Previously on Immortal Warrior,

"I'd say his condition is really good, given that it took Poseidon to stop him."

Athena rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. His mind."

The moon goddess went to reply, but for the briefest of moments, her eyes turned gold. In a robotic fashion, she turned to Athena. "You've forgotten something, Athena. Let me make you remember."

Before Athena could react, Artemis lunged at her. Pinning the goddess down, she placed her hands on either side of Athena's temple. The wisdom goddess screamed as various images were forced into her mind.


(John F. Kennedy Airport, Manhattan)

Early January would be chilly, especially in a place like Manhattan.

Percy sighed as he leaned against his seat, looking out of the window in the aeroplane. He had just a single briefcase, which he kept above his seat. Why was Percy of all people using a plane?

A few days ago, he had gotten an urgent request from Athena. He didn't get many urgent requests from her, so he supposed it was something important. Apparently, she had a son, who was living in Netherlands. He agreed on one condition. That she pay for his flight ticket, which of course, he took First Class.

Percy wondered what was so special about him that he needed to be brought to Camp Half-Blood. He took his phone and opened his Gallery to find the photo Athena had sent him. Her son, some Pieter Jansen, looked about his age and had a similar facial structure but his hair was unnaturally silver-white and the ruby red eyes seemed to pierce the camera.

Percy frowned. Athena had mentioned that her son was like him, he too was partially immortal and according to her he should be around four hundred years old as of now. Percy thanked the gods he wasn't going to go pick up a newbie. At least this Pieter would be experienced, unlike the toddlers at Camp Half-Blood.

A voice buzzed through the speakers. "Please pay attention to the screen in front of you."

Percy sighed. Every bloody flight.

He stared in boredom as the video showed various safety techniques, blah blah blah. He was very bored and very claustrophobic. He also felt uneasy being in the air for so long.

The flight was long, and the food was cold. The demigod made up his mind never to take this airline again. However, the entertainment systems were decent. So he plucked up a controller from his armrest and plugged in the headphones given by the flight. The headphones sucked by the way.

Again, Percy sighed. There were no good games except for a very old Super Mario Bros. So he selected that and played away.

For almost eight hours, Percy sat in his seat, literally doing nothing but playing Super Mario. His superior demigod reflexes allowed him to complete every single level on the first try. He briefly wondered if he should have started a career in gaming. He had the skills and the capital.

Then the pilot's voice came from the speaker. "Good Evening. Welcome to Amsterdam. It is 10:30 P.M CET. Pl-"

Percy didn't hear the rest. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood straight, stretching his arms and legs, yawning as he did. Cracking his neck, he took his briefcase from above and clicked a button, making wheels appear on the bottom and a handle on top, allowing him to drag it.

On his way out, he smiled at the air hostesses, not knowing whether their red cheeks were due to him or just part of their makeup. Knowing his luck, it was probably the makeup.

He had to admit one thing about travelling. If you travelled overseas, it always felt like stepping into another world. He liked that cultural diversity among humans. It kept things interesting.

The customs didn't take long. After all, he was a VIP passenger, under the name 'Percy Jackson', which the Dutch pronounced and wrote as 'Persy Jakson'. He felt 'Percy Jackson' was a rather catchy name, which he'd use for official purposes from now on.

As he walked through the Schiphol, which was the main airport in Amsterdam, he was stopped several times. Apparently, there was a man with a knife who had attacked several passersby within the airport. He let them check him. After all, they were only doing a routine job.

But what surprised Percy the most was the sheer number of monsters and demigods in the airport. Not only were they co-operating, but Percy could see some of them having fun. Was this how it was like outside of the U.S?

In fact, a lot of the guards and waitresses were all monsters in disguise. And it wasn't a malevolent conjunction of baddies, but just acceptance and harmony. They didn't attack anyone, and the demigods (legacies mostly) didn't attack the monsters either. Percy knew this, it wasn't a big shock, but hearing about it and seeing it are two very different things.

When he walked out of the airport, he was awestruck by the atmosphere. It wasn't like New York, where (no offence) people had a generally selfish attitude. You had to look after yourself.

He marvelled at the structures. Netherlands sure had changed since the last time he saw it. Well, the last time he saw it was during the second world war.

He looked at his phone, seeing the photo of Pieter Jansen. "Where are you?", Percy muttered.


'Pieter Jansen' stood outside of a small two storey house in Amsterdam. He cracked his neck and stepped closer. He squinted closer, and his vision turned into a mixture of black, grey and white.

The walls of the house became non-existent to him and he could see the skeleton frames of the residents inside. Four residents, he noted. He blinked and his vision changed, letting him see in a different frequency of the electromagnetic spectrum. Two of the residents had a thin aura around their body.

He smiled. Demigods.

Without bothering to step inside, he snapped his fingers. For a second, nothing happened, but the four residents inside felt an odd sensation in their body, before they went KABOOM!

Their bodies exploded outwards, as if a bomb was in them, splattering the walls, floor and the ceiling in red and their furniture redecorated with their internal organs.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation as he walked to the next house. In the lawn, he saw a kid playing with a puppy. A golden retriever puppy. The kid couldn't have been older than four, and his parents seemed to be inside the house.

Pieter scanned the house. The parents weren't demigods, but the woman was the biological mother of the small boy, who was a demigod. He snapped his fingers, exploding the parents in a similar fashion as he had done previously to the four residents in the opposite lane.

Pieter stared at the boy playing with the puppy. The boy was not only a demigod. He was a son of Poseidon.

What happened next would sicken even the most evil of men.

He strolled to the child, who stared at him in confusion. Walking towards the child, he picked up the puppy by it's tail, ignoring the frightened yelps it released. He then stared at the child in the eye, before raising the puppy above his head and smashing it onto the four year old boy.

The boy didn't stand a chance, and he died on the spot. Fortunately, so did the puppy. Or else he would have smashed it onto the ground again and again.

Pieter stepped back, dropping the half torn apart puppy onto the ground before stepping over it and walking away. It was late at night and in the suburban area of Amsterdam. No one was there to witness the horrific act.

He looked behind at all the other houses, whose windows were bloodstained. Looking at his hand, he frowned. "Damn it. Got bloody again."

He shook his hand in the air so fast that the blood flew off. He looked at his shirt and frowned. "Shirt got bloody. Oh well. I'll just say it's a monster attack."

Whistling merrily, he walked across the street, past all the houses whose insides were red.


(Two Weeks Later)

Percy didn't have to look for long to find Pieter Jansen. The son of Athena was engaged in battle, against the ... Chimera.

Percy cursed. "Not now!"

The demigod ran at the Chimera at full speed and shoulder bashed it's face, sending it sprawling across the ground, and more importantly, away from civilians. Because for whatever reason, they seemed to be ... cheering?

Percy didn't even want to know what they were seeing. The demigod he was looking for, Pieter Jansen, was fighting a losing battle against the chimera, and Percy couldn't let that happen. Athena very specifically wanted him at Camp. Why she didn't go herself was beyond Percy. Perhaps they fought?

Percy had to admit one thing. The chimera wasn't an easy opponent. It's not like he couldn't defeat it, but he couldn't hold back. Not only was it fast, but it's middle head breathed fire which was hot enough to sting his skin, which surprised him to say the least, given that he could survive Hephaestus's flames (long story).

He decided he needed to be careful and he needed to keep the battle short. The chimera, unlike most monsters, learns it's opponent's attacks over time and can grow immune to certain types of attacks.

He tried to paralyse it using his water powers, but it didn't work. Pieter Jansen dived at him to pushed him out of the way. Percy cursed. The damn beast was immune to molecular manipulation.

So he did the next best thing. Water all around him, in the buildings and in the pipes erupted out and flew straight at the monster, entangling it. Before it could get free, he lodged his twin Celestial Bronze swords into it's two skulls on the right and left sides. Pieter Jansen sliced the middle head clean off using his own Celestial Bronze sword.

Percy gave a sigh of relief as he wiped the monster dust off of his face, and he looked at Pieter. "Don't die on me. I have a contract to get you alive."

Pieter Jansen frowned. "Did Athena set you up to this?". Pieter had a very distinct Dutch accent, similar to most northern Europeans.

Percy frowned. "How did you?"

"Dreams."

Percy nodded slowly, taking a good look at Pieter Jansen. Behind Pieter was a glass building. Percy could see his own reflection in it. He frowned, and looked back at Pieter. If he changed his hair to white and put red contacts, Percy knew he'd look just like Pieter.

"Are you sure Athena's your mom?"

Pieter nodded. "Confused by my facial features eh? My mother is Athena, no doubt. My father, however, is a son of Poseidon. So you see.". He pointed at himself.

Percy's eyebrows raised. "That's funny. Athena never mentioned that. Though I doubt she would. Wonder if dad knows?"

"Poseidon. He is your father, is he not?". Pieter asked.

Percy frowned. "Got that from dreams too?"

Pieter chuckled. "No. I have a picture of my father. He looks just like you. Most of us descendants of Poseidon look the same. But I fear that with my mother being Athena, there are some ... unforeseen effects.", the last part he said pointing at his hair.

Percy sighed. "Sorry. I'm just a bit jumpy that's all."

Pieter smiled. "It is okay. I am too. We must leave this place. Some unknown forces are hunting demigods here."

Percy frowned. "What?! Let's destroy it."

Pieter sighed sadly. "All of the demigods and legacies living in Holland have already been killed. Many of them were powerful. And they were killed. I urge you. We must go."

Percy shook his head. "No. At the very least, let's get evidence to show the gods. How the hell could they let this happen?!"

Pieter frowned. "Contrary to what you may think, the gods are not so benevolent as they seem."

Percy turned around to face Pieter. "I know that. It's just ... they do love their children. I know that. They even built a camp-"

"A camp?" Pieter asked, frowning.

Percy sighed. "You don't know? Camp Half-Blood, New York City. A safe haven for demigods to stay."

Pieter frowned. "We have no such thing here in Holland. I suppose they favour their American children more than others."

Percy shook his head. "Of course not. You should know better than that. America has a higher concentration of hostile monsters. Here, I've seen they're peaceful."

"True." Pieter nodded. "Yet that does not stop a few of them turning rogue, devouring a demigod or two every now and then."

Percy nodded. "Yeah well, contrary to popular belief, a few bad apples do not spoil the bunch."

Pieter smiled. "You are old. Like me. Your view upon this world is different. May I ask what time period you were born in?"

Percy laughed. "That easy to tell? I was born in Greece, around 500 B.C. You?"

"Not that long ago. I was born in the year 1869."

"1869? Must have some stories to tell, let's share it on the way to New York."

Pieter seemed to contemplate the offer. "I will come, but do not ask me to talk to Athena."

Percy nodded. "Okay. No forcing. I just need to take you to Camp Half-Blood."

Pieter smiled ominously. "Yes. I wish to see this safe haven you mentioned."


(Goode High School, Luke Castellan's Point of View)

Normally I'd steal my way out of everything, but a recent incident (theft or prank, you name it) caused Chiron to ground me, take all my money. So here I am, teaching science to obnoxious fifth graders when I heard these noises outside.

SCRAWK! OW! SCREECH! 'HIYA!'

Like somebody was getting attacked by possessed poultry, and, believe me, that's a situation I've been in before. Nobody else seemed to notice the commotion. We were in the lab, so everybody was talking, and it wasn't hard for me to go look out the window while I pretended to inspect around the class.

Sure enough, there was a girl in the alley with her sword drawn. She was tall and muscular like a basketball player, with stringy brown hair and jeans, combat boots and a denim jacket. She was hacking at a flock of black birds the size of ravens. Feathers stuck out of her clothes in several places. A cut was bleeding over her left eye. As I watched, one of the birds shot a feather like an arrow, and it lodged in her shoulder. She cursed and sliced at the bird, but it flew away.

Unfortunately, I recognized the girl. It was Clarisse, my old rival from demigod camp. Clarisse usually lived at Camp Half-Blood year-round. I had no idea what she was doing on the Upper East Side in the middle of a school day, but she was obviously in trouble. She wouldn't last much longer.

I did the only the thing I could.

"CLASS DISMISSED" I yelled, jumping through the window. Thankfully, my demigod skin was durable enough to withstand the broken shards hitting against my skin.

I got to the alley just in time to see Clarisse smack a devil bird with the flat of her sword like she was hitting a home run. The bird squawked and spiralled away, slamming against the brick wall and sliding into a trashcan. That still left a dozen more swarming around her.

"Clarisse!" I yelled.

She glared at me in disbelief. "Luke?! What are you doing –"

She was cut short by a volley of feather arrows that zipped over her head and impaled themselves in the wall.

"This is my school," I told her.

"Just my luck," Clarisse grumbled, but she was too busy fighting to complain much.

I held my hand out and a metre-long bronze sword appeared in it (courtesy of Hermes), and joined the battle, slashing at the birds and deflecting their feathers off my blade. Together, Clarisse and I sliced and hacked until all the birds were reduced to piles of feathers on the ground.

We were both breathing hard. I had a few scratches, but nothing major. I pulled a feather arrow out of my arm. It hadn't gone in very deep. As long as it wasn't tipped with poison, I'd be okay. I took a bag of ambrosia out of my jacket, where I always kept it for emergencies, broke a piece in half and offered some to Clarisse.

"I don't need your help," she muttered, but she took the ambrosia.

We swallowed a few bites – not too much, since the food of the gods can burn you to ashes if you overindulge. I guess that's why you don't see many fat gods. Anyway, in a few seconds our cuts and bruises had disappeared.

Clarisse sheathed her sword and brushed off her denim jacket. 'Well… see you.'

"Hold up!" I said. "You can't just run off."

"Why the fuck not?"

"What's going on? What are you doing away from camp? Why were those birds after you?"

Clarisse pushed me, or tried to. I was too accustomed to her tricks. I just sidestepped and let her stumble past me.

"Come on," I said. "You just about got killed at my office. That makes it my business."

She scoffed. "Office? And is still isn't your business!"

"Let me help."

She took a shaky breath. I got the feeling she really wanted to punch me out, but at the same time there was a desperate look in her eyes, like she was in serious trouble.

"It's my brothers," she said. "They're playing a prank on me."

"Oh," I said, not really surprised. Clarisse had lots of siblings at Camp Half-Blood. All of them picked on each other. I guess that was to be expected since they were sons and daughters of the war god, Ares. "Which brothers? Sherman? Mark? Or someone more godly?"

"Yes," she said, sounding more afraid than I'd ever heard her. "My immortal brothers. Phobos and Deimos."

We sat on a bench at the park while Clarisse told me the story. I wasn't too worried about getting back to school. Screw the job. I could find other ways to earn money.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "You took your dad's car for a joyride and now it's missing."

"It's not a car," Clarisse growled. "It's a war chariot! And he told me to take it out. It's like… a test. I'm supposed to bring it back at sunset. But –"

"Your brothers carjacked you."

"Chariot-jacked me," she corrected. "They're his regular charioteers, see. And they don't like anybody else getting to drive. So they stole the chariot from me and chased me off with those stupid arrow-throwing birds."

"Your dad's pets?"

She nodded miserably. "They guard his temple. Anyway, if I don't find the chariot…"

She looked like she was about to lose it. I didn't blame her. I'd seen her dad, Ares, get mad before, and it was not a pretty sight. If Clarisse failed him, he would come down hard on her. Real hard.

"I'll help you," I said.

She scowled. "Why would you? I'm not your friend."

I couldn't help it. "I beat Ares before. I'm pretty sure I can handle a bunch of his sons."

Clarisse scoffed. "We both know that wasn't it. He let you."

I couldn't argue with that. I was trying to figure out how to explain a plan to her when a guy's voice said, "Aw, look. I think she's been crying!"

A teenage dude was leaning against a telephone pole. He was dressed in ratty jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket, with a bandanna over his hair. A knife was stuck in his belt. He had eyes the colour of flames.

"Phobos." Clarisse balled her fists. "Where's the chariot, dickhead?!"

"You lost it," he teased. "Don't ask me."

"You little –"

Clarisse drew her sword and charged, but Phobos disappeared as she swung, and her blade sliced through the telephone pole. She sidestepped it, letting it crash to the ground.

Phobos appeared on the bench next to me. He was laughing, but he stopped when I stuck my sword's point against his throat.

"You'd better return that chariot," I told him.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll open you up balls to brain, to see what gods are made of!"

He sneered and tried to look tough, or as tough as you can with a sword under your chin. "Who's your little boyfriend, Clarisse? You have to get help fighting your battles now?"

'He's not my boyfriend!' Clarisse tugged her sword, pulling it out of the telephone pole. "He's not even my friend. That's Luke Castellan."

Something changed in Phobos's expression. He looked surprised, maybe even nervous. "The son of Hermes? The one who made Dad angry? Oh, this is too good, Clarisse. You're hanging out with a sworn enemy?"

"I'm not hanging out with him!"

Phobos's eyes glowed bright red.

Clarisse screamed. She swatted the air as if she were being attacked by invisible bugs. "FUCK OFF!"

"What the hell are you doing to her?" I demanded.

Clarisse backed up into the street, swinging her sword wildly.

"Stop it! NOW!" I told demanded, digging my sword a little deeper against his throat, but he simply vanished, reappearing back at the telephone pole.

"Don't get so excited, Lukey-boy," Phobos said. "I'm just showing her what she fears."

The glow faded from his eyes.

Clarisse collapsed, breathing hard. "You bastard," she gasped. "I'll… I'll get you."

Phobos turned towards me. "How about you, Luke Castellan? What do you fear? I'll find out, you know. I always do."