~ Prologue ~
Percy couldn't remember much about the fall.
He remembered feeling weightless for what seemed like years, surrounded by nothing but darkness. He had looked up at the fading light of the surface, where Annabeth was, for as long as he could, but even that was gone now. He was scared- no, terrified of what was below him, but he knew that he'd done the right thing. His life for Annabeth's. Yeah, that seemed like a good deal.
Is this how I die? Percy asked himself. No, it can't be. The Doors still need to be closed.
As he fell, he noticed that the further he got from his world, the drier the air became. After hours (or days?) of falling, all the moisture seemed to be gone except from...
Below?
He closed his eyes shut and reached out with his sixth sense. He felt a long body of water -a river?- in the depths below him, and it was nearing rapidly. It felt dirty somehow, as opposed to the homely feel of the ocean water from the surface, but he'd work with it.
When he felt the river get uncomfortably close Percy twisted around in the air as best as he could, and reached. The water thankfully obeyed his orders. A geyser erupted out of the pitch black river and engulfed his body.
He crashed into the river bed, even the water couldn't break the massive momentum of the fall and the impact sent him reeling. Thankfully he could breathe underwater.
"Damn..." He muttered, now lying on his back at the bottom of the river. His head spun when he tried to lift it, but he did so anyway. When he successfully sat up straight, he looked around. Despite the pitch black colour of the water, Percy could somehow see his surroundings perfectly.
A chill ran down Percy's spine. He quickly spun around, his hand already stuffed inside his pocket, but there was nothing. Both in front of him, and in his pocket. He was unarmed in Tartarus, he realized. The water suddenly didn't feel so safe anymore. It felt like something could lunge at him at any second.
Percy squatted down and pushed off of the river bed, shooting up towards the surface. Once he broke the surface, he shot out of the water and landed on dry ground. Too late he realized he'd put too much power behind the jump, and stumbled forward. Luckily he caught himself on the ground, but suddenly Percy hissed in pain.
The ground was made of sharp glass-like rocks, and they'd dug into his palms. He flexed his hands, trying to get rid of the numb feeling.
"Well, that sucked." He scoffed, examining his surroundings.
Behind him was the river, of course, and a large wall made of jagged black rocks, similar to the ground but less... sharp? The wall went as far as he could see on both sides, with nothing else in sight. In front of him, Percy only saw thick, red fog and nothing else.
He weighed his options carefully; he could stay here until help came, which wasn't likely. The rest of the seven had escaped on the Argo II. That's what he hoped, at least.
So Percy picked his second option; the fog. It was either that or following the wall, and his instincts told him something was off about the river, so he'd pass.
His train of thought was interrupted by a high pitched screeching sound coming from the fog in front of him. Percy hesitantly took a step back; he didn't like this. Riptide was gone and he couldn't see a damn thing through all of this crimson fog. So he stayed deadly still, waiting for something to move in the red abyss.
After a minute or two, something finally moved. In his peripheral vision, a red ball shot towards him. The son of Poseidon quickly dove to the side, hitting the ground. The creature missed its mark but landed smoothly on its two legs, before crouching down to all fours.
Percy quickly got to his feet, trying to ignore the pain caused by the sharp rocks and pebbles. Examining the monster, he realized that he'd seen it before. It looked like a harpy, yet much more feral than the ones at camp. She had the body of a human, but red wings sprouted along her arms and her nails were long and sharp, like talons. The most noticeable thing was her eyes; they didn't have irises. They were stark white, and currently looking for him.
How has it not seen me yet? Percy asked himself, taking another step back. Is it blind?
A loud stomp followed by the sound of breaking rocks broke the silence, and the harpy's attention shot to the source of the noise; the fog. Both Percy and the harpy stood deathly still once again, waiting for something to happen.
Then everything went downhill.
With a deafening roar, a black mass of pure muscle leapt out of the fog, landing on the harpy who cried out in pain. Percy stumbled back, trying to get away from the monsters, but he couldn't stop watching. Why? He didn't know.
The hellhound bit into the throat of the struggling harpy, silencing her cries abruptly. With one powerful tug, the hound tore the head off of the other monster, and the harpy turned to dust.
Percy took yet another slow step back, but this hellhound was much more attentive than the harpy. Its attention snapped to the demigod immediately, followed by another roar.
It charged.
He tried to do the same move that had worked on the harpy, he dove to the side like a matador trying to get away from the beast. However, it caught him mid flight by lashing out with one its paws.
"Agh!" He cried out.
The hellhound rammed into Percy full force, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying for about six feet. He barely felt the fall; it was overpowered by the searing pain that shot up his left arm, or what was left of it.
Percy looked down at his arm, only to see a bloody stump that was freely bleeding onto his shirt. His entire lower arm, including the elbow, was gone.
"What the hell..." His voice shook, tears brimming in his eyes. He looked back up to see the hellhound distracted, munching on what seemed to be... no.
Despite the pain, he clutched his wound tightly and scrambled to his feet before turning back to the river. He ran. The water would heal him, maybe even give him a new arm... Hopefully. Did his powers even work the same way in Tartarus?
Percy heard another roar behind him; the monster had noticed him again. The river was only about fifteen feet away.
I'll make it. I have to-
Once he made it to the black river, the hellhound hot on his heels, he didn't hesitate to dive in. It was so wild, his swimming teacher would've scolded him for his bad form.
As Percy sank to the bottom of the river, still holding his missing arm, he hoped the monster wouldn't follow him in the water. Yeah, that'd suck.
He just barely felt himself hit the bottom for the second time in about twenty minutes, exhausted and missing a damn limb. So, he did the only thing that seemed appropriate in his situation.
He passed out.
Percy spent the next eternity fading in and out of consciousness at the bottom the the river, which he'd realized was the Acheron, the river of misery. It seemed like his body was using the Acheron's water to heal him, and it was working. He'd woken up one time, too exhausted to even move, but his stump had stopped bleeding. The phantom pains of not having an arm still plagued him though, and it didn't look like the water would magically regrow his arm either.
Tough.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Percy woke up feeling... decent? As decent as one could be when they're stuck in the pits of Hell, of course. He was angry though, very angry. He felt it running through his veins and clouding his judgement, creeping into his mind like a slow burning poison.
He was angry at the gods, angry at his friends, angry at himself. Part of him realized this was the Acheron feeding off of his negative emotions and amplifying them, but the other part didn't care.
I don't want to save the world. I don't want to help the gods. He thought bitterly. They're the reason I'm down here in the first place. And where the hell were my friends? Half of them can fly, can't they? Jason and Frank came to mind.
The voice in the back of his head spoke up. It was too late. They couldn't have done anything.
"Bullshit!" Percy growled to no one in particular.
No, fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck all of this. He thought. I won't die here, I won't stop until I've reached the surface and I've given them a piece of my mind! And anyone, anything that tries to stop me... I'll do what I have to do.
He looked up at the surface, seeing the silhouette of the hellhound. It hadn't given up yet, it was still pacing back and forth at the side of the river. Percy's anger only grew.
That's it. The monster that took my arm. Thought Percy. If I don't defeat it, I won't be able to move forward, in more ways than one.
If only he had a weapon, Percy thought, then he'd have a chance. The riverbed consisted of nothing but rock though, and none of them even came loose. Suddenly an idea came to him as he watched the monster pacing alongside the river.
With a flick of his wrist, a tendril of water shot out of the river. It latched onto the hellhound and began pulling him closer to the water. It tried to bite it off, but its teeth caught nothing but water.
Percy heard it roars all the way from the bottom of the Acheron, causing him to scowl. "Shut up!" Percy growled. He sent another tendril to wack the hound across the head. Its struggle ceased immediately as it was dazed. "Are you trying to get me eaten by a horde of monsters? Well, I guess you are, but still!"
He flicked his hand again and the hellhound was yanked into the river. That seemed to shake it out of its daze though. The monster tried to claw back to the surface for breath, but the son of Poseidon's power was far greater than its own. It was dragged down to the riverbed where Percy now stood.
As its struggle gradually lessened, the demigod looked down at the hound's eyes. They were wide and fearful, an expression he wasn't used to seeing on monsters' faces. He didn't dislike it though.
The monster went still and its eyes became glassy.
It slowly crumbled to golden dust, leaving Percy his first spoils of war in Tartarus; a pitch black pelt and a single claw. A strange sense of pride came over him; he had earned these. Percy quickly tied the pelt around him like a cloak, unintentionally imitating Herakles, and stored the claw in his pocket.
The surface should be safe now, he hoped. Well, as safe as Tartarus could be.
Percy trudged through the fog, constantly scanning the area for possible sneak-attacks and the like. He'd never been so alert and it made him feel more alive somehow. Not that he enjoyed being in mortal danger all the time.
He'd left the river Acheron behind him, and most of his anger with it. He could still feel it though, festering in the back of his mind. Like a time-bomb. He felt as though he'd changed during his time in the river. If that was due to its magical properties or the mental trauma the loss of his left arm had caused, he didn't know.
One thing Percy did know was that he needed to find the Doors of Death, but where to start? Nothing but endless fog and a few rivers-
He halted.
The rivers, he thought, that's it.
Percy reached out with his sixth sense, a neat trick he'd learned at Camp Halfblood. It usually scanned for any body of water in the area, but Percy didn't know how his powers would work in literal hell.
He felt nothing for a few minutes, until his senses touched upon something strange. He recoiled when he felt a painful sensation run through his head. Usually when he found a body of water through his senses it would feel cold and fresh, yet this one burned. It burned a lot, actually.
But it was something, and that was better than nothing.
Percy knew instinctively that it was a few miles away, so he began his hike. He didn't bother being sneaky and taking the safest route, he wasn't Annabeth. Instead he opted to walk straight ahead and take anything that came at him head on.
After all, if he had to walk through one hundred floors of hell, he'd do it his way.
Yoyo! To be honest I don't know if I'll finish this story, but I just really wanted to write something PJO related that's very slightly based on Arifureta. Review if you liked it, or if you didn't, feedback is welcome. Ill take any suggestions for pairings and boss fights, etc. Note that the actual chapters will probably be a lot longer!
bubbai!