Authors' Note: We received a few questions about how Exp is gained. If we were to rewrite the earlier chapters we probably would have included a few references to Task Levelling, as it wasn't meant to be a reveal of any kind, but we didn't, so here we are.

Task Levelling is the most common way that people in this world gain Exp, though it's wildly inefficient compared to the much more exciting method of killing things. Whenever someone does a title-specific task (Farming, Sailing, Planning, etc.) they gain a certain amount of Exp we calculate based on a chart we built, adjusting for difficulty and relative level of success.

People don't have to be a specific title to gain Exp from a task, but if they are they gain a significant boost.

—Parsek

η

GROVER
Lvl. 20 Farmer

Grover probably should have realised the ramifications of sailing along the edge of the infamous Sea of Monsters before then, but he definitely wasn't ignoring it now.

A thin blanket of fog had settled over the water and blurred the waves into vague ripples. Occasionally, Pyla's head would break through the wisps to keep track of them, but otherwise, they remained calm—splitting like a seam around Kleo rather than breaking across her bow.

Keeping the time was almost impossible—the sun had vanished behind low clouds, diffusing a soft light surrounding them—but Grover knew one thing for certain:

However long they'd been sailing was too long for a single man to maintain. Especially the way they'd been going, striking a tenuous balance to avoid entering the Sea proper without scraping the seafloor. It wasn't exactly smooth sailing.

He tapped Percy's foot with his staff repeatedly until the irritated Raider kicked it away and glared at him. "You need to take a break," he prompted.

Percy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine." He said it with such conviction Grover probably would have been convinced if it weren't for the dark bags under his eyes.

Grover grew up with Percy—they were thicker than thieves and just as mischievous. Since before they could string two sentences together, they were a unit. Brothers in every way that mattered.

So no one knew how stubborn he could be better than Grover. And since Percy seldom denied his mother anything, that included Aunt Sally.

So he kept tapping.

"Quit it!"

"I'm serious, man. You're in no condition." Honestly, Grover was shocked he could stand. They'd been on the water for nearly two days straight! Sure, Kleo helped—her oars kept them steady and minimised the overall work Percy had to do—but it was triple the distance that knocked him out in Ithaka. Plus, thanks to Skolopendra, he took a break halfway through. Just how many points did his Brh rise?

"I said I'm fine." His hand shot out to push Grover out of the way. Not that it did anything besides ruffle his clothes a bit. He was obviously exhausted, and Percy wasn't the only one who'd levelled a lot over the past few days. "We don't have that kind of time. It's already been five days."

"Do you realise what we're about to face?" Grover's fingers clenched white against the shaft of his walking staff. "We're trying to do something no one has ever successfully done. Not even Herakles. We're going to the kingdom to defy its king, and you want to run in Skills blazing not at your best?"

Percy scowled. "My mother—"

"—Would tell you the same. And you know it."

Percy's shoulders tensed before he deflated and grimaced. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll take her to shore."

As they banked towards the coast of Italia, the mist dispersed and the sky rippled into violet clouds and the bronze vestiges of the setting sun. The sudden shift in scenery made Grover's head spin. Hours of staring off into milky nothingness had dulled his vision more than he realised.

Annabeth hopped up to the helm and leaned against the railing. "Eyes on the ocean, Captain. We're going the wrong way."

Percy turned to him expectantly. Grover got a distinct impression that he was not content to tell Annabeth why they needed to stop.

"We're going to moor for the night," Grover explained. "We need to release the animals, and it really isn't healthy for Obelix and Goliath to stay cooped up this long on the water." It was the best excuse he could come up with, especially since it was all true.

"They seemed fine sailing from Ithaka," she recalled sceptically.

Grover narrowed his eyes. "They seem like a lot of things. I'm telling you it isn't healthy."

She held her hands up in mock surrender. After spending the past few days in such close proximity to her, Grover realised that Annabeth was kind yet impolite. She often had good intentions, but her mannerisms came off as insensitive at the best of times and outright rude at the worst.

They dropped anchor just as Kleo began to bump against the sand before wading the rest of the way to the beach. Well, Annabeth and Percy waded. Grover gathered his herd and gripped onto Pyla's rough back as she towed them ashore.

"Good girl," he whispered as he ran his fingers along the ridges in her back. Pyla let out a rattling croon.

By the time the other two caught up, Goliath had already finished digging a decently deep fire pit.

"Thanks for the offer, Farmboy," Percy grumbled, soaking wet. "Real generous of you."

Annabeth growled her agreement as she wrung out her hair with her hands.

Grover grinned widely. "It was no trouble at all." Goliath barked happily and chased himself around Percy's legs.

"So now what?" Annabeth asked, sculpting a seat for herself in the white sand. "You didn't bring the rest of the animals."

"It's not like I can expect them to swim, and I doubt Pyla is going to be carrying the lion anytime soon. I was hoping we could find something around here we could use as a ramp first."

"Not a bad idea," she conceded, before drawing one of her mundane knives and offering it by the handle. "Take this then. Just in case. I'll build a fire."

"Sounds like a plan," Grover nodded before facing Percy. "Rest your eyes, brother. You're going to need it. Aunt Sally is counting on you. On all of us."

But Percy didn't commit to anything just yet. "I want to try something," he admitted, before running out into the water. He didn't stop until it reached his knees, after which he closed his eyes, apparently in deep concentration.

"What is he doing?" Annabeth asked, perplexed.

Grover shrugged, slightly miffed. Percy needed his sleep. "Whatever it is, it must be important. Make sure he gets some rest soon. I'll be back."

Annabeth nodded and left to select stones and firewood. Goliath yipped before bounding after her. Grover deadpanned and snatched Obelix up before she could chase after her canine brother. "Nope. At least one of you has to walk with me." His eyes were absent-mindedly drawn towards Pyla, swimming merrily in a circle around Percy's hunched form.

Grover gave his friend one last glance before sighing and venturing off into the wilderness. Percy knew his limits. He'd be fine.

Everything would be fine.

As it turned out, finding the right material for a haphazard bridge was the easy part. It barely took him a quarter of an hour to spot a felled, thin tree trunk they could quickly chop up and lash together into something stable enough to support an underweight lion.

The problem was moving it. No spike in Bdy would enable him to lift a tree, regardless of how significant or sudden. He could barely roll it across the ground, much less pick it up.

Obelix baaed valiantly as she lowered her head and tried to charge at one of the thicker standing oaks. Grover rolled his eyes as he used his staff to divert her attention before she seriously hurt herself.

"Now what did that tree ever do to you?"

She bleated and stamped her hooves insistently, running back and forth between the felled trunk and the sturdy roots of the oak.

Grover followed her with his eyes, the beginnings of an idea forming in the back of his head. A satisfied grin spread across his face as his hand rested on Annabeth's dagger tucked against his waist.

"Belle, you're brilliant."

It didn't take Grover too long to return to the beach where they'd moored—finding the right spot was only a matter of a few uses of Locate Stragglers to hone in on the rest of the herd—but the Sun had completed its journey and the Moon was already well on its way by the time he spotted their fire. A few bēmata from the flames was Annabeth, brandishing a hefty stick high above her head. Sitting patiently at her feet—with the straightest posture Grover had ever seen him in—was Goliath. The only indication that the hound was even alive was the subtle tilt of his head as he followed the branch with his nose.

Grover made sure to make a lot of noise as he approached to avoid startling the superhumanly quick woman with a belt full of knives.

"Hey!" he called, hailing with his staff. "I'm back."

She nodded in his direction to indicate she heard him before throwing the stick as far as it could go. The second it cleared her fingertips, Goliath sprinted after it.

"What did you find?" she asked, wiping her palms on her chiton and peering pointedly at his empty arms.

"I found some wood that I'm sure we could use, I just can't move it by myself," he explained in a rush. "I figured one of you could help me drag it out. I marked the way back with your knife. Maybe we could cut it up into manageable timber and you could use that assessing Skill to check if our jury-rigged ramp will hold."

Her eyes flashed in the dim light. "It's a good plan," she affirmed.

"Perfect," he let out a sigh of relief. "Where's Percy?"

Annabeth pointed her thumb towards the water.

"He's still out there?" he asked angrily. "You were meant to make him rest!"

"And I had every intention to until I saw what he was doing. He's got a new Skill."

That brought Grover up short. "Seriously? Again?" Some people had all the luck. Grover had levelled more than anyone else on their quest—seven times—but was still just an overpowered Farmer with the same three measly Skills he had when he and Percy left Montauk. "That's the second this week."

"He's grown a lot. We all have. Are you saying you haven't gotten anything? We just bypassed the most legendary sea monsters ever, without any casualties. Odysseus couldn't do that. Even I got one."

Grover baulked. "R-Really?" he asked meekly, struggling to keep eye contact.

Her eyes seemed to stare past him as she recited, "Puppetry. All the World's a stage. Some creatures require a guiding hand."

Annabeth came up with the plan to feed Scylla fake crewmen. Sure, Percy did the actual movement, but she planned their positions and drew up the rig they'd needed to move them in tandem. She even made them herself. They were undoubtedly her puppets. Whatever Percy got probably related to what he was doing while they sailed.

Grover didn't do anything except provide wool. And he already had the Skill to do that.

"What does it do?"

Annabeth's trepidation was quite visible in the flickering light of the fire. The dynamic shadows gave her a haunted appearance. "It's… I can… I don't know."

"I'm sorry?" Even if it was true, she didn't know, Grover didn't think she'd be so forthcoming about it.

"I tried it. It didn't do anything."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Grover awkwardly assured her. Skills were intuitive. It was never immediately obvious what one would do, but experimenting with a new Skill was just part of the process. They even changed slightly between different users of the same Skill. There were no shortcuts.

Before Grover could embarrass himself any further, Goliath skidded to a halt before them and dropped a very slobbery branch on his sandals. Grover deadpanned and took that as his queue to go talk to Percy. Hopefully, the waves would wash his shoes off for him.

Percy was deeper than he initially thought—closer to Kleo than to shore—and by his posture, he could only be channelling the spirit of the worst hunchback in all of Hellenes. He was so low to the water, Grover wouldn't have been able to find him if it weren't for his eyes bathing his surroundings in green light. The Sea bounced the colour back from below and cast eerie shadows across his concentrated features.

But something was distinctly off. Grover couldn't put his finger on it.

Until he quite literally had his fingers in it.

The wake of his hand split the current and threw foam up into Grover's eyes—Percy's too, not that he seemed to notice. As tears washed through the acrid sting of seawater, the full weight of his brother's new ability nearly bowled him over. Literally.

Percy was moving the Sea.

The waves came up to his waist, swirling around his torso and pulling the soft glow of his Skill use into flickering arcs intertwined with the moonlight. His skin came alive as the glare warped and streaked across his face. It made him look tribal. And decisively inhuman. More than human. And it was only getting worse—rushing faster and faster, pulling an unsuspecting Pyla in their direction.

"Percy," he called, announcing his presence. He went ignored. "Percy!" he raised his voice slightly and poked him in the shoulder.

Really, he should have known better.

Water exploded in front of him and shot straight up his nose. His eyes shut tight against the waves as they enveloped his entire head, drowning his ears. And then he was flying. Or falling?

He smacked face-first into the tide and skipped off it before crashing into the beach. Grover desperately keeled over onto his side and hacked up a bitter slurry of sand and seawater.

The Moon decided to add insult to injury by 'helpfully' pulling in another sheet of foam to wash over his prone body.

"Over here!"

Grover's head flicked up behind him. Finally! In his rush, he never considered what would happen when night fell. His thin nicks marking the path back to the fallen tree were basically invisible after dark.

"You found it?" he asked as he walked over. Percy was squinting at one of the smaller trunks. "What's wrong?" he asked, before freezing in place when he saw what had the Raider so concerned.

"Umm…" Percy audibly swallowed and brandished the junk sword they found stashed under Lydia's bed. It was warped in the middle, but it was better than nothing. "You made just the one horizontal notch, right?"

"Yeah," Grover confirmed grimly, tracing his fingers down the five, hatched lines carved across his surface scratch.

They were probably being paranoid. There were dozens of ways they could explain the seven slashed trunks without involving a monster strong enough to eat Pyla.

But Grover and Percy were big believers that erring on the side of caution was never a mistake. They made their ramp in record time, even using the bronze discus as a beam to prop the entire bridge up and keep it stable while the lion walked down. It wasn't pretty, but it held.

Grover ran his fingers through its tatty grey mane and scratched it behind the ears. "Goodbye, my friend," he whispered. It was strange how much he'd bonded with the lion in such a short time, especially since he hadn't developed a similar attachment to the not-deer—which they'd since learned was called an oryx according to Lydia's extensive logs. He would miss the gentle beast, but it needed to hunt for itself if it was ever going to thrive. They certainly didn't have enough to support its appetite.

The lion chuffed and ran its rough tongue all over Grover's face, slicking his hair in odd directions. Grover hadn't told anyone yet, but he'd gained his fourth slot. He'd hoped the lion would have been able to fill it, but unfortunately, Grover's Sol wasn't high enough. Maybe if they'd had more time…

So it was with a heavy heart that Grover pulled out his reeds from underneath his clothes and played a short hymn of guidance for both animals. Hopefully, Pan would hear his pleas and guard them until they split ways. But just in case, he added another verse of protection over the oryx. At least for a little while, the lion wouldn't regard it as a possible source of much-needed food.

They'd made a unanimous decision to sleep on Kleo, so they quickly burnt their offerings, finished eating around the fire and began filling the pit with sand. While Grover stayed behind to pack up their campsite, Percy went ahead to clean out the now-empty cage and Annabeth went foraging for extra food with Obelix.

Grover was untying the knots in their makeshift ramp when he heard it. A guttural growl. A deep rumbling that made his palms slick with sweat as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

He tried to run. To warn the others.

But his legs weren't moving and the words withered on his tongue.

In his petrified state, he could barely make out a blurry silhouette become clearer and clearer in the discus' mirror finish. Two wicked spikes jutted straight out of its crooked head while its neck bulged out like a frog's and rattled with every snarl. A bulbous tail flicked to and fro hypnotically as it lumbered towards him on all fours, distended and morphed by the curving gold reflection.

Why wasn't he running? Why wouldn't he move?

A sharp, challenging bark plunged his heart into ice. A thunderous bellow tore through the night to answer it.

No!

Before he processed that his feet had even left the ground he was in the sand, desperately clutching Goliath to his chest. As he clambered backwards, he got his first good look at the monster. Close enough to read its label.

Khimaera, Gestalt.

It was grotesque. Blood-stained and mottled—taller than any building in Montauk. It had two animal heads—what Grover had attributed to a bulging neck was actually one grafted under the other—and a spitting serpent where its tail should have been. The top head was obscured by black smoke pouring from its mouth, but its horns easily poked through, curving slightly like crop scythes.

Horns Grover recognised…

The terror reared back on its hind, cervine legs as its white lion head roared. And though its maw was wide open as it shook its grey mane in dominance, its eyes were lifeless and empty. His friend was gone, and this demon was prancing around dressed in its corpse.

Grover's eyes burned as he wrenched them away from the grisly sight and ran. He couldn't afford the time to mourn. He needed to get Goliath to safety.

"Pyla!" he called as he reached the water. Sensing his obvious distress, Pyla swam to his position before he was even ankle-deep in the Sea. "Take Goliath to the boat!"

She chattered and nodded before turning around. The second Goliath wedged his paws in the crevices of her back, she was off, pumping her powerful flippers in sync to propel them at breakneck speeds. Grover would have left with them, but without a target, there was a chance Khimaera would turn its attention back to the woods. To Obelix.

The head of the oryx drew back and spewed a torrent of frothing liquid that sputtered and sparked as it pooled in the sand. Droplets splashed onto Grover's chiton and instantly set it alight; venomous-green embers burnt through the layers of his clothing and burned his skin. The Farmer winced and jumped back. He was too exposed.

A flash of gold caught the corner of his vision. Keeping a careful distance from the hulking beast, he slowly stepped in a loose arc until he had a straight shot towards the discus and his walking stick planted into the ground. Khimaera growled and drooled acid, poised to pounce. Grover swallowed and crouched low. He only had one shot. No do-overs. No one would swing in at the last second and save him.

Its shoulders tensed.

Grover dove.

The behemoth went soaring over his head before crashing into the shoreline with all the force of a meteor. Sand burst in every direction and sent Grover several podes further than he was aiming. His lungs burned as they fought to breathe through what felt like half the beach. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to his only chance at survival, the fires of Khimaera's fury blistering his back.

He scooped up the heavy plate and ducked behind it just in time for a shockwave to clip his improvised shield and send him tumbling. The bronze sang like a cymbal and hammered its discordant note deep into his skull. Grover stared in horror as the distortion continued unimpeded before it ripped a line of trees to kindling.

That could have been him.

Khimaera stalked closer as the lion head audibly sucked in air, chambering another wave. If this one hit Grover full-on—shielded or not—he was done for. When he gauged that the monster was at the apex of its inhale, he flung the discus as hard as he could, praying frantically that Herakles would take pity on him for once and guide his throw.

The God of Athletics must have been in a good mood because the disc flew true, clanging against Khimaera's snout and sending the second shockwave wide. While it was dazed Grover gripped his fingers white around his cane and closed the remaining gap between them.

Grover felt sick as he cracked the carved head of his staff against the lion's forehead. Khimaera roared and rained acid from the oryx which he barely dodged. He stumbled between the terror's legs and jabbed his weapon hand into its flank. The monster grunted, sounding more annoyed than in any actual pain, before twisting around in an attempt to stomp on him.

Pride welled up in Grover's chest. Even if he wasn't causing much damage, he was holding his own. Barely—to be fair—but it was more than he could have dreamt of doing only a week ago.

Unfortunately, his revelry failed to account for one thing: the snake.

It whipped under Khimaera's body and sank its oversized fangs into Grover's ankle. Pain worse than anything he'd ever imagined erupted in his leg as the tail hoisted him up from his foot before tossing him like a ragdoll. The foul stench of burning flesh laid siege on Grover's nose.

"Grover!" Oh good. Percy had arrived. Right on time to save the monster from Grover's cruel clutches. "Hey ugly! Sorèlle! Over here!"

Khimaera took great offence to that and howled its displeasure. While his brother had it distracted, Grover tried to wrap his foot without looking at the repulsive, yellowing wound. He was largely unsuccessful, and the contents of his stomach crawled at his throat.

Percy was backing towards the shoreline, where the bulk of Kleo sat silhouetted against the night sky. It was a good move. The water would allow him to make use of Drain, and the ropes on board the ship would be within easy reach. Percy whooped again, the kopis flashing in his grip.

With a deftness that could have only come from long hours of practice, knotted strands of rope wound their way around the neck of the serpent. It struggled against the hold. Another moment and the other head might have been able to help free it—but that moment was long enough.

Percy severed the head of the serpent in a single, powerful stroke, and the gleaming jaws disappeared under the surf. Looking into the dark gleam of the water, it was just possible to glimpse the slightly darker shape of the head, which tumbled like a scaly rock against the sand.

Yeah, that felt apt.

A familiar 'baa' broke him from his ill-timed wallowing. Grover's eyes went wide as he twisted to see Obelix tripping in the loose sand, Annabeth nowhere to be seen. Biting down on his pain, he rushed over to her and pushed her back behind the treeline.

"What are you doing? Where's Annabeth?"

Obelix shook her head and stamped her hooves into the dirt.

"Okay girl, I need you to stay here and hide. Can you do that for me? Don't move until I come and get you. Got it?"

She brayed and ran into the shrubbery. With Obelix safely out of the way, Grover turned back to help Percy.

For his part, he seemed to be doing much better than Grover was—though, granted, the fact that he was still standing was enough for that to be true. His eyes never had time to dim as he pulled Khimaera into the water by its horns. The monster thrashed wildly as superheated saliva bubbled over its jaw and boiled the surrounding Sea into steam. Grover was nearly convinced that Percy was going to win when an errant paw careened from the side and slammed into his chest, sending him flying.

"Percy!" Grover rushed to his side and helped prop him up. "You alright, man?"

"Grover?" Percy muttered, slurring his words slightly as he spat out a mouthful of saltwater. "I saw that that thing had your foot, how are you walking?"

"I'm fine," Grover assured, and he was. He could chalk it up to the rush of battle, the pain overwhelming him or even that the poison had run its course. Regardless, he was still on his feet. "I can't even feel it."

Percy nodded jerkily and got back up. "Okay. This thing is stupidly strong, but he has two main weaknesses I could find." He pointed at his rope still dangling from the oryx head. "The heads aren't in sync. While one is moving, the other goes to sleep."

He stared straight into Khimaera's eyes and never realised. Percy fought the beast for a minute and had a full run down. "And the second?"

"It's really, really heavy," he grinned, before turning slightly. Percy's widening eyes were Grover's only warning before he was tackled out of the way of a charging Khimaera barrelling past. The monster snarled as it skidded to a long stop with its back arched.

"It's going to pounce!" Percy warned, the kopis glowing in the moonlight. "As it recovers, you'll have your chance to stun it."

Grover narrowed his eyes and readjusted his grip on his staff. Khimaera honed in on Percy's position and jumped. The Raider's eyes lit up as he glided out of the way. Rather than crash into the ground with all the impact of an apocalypse, Khimaera plunged into the seafloor until its paws and hooves were knee-deep in the sludge. Grover could barely see the churning water pulling the sand loose from under the beast through the murky water, making it impossible for Khimaera to gain its footing. Its sheer size seemed to be its detriment as it clumsily sank further and further.

"Now!" Percy yelled, bounding forward to grab the standing end of his rope. He wrapped it around the oryx's mouth and pulled.

Grover curled the stick behind his body and twisted to drive the end between the lion's eyes right as they started to roll back into focus. The jolt of the impact nearly popped his arms out of their sockets as the sickening crunch of Khimaera's snout caving in rang in his ears. That sound would haunt his nightmares for weeks. The force was too much for his poor staff; the ornamental carvings of his dad's handiwork were marred by cracks and seams webbing down the shaft. It felt like he'd lost an old friend. Like he'd failed his grandfather's legacy. Grover's knees splashed in the midnight tide as he dropped beside the splintering wood, cooling his angry-red palms in the Sea.

Oblivious to Grover's turmoil, Percy charged in sword-first and thrust the point deep into the lion's ratty mane, dragging the blade down and wrenching it free.

As the warmth of Exp bloomed behind his naval, he tried to remind himself that his friend was already dead. That it died when Khimaera possessed it…

A hair-raising shriek cut across the beach, "Khimaera!"

Percy groaned at the sky in frustration before helping Grover up. "Where's Annabeth when you need her?" he lamented as they turned to face yet another, presumably stronger foe. And her label didn't offer any comfort.

Ekhidna, Mother.

"You… wretched children!" she screeched, her olive-green cheeks tinted blue. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" Her mustard peplos swished and billowed, revealing twin snake tails in place of her legs. Dark scales grew down her arms as her fingertips lengthened into ten jagged claws. "You killed my beautiful baby," she sobbed, before switching on a copper into an unbridled rage. "I'll eviscerate you!" Suddenly she was in front of Percy, raking her talons across his chest "Murderer!" she screamed in his face as she hoisted him up by the neck, her dagger-like fingernails tracing the lines in his purpling face and loitering around his eyes.

"Stop!" Grover grabbed the back of her outstretched hand and tugged it towards his chest. "Please! I'm sorry!"

Ekhidna's attention snapped to him. "You're… sorry?" she asked incredulously, dropping Percy like a sack of flour. "You're sorry!?" She grabbed him by the top of his head and lifted him by his hair. "And just what are you sorry for, Shepherd?"

Shepherd? Grover glanced inward, not believing his ears. He… he classed. He had a Class.

"Well!?" Ekhidna demanded, pressing her nails into his scalp and harshly reminding him that there were more pressing matters.

"I know what you're feeling," he choked out. "And I'm sorry I caused it."

"You presume much, boy!" She shook him like a rattle and threw him into the sand. "You know nothing of what I feel. Nothing of this emptiness! This pain! You will never know the heartbreak of a mother losing her child!"

As she approached his prone form, Grover noticed Obelix poke her head out of the bushes.

No. No no no no. He was frozen stiff in place, silently pleading with the gods for the ewe to stay hidden. To run as far as her cloven hooves could take her. All to no avail. Obelix had spotted him in his state and was fully determined to be right by his side.

Thankfully, Ekhidna mistook his anguish for pain. "I'm not going to kill you, boy. My Sweet Khimaera took care of that," she cackled as she sank one of her nails deep into his calf, his bindings having long since burned away. Grover winced in preparation for the pain, but it never came; he couldn't feel his foot.

He couldn't feel his foot.

"I will not deprive my son of his final kill." She turned her back on Grover and stopped short.

No! Whatever Ekhidna had done had accelerated the venom towards its crest. All of his strength was rapidly sapping away. He couldn't even muster the energy to talk.

"Oh. It appears I was mistaken," she stated pleasantly as Grover frantically tried to stay awake. "You do know what it's like. I might not kill you, Shepherd, but I have no qualms against filling your last cursed moments on Earth with the same pain I feel." She presented her claws and leaned over Obelix.

Grover's eyes flashed.

The world moved.

Ekhidna's talons were embedded in his shoulder, Obelix tucked safely in his arms.

"Argh! Insolent worm!" she snarled. "Khimaera will forgive me. Die!" Grover felt a tug gather over the small of his back. Ekhidna threw her arm forward to deliver the finishing blow right before he was jerked away, flung in Kleo's general direction.

Thwoom! Standing over him—looking halfway crossed between exasperated and guilty—was Annabeth clutching the remains of his staff and the discus.

As he faded out of consciousness, he idly wondered why everyone seemed so fond of throwing him inhumane distances.

GROVER

Lvl. 23 Shepherd

Aspects

Mnd: 61

Bdy: 77

Brh: 68

Sol: 79

Rkn: 46

Passive: Head of the Herd

Grants Grover his Herd, an extension of himself.

Skills

Harvest: A dutiful farmer is blessed with a bountiful harvest.

Pacify: A skilful Farmer's soothing voice has a calming effect on even the most troubled of creatures.

Locate Stragglers: Wanderlust is common in all manners of domesticated beasts. A proper caretaker becomes quite adept at tracking them down.

Flock's Vanguard: A good Shepherd must put his flock before himself, even to his own detriment.

Glossary

Ekhidna — Mother: Daughter of Keto and Phorkys; the Legendary "Mother of all Monsters".

Herakles — God of Heroes, Athletics & Strength: Son of Zeus; The most famous hero throughout all of history, known for complete twelve impossible tasks.

Italia — A large peninsula west of Hellas (Greece).

Khimaera — Gestalt: Child of Typhon and Ekhidna; A serpentine wraith that inhabits patchwork bodies birthed by its mother.

Oryx — An antelopian creature with long, nearly straight horns and dark markings on its face.

Podes — The pluralised form of Pous, 'Foot': Ancient Greek unit of measurement; Equivalent to the foot.

Skolopendra — Leviathan: Child of Keto and Phorkys; the Largest of the Sea-Monsters.

Sorèlle — A derogatory expression; Literally meaning 'old mummy'.

A/N: This chapter kicked my arse. Everyone, send your thanks to Bibleo that it's even halfway readable; my sleep-deprived, 5 A.M. version was utter rubbish.

But Grover finally classed! Woohoo! \. Yes, to the surprise of absolutely no one, Grover is now a Shepherd. He has a sheepdog and raised sheep; I'm so clever. And he has a walking stick instead of a crook because I'm subtle and a master of foreshadowing.

(I originally made Shepherd a Settle, but couldn't think of a Class to branch off of it.)

—Pincoat