He didn't know what happened.

One moment, he'd had Annabeth secured tightly in his arms. He never even dreamed of letting go. The next, his hand slipped through her outstretched fingers, just barely grazing them, and he fell into the abyss.

That was days ago, or at least he thought it was. It was hard to remember. How long had he been falling? Weeks? Months? Ice settled in the pit of Percy's stomach. It was too late. Gaea had risen and brought the Giants with her. His friends were already dead, overwhelmed by a force they couldn't hope to overcome.

Percy opened his eyes. Almost immediately, he was assaulted by the sharp burn of sulfur and foul-smelling air rapidly rushing towards his face.

He brought a hand over his face and squinted to gain a better look at his surroundings. What was initially complete darkness had brightened up to reveal a cavern at least the size of Manhattan.

The sky overhead was blood red and lifeless, dotted by numerous clouds that looked like they rained acid instead of water. The ground beneath him looked so dark he almost forgot he had his eyes open. That is, until he saw the mountains in the distance and the fiery pits that looked like a Hollywood portrayal of hell.

Percy was about to continue his admiration of the landscape before a familiar tug in his stomach grabbed his attention. He looked down. Inky black "water", if it could even be called that, flowed calmly beneath him. With nothing more than a thought, he reached out.

The river twisted and churned as it submitted to his will. A large hand made of water tore itself free and rose to meet him in midair, slowing his descent.

Percy shivered violently as he hit the water. Any and all warmth fled his body in an instant as he was left with a cold that chilled the bone and turned blood into ice. Why was he doing this again?

Voices flooded his head. Hundreds of thousands of whispers echoed in his ears taunting him, beckoning him to let go. Percy was tempted to believe them.

He was so tired. So tired of fighting and hurting, of being responsible for the fate of beings more powerful than he'd ever be. He could let go, end it here. No more suffering. No more pain. It would be so easy.

Percy began to sink.

The soul-crushing weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It was far too heavy for a single mortal alone to bear and he could feel himself drowning under the burden.

It all rested on him. He was alone in every sense of the word—.

He wasn't.

He wasn't alone.

Memories of Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, and the others appeared in his mind. Percy smiled. He remembered. He began to swim ashore.

He was never alone. Trusted friends and allies had been at his side every step of the way. His journey would have been impossible without them. Even here in Tartarus, surrounded by millions of creatures who would want nothing more than to strip the flesh from his very bones, he didn't feel alone.

So with that thought, Percy pulled himself from the river.

He rolled onto his back, teeth chattering and gasping for air. His breath came out in short, quick bursts and he'd wondered if he'd die of hyperventilation before anything else.

Something wet and warm erupted from his mouth in the form of a violent cough. He frowned, bringing a hand to his lips. When they came back bloody, he immediately realized what was wrong.

The air itself was poison. It burned his lungs with every intake and the smell reminded him of his ex-stepfather Gabe. He needed to leave.

After sluggishly getting his feet under him, Percy peered around. Nothing was around for miles save for endless amounts of the black glass that sprouted from the ground, the lake, and a...car.

A blue car to be exact. It looked identical to the one that crashed into the spider Arachne and sent her falling to her doom. Slash marks adorned both the car and its surrounding area leading off into the distance. By the looks of it, it seemed like she was still alive.

Percy grinned slowly, the gears in his mind already turning. Payback sounded pretty sweet right about now.


Annabeth hadn't moved an inch ever since she was carried back to the Argo II. She could neither find the strength nor the desire to.

Percy had fallen into Tartarus. Tartarus. The place where even the gods avoided, and for good reason. Monsters and ancient, primordial beings alike resided there to reform and recover and Percy was stuck with the worst of them. The idea alone made her sick.

Jason and the others had gone to dig, hoping for a chance at saving Percy. She should've been right there with them, clawing in the dirt, even if she knew it was hopeless.

Unfortunately, her broken ankle had confined her to the ship. Piper had insisted on keeping her aboard and stayed behind to make sure she couldn't get out. Annabeth could have fought against her, tried to escape, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference. And, the thought of fighting a friend left a sour taste in her mouth.

Her thoughts returned to Percy. How could she have let it happen? Annabeth was secured in his arms, safe. And then all of a sudden, the floor had crumbled and she could only watch as he slipped through her fingers like smoke.

Annabeth scoffed. Some daughter of wisdom she was. She hadn't even remembered that the floor was close to collapsing until it was too late. If only she had been faster, more attentive. Percy would have still been here. Instead, here she was, helpless. If only she could be less fucking useless for once—.

"Annabeth?" a soft voice called. The door creaked open, allowing light to enter the otherwise pitch-black room, and revealed Piper.

The skin around her eyes was red, almost like she had been crying. That wasn't right, Annabeth thought. After all, she didn't lose anything. She still had Jason, still had her best friend.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" Piper asked.

Annabeth shook her head. " No, 'm fine," she responded numbly, barely above a whisper.

Piper didn't look convinced. She opened her mouth as if to protest and for one long moment, Annabeth wondered if she'd have to fight her friend after all.

Thankfully though, Piper seemed to get the message. She muttered a quick "Alright" and left without another word. The door clicked shut and Annabeth was once again left with only the comfort of darkness.

Tears began to pour down her face and this time, she let them.

It was strange, in a way. Despite being surrounded by people she had fought and bled beside, Annabeth had never felt more alone in her life.

As she closed her eyes to sleep for the night, she found herself praying to her mother, asking for both guidance and wisdom.


He was Dying.

Percy didn't believe it at first, chalking it up to exhaustion and fear. He couldn't deny it any longer after blisters started appearing on his skin. Or how his entire body felt like it was being burned from the inside out.

He had to find a way out; find the Doors of Death, and soon. He couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than dying to air, of all things. One of Olympus' greatest heroes died a failure. He'd be a laughing stock in the afterlife, a joke really.

Reaching a ledge, Percy peered into the darkness below. He gulped at the sight of the distance between him and the ground, suddenly becoming wary of heights. He couldn't tell how far down it was but that fact was irrelevant. It would kill him all the same.

At the bottom of the cliff sat a river of literal fire, its light illuminating everything for at least a half-mile. Percy struggled to recall its name. He fondly remembered Annabeth droning on about the five rivers of The Underworld but couldn't bring himself to pay attention. That seemed like paradise as opposed to his current predicament.

Thinking back to the lecture, Percy could recall her saying that one of the rivers had been known for its ability to "heal" the souls of the damned so that they may continue to be punished for their sins.

Not for the first time, he had a stupid idea come to mind.

Wincing as the blisters on his legs flared in pain, Percy hurriedly made his way down the cliffside. It took him far longer than it should have and by the time he reached the bottom, his muscles ached from exertion and his skin was red and raw.

This close, Percy could feel the cold heat emanating from the river of fire. He was almost certain this was it. It lacked the clutter of the Styx and it didn't look like the Lethe where he had thrown the titan Bob into. He had just passed the other river on the way here as well. That left him with either the river of healing or certain death. Great, he thought.

Percy anxiously approached the river and knelt down. He took a few calming breaths before cupping his hands into the fire.

It was disgusting, to put it simply. He couldn't find the exact words to describe the taste but he knew it was one of the worst sensations he'd ever experienced.

Taking a look at himself, he could see that he was, miraculously, healing. The blisters that adorned his skin had started to fade and his breathing no longer sounded like that of a dying man. All the small aches and pains that had accumulated during his journey faded away at the river's touch. Percy sighed in relief.

When he could drink no more, Percy stood and retreated from the river and surveyed his surroundings.

He noted that there weren't that many places he could go. Upstream most likely led to the Underworld—away from the Doors Of Death. Percy didn't think he had the strength to climb back up the cliff even after he'd been healed. That left only one option.

Trekking forward, he couldn't help but notice the sense of danger that seemed to exude from this place. It made sense of course, seeing as he was surrounded on all sides by the worst monsters in creation. It would do well to remain wary.

Despite that, the feeling of the air parting behind him almost caught Percy off guard. He dodged, listening to honed instincts, as a dark mass sailed past him. Without giving the thing time to recover Percy sprang forward, Riptide raised, and slashed.

As the creature wailed in pain, Percy was able to get a good look at it. His jaw clenched tightly in anger and his heartbeat quickened as he recognized the eight-legged monstrosity that was Arachne. He was certain it was her. It had to be. After all he'd been through, it was difficult to believe in coincidences.

Pressure mounted in his chest, threatening to crush him, and Percy couldn't help but to give in. This monster, this thing, had dared to hurt one of the people he held dear. It would pay.

Stalking forward thunderously, Percy brought his sword down in a vicious arc. Arachne let out an ear-piercing scream as he severed her limbs one-by-one and savagely cut into her. Even as her screams grew louder and copious amounts of gold lifeblood spilled from the wound, he didn't let up.

Old frustrations he thought he had buried resurfaced as he ripped, slashed, and hacked his way through Arachnne's spider body. He was sick of being a pawn for the gods to use as they saw fit. Sick of being the errand boy. It was bad enough that Hera—Juno—whatever, had stolen his memories from him but the fact that he hadn't been able to relax longer than a few months in years irritated him to no end.

Things continued like that for a while, surroundings completely silent save for the tortured screams of Annabeth's assailant. Eventually, though, Percy knew his time with her was running short. Even under the haze of rage, logic and reasoning were not completely forgotten. Her screeches of pain had made his ears ring and he wasn't sure if they would attract other monsters. He needed to leave.

Breathing heavily either from exhaustion or anger, he didn't know, Percy spared a glance at the monster pleading brokenly at his feet. Arachne looked up and met his gaze with something that made him flinch back slightly. A grim fear was reflected in her eyes and it was the first time he'd ever seen it directed at him, from an immortal being. Percy wasn't sure he liked it.

He frowned. Under different circumstances, he might have felt sorry for her. Driven to madness and cursed to live as a horrible creature by Athena. It was a cruel fate. Then again, he thought, All of it was her fault in the first place.

With ease, Percy brought Riptide down and stabbed Arachne right in one of her beady, black eyes, ending her torment.

Immediately, the fog began to recede from his mind and he could think clearly again. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized what he'd just done. Percy had meant it when he said Archanne would pay dearly. But that didn't mean torture. He hadn't meant to take the suffering she caused Annabeth and return it tenfold.

When he saw her though, something inside him gave way. Like floodgates being opened, he couldn't control the flow of anger that threatened to drown him if he didn't let it loose. That little voice in the back of his head he'd been ignoring for years seemed to be drawn out by the environment of Tartarus.

Idly, he wondered if monsters could feel pain emotionally. Could they suffer like people? Did they have the same sentiment as he did? Could they truly fear anything if they would just regenerate later? Ultimately, it didn't matter. He knew he needed to reach the Doors Of Death by any means necessary. Having one less obstacle in the way wasn't unwelcome. Still, he thought, that didn't mean it was right.

Smothering feelings of resentment and doubt, Percy continued his path down the river.

It was then, a few hundred meters later, that his appetite made itself known.

Percy clutched a hand to his stomach and cursed himself for his stupidity. Regret crossed his mind and he knew he should have killed Archanne quickly instead of indulging. He had been stupid, rash, and not in control and he was paying for it. The extra effort, no matter how small, had drained even more of his strength and Percy really needed everything he could muster right now.

The river of fire had healed his injuries and to a lesser degree, his thirst but hunger and exhaustion were still a problem and would be unless he found something edible. He didn't know what monsters ate in place of mortals, but he was determined to find out.

The sound of voices shook him out of his reverie and Percy quickly ducked behind an outcropping rock to hide. It sounded like...arguing? He strained his ears and leaned closer.

It was difficult to hear but he could swear they sounded human. Strange, like they too were people that did not belong in Tartarus. He knew that was impossible though since monsters were exceptionally skilled at manipulating the mist to fool mortals. He needed to assume that everything here was an enemy.

Percy's blood froze as he peeked his head over the rock and recognized one monster in particular.

The Empousa, Kelli stood at the forefront of the group, barking orders and looking exactly as he remembered her. He had fond memories of almost being killed by her at Goode and then again in the Labyrinth. He'd hoped wholeheartedly to never see her again but it seemed The Fates had other plans.

His heart leaped up in his chest as he heard his name being mentioned. Had they found him? Did they already know he had fallen into Tartarus? Percy was not at all confident in his ability to beat all five of the Empousai. No, if he fought them here and now, they would kill him. He waited on bated breath.

Thankfully, he didn't need to. The monsters staggered away on unsteady gaits, mumbling something about the Doors Of Death and Percy waited until he could no longer hear the sound of donkey hooves in the distance.

He gingerly rose from his spot behind the rock and frowned in thought. They most certainly were headed to the Doors Of Death, his destination. He briefly toyed with the idea of following them but then dismissed it immediately after some thought. Given time and enough exposure, there was no way they wouldn't smell him. And with him not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Percy didn't question how they had missed him in the first place.

So instead, he kept walking.

Percy walked. And walked. And walked.

After a while, his body could go no more. It gave way to hunger and exhaustion and he collapsed.

He dreamed of Gaea and her giants, trampling all underfoot as they mercilessly killed his friends and family while he watched.


Percy snapped awake.

He was on his feet, Riptide raised, in an instant.

A roar like no other tore through the air directly to his left. He turned, only to be met with something out of a nightmare. He recognized it in an instant.

The monster was a disgusting mix of human, lion, and scorpion, with all three qualities seemingly blended perfectly. The entirety of its face was human and had teeth stained in gold dust with mismatched eyes—one brown, one blue. It had the lean, muscular body of a lion and the horrifying tail of a scorpion. Acidic green poison dripped venomously from its tail and the monster did not at all look happy to see him.

The Manticore snarled viciously at him.

Fuck.

There really weren't any other words that could describe the situation. His "day" just kept getting worse.

Dr. Thorn regarded him for a bit, lips pulled back to reveal sharp and bloodthirsty fangs. Then, he laughed.

"Son of the sea god," he hissed. "How delightful it is to see you. I must admit, I almost couldn't believe my own nose when I smelled demigod here in Tartarus."

The Manticore inched forward. "But, imagine my surprise when I am met not only with a god's spawn, but the son of Poseiden no less. The very same that prevented my rise to prominence under the rule of the Titans," he said with a bit of bitterness in his tone.

Percy spread his senses towards the river of fire behind him. He reached out, trying to take control, only to find that he couldn't. He cursed. Of all the times for his powers to fail him, why now?

Under normal circumstances, he might've been able to beat the Manticore. With water nearby? Almost certainly. He needed strength and time in order to control the river though, luxuries he had neither of at the moment. And considering that the "river" wasn't actually water, Percy doubted he would have any help this time around.

Across from him, Dr. Thorn had resumed speaking. "I wonder," he mused. "How will demigod blood taste after centuries of abstinence?" he shivered in delight, looking pleased. "I cannot wait to find out."

The Manticore lunged at him, claws outstretched to gouge his eyes out. Percy rolled away from the swipe and retaliated with a swing of his sword, only to strike air as it missed.

Dr. Thorn charged again, this time swiping with his tail. Percy gave it a wide berth, no doubt remembering the immense pain the poison was capable of. Still, even as he dodged, a drop of poison managed to catch his shirt and he had a brief moment of panic before seeing that it had been absorbed into the fabric. It bubbled and foamed, but did little else. He sighed in relief.

Darting sideways, Percy made a quick jab towards the monster's flank. He frowned as his sword was caught fast by the beast's thick skin. Riptide had only pierced an inch if that.

Dr. Thorn, looking as if he'd been tickled, swung his tail around in a wide arc, unleashing a barrage of poison spikes at him. Percy lept back and blocked or outright dodged all of them. A few, he noted, managed to graze his shirt but none of them drew blood.

Still, he didn't let up. The onslaught continued for what seemed like minutes and Percy's breath became heavier as he'd begun to tire. The Manticore must have noticed this as well, for he grinned and continued his attack.

"What's wrong, boy? he taunted. No goddess here to save you?"

Percy frantically wracked his brain for a way out, a solution. If he continued to stay at range, the monster would tire him out and eventually score a hit. If he tried to advance, he would be clawed to death while his focus was on the poison spikes.

What to do?

Having no other option, Percy once again tried to take hold of the river of fire. Unfortunately, he couldn't concentrate both on trying to control the river and defending at the same time. A spike embedded itself into Percy's thigh and he screamed in agony, dropping his sword and clutching the wound as the poison did its dirty work. For his troubles, two more spikes embedded themselves in his shoulder and stomach.

Dr. Thorn strutted forward. "Vengeance!" he hissed victoriously.

On the ground, Percy tried his hardest to bear the pain. It hurt. Gods, did it hurt. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision and he fought with all his might against it.

The Manticore came to a stop just above him before resting a giant, meaty paw on his chest. Percy let out a strangled gasp as sharp claws tore into his chest and brought blood with them. He reached for Riptide only to realize in horror that it was a few feet away, out of his reach.

"Ah," Dr. Thorn said dreamily. "I have waited years for this moment. To kill a hero. To cement my position amongst the greatest creatures to ever live." he paused for a moment as if to bask in the glory. "Gaea will reward me greatly for your head, demigod."

The manticore pushed his claws down deeper into Percy's chest. His smile widened and bared teeth as Percy let loose another scream of pain. His mind went white. He couldn't think. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. But through the haze of agony that threatened to smother him, an idea shoved itself forcefully into his head.

"But alas," he continued ruefully. "Our time together grows short. I will enjoy ripping the flesh and bones from your friends' bodies as I bathe in the glory of my deeds. Goodbye, Percy Jackson."

He had to act quickly or he would die. Percy could smell the Manticore's rancid breath as it closed in on his neck. He only had one shot at this.

"You said you would be known amongst the greatest to ever live?" he asked suddenly.

Dr. Thorn paused for a moment, and then retreated, his mismatched eyes staring balefully at the demigod at his feet.

"It's just that," Percy continued through gritted teeth. "If you're this powerful, why hadn't I heard of you until a few years ago? Surely there would be some legends about you? A story of your greatness and strength?"

The Manticore seemed to preen inwardly and looked almost too eager to answer. "Of course you wouldn't have heard of me, fool," he chided. The gods banished me to that dry hell, Persia long ago. I scraped by eating insignificant farmers and cattle, never being able to fight any great heroes or engrain myself in the legends—you!—you know this!"

Dr. Thorn seemed to be getting irritated and Percy had to think quickly, had to keep him talking. He reached into his pocket and fought a smile as he felt something. Perfect.

"I know, I know! but I had forgotten," he said hastily. "There's a lot going on, you know? Giant war, Gaea rising. I mean it's hard to keep track of—."

"Enough games, boy!" The Manticore snapped suddenly. "Silence!"

Percy's eyes widened in horror, mouth agape in shock, as they locked onto something over the Manticore's shoulders.

"What is it?!" the monster said urgently upon seeing his prey's shocked look. He turned, only to find nothing but the desolation of Tartarus staring back at him.

Acting quickly, Percy jammed Riptide into the Manticore's neck as hard as he could. The celestial bronze parted its mane and flesh as easily as a knife through butter.

Dr. Thorn screeched in agony and lept back as blood began leaking from his neck and pooled on the ground. Percy leaned up to grab his sword, only to flinch back when he saw the poison-spiked tail throw itself at him.

Percy dodged the tail but was limited on how much he could move due to his injuries and position on the ground. A single spike caught him in the chest, raking a long horizontal gash from one shoulder to the other. He collapsed.

Percy knew it should've hurt. The Manticore's poison was known to cause immense pain and all but kill its victims. Was the pain so intense that it burned away any sense of the feeling at all?

He didn't know. He couldn't feel it, couldn't feel much of anything really. Distantly, he noted that the blood had overflowed out of his chest and had begun pooling on his neck and the ground.

He was dying, he realized. Actually dying this time. He felt strangely at ease—at peace. Like the weight of the sky had been lifted from his shoulders. Like he had finished his homework and could finally crank open a soda and relax.

Percy weakly crawled towards the river, trying to heal himself. He didn't even make it off of his back before his hand plopped down into the dirt.

Darkness began to encroach on his vision. His breathing stopped.

He closed his eyes. Percy Jackson, the son of Poseiden, Died.

.

.

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.

.

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.

.

Only to find that he didn't.

Percy sat bolt upright as if he'd just woken from some terrible dream. His hands flew to his neck and chest, expecting blood and a gaping wound, only to find the tattered remains of his shirt and intact skin. His eyes widened.

The last thing he remembered was being stabbed by and the feeling of his life leaving him and then...this. It was almost like he died and came back to life.

Something similar has happened to Gwen when she'd been impaled by a Pilum during the war games at Camp Jupiter. Had the same happened to him?

It couldn't have. It was impossible. Him, Hazel, and Frank had freed Thanatos on their quest in Alaska and the god had personally made sure that every dead soul there did not rise again. Even if Thanatos couldn't reclaim escaped souls and the Doors were still open, wasn't Gaea the one in control?

So how was he alive?

Percy's head snapped sideways as a wet, gurgling gasp drew his attention.

The manticore lay a few feet from him, completely unmoving save for the small, almost non-existent rise and fall of his chest. Under him, a large puddle of blood was slowly growing in size.

Percy stood and walked forward, slowly uncapping Riptide as he approached. He came to a stop a few feet in front of the monster and regarded him warily.

The Manticore leveled him with a hate-filled glare that would've terrified him if not for the monster's vulnerable state. He let out another wheeze of pain as he tried to stand up, only to fail after making it an inch or two off the ground.

Percy couldn't help but grin at the sight. Even here in the literal depths of hell and with all odds stacked against him, he'd somehow managed to come out on top again. He sent out a silent prayer to whichever god or goddess had allowed him to cheat death. He had a feeling that it was probably Hades.

The sound of his hunger sharply cut through any silence that they would've had previously. Percy blinked owlishly and put a hand to his gut, suddenly aware that he had not eaten in what seemed like days. Being dead seemed to make his hunger ten times worse, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Turning back to the Manticore, he noted that it didn't look as intimidating as it did a few minutes ago. His stomach rumbled again.

He could eat the Manticore, he realized with a grimace. Even the thought made him queasy and he doubted any mortal had ever willingly eaten monster flesh before. From the amount of gold dust that littered the thing's mouth, it was safe to say he now knew what they ate down in Tartarus. At least they were edible, he thought.

Percy really didn't want to eat monster flesh and possibly catch some kind of ancient disease, but what choice did he have? He needed food. The fire river did nothing for his appetite and there was no telling what other, stronger kinds of monsters were lurking out there. And he couldn't count on the goodwill of whatever god had revived him.

Percy knelt down in front of the fallen monster. Disgust welled up within him and it took everything he had in order to go through with the idea.

He held Riptide by its handle with the blade facing downwards above the Manticore's side. Slowly easing it into the skin of the monster, Percy was careful not to cut deeply and risk killing it. Other than a slight twitch of its back leg, the Manticore didn't show any signs that it even felt the wound.

The fur was tough and almost impossible to get through without any applying greater force. Eventually though, after some trying he'd made headway and succeeded in getting under it to tear off a piece slightly bigger than his hand. Dark grey, veinous flesh that looked more like zombie skin than edible food started back at him. He swallowed nervously.

Mind made, Percy picked up the grisly meat and bit into it.

His eyes lit up unexpectantly. It wasn't that bad, honestly. He took another bite.

It tasted a bit like a cheap burger from a fast-food restaurant or steak from the convenience store cooked rare, or perhaps even less than that. Now that he knew it was edible and tasted good enough, Percy held no reservations about eating it.

As he savagely tore into the meat, Percy noted how crazy the situation seemed. Here he was, in the place even the gods shied away from, eating monster meat and drinking fire water of all things. He would have laughed if his mouth wasn't full. Annabeth would love the stories.

A pang of longing washed over him and Percy had to keep himself from wishing the impossible. He'd rather her remain "safe" on the other side than down here with him eating monster guts. She deserved better than that.

Percy realized that he had already finished the meat in his hands and went to get more only to pause at the sight of the Manticore. All that was left in the place of it was a pile of shimmering gold dust and no trace of any meat.

Damn, he cursed. He was too slow. The monster had died before he could get anything else from it.

While he wasn't exactly starving anymore, he would've liked to stuff himself. The fewer monsters he needed to eat, the better. Then again, if more attacked him, he'd be too bloated and slow to fight back.

Rising to his feet, Percy got up and stretched, feeling better than he had since before he fell into Tartarus. It was amazing what a "good meal" could do for the body and mind. He felt like he could take on the Empousai that he'd seen earlier. Maybe not all of them at once, not yet, but he'd certainly be able to kill Kelli and two or three others.

It was hard to believe he'd gotten this much strength from such a small piece of meat. Maybe monsters held more energy and calories in their bodies than regular livestock? Or was the Manticore a special case, considering its strength? It would certainly explain how they were able to fight and sometimes overwhelm demigods.

Thinking about the monsters raised another problem entirely. They would attack him in his sleep, as evidenced by the Manticore. Only the immense pride that powerful monsters seemed to always have saved him from being eaten, but he couldn't count on that to work for all of them. Percy needed a way to detect or outright prevent monsters from getting any ideas while he was resting.

He could try covering himself in the "soil" or bathing in the river to hide his scent. No, that wouldn't work, he decided. Demigod stench wasn't entirely physical. He'd tried that many times whenever he was alone out in the world. Monsters still seemed to find him no matter what.

Think, he told himself, why do monsters attack demigods in the first place? To eat of course, but what else? Maybe they didn't care? Monsters would recklessly attack demigods they thought were weak and vulnerable. If that turned out to be false, they would come back from Tartarus and try again. But he wasn't weak or vulnerable…

It was so simple, Percy nearly slapped himself.

Fear and intimidation, of course. Monsters would attack him because they didn't know him, didn't know what he was capable of. And the ones that did were confident enough in their strength that they believed they could kill him. They would relentlessly hunt him because there were no consequences of doing so, made worse by the fact that Gaea controlled the Doors Of Death.

The solution was easy then. He just had to figure out a way to build a reputation here in Tartarus. Make it so that monsters would think twice about attacking him even when they had the advantage and had nothing to lose. Otherwise, they would continue to harass and kill his friends and any other demigod who was weak or ignorant enough.

Fortunately, Arachne had been kind enough to have given him a few pointers.

A voice in Percy's mind told him what he was doing was wrong. Cruel and unnecessary. A quieter, more logical voice hissed back that it was survival.

He had found that logic saved his life more often than not.

Percy felt a yawn slip from his lips, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that hadn't really left him at all. He guessed the adrenaline had finally worn off.

He made a move to lean against a rock a short ways from the river and closed his eyes. Yes, rest sounded good. He could plan his next move after he slept.

Sometime later, as Percy was submersed in that strange in-between of sleep and wakefulness, he heard the soft and barely-perceptible footsteps of something approaching him.

He didn't move a muscle, opting to remain as still as stone and let the monster come to him. It was hesitant almost. Like it couldn't believe its own eyes and ears.

After some silent contemplation, it had finally gained a bit of courage and kept walking. Percy tightened his grip on Riptide in his pocket as it inched forward. When it was only a foot away, so close that he could smell its rancid breath, he struck.

The monster physically recoiled when it saw him move, no doubt thinking he was dead or asleep. That was the last thing it did as Percy took advantage of its confusion and stabbed it through the chest. The monster had disintegrated into dust before its body even hit the ground and landed with nary a sound.

Percy turned as more monsters emerged from behind the rocks. He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get a meaningful amount of rest anytime soon.

He'd never seen these monsters though, they looked strange. He didn't know what they were—didn't care actually— but maybe he could test his theory out on them.

Riptide raised in a grim and equal determination, Percy lunged at the first monster he saw.


Percy brought the beaten and broken body of an ogre toward the fire river. It groaned in pain as the stumps of its legs and arms were dragged along the ground and cut against the rough surface.

With a swing of his arms, he threw it into the river, bringing a hand up to cover his face from the splash. The monster gurgled out something but Percy wasn't paying attention. His focus was on the limbs that were slowly reforming under the water's care.

As soon as the Ogre had finished healing, it stood up on shaky legs and dove at him. Percy sidestepped the poorly attempted lunge and severed one of its arms from the shoulder. The monster screamed in pain and dropped to the ground, clutching the wound tightly as it glared at him with rage in its eyes.

Percy knelt down to the monster's eye level. "I have one question," he asked calmly. "Where are the Doors Of Death?"

The ogre grunted something incoherent and stared up at him defiantly. He sighed. With a fling of his wrist, Percy cut off its leg from the knee down. He swallowed thickly.

"Wrong," He said over the monster's shrieks of pain. "Where are they?"

All he got for an answer was more grunts and mumbling.

Percy rose to his feet and walked around, circling the monster. He came to a stop at the stump of its leg and raised Riptide. The celestial bronze glinted in the light of Tartarus as he studied it before burying it to the hilt in the open wound.

The Ogre screamed. Still, it did not answer.

He continued the questioning for some time, removing another leg and inflicting more pain in the process. Eventually, the flailing was getting to be a bit much and Percy had to remove the rest of its limbs in order to prevent it from crawling away or attacking him.

Against all odds, the Ogre didn't break. Percy felt his anger rising at its refusal to give him answers and deny him a chance to help his friends. Why was it holding out still? Loyalty to Gaea?

"Tell me!" He growled out with a scowl. His annoyance had reached its limit and he was close to snapping.

The monster met his gaze and looked at him with something other than hate and rage for once. Its eyes were glossy from the pain and it looked a hair's breadth away from dying. The emotion in its eyes almost looked like...sadness? or maybe acceptance as it realized its fate.

Percy scoffed.

Yelling in frustration and desperation in equal measure, Percy stabbed the sword through the monster's chest and into the ground beneath. He watched as it breathed a final death rattle before going silent and dissolving into dust. He kicked a rock in frustration.

There it was again. That feeling. His anger had boiled over again, brought out by both his determination to escape and his frustrations with the situation. He had lost control.

Percy took a few calming breaths to steady himself. He needed to think. Why had it refused to talk? It couldn't have been out of loyalty. Monsters served anyone and everyone that was stronger than them and opposed the gods. He had no doubts that it had probably followed Kronos in the last war.

He remembered Chiron had lectured him on certain types of monsters at Camp Half-Blood years ago. He had droned on about the history of all creatures, their strengths and weaknesses, how the stronger ones tended to be more intelligent.

Percy frowned at that thought. Maybe the ogre was trying to tell him but couldn't. A lot of monsters he came across never talked and he assumed that they were more preoccupied with killing him than having a chat. He didn't stop to think that they couldn't.

With wide eyes, he realized the situation. The monster wanted to help him but couldn't. Eventually becoming so frustrated at its lack of ability to speak that it gave up entirely in the end.

Percy stumbled. His breath hitched as he became dizzy all of a sudden. He shouldn't have been affected this much, after being exposed to the world of the gods for four years. But somehow, he still felt bad about the situation, about himself.

It was survival, he told himself. Yes. There was no way of knowing if the monster could speak or not. He was fine.

Percy clamped a hand over his mouth as bile rose in his throat. His breath quickened, his heart pounded, his lungs burned, his vision blurred. He caught himself with his knees and he repeated the mantra over and over and over. He was fine. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine, he was fine. He repeated it until he believed it.

After all, it was survival wasn't it?


A/N:

This chapter could have been longer, around 10k words, but I wasn't sure how that would fit in the story in terms of content and pacing. And, writing side characters that aren't original (OC) is very difficult for me. I sat down for thirty minutes trying to brainstorm ideas for Annabeth and co. but found I had only written a paragraph and some change. Whereas if I was writing Percy's POV, I would've had at least 600ish in that amount of time. Let me know if you want more side character action or if you only care about Percy. For this reason, I found myself skipping through a lot of the newer books that didn't show his or Annabeth's perspective.

As for the story itself, I haven't noticed very many of these types of ideas on this site so I wanted to give it a try. It explores what would happen if Percy didn't have Annabeth to keep him in check, none of her brilliant plans to guide him, and no Bob to help him blitz through monsters. I hope I've illustrated the reality of the situation clearly enough. I firmly believe that if the original series was geared towards a mature audience, we would most definitely see the type of themes I've shown in the story. The very premise of the series is dark and grim after all.

Finally, while I draft the chapters in Google Docs, I use the Doc Manager on this site to clean it up a bit. For some reason, it doesn't seem to like English honorifics such as Mr, Dr, etc. Feel free to PM me with any grammatical/spelling mistakes so I can correct them.