AN: I'm dying of boredom. The end.
Time: A Few Days Later
A storm was coming. It was in the air, a tantalizing feeling for the thirsty world, petrichor that could almost be tasted on one's tongue.
The grey skies swirled with misty clouds that hid the sun behind them, barely allowing anything to pass through and shrouding the world in shadow that gave a grey tinge to everything. The air was cool and invigorating, with a thick palpable tension that just added to the day's charm, an anticipation shared by everybody on Olympus, eager for the sweet promise of a refreshing rainstorm. The dark green leaves of the trees rustled with mysterious whisperings that left a gentle shiver down one's spine, a sense of nostalgia for the simple bench in the tree's protective shade that looked out into the grey world beyond. Perhaps it was a long lost memory of being a child, sitting under a tree in the rain, enjoying the warm comfort while watching the world getting cleansed of all hurt.
Was it just that, though?
The population of Olympus thought so at least, they couldn't be bothered less by all that was going on in the world, or the Council Meeting scheduled for that day, the fifteen strongest gods to convene and decide on the world's fate...
Like they had been doing for the last four millennia.
Yes, the almighty, no less arrogant and self-centred, minor gods of Olympus couldn't be bothered less, they had better things to do. Such as... such as...?
Such as?
You recommend something please, dear reader. Help out a poor god here, it's only charitable. After all, they have done soooo much for you. They have sat on their asses and looked after the world. It's not like the world is ending anytime soon or anything, right? There is no global pandemic ravaging the world, no bushfires, trigger happy Korean dictators or anything about to nuke the world, right? They are good at their job, they deserve a pay raise.
Or so you would be led to believe, going by their own words, not mine.
They are so lazy that they can't think of anything to do. Even sleeping, eating or fucking is a chore for them.
Oof, if only they knew...
The sound of impatient tapping, the hard sole of combat boots against the metal floor of the elevator to the gods, reverberated through the elevator that Percy had been forced to take to the Council Meeting, since the protections around Olympus did not allow people with hostile intentions towards its king from flashing in. Even that, that the laws protected Zeus, and Zeus alone, was not lost on him. This has gone on for far too long.
Shit has hit the fucking fan.
Hestia had long ago abandoned her attempts at dissuading the group of violent, bloodthirsty gods from turning her misguided, shitty little brother into a bloody pulp. Well, she wouldn't mind it per se, she just couldn't stomach the violence. Couldn't Percy just chop his head off and be done with it?
She seemed to be the only one out of the lot to uphold the virtue of quick and clean, painless death. Nobody deserved to be tortured, no matter what they had done.
It was just in Hestia's nature to be kind and forgiving, and she knew Zeus took advantage of that. She had been hurt in the past because her nature prevented her from retaliating to corruption, but now, she had someone fighting for her. Someone bloodthirsty, who did not mind getting his hands dirty.
Her lips moved in a silent prayer to all the deities that would listen, for Percy's wellbeing. Zeus was a piece of shit, but he was strong himself and politically adept, otherwise he wouldn't have held the throne for so long. It wouldn't surprise her at all if he had some sort of guards at hand, or blackmailed one of the others into helping. He had already displayed the sway he held over the population of Olympus, through a vile, repelling combination of underhanded deals, lying smiles and two-faced words.
She only hoped that Percy was alright. Going into this, that was her only concern.
The plan was relatively simple. They (the Olympians in Percy's harem) would go in, kill Zeus, kill any co-conspirators, and get out.
It would hardly go as planned. Nothing did, not when Zeus was concerned.
Athena cracked her knuckles, fire blazing in her grey eyes, the wisdom that filled them long gone, replaced by primal fury at her father. Her long blonde hair blazed like molten Imperial gold in divine forges, her normally smart attire replaced by a simple and light Celestial Bronze armour over her simple clothes, making her look like a fierce warrior goddess, which she was, who couldn't be bothered to take her enemies seriously. Judging only by appearances, Athena looked like she was going to kill Zeus, and then go on a date or something with Percy. The cold metal of Aegis glinted in the lights of the seemingly endless elevator ride, matching the equally cruel tip of her spear held firmly in her other hand.
The twin archers reflected their half-sister's mood. Artemis' auburn and Asteria's gold hair clashed in a beautiful yet menacing mixture, both pulled up in ponytails to allow them greater mobility and efficiency in movement. Artemis was polishing her elegant, intricately carved silver bow for a last time before it will be, inevitably, splattered with blood, while Asteria hummed a seemingly carefree tune. The two seemed to be more chill than Athena, though Percy could not say if that was due to more, or less, of battle experience than the wisdom goddess. Both of them were in Hunter uniform, the Huntress' silver parka as menacing as its notorious reputation would lead one to believe, the sun goddess having borrowed one from her sister for battle. Artemis' silver eyes met Percy's briefly, giving him a confident nod and a reassuring half-smile.
This was it. They were rushing into this with shit for a plan, and they knew, whatever they did, was the end. Either of Zeus' tyrannical reign, or themselves.
It did not make any sense. Such an important decision should have been preceded by months of debate and not a day of tumultuous emotions, and followed by months of tiring war.
The months of tiring war wouldn't follow, or at least Artemis prayed it wouldn't. They had to succeed, they just had to. For each other's sake.
If they did, Zeus was dead. If they didn't, they were. It was that simple, and everyone walked into it knowing that it carried a fifty-fifty chance of them not returning.
If they didn't win, the others, left back at Ogygia would start the war.
Aphrodite stood towards the back of the elevator with Hestia, looking as beautiful as ever in an indigo silk dress. Like the hearth goddess, she was not too keen on fighting and getting ichor over everything, and getting hurt. However, she had a reputation as a jealous, merciless goddess, and woe be anyone who decided to mess with the goddess of love's newfound lovers. Her blue eyes glinted with a cruelty characteristic of the love goddess, and no matter how much she was changed by the Dark god's affections, her cruelty wouldn't change, at least, not when it was directed towards those that wanted to hurt her family. Her lovers. If push came to shove, she had a Celestial Bronze knife concealed up her sleeve, Piper had been teaching her how to throw knives. Zeus had to die.
It all came back to Zeus. Zeus. Zeus, king of Olympus. Zeus, tyrant god.
And in the midst of it all, Percy stood, his eyes closed as he tried not to explode right then and there. It was a downright ordeal, to be honest.
He thought back to the incidents that led them to this situation in the first place.
They had all been telling him what happened that fateful day that started the entire mess in the first place, one day at dinner. Percy had just been curious about what had been going through the gods' heads that day. He had somewhat come to terms with Annabeth's death, it still stung him from time to time when he would be reminded of her by something insignificant and it would hurt like hell.
Still, he had just wanted to know what had really happened at the Last Battle.
Or so it had been named, because it had been the end of Olympus' power couple. Annabeth had died, and many believed that Percy wouldn't fight in such bloody battles now that he was a god.
They were wrong, of course, but the assumption could be pardoned. The gods had not given anyone any hint that they could do anything better.
Well, everyone had told their part of the story, what they had been doing and such, what they felt... all except, Athena.
She didn't have any memories of the day.
It was suspicious in of itself, and one would be inclined to suspect her. Especially given her earlier track record of being mortal enemies with the son of Poseidon.
The realization that she had no memories of the day earned her more than her fair share of dirty looks, there could be some sort of convoluted scheme going on here and nobody would be any wiser. After all, Athena the wisdom goddess was known for having plans on top of plans on top of backup plans to an endless level, all entangled in a dizzying Gordian knot that somehow managed to fall into place upon fruition like a stack of dominoes.
In Athena's own words, "I-I d-don't know what happened. I went to sleep one day, then woke up two days later. I slept through the Last Battle. Zeus came to wake me up and tell me that Annabeth had died. He was wondering where I was."
Zeus. His name kept cropping up everywhere.
Everyone wondered for some time what had really happened, because there was no way Athena could sleep through an entire day on her own without being drugged.
Percy could, but few were at his skill level.
And so it had been, Styx called in the expert on memory-related stuff, cashing in a favour. Lethe was brought to Ogygia.
To cut it short, Athena had been assaulted by Zeus, and then given some sort of potion by Hecate. Then, Hera wiped her memories.
What did that potion do?
It was anyone's guess, but since Zeus was the one involved, and taking Athena's earlier erratic behaviour into account, it couldn't be anything good. Zeus had planned for quite some time to make Percy a god and give him a harem. To ensure the son of Poseidon faded completely with zero chance of resurrection, he scrambled Athena's already strained mind, hoping she would cause enough turmoil to make him fade.
Why couldn't he let him just die? If he did, then Hades would have a too powerful soldier on his hands. Zeus' paranoia was another thing entirely.
The allegations and crimes only kept piling up against the King of Olympus.
The elevator doors dinged open, letting the wrathful gods entry to the gloomy, yet serene streets of Olympus.
Percy cracked his knuckles in a threatening manner, cracking his neck too for additional measure, before he stepped out of the lift, bringing with him death and despair into the divine streets of Olympus.
Artemis and Athena veered off to go search for Hecate, leaving the remaining four of them to go take on King Airhead and his sexy bitch of a wife.
Zeus this, Zeus that.
Percy would make sure that his name would be forgotten.
The mostly deserted streets of Olympus passed by in a flash, the few people still about giving the four a wide berth thanks to the imposing stature of the Dark god striding forward with barely restrained rage twisting his features. His feet left patches of sand in their wake, his destructive aura crumbling the smooth roads beneath his feet until nothing but dust was left.
The cool breeze rustling his clothes and messing his hair only added to his ire- a piece of shit like Zeus did not deserve to enjoy such cool breezes. He deserved the toxic, lung eroding air of Tartarus that he and Annabeth, Damasen and Bob, had been forced to endure. He did not deserve the frivolous laughter of nymphs and the gentle sound of the fountains. He deserved the tortured screams of monsters and the boiling of lava.
Percy breathed in the fresh, invigorating air preceding the storm, his lungs burning slightly, in a pleasant manner with its freshness.
The skies swirled with grey clouds, reflecting the fate of its Lord, bleak and dreary.
But soon, the gloomy stormclouds would part to reveal a beautiful rainbow that would hopefully reflect the new Era on Olympus, and Percy only prayed that the rain that would come before would wash away all his sin and guilt and the blood that covered his hands, both guilty and innocent, allowing to start anew, a new man with no burdens and no scars. The rain would create the rainbow.
His boots clicked against the pavement as he made his way to the Olympian Throne room, guided more by muscle memory than conscious effort, and leaving the other goddesses to catch up to his stride with small sprints.
He was stopped by the feeling of Hestia's small, warm hand catching his suddenly, tugging him to a grinding halt.
Confused, the Dark god glanced backwards, only to freeze as he felt soft, delicious lips pressed against his in a small, chaste kiss. His left hand tightened around the handle of Doomslayer in shrunken form, gripping the handle of the small woodsman axe tightly as his right arm, almost on instinct, wrapped around Hestia's slim waist, pulling her closer to his larger frame and even slightly lifting the short hearth goddess off the ground as he reciprocated her passionate kiss.
Percy kissed Hestia with emotion, having a vague idea as to what she wanted to say, as he came to a stop before the massive oak doors of the Olympian Throne Room. He could catch faded snippets of the usual shouting matches, that came as a slight grey buzz through the doors, not up to its usual intensity yet with the absence of many members.
The gentle hearth goddess broke the kiss, cupping her warrior's cheeks as she stared up at him, refusing to break eye contact to let Percy know how serious she was. Her soft thumb rubbed his stubbly cheek.
"Be careful, Percy. I don't want to lose you." Her soft pink lips trembled, her warm brown eyes glistening with unshed tears as she held his gaze, refusing, reluctant to let Percy go. She had lost too much already to Zeus, she did not know what to do if he took Percy away from her too.
The Dark god's expression was unreadable, no emotion leaking from his features as he broke eye contact, no longer able to keep up with the fiery hearth goddess' sincerity. He couldn't promise her anything, and both of them knew it.
He looked back towards Aphrodite's and Asteria's grim, determined faces, wondering if this was how Poseidon felt when he rebelled against Zeus.
His gaze dropped to his feet as he let the hearth goddess leave his one-armed hug, unable to meet her eyes, neither able to say anything. He could not lie to her, nor reassure her not-completely-ungrounded fears, and it hurt that he had to let one of his own down.
He shifted Doomslayer from left to his preferred right, tapping the hearth goddess' arm lightly with the flat of his axe in a silent gesture to stay back. He pointedly refused to look at her, not sure if he would be able to stay composed if he saw her expression.
There was a moment of silent hesitation before Hestia stepped back, wordlessly obeying Percy's unspoken command.
Checking to make sure that nobody would be caught in the crossfire, taking a shuddering breath to gather his nerves and portray a confident facade, letting his anger support him, Percy allowed his powers to get to work. Doomslayer, tuned in perfectly to his aura, acted as a conduit, allowing the Dark, bluish-red energy to envelope his axe, warping and bubbling like lava, never static.
Kick-off time.
Percy reared back, Spartan kicking the massive doors to the Olympian Throne Room open.
The resounding crash that followed was surely heard all around Olympus. A couple of eagles perched on the nearby garden dedicated to Zeus left their tree, taking flight into the endless sea of rolling, grey clouds, their wings dark against the sky. Almost poetic.
There was a moment of shock, as the three lone occupants of the Throne room struggled to comprehend what had happened. Perhaps this would be easier than he had anticipated.
Percy did not give them a chance to recover.
His dark sea-green eyes, swimming with burning hatred, met Zeus' shocked electric blue eyes for a moment, revelling in the primal fear reflected in the King's eyes.
Percy tossed Doomslayer up in his hand for a moment, like a professional knife or axe thrower does, before he pitched his axe, as a baseball player would. His muscles flexed and strained, veins popping in his neck and forehead in rage as the axe left his hand.
There was a small boom, a trail of blood-red left hanging in the air by his aura infused weapon, followed by the blood-curdling shriek of the Lord of the Skies.
His axe lodged deep in Zeus' silver and gold throne, the blade embedded at least a few inches in the metal, missing his skull by a few millimetres. As it was, Percy was sure that he had taken half of his flowing beard and skin with the axe throw, letting his powers disintegrate the rest of his face in an agonizingly slow manner.
Was Percy being needlessly cruel? Perhaps.
Was he getting his sadistic kicks out of this? Again, perhaps.
A generous splatter of golden, glistening ichor accompanied by Zeus' pained screams told him that he had taken His Majesty's royal ear with him.
"Damn, looks like I missed." A twisted smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the King cower in his throne, his hands golden and bloody as he tried to stop the bleeding, golden staining his impeccably white toga. "Pretty sure I practised too..."
Well, he had missed on purpose, of course. He wanted to draw out the torture as long as he could.
Percy strode forward purposefully, making himself look like he was going to end it once and for all.
His muscles tensed, knowing what was to come as he stared straight ahead at the writhing King of Olympus.
There was a roar of anger from the side, a flash of red and gold that Percy had been waiting for.
"Die!"
Predictably, Ares attacked him, an oversized sword curling downwards towards him in a deadly arc sure to take the top half of his body if unchecked.
Percy leaned back, smoothly allowing the war god's wild strike to sail harmlessly past. From there, it was all reflex and muscle memory, a simple manoeuvre that Percy had executed too many times to the point that he could do it in his sleep.
Percy's left elbow crashed into Ares' ear, disorienting the god severely as his right hand shot out, grabbing the handle of Ares' sword and wrenching it out of his grip. His left hand grabbed a hold of Ares' neck as he kneed him in the stomach with all of his godly strength, making the war god groan and lurch forward. Two quick stabby stabs with the sword that Ares had so thoughtfully provided the Dark god with, and he was left to bleed out at the foot of his throne, groaning weakly.
All this was executed in less than two seconds, and the Dark god resumed his determined march up to the King of Olympus throne, as if nothing had ever happened.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Hera fanning her hot face with her hands, trying to cool down from her arousal as he beat the crap out of her almost dead son and husband. Her large brown eyes, so similar yet so different to Hestia's, stared at his blood-splattered form in barely concealed lust.
Percy felt a dark smirk tug at the corner of his lips.
Slutty bitch.
He dragged the sword behind him as he slowly and deliberately approached Zeus, letting its tip drag along the ground and not caring about the massive scratch he was leaving in the marble.
A gust of wind blew past his ear, and two twin thunks had Hera pinned to her throne with twin golden arrows.
Percy ignored the Queen's cries as Asteria attacked her, instead joining the sexy sun goddess in butchering her dad.
Ares's enormous sword was thrown straight at Zeus' chest, and Percy expected him to just sit there and take it.
Fuck.
The King's eyes glowed white with pure power as he clapped his hands around the blade, halting it in its tracks as he roared in desperation. Veins popped in his forehead, his bloodied hands leaving a trail of golden ichor in the Celestial Bronze as Percy tried to overpower him with brute strength alone.
Percy planted his foot on the blade's guard, trying to use his foot to overpower Zeus, his jaw tense and hatred clear in his eyes. He watched the beads of golden blood roll down the side of his face, his forearms and biceps flexing and straining as he tried to keep the blade away from his chest.
Percy slammed his foot back down on the blade handle, feeling his lip twitch in annoyance. "Why won't you just die, cockroach King?"
Even as he spoke these words, his eyes followed the crackling electricity in Zeus' white mane of hair, his electric blue eyes darkening like stormclouds. He could smell the familiar ozone smell, every time Thalia or Neo got angry, though it was not accompanied by their sweet scent. Instead, it was replaced by a metallic blood and sweat scent.
His hair stood on end, feeling the electricity charged air around the two.
"Aaaaargh!"
Percy jumped clear of the small explosion that was the result of Zeus' desperate discharge, his feet tensing in preparation for a sudden attack. His hand reached backwards, enclosing around Anaklusmos' handle, the cold metal comfortable and reassuring in his hand, waiting for the right moment, waiting for Zeus' sure attack to remove the sword from its sheath on his back.
He was just grateful that there were no Olympians like Hermes or Poseidon or Hades to hamper him. Aphrodite and Hestia knew more than enough to stay out of the way, and Asteria was occupied with Hera. Good.
A bolt of lightning arced out of the grey smoke of the explosion, crackling with energy as it raced towards Percy faster than most gods could blink.
It was not too fast for the Dark god, however, as he jumped to the side, bracing himself on Artemis' throne and using it as a launching pad as he dove into the smoke, ready to bring it to close quarters.
He was sure she wouldn't mind it too much. If she did, well, nothing a good spanking wouldn't set straight.
The good, fond memories of Artemis were replaced by Zeus' shitty face, contorted in rage, with his silver beard crackling with electricity, barely inches from his face. The sword Ares had used earlier inches away from his own chest, Anaklusmos the only thing preventing Zeus from chopping the Dark god in half.
Percy could feel the ringing in his arm from Anaklusmos clashing against Ares' sword. He had been caught slightly off guard, and had barely had time to react and defend himself, Zeus moved with speed one wouldn't expect from a rusty god who barely moved. It was an awkward position he was locked in, holding Anaklusmos in a dagger grip, and her edge pressed painfully against his forearm.
He tried to swipe Zeus' legs out from beneath him, but it was dodged easily, the King jumping away from him. Although the trick did its intended job, allowing Percy enough time to shift Anaklusmos into a proper position, holding her ready to mow down Zeus. Now, Percy was in his element.
"This is treason!" Zeus roared with a curiously red face, spit flying from his lips and his eyes almost bulging at the idea. A deadly arc of lightning left his sword, crashing into the floor and leaving a scorch mark where Percy had been mere milliseconds earlier.
Zeus continued sending overpowered blasts of lightning at the Dark god, seemingly not tired even a little bit after everything, and Percy continued to jump around and dodge, trying to get closer to the King. It was as if the missing ear, the ichor rolling down the side of his face and turning a good part of his toga golden, did not affect him in the slightest.
But it was not so.
With his enhanced godly vision, Percy could see chips of Zeus' skin chipping and flaking away, turning to dry dust. His eyes narrowed at the slow pace- it seemed like Zeus' own godly power was fighting his invasive powers, Percy would need more than that if he wanted to disintegrate the King's face completely.
Trying to get close to him was of no use, however, as Zeus continued to blast him with bolts of lightning, keeping him at a good distance while slowly bringing down the Olympian Throne room around them. Percy was only surprised that it lasted so long.
Chunks of the domed ceiling fell around them, making dodging difficult as he had to weave around the debris. The walls were starting to come down as well, leaving them fighting in the open.
"You were only a puny demigod, and now you're a puny god! Hail my name, I'm the King of Olympus!" Zeus roared, raising his sword to the sky and calling all the lightning stored in the dark stormclouds that hung in the overcast sky above, using the sword as a conduit, and directing them towards Percy in a deadly beam.
Percy sprinted to the side, sheathing Anaklusmos back and holding his hands together, feeling the power flow in them, a blood-red glow taking over his forearms as he kept just out of reach of Zeus' impromptu death ray.
Finding a suitable moment to attack as the King broke off his beam, not able to hold it anymore, Percy slid to a stop, leaning down and planting his glowing hands, supercharged with destructive energy, on the throne room's floor.
Immediately, almost the entire marble floor of the Olympian Throne Room turned to quicksand, taking with it whatever stood of the walls and roof, and drawing Zeus in till his waist in a few seconds. Sand rained around them, an interesting irony as it covered all of them in dry dust, stinging and annoying, in their hair and clothes. The once glorious Throne Room looked like what mortals pictured a quicksand trap in an Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh's tomb would be like, almost like an endless portal straight to the Underworld, with swirling sand that engulfed everything.
The Thrones clung on, Percy's godly powers not enough to destroy them, only enough to make them sink halfway in the quicksand, like an abandoned King's courtroom. Ares' body was nowhere to be found.
Percy was good at causing mass destruction, it seemed.
The King of the Gods seemed confused for a moment at the widespread change in the battleground, something taken advantage of by the Dark god.
Percy used the sand to his advantage, something in his element, using it to smoothly transport himself beside Zeus in the blink of an eye. His hands planted on the ground, acting as a pivot as he scissor kicked the King of the gods, feeling Zeus's jaw crunch beneath his combat boots.
Everything was silent for a moment, before it was replaced by sheer rage radiating from the disgraced King of the gods.
"Die!" He roared, throwing the useless sword to the side. It was immediately engulfed by the endless sea of swirling sand, till not a trace of it could be seen. A few seconds, and it would be disintegrated into fine dust, too.
Zeus shot up from the sand engulfing him, using his control over air to stay afloat, hovering a few feet above the swirling sand. Shit.
"You have been arrogant, and now, you must pay the price. I will not leave a speck of you left when I'm done with you, Son of Poseidon!" He roared, summoning the Master Bolt.
Percy 'tch'-ed in response.
Zeus was quickly becoming more than an annoyance. Perhaps this needed more planning after all. He had to somehow get into close quarters for long enough to engage in close quarters combat, not allowing Zeus a chance to use his lightning.
"Clearly, you're a good warrior. I would have loved to have you as a loyal Olympian soldier for eternity. Unfortunately, the Fates have not deemed it so." He spoke, spitting out a bit of golden blood that coloured his split lips. Percy was sure that he felt a tooth land somewhere in the sand, too.
And Zeus started shooting indiscriminately with the Master Bolt.
Fuck, this was not good.
Zeus laughed as he watched Percy panic and dodge, knowing that he did not have a chance to take on a full-powered blast head-on.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his leg muscles burning as he kicked into overdrive, all his limits tested by Zeus.
Percy disappeared from where he was with a sonic boom as he left the sound barrier, straining all his muscles to the max as he went faster, and faster, and faster.
Zeus only laughed at him, letting his master bolt disappear as he raised a fist, blocking Percy's side chop effortlessly with his wrist.
But Percy was finally in close quarters, something he would always be the best at.
His limbs disappeared in a haze as he fought Zeus with all his might in hand to hand combat, letting his hands channel his power as he tried to end the Lord of the Skies where he stood.
Swipe at the head, duck, open-palmed punches at his abdomen, jump, feint at his head before delivering a solid punch in his chest, roundhouse kick to his head. Percy went on autopilot, all his cognitive abilities occupied with watching out for any dirty tricks Zeus might pull.
Blows were traded at a pace faster than even an Olympian could comprehend, Percy trying his level best to employ all the martial arts he had ever learned in a hodgepodge mixture of unpredictability that had left even Annabeth stumped.
His hands swiped at Zeus's head, feinting before diving in for hits on his chest, his knees aiming for his abdomen, before breaking the flow of the fight with wide, sporadic kicks to Zeus' head, each carrying enough power to blow his head clean off his shoulders.
And Zeus knew that.
He tried to weave through the attacks as best as he could, blocking what he couldn't dodge, and letting a few of the less serious hits connect.
But every hit was serious. Very serious.
With his newfound powers, Percy had, of course, incorporated his destructive powers into his hand to hand martial arts, and the results showed. His hands blazed with purple fire as he fought, leaving trails of purple glow behind him as he moved almost at the speed of light, only caring about ending Zeus.
Percy's sweat had evaporated long ago, trails of ichor and saliva glistening on his chin as he exerted his body more than one ever should, even for a god. His eyes were looking increasingly mad with every passing moment, his muscles screamed and protested at every action, but Percy did not relent.
Every hit made the ground shake like Typhon's footsteps, booming sounds like bombs exploding, shaking Olympus to its very core as its King fought with its strongest God.
In the back of his mind, Percy could hear a commotion outside, but he paid them no heed.
The air stank of death and decay, though Percy assumed that was his doing. The purple flames devoured all, every single weapon Zeus would summon to try and fight back gone as soon as they came into contact with the all-consuming flames.
Zeus seemed to have all but given up.
His body crackled with slight electricity, but even Neo could produce more than that. It was nothing to Percy, and he did not relent his ferocious attack at the King's misery.
Zeus' toga was now less than a loincloth, all the fabric getting burned away in the flames. His face was worse for wear, more than half of it missing, eaten away by Percy's powers, and leaving only an eyeball and most of the skull exposed. He looked like a half decomposed zombie. All his muscles were rotting, a sickly combination of green and measly red, the decomposition process quickened with every hit he took, until the King was literally getting decomposed alive. Live maggots wriggled in the once-proud King's chest, white and disgusting. Pus and ichor splattered Percy's fists and face with every hit he gave Zeus, his disgusting bodily fluids spraying his face, warm and filthy.
But Percy found he did not care.
As long as Zeus could fight, he would suffer.
Apparently, that was not long.
Zeus crumbled to his feet in the sand, only held up thanks to Percy somewhat solidifying the sand beneath the King's collapsed form. His lips moved wordlessly, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath that just wouldn't come. His arms were reduced to bone and skin, twitching helplessly like the arms of someone in a fit. His eyelids were long gone, leaving him unable to close his eyes or look away as Percy stood above him, Zeus' sole eyeball gross in its exposed orbit.
Zeus looked like a gruesome zombie that would get any movie censored heavily if he was ever pictured in it. And Percy found he didn't care.
His powers were terrifying. The ability to take away life and vitality with a touch. The ability to kill and torture with a touch.
He raised his hand, willing Doomslayer in axe form back into his hand. And, like Thor's Mjölnir, it obeyed, flying into its Master's outstretched hand.
He glanced towards the axe in his hand. He wouldn't need it. He would rip Zeus apart with his bare hands.
"That beating, was for every person you screwed over," Percy spoke, hooking Doomslayer back into his belt.
The commotion outside was growing larger, seemingly revitalized by the realization that the fight between Zeus and the newest Olympian was over. They were ignored.
Feeling drops of water hit him, Percy looked up, ignoring the dying King clawing at his own throat, in a desperate attempt to breathe.
It had begun to rain.
The dark grey clouds rolled above, almost in an angry manner, occasional flashes of thunder lighting up the night sky. Unknown to the combatants, their fight had stretched on for more than a few hours.
The rain came on heavier and thicker, the water not having any effect on the quicksand beneath Percy's feet, which remained as dry and dead as ever.
The son of Poseidon closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the rain that he had always enjoyed.
The water splattered his face, setting up a gentle pitter-patter of raindrops all around him, rivulets of water flowing down his cheeks and dampening his clothes.
His wet hair stuck to his face, Percy sighing as he felt it wash away the blood on his face. The gentle feeling of the raindrops caressing his face comforting.
Percy let his hands run through his damp hair, sighing as he looked down at the prostrate, unmoving form of Zeus. He was still alive, though, his chest rose and fell in shuddering gasps, barely able to breathe.
"Look what you've made me do, asshole."
Percy sounded stressed for some reason, unable to believe that he had just lost control like that.
What would the girls say? What would Annabeth say?
They were always his moral compass, and he let them down.
Well, might just go all the way.
Letting his hand fall limply to his side, Percy just enjoyed the rain on his face for a few moments more, revelling in the cool, refreshing feeling as it soaked his clothes, washing away the sand and the blood, making his burning muscles relax. He could taste blood, his own immortal ichor, in his mouth, he would have to do something about that later.
Percy stumbled towards Zeus' body, almost drunken on the feeling of victory and success, high and intoxicated in the feeling of sadistic torture.
"Percy?" Soft, worried voices called out to him as he straddled Zeus' thin, frail body, that would fall apart at a breeze. He recognized those voices somewhat, they were familiar, soothing, making him anchor to a long-forgotten feeling.
Home. Comfort. Warmth.
He would not let anyone take them away from him. He was selfish. He would kill Zeus. Zeus had tried to take them away.
"Percy?" A deeper voice, perhaps belonging to Poseidon or Hades.
They were ignored.
"And this... is for Annabeth."
Purple flames lit up on his hands, like vengeful ghosts that burned hotter than the sun, immediately evaporating any and all water in their immediate vicinity and leaving Percy's soaked clothes bone dry.
He raised his fist, taking pleasure in the way Zeus frantically shook his head from side to side. At his state, it seemed like he was having a fit.
"Percy!"
The last thing the King of the Gods would ever see, would be the mad face of the newest Olympian, illuminated by purple flames.
There was a massive explosion, enough to create a crack in the mythical mountain.
And then, all was silent.
The only sound was the rain.
AN: Eh... I was feeling particularly violent, so here it is. 6.5K chapter, surprisingly. Enjoy. Tell me what you think.
Alright, so, I'll write till Chapter 70 of Dealing with Drama, then I'll take a short break to start another book. This time, it is a Harry Potter fanfiction.
I'll hold a poll later on my Wattpad profile.
Keep calm and headbang!