A/N: Hey. So, I know it's been a while. And I'm sorry. Really, really, sorry. I love writing this story, but I got a bit of writer's block. I wasn't sure that I liked where it was going, so I just decided to not upload until I was happy with my work. Unfortunately, I haven't had any time, and I'm not exaggerating there, to pour in to this story. But I was thinking about it and there is still content that I like before any of the iffy stuff starts happening, so here it is! It might be a little short, but I think by posting it, I'll be able to come up with a more solid plan for the rest of the story.

Again, so sorry for the long wait. Like I said, I have not had any time at all. Hopefully that will change, but we shall see.

Finally, I would like to reiterate that this story has a few inconsistencies with canon concerning time, ages, and some of the characters' personalities. But I mean, I am the author of this, so oh, well. Rick Riordan owns everything that isn't mine.

Enjoy!

Unlike Shane, Sherman didn't immediately leap and yell like a battle-crazed warrior. He a second longer to do it. As soon as Kate took a step to his right, his huge form hurtled toward her. She knew that her own strength wouldn't be able to meet his in such a direct collision. He was wide enough that Kate decided not to wait too long before leaping out of his path.

Sherman whirled on her immediately, giving her no time to prepare. When his blade clanged against hers, she could tell his wasn't a training sword. Kate's own weapon quivered and even bent in her hand as she defended herself. Knowing her sword wouldn't hold up much longer, she swiped at Sherman's legs and rolled away from him, kicking her foot out to keep him at a distance, at least momentarily. When Kate stood again, he was facing her, watching her hungrily. A part of her was slightly scared, but then the buzzing feeling replaced her nervousness. Kate felt the same confidence that had flooded her after her last two victories, even though she hadn't won this yet.

Kate scanned his face, ignoring any remaining nervousness or pride to focus on her opponent. She could see that Sherman thought he would win this; he felt he had the upper hand. The buzzing in Kate seemed to draw into her core, infusing her with strength and fortitude, as well as a control she hadn't felt in a while. Kate looked around the arena. Sherman thought he had the upper hand because he did. He was much older than Kate was, and had been fighting a lot longer, too. Plus, he was the son of Ares. Fighting was kind of his thing. Kate planted her feet. Well, fighting is my thing, too, she thought grimly.

Sherman began to shuffle toward her slowly, trying to move Kate to the edge of the makeshift circle, which was lined with dummies. Kate let him, moving to the right every once in a while so that the sun would be in his eyes. He grinned as he neared her, and Kate hoped he thought she was scared. She definitely wasn't; she could hardly keep a predator's grin off her face.

When Sherman began to squint, she attacked. Kate adopted Shane's technique, yelling like a banshee. The sound that came out of her was barely at a human decibel, affected as she was by raw energy. It sounded much more like a roar, and her opponent almost balked. Almost. His sword came up, and the familiar quake of the lower quality hilt in her hands returned. It annoyed her, so she channeled some of her wild energy into the sword. It felt natural in the immediate moment, but as soon as she started, Kate had no idea how it was possible. She could feel energy moving from her hands into the sword, though Sherman didn't seem to notice. Immediately, she tried to cut it off, but then she realized that she wanted this to happen. Letting instinct take control, Kate didn't stop the flow until it felt right. By then, the sword felt alive with its own power, solid and slightly heavier in her hand.

Sherman's eyes widened and he stared at Kate's hand. She frowned and looked, noticing that the hilt, which had previously been a simple reddish-brown leather, had changed to an opulent purple color that somehow reminded her of the deepest of sea waters. Now, the sharp edges of the sword were oddly bright white instead of bronze.

Sherman's eyes darted back to hers and he swung his sword again. Instead of being met with little resistance, a loud clang reverberated along the arena walls with every strike. He stumbled backward with the force of Kate's blows, though it didn't feel to her like she was hitting any harder. Abruptly, Kate realized that it was her sword doing the work for her. Focusing, she also noticed that the vibrate-y feeling had faded to a dull pulse, but she didn't let it stop her from finishing the fight. Although the entire goal of this battle had been to get her energy out, Kate wasn't about to quit while she was ahead. Instead, she quickened her pace, striking, kicking, feinting, and stabbing like a whirlwind. She used every piece of the circle, all the way down to the stub-like arm of a dummy that lay off to the side, which she forced Sherman to navigate around. His eyes grew angrier and angrier, matching Kate's magically aided force with his own personal brute force. The fight had already passed the two minute mark, but she didn't care.

Sherman was sweating, but Kate was cool, calm, and collected. Eventually, though, she could feel her strength start to ebb ever so slightly. She hadn't built up the muscle mass that Sherman had, but she was not deterred and determined to win. He was too, though, and the complexity of his attacks devolved into strikes that might have knocked her over without her newly enhanced sword.

Finally, Sherman seemed to have had enough. His eyes flickered from angry to crazed, and he pushed off the ground in a reckless leap. His face pulled into an expression that a person might have made as a joke, and Kate paused in her own attack, her sword faltering in mid-air. He used the force of his landing combined with Kate's hesitation to lock his sword with her own, pushing against her until she had to wedge her feet into the ground to keep from sliding back. If Kate moved her sword aside, Sherman's might fall into her face. Kate tried to push against him, but he simply scowled and pushed back harder. Grimacing, Kate tried to think of a way to get out of the sword-lock. The pulsing within her strengthened, and she again let instinct take control. An odd idea came over her, and she smiled at Sherman, hoping it came off as confident and smug as she felt.

"You're going to lose, Sherman." Kate said. She had no idea where the words were coming from, but she kept talking. "You are a weakling, Sherman. What kind of name is Sherman, anyway? It sounds like a poet or something." Kate had the feeling her last comment would set him off, but she didn't actually know why. When she was speaking, she kind of thought that the words would simply add to his resolve and make him angrier, but she could see the anger in his eyes being replaced with uncertainty.

The scowl of determination faded from his face. "Wha-what did you say?"

Then Kate noticed the oddest part. The feeling of power and strength that he was losing seemed to be channelling into her. She saw his arms begin to quiver even as her own seemed to strengthen. Kate narrowed her eyes at him, then swatted his sword away with a strength that hadn't been there before. In Sherman's weakened state, the blade clattered to the ground. Kate held the tip of her sword to his stomach and smiled like a happy child.

"I win!" She called.

Sherman bent to pick up his sword, eyeing his opponent warily. Kate took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, the last of the force from the crash seemed to dissipate. Still, she didn't feel overly tired. She knew it had something to do with her new-found abilities, because she'd never been one to recover quickly before. Sherman, though, looked rather out of breath.

"Thanks, Sherman. It's all gone now." Kate said cheerfully.

He only stared at her dumbly as she walked away.

Like last time, a few campers had gathered to watch, but there weren't nearly as many this time. A camper who looked to be seventeen or eighteen came up to Kate and nodded at her. "Good fighting," he said in heavily accented English.

Kate smiled warmly. "Thank you…?"

The boy smiled. "I am Paolo."

"Well, thank you, Paolo."

He nodded again and walked back to a group of several dummies that he was disemboweling. Kate noticed thick scars that wrapped around his tanned biceps. His muscle shirt left them out in the open, despite the chill in the air. Kate's smile lessened a bit. The scars reminded her that what she was doing was not for fun. It was for training, to learn to defend herself against those who would rather see her dead than alive.

She walked toward the Big House, knowing it was her best bet to find Chiron. As she walked, she pulled her sword out of its sheath. It was beautiful, though it hadn't been ugly before. Kate ran her finger along the flat of the blade. She could feel the buzz of power in it, tempting her to pick a fight just so she could use it again. She stuck it back in it's sheath after a moments hesitation, shaking her head to get the tempting thoughts from her head. The motion caused the sword to bump against her thigh, and it continued to brush her leg as she walked. Maybe I should ask for a back sheath, she thought, pursing her lips.

Kate finally made it to the porch of the Big House, but she didn't make it through the door, as Chiron was already coming out.

"Did you find anything?" She asked after greeting him.

Chiron patted a journal resting in his lap. "Yes. We haven't had a child of Kratos here in over a hundred years. This book is written in Ancient Greek, though it is not from that time period. We always encourage campers to learn the language, as their brains are already wired for it. Many take to journals as a way to cope with change from the mortal world to this one, or simply to document their lives. This one was written by a camper named Duke Washington. I hate to say it, but I had all but forgotten about him until I met you. He started in the Ares cabin until he displayed a power much like yours. We moved him to the Hermes cabin, as Kratos never actually claimed him and didn't have a cabin, but he became head-counselor of what were called simply the Unclaimed. He divided the Hermes cabin into Hermes' actual children and the ones who were just staying there, and earned his campers the right to participate in activities as their own cabin. Because they were such an amalgamation, they were quite the powerful force. He wrote this journal and entrusted it to me, asking me to give it to the next person like him. Duke hated the thought that a half-sibling of his might live without knowing that they weren't alone. I don't know how he knew that Kratos tends to only have one child at a time, but he did." Chiron handed her the faded journal.

She cautiously opened it, seeing that the ink was in the same deep purple as her sword. She frowned and asked Chiron about the color. When she had been claimed, the wording on her shirts and other Camp Half-Blood belongings had all turned the same beautiful shade.

Chiron considered it for a moment, then nodded as a memory must have surfaced. "Purple was a symbol of power in ancient times, as the dye used to be very expensive. This particular shade was highly sought after in Ancient Greece and Rome. It was as valuable as gemstones were, and was often associated with the gods. It was sometimes called sea-purple."

Kate nodded and inspected the hilt of her sword, which was protruding from her hip and threatening to knock something over. Kate sighed and pushed it away. Chiron frowned as he saw it, asking her about the new color. Kate shrugged and told him what happened.

He sat back in his chair and blew out a breath. "That is your sword now."

Kate nodded. "Yes, I know. But Shane said I could trade it in for a full-sized sword in a while."

Chiron shook his head. "When we say full sized, yes, it sometimes means slightly longer, but it mostly means denser and stronger, normally magically enhanced to better withstand monster attacks for hundreds of years. I would say that what you did to this one not only means that it is full-sized, but also that it is completely yours, balanced and matched to you and only you."

Kate pulled out the blade and admired it with newfound appreciation. It was on the heavy side, but the hilt felt carved for her hand. "Should I name it?" She asked, looking at Chiron for confirmation.

He nodded. "It is a new sword, so it doesn't already have one."

Kate though for a moment. "Potens." She decided, keeping it simple and accurate.

Chiron nodded in approval. "How do you know what it means? I will admit, Power is a good name for a sword of a child of Kratos."

The edges of Kate's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. "It was part of my mother's motto. 'Confortare superbi potentes'," She said, memories of her mother flooding her mind.

Chiron smiled softly. "Be powerful, be strong, be proud. A fine motto."

Kate shrugged. "She didn't like to tell people about it, because they though we were being elitist. But it was just something to remember when I was feeling down or something. She took a little Greek in college, so I'm not entirely sure if it's right, but it's good enough for me." Kate was blushing, but she met Chiron's eyes defiantly, as if daring him to say anything against her. He simply nodded.

"A fine motto." He said again.

She smiled gratefully at him, then headed down the stairs. "Thank you, Chiron. Do you know where Holly is?"

Chiron pointed toward the Pegasi stables. "I believe that she and Austin Lake are in the stables trying to calm the pegasi that flew the crashed chariot."

Kate winced, remember the fear in the animal's eyes as it battled gravity to keep the chariot aloft. Immediately, she began to head to the stables, but Chiron stopped her.

"Kate. You may find that there is a better way to carry Potens." He said, a twinkle in his eyes.

She paused, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't. He nodded to her, encouraging her to keep going, so she gave an internal shrug and headed in the direction of the stables.