and trying to heal myself when I felt something run down my hot and dry back, healing me and rejuvenating me. Such feeling I haven't felt since I was alive. I got my make-shift spear and pointed it at a man who was wearing a cloak as black as the night sky and his eyes were like the night sky too: the dark sky (much more darker than onyx black) with little sparkles like the stars.

"Who are you, and why have you come here to a lowly slave of a demon tyrant." He did not answer and I suddenly snapped at him, letting all the hidden anger loose on the mysterious man. "I said, what do you want from me?!" he placed a hand on my wounded shoulder and with a touch. He fixed it like how Bob did. Suddenly, I was aware of where I was—I'm in Tartarus, a place I tried to escape a long time ago. I escaped because someone sacrificed his for me.

Their lives for me.

"The coldness and the hate in your heart had grew and multiplied to such a number, Perseus." He looked at me sadly and for once I think I felt something. For the first time in five years, I felt regret. The way he looked me in the eye reminded me of how my mother would look at me whenever she got out of the principal's office after being called to say that I would not be invited back to that school. I remember her smiling at me, comforting me, assuring me that I had nothing to do with it—that I was innocent and I've tried my best.

My mother, how could I have been so selfish? To leave her alone in that cruel world? To leave her without saying goodbye? And for the first time in five years, I felt something hot run down through my cheeks. I cried for the first time in five years. "Go ahead, Perseus," he said softly before patting my back, "You deserve that much after all the tragedy you've been through even though you deserved much more." After I finished crying, I finally got the courage and humility to ask him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him and he smiled at me, as if he had been waiting for that question for a long time now. "What's with that grin?" I pointed out, distancing myself from the man in front of me. "You're creeping me out." I was straight-to-the-point, and he laughed at me. I have just insulted the man who created the Universe and he laughed at the insult like it was nothing.

"You are the greatest hero I've invested in, Perseus, you are better than the heroes I thought would succeed in my quest." Quest? "Perseus―" I cut him off quickly.

"Percy. Please, I am not my namesake."

"Of course, young hero," he nodded before he continued, "as I was saying, I need your help. A little while ago, darkness and coldness and hate had thrived and ruled in your heart but with a single fluid motion, you were human again." He was using these weird hand gestures that strangely enough made me understand.

"Percy, you were able to succeed where others have failed. To have die and to come back," I haven't been reborn have I? "Figuratively, Percy," I nodded before he continued, "Percy, you have found your abilities to become human again―to feel again―where others, in your situation, have completely failed to recover." I nodded again. It's true, as I've said earlier, there were many firsts for this day.

"So Percy, I need you to help me complete and create an army and fill a spot for the most powerful seat of power." Greatest seat of power? A monarchy? What is it? Is it Great Britain, Saudi Arabia, Denmark, Norway, Sweden? "Percy, I need you to become my general." I looked at him in disbelief, expecting him to drop the serious look and break out laughing.

"Who are you working for? Hades? And why is he trying to create an army?" if Hades was trying to over-throw the world, I wouldn't give a damn. I'm just curious.

He chuckled before looking at me at the eye. "Percy, if anyone is under anyone, it is Hades for he's the god of the underworld, correct?" he had a valid point. "Percy, I want to create an army to fight off the evil that's rising against the striving growth of humanity. I want you to become my general for my army," he gave me a small smile in which I returned when he took a sharp and deep breath, "and for you to become my heir." That I did not smile at.

"The generalship, I accept, but the heir part? Not really." I was trying to find my spear on the ground, going back to defensive mode. "Who are you?" I aimed the spear at him, my eyes narrowed and knees bent.

"I am Chaos, creator and ruler of the Universe and first ruler of the strongest seat of power."