Disclaimer – Oh, come on, we all know that I don't own PJO and Claymore… do I really need to keep doing this?

Every battle is won before it is fought ~ Sun Tzu

Time skip-

Third Person POV:

Amongst the slowly fading screams in the distance, the pooling blood and the blazing fires, a young boy sat calmly against the ruins of a wall, with a soft, serene smile on his face. He was the perfect picture of calmness and peace, even amongst all the raging destruction.

Slowly taking a deep breath, he inhaled the smoke-filled air from all around him, and sighed peacefully as he recognized the familiar smell. With the familiar sensations plaguing him, the boy's body sank down into a completely free state, with his eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed.

In such a state, the child would have looked to be extremely vulnerable to anyone who was watching him, and yet, none of them, if sane, would have ever dared to approach the young figure. The surroundings would have dissuaded them from even daring to approach the child. The people of this village had made the mistake of reaching out to him and showing him kindness, and he had returned the favor by ending their lives.

If not for that and the fires alone, the pooling blood would've driven every sane being away. For the blood wasn't just pooling… Unseen by anyone, all the blood in the area was snaking towards the boy, reaching out for him in tendrils, moving through the air slowly towards the child.

Then, as the last of the screams stopped, the town fell into a relative silence, except for the slight pitter-patter of the drizzling drops, the crackling noises of the fires, and the sizzling noises of burning cloth and flesh and of evaporating water.

Even so, as the minutes ticked by, the boy lay there, as calm as a corpse, without even the faintest of movements visible about him, except for the blood, which was slowly, but surely, being absorbed into the child's body, causing the blood pools to shrink significantly over a period of time.

As the last of the blood lifted off the ground, the boy finally began to show signs of life. Calmly opening his eyes, he slowly corrected his posture, stood up and began to stretch. His energy had been more than replenished, and he felt like he could run a million miles, which meant that it was time to get up and get back to work.

Cracking a few joints all over his body, he slowly started to walk forward, with a content smile marking its place on his lips. With a calm, slow gait, the boy walked slowly towards the ruins of the town's entrance gates, while softly smiling as his hunger and thirst had finally been satisfied after months of relentless work.

Going hungry, while not a new thing to the boy, was still an unpleasant experience. Life was easier on a full stomach and felt less shallow with a well-drunk mind. And after consuming the flesh and blood of hundreds, and drinking close to the same number in bottles of alcohol, Percy was feeling fine.

He slowly trekked his way over flaming ruins and charred bodies, moving toward the town's gates, just beyond which he had left his lovely, black coat. For once in a very long time, he did not have any reason to go faster. Speeding up his work was not a necessity. Everything that had to be done here was done, and nobody could stop him on his way out. A calm gait was perfectly fine here…

Crunch!

'A peculiar noise, that one is,' Percy thought, as he removed his foot from the remains of some poor man's skull. But as soon as he was out of the first corpse, he found himself trampling over two more. Then another pair, and another, and another. It would seem that he had reached the town's gates, then.

Although he couldn't see through the dense, black smoke filling the town's air, he could easily make out the location of the city's gates by feeling the density of charred corpses under his feet as he moved on. So many had died in this one place… it must have been the first area to be hit by his Yoma form. As the town's members had gathered in the main city square to stare at him, he had turned into a 50-foot tall monster and scorched the whole block.

The havoc he'd created throughout the town was…. Immensely powerful, to put it in a certain way, and the end result was pretty clear. Stepping over the last of the dust-like bones, Percy bent down and picked up his cape from where he remembered dropping it.

It was his only reliable piece of clothing. Even if it didn't expand like the Hulk's shorts, or do anything really special, it was important to him. Over the years, he'd learnt a few spells from his knowledge of Hecate's domain, and he'd managed to make fireproof fabric. The cloak had been his first success at magic, weaving and crafts, and it represented all of his major domains… it was truly a treasured article for him.

He pulled the cape over his skin, pulling the hood up and disappearing entirely in the black smoke that surrounded him. Then, he continued moving forward in that same calm, slow gait, finding his way to the entrance based on memory and the number of corpses he could feel underfoot.

As he walked on, the air around him slowly started to change and clear up. It went from thick, black, unbreathable smoke, to a much cleaner, healthier, colorless mixture of gases that Percy didn't like much. The smoky air gave him the feeling of home, especially since it was now so deeply related to good food and a nice, long rest in his mind. The fresh outside air made everything a little too bright. Especially in these summer months.

-Line break-

After about 50 minutes of tireless running, using moderate amounts of Yoki, Percy could finally see his 'home' town, of sorts. Did that word even have a real meaning anymore? It couldn't have had one…. SHOULDN'T have had one. Home could mean anything now… home was Camp half-Blood, which now lay as a wreck in another timeline or universe or reality or something like that… home was his mother's house in Central New York, that one homely apartment, where he'd last bid goodbye to Sally Jackson, just after telling her the news of Annabeth's death.

Home could have meant his parents' small shack in Ticelli…. Or it could have meant his personal room-cum-laboratory in the Organization's massive headquarters. Hell, home could even have meant the underworld to him, since that was where he was SUPPOSED to be.

It could have meant the little beach house in Montauk, or the ruins of the roman camp that he'd grown to love… Camp Jupiter, in California. It could have meant Olympus, if he'd accepted godhood, or if home really was where the heart lay, then his home was dead and lay with Annabeth's soul, as she enjoyed Elysium. Then, nothing was home anymore.

And that only left space for desolate land. Was that really what his house was, then? Desolate land? It could have been… for all the money that he had, and all the power he enjoyed because of it, his house still felt like foreign to him. So did the land, and so did the people. Soon after buying it for fun's sake, Percy had really fallen in love with the idea of decorating its interior to a more personalized style. Only to find that he couldn't. He had no pictures to put up, no portraits of family, nothing. All he had were memories… and try as he might, he just couldn't paint them himself.

He'd tried to hire an artist, of course… he'd tried it several times… but without any real-life object to imitate onto canvas, the artists soon found themselves quitting the job out of sheer frustration. 'What could they have done?' Percy mused, with a sad sigh, 'They'd never even seen the people they were trying to paint…'

On another subject entirely, the state of matters outside his house were just slightly better than the inside. Since he'd purchased the largest town property, he'd only been driving himself into a downward spiral. Easily being the richest man on Earth, if this planet could even be called that, his constant spending had attracted the attention of every other rich businessman, and he had soon found himself entering the global sphere…. Of politics.

Which put him in an interesting situation. For one thing, politics was a major domain for him, what with his mind being blessed by Athena, and several other minor gods of arguments and such, and for another, it was damn hard work that nobody really needed in their lives. So, he found himself both loving and hating the social status at the same time.

One problem with the status was the man right next to him right now. As soon as he'd walked in through the city's gates, one of the… more ambitious merchants in town – a big, burly man with a name that had sounded like 'Asbestos' – had bustled up next to him, trying to persuade him to… invest in their… completely legal business schemes.

The only problem about that was the man's half-lidded expression, his dilated pupils and excited, but confused – and almost slurred – drawl as he tried to pitch his 'assorted spices.' Man, humans were so disappointing!

-Line break-

The day was a hot and humid one, and the Air Conditioner in the Organization's executive chamber had broken down.

Needless to say, Dae was not having a pleasant afternoon.

Being a man of science foremost, he would much rather be in his laboratory than anywhere else, and even if attending this meeting was unavoidable, he would have MUCH preferred doing it a better time.

But no, there could NOT BE a better time. Some delegates from the Mainland had come over to check on the progress made with the experimentation, and that meant that he, as the head of experimentation and the retrieval squad, had to be RIGHT here, RIGHT now.

The saddest part about that was, while he was ready to gloat about his successes, it was quite obvious that none of the delegates had actually cared about what he said. To them, the statistics behind the results weren't important; it didn't matter to them at all that he had been able to calculate the statistical chance of a human becoming a Claymore. All they cared about was that part-humans and part-Asarakam people were a thing now.

Which meant that once he'd reported that fact, they had completely stopped listening to him, finding texting on their phones more interesting. That had led him to stop his talking shortly afterwards, and take his seat, both infuriated and saddened by the disinterest of his 'superiors.'

It made his heart ache to see that nobody cared about science the way he did, and it made his anger flare when he saw that they didn't even try to hide it. Damn, he really missed the old days when the research about Asarakam flesh wasn't complete yet. When there was still something new to discover every day. Things that not only him, but genuinely everybody could look at and be delighted.

Back during the times when that traitor was still on their side. Before he had gone and killed 5 Organization members for fun and left the Organization without any cause or reason. 'Son of a bitch,' Dae thought to himself, as he remembered all the struggles they had gone through because that Perseus left them. He could've helped during the first generation's mutiny… but he didn't, and so, Dae had lost all fifteen of his friends in the Organization… well, all except Rimuto, but then again, that man was sort of a lost cause when it came to socializing.

He'd sworn on their names, then and there, that he would avenge their deaths, but he knew he'd probably never be able to attain it… and it just made him hate Percy more. The man had come into his life for 5 years, pretended to be a friend, and lashed out against them all when they were unarmed… when they least expected it… for no reason at all.

In truth, there had, indeed, been a reason, and Dae hadn't been blind to it. He had seen the way Percy was treated within the Organization, and he had pitied the man for it, too, but he couldn't remember any of that. It was another failure of humanity as a race…. They would change their memories every time they thought of them, slowly, piece by piece, at a pace so slow that they did not even realize it. Their minds were hardwired to change their own pasts… all the bad memories became progressively worse, and the good ones got progressively better, making betrayal feel thrice as bad as it once had. And now, unfortunately as it was, Dae was a victim of this process.

'What an ass-', But before he could complete the thought, Dae was shaken out of his mind by one of his fellow council members calling out his name. "UH-uh… Yes, what?" He stuttered out, drawing curious and insulted looks from everyone around him.

"Are you not paying attention, Dae? You seem lost in your own world…" The question came from one of his fellows, and he didn't have any real response to that, so he just decided to be honest about it, at least partially… better not to lie in front of superiors that he knew nothing about… "Ah, no, I am sorry. Forgive me, I just got a bit carried away with my thoughts about my research. You know how it is…"

The councilman merely nodded, not knowing how to respond since he had no experience in the field. Dae moved the conversation forward before it could settle into an uncomfortable silence with everyone's eyes trained on him, "So, what was the question? If you would forgive me for asking…" Dae asked tentatively, not liking the fact that his moment of weakness and distraction had come in public, right in front of the mainland's representatives.

To his shock, one of the delegates merely waved his hand and responded with a little laugh, "Ah, it's fine! Just goes to show that you take your job seriously, eh?" And, as everyone in the room chuckled slightly at that, mostly out of politeness, the man's tone turned from humorous to serious within the span of a second. Adopting a somewhat sinister smile, he continued, "Regardless, we just wanted to know if we can take some of the warriors you have trained to the mainland so we can test their abilities on the real battleground."

And, upon seeing the dangerous glint in the man's eyes as he said the latter portion, Dae instantly knew that this… this would be a long day.

-Line break-

6 months later-

The day was finally here.

It was a special day…

And yet, he didn't really feel like celebrating anything about it. In such times, in his conditions, the occasion didn't really mean all that much, did it?

Once upon a time, long, LONG ago – a time far enough in the past to be considered an eternity – this day had meant everything to him, but now?

Was it really a cause for his celebration even now? Was it still something to feel joy over?

He found himself asking that over and over again. And each and every single time, he found the Athena part of his mind asking him to sit and ponder over it. It told him that he wasn't asking the right questions. It told him that the only way to find the answers was to ask the right questions; to self-reflect. He needed to think… he needed to decide… What exactly was August 18th to Perseus Jackson?

But that one question had so many answers… It was the day he'd been born, of course. And it was the day he had got together with Annabeth. It was the day on which the war with Kronos had finally come to an end… a day where he'd both lost much, and gained much.

And usually, all that he had gained had kept him from questioning the happiness and celebration that followed. But now? Annabeth was dead, and even if it didn't hurt hm like it once used to, it wasn't something that he was… or ever could be… happy about.

All those friends that he'd saved from sure destruction at the hands of Kronos… were all dead now. And yet, he was sure that this day wasn't meant to be a sad one for him. After all, it was, indeed, his birthday, and although that meant that he was just growing older and inching closer to death, he still felt like it was some minor accomplishment for him. 43. He was 43 years of age now. Not counting the other 18 years of his life on another planet, of course.

But did he really deserve to be able to celebrate such a minor thing, even if it was a reminder of how he'd failed his camp, how everyone back on Earth was dead?

But no, that wasn't the right way to think. He hadn't failed his camp. There was no way anyone could have expected him to come out on top against the Creator himself. And even if they had, he knew that he hadn't failed. He was still trying. He was still pushing, trying to get stronger to kill the bastard.

Pushing too hard, sometimes. He'd taken out close to 700 Claymores and Yoma in the past 6 months alone, and possibly close to 50 times that number in the last 19 years of his life.

And as the numbers went to his head, he suddenly realized with an exerted sigh how much he needed a break this time around. He had completely ignored the date for the last 18 years of his life, but now, he needed to make use of it. He was way too stressed out without any fun…

And it wasn't as if a birthday was a particularly bad thing to celebrate, either. And for someone like him, it was quite the milestone to have reached, too.

There were multiple kinds of warriors that the Organization kept making, and while the Organization loved branding its warriors into two main classes: Defensive and Offensive, that was a very unrealistic way of looking at it.

Every warrior had their own Yoki signature, because somewhere down the line, they had been derived from a different Yoma, whose blood and flesh came from different human beings. And depending on how dilute that Yoki was, the warrior could be judged on their strength.

The Organization, upon arriving at the island, had only had limited resources, and they couldn't afford to sacrifice 10 pounds worth of pure Asarakam flesh for each warrior they made. Which was why they had jumped at the opportunity to dilute that power and increase the quantity of warriors. The entire island was meant to be used as a research facility, and thus, it only made logical sense that the more experiments there were, the higher the chance of success.

Regardless, this meant that every warrior – or, Claymore, as the public had come to call them – was different, and had varied levels of strength and power. This was because the Organization had a peculiar way of doing their research.

Once every 12 or so years, they would shave off a new piece of flesh from the Asarakam. They would then use that massive slab of flesh all at once, creating enough resources for the next dozen years, since keeping the flesh would cause its rapid decay. They would create hundreds, if not thousands of Yoma by mixing pieces of the flesh with the blood of the other Asarakam, and then proceed to reuse the flesh of the new batch of Yoma for the following generations to come. And this caused a certain peculiarity to occur.

Each time they made a new batch of Yoma, not from Yoma flesh and blood, but from the Asarakam's blood directly, the Yoki power transferred with the implanted flesh into the humans spiked massively. Thus, every dozen or so years, the Organization ended up creating one of a kind warriors; people who were far more powerful than anyone else (except him, of course).

Oh, and he'd let his ADHD get him sidetracked from the main topic… again.

The point was, the Organization had a pretty faulty way of looking at its warrior's skill levels. They measured their skills using a basic parameter test, giving rank based on a bunch of letters between F and S. Stupid.

There were so many other factors that they should have included. And age was definitely one of them. Unlike people, Yoki aged like a fine wine, getting better and stronger as time passed. Most of the reused flesh warriors didn't last long enough to see any sort of such improvement, or to build up any experience at all. They would somehow always end up killing themselves when they got too cocky and thought they could take on all the Yoma in the world by themselves.

If, however, they could build up that experience, then, it would take them almost no time to rise in the ranks. He had seen some such miracles; well-guarded stances, good posture, amazing awareness of their surroundings, and excellent fighting capability, but sadly, they were still no match for demigod-Asarakam blood.

But that showed why he needed to celebrate it in some form or another. Today was also a reminder, of sorts. He now had 25 years of experience with Yoki under his belt, making him the oldest, most experienced and most deadly Awakened being on the island, even if 25 was a number small enough to pale in comparison to the Asarakam's 200-year-long lifespans.

But he would get there in his own sweet time. With Yoki, power grew with time, and in his case, with the number of Yoma he killed and consumed. It was the one thing he was thankful to the gods for… the blessing of Kratos had fused with the Yoki powers and the Asarakam flesh in him, giving him the ability to consume the Yoki of other creatures, through their flesh and blood.

Regardless, he still had lots of time to get stronger, to refine and boost his Yoki. And he definitely didn't plan on wasting that time. But for now, he really needed a nice little break.

-Line break-

(HA, see, it's a BREAK)

Percy groaned as he slowly lifted his head off a rock-hard surface. He slowly opened his eyes, only to violently clamp them shut once the bright light rays hit them and caused his brain to light on fire.

Vaguely, he recalled the events of last night. Hosting a massive party at the nearest bar and funding for everyone's drinks in honor of his birthday. Downing lots of drinks with his 'friends' and political figures. Announcing that he was running for village head, during a rather… drunk state of mind. Apparently, it turned out that even the least concentrated of alcohols could really get to you if you drank practically barrels of them after a six-month diet.

In hindsight, it wasn't one of his… finer moments, but then again, he had needed a last-minute idea for a party to celebrate his 25-year-old Yoki and let off some steam. But that did not go to say that he didn't regret it as soon as he blinked his eyes open again.

Slowly opening his eyes after a few minutes, he came to realize that he had fallen asleep on the barstool itself, with his face resting on the stone countertop. Damn, that would give him some terrible morning hair and leave a nasty imprint on his face.

But that was all okay. The main problem here was that he had now started a strictly political career by opting to be the mayor, of sorts, of a MAJOR town in the East. Rico was probably the largest town on the island, with only Rabona coming close in comparison. It had massive influence over the smaller settlements around it, since it had its own walls, its own defenses and its own personal guards and soldiers.

It was practically a mini-kingdom. And he had just announced that he was going to become the king. And for the love of reputation, he couldn't take it back without looking like an absolute idiot.

But there was a big part of him, the Athenian part, that actually liked the idea. Politics was her domain, and thus, he should have expected himself to be drawn to it, but he was still shocked that he was going to go through with it.

Huh, guess you could never truly know yourself.

-Line break-

A month later-

Percy POV:

It appeared that no matter how hard you tried, hunger was just uncontainable. I had tried drinking wine in the place of blood and tried human cuisine as opposed to flesh and guts, but it had all come out the same way it had gone in.

It was revolting. No offense to whoever had cooked it, but the food had been so BLAND to my tongue that it felt like I was eating water. And as soon as I'd swallowed it, I found my stomach getting upset by it, and before I knew it, I was clutching the bowl and throwing up every last trace of my meal.

The only human food I had found myself able to eat was sweets. And that… that was not a healthy diet at all. Having blue cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner, despite how glorious it sounded, was a HORRIBLE idea.

It had ended up with the same result as before, with me clutching the bowl and hurling all the contents of my stomach down the drain. A very unpleasant experience to have, though it seemed to be becoming more and more common with each passing day.

With each day that I didn't eat what I needed, my stomach was starting to hurt more and more. It had easily been a good 7 or so months since the last time I had feasted on proper food, and now my stomach was being a bitch about it.

Being part god, I needed ambrosia and nectar, and being part Yoma, I needed flesh and guts. There was so little left of me as human that their food just wasn't going to cut it. And of my two choices, only one was readily available. Besides, it just wouldn't do for me to be clutching my stomach and groaning in hunger while trying to make a speech for the upcoming election.

With those thoughts in mind, I rushed to the nearest map and by hearted the location of the nearest moderate-sized city. It was one of the bonuses that came from being in highly influential positions… You would get all the information you needed as fast as humanly possible… Which while not being too fast, was still quite a fast pace.

Rushing to my bedroom, I wasted no time in donning my armor, sheathing my weapons and running back to the main door. I jumped out of my house, locked my front door and bolted through the streets at top speed. Well, top human speed anyway. It wouldn't do for some pesky Claymores to find their way to my city because of a stupid action made in the heat of a desperate moment.

Anyone who saw me would have thought I was crazy with the frantic pace I was using. Good thing I was almost unrecognizable right now, what with the armor and the 18 year-old form.

-Line break-

It hadn't even taken me 20 minutes after leaving the town to reach the nearest forlorn settlement. Or well, to bring the settlement into my sight. But that was mostly due to the fact that I had met neither Yoma nor human on the way, which had greatly sped me up. Usually, I would slaughter whatever human tribesmen came in my path and suck to Yoki out of all the Claymores and Yoma who did the same, but with that out of the way for today, jogging around the island with low traces of Yoki barely took any time at all.

I slowed to a stop just 200 yards short of the town, looking at its cheaply-made 20-feet-high wooden walls and absent guard count. Looking at that, I realized how poor this settlement really was. Any modern settlements that were made had stone and brick walls to protect them, with dozens of guards crawling around the place to stop any Yoma from entering.

This place, on the contrary, just had some really big logs stacked one next to the other in a circle, with some rope to tie them together. The fact that the logs were sharpened at the top like in a primitive civilization just made me laugh more. To any architect from that time and age, it would merely have been a depressing sight, but to me, after having seen the architecture present in the Organization's futuristic buildings, the sight was a hilarious sort of joke.

It just went to show how little the Organization was prepared to share with its test subjects.

Slowly, so as to not arouse any suspicion from the guards – although it was highly unlikely that there were any, since I was yet to spot even one – I walked up to the small, man-sized gate of the town, and knocked my hand on the door. My knocking actually pushed the door in, much to my surprise, causing it to open and let me view the absolutely desolate view of the city.

Stepping over the town's threshold, I walked into the village and slowly turned my head around at the sight of the destroyed buildings. Every house had broken walls, shattered glass and caved-in roofs, and the town hall was left as just a mess of wood and some straw. Blood coated almost every surface, and ran down in different shades. There was red blood and there was purple blood.

And there was absolutely no sign of life. But that didn't make any sense. If a settlement got wiped off the map by Yoma, then they would usually take over as the inhabitants of the city, and try to fool any visitors who came in.

Here, however, it was clear that both the Yoma and the townsfolk had been present, but now they were just left as shriveled up corpses lying sparse throughout the town, and as blotches of blood marked on walls and floors. That implied that something had killed the Yoma, as well.

But the only things that could kill Yoma…. Were Claymores. Stopping dead in my tacks as my eyes widened in surprise, I focused in on my Yoki-sensing skills, and saw a small, and clearly concealed Yoki aura coming at me from behind. And my sixth sense was telling me the girl had a sword.

Just as she was about to cleave my head off, I ducked low and avoided her slice at my throat. Caught completely unaware when she thought she had the element of surprise, she barreled on straight into the nearest house about 5 feet away, taking out another wall from the building and causing the structure to collapse inwards as she rolled out the other side.

Noticing my attention on her, she flared a bit of her Yoki to heal her wounds from her little tussle through the buildings, and picked her Claymore up again.

Her stance was wide. Not far too wide, but wide enough for me to realize that she was one of the less experienced Claymores in the Organization. But with the size of that aura…. It seemed that the Organization had been cutting flesh off from the Asarakam again. That… could be a problem.

But still, I was… well, I was me. Does that make sense? Probably not. Anyway, I was… me. And if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that literally all the odds were in my favor. If she did prove to be a match to me in both skill – highly improbable – and Yoki – next to impossible – then, I still had a few other tricks up my sleeves to take her down.

Smiling at the hint of anger on the girl's face, I slowly pulled out the Claymore from its sheath on my back, giving it a nice little twirl to test her reaction. She didn't seem very surprised by the fact that I had one, which meant that she at least knew of the male Claymores who had existed before her.

Unlike a lot of the people I had fought before her, to be honest. Most of them had been so surprised that I also wielded a Claymore from the Organization, that they'd died before they could use their own.

But this one was different. She knew about the Organization's history. Which automatically put her in as one of the top five Claymores of the time. But judging from her stance, and her weird grip on her sword, it clearly wasn't experience that had got her here.

It was probably one of those cases of 'potential' power, where the Organization increased the rank of one of its warriors because of their latent abilities, that they COULD unlock in the future.

So, it was clear that I would win this fight anyway. But just fighting brutally till the opponent died was starting to get boring. It was all I ever did… every week, I would find some lonely Claymores roaming outside the villages and then ambush them in the form of a little 8-year-old child. Then, I would make a half-assed attempt at fighting , which would always end in my victory. Maybe it was time for a little fun…

Besides, this girl had already ruined my chances of getting a good meal from this town. I was going to kill her anyway. Might as well have some fun doing it.

Smirking at the woman across the street, I decided to set out some rules for the fight. My battle with "the Divine Oracle" had made me aware of how dependent I was on my Yoki powers to win in combat, and so, for the length of this match, I wouldn't use my Yoki!

Even then, the statistics of me grabbing a loss or even a draw were almost non-existent. Some would have called this over confidence, but to me, these were just statistics. Basic, simple statistics. I was not underestimating my opponent; I just knew she wasn't a threat.

She rushed towards me again, using a blast of Yoki to her legs, and I just moved to the side, sing no Yoki at all. This time, however, she was prepared. She twisted mid-run, aiming her blade's edge at me, but I put my own in front and deflected it slightly off to the side, causing her strike to miss the mark, forcing her to lose control of her spin and fall down a few feet to the side.

I rushed at her, driving my Claymore straight down, but she rolled to the side just in time, avoiding the hit.

The Claymore's weight was slowing me down, for the first time in 24 years, making me unable to outclass her in the sector of speed. Using both hands to lift the weapon out of the dirt, I pulled my sword in front of me just in time to block her blade's path to my neck, with a loud CLANG.

Third Person POV:

The force of the shot was shocking.

The blow had had some severe amount of power behind it, because Percy had been pushed back an entire foot or so, and his hands were feeling numb. He may not have been using his Yoki, but he still wasn't used to being pushed back in combat, and it was quite clear that the girl in front of him hadn't been using more than 30% of her Yoki either.

Apollo's healing went to work almost instantly, and he was rejuvenated in no time, but still, that strike had showed Percy that this girl had more to show than he had originally thought.

And she must have seen the shock on his face, because she started to chuckle and spout titles, saying that 'they didn't call her 'Heavy-Bladed' for no reason.'

So, she had a specific type of power. She was one of those offensive types of Claymores who just had brutal strength and nothing else… Interesting. As far as Percy could understand it, she was able to concentrate the Yoki to one of her arms and use that to generate massive force that allowed her to hit very, VERY hard.

Percy grimaced as he started to think of a new plan to kill her, without using his Yoki, of course. He wasn't ready to give up on the game just yet… there was still a fifty-fifty chance he could get out of this unharmed – for the most part.

While the girl laughed away at her momentary victory, Percy started to analyze her fighting style. She wasn't very experienced with parrying and blocking by using her sword, as the last 5 minutes of fighting had proven, but she was quick on her feet due to little boosts of Yoki. And she seemed very keen in boasting, which meant that she expected to end the fight in the next few moves.

It was easy to see that she was extremely inexperienced with real fighting… not even 5 proper exchanges into the battle, she was already using her best moves against him. She had already played all her cards, without ever knowing how many he had. A very, very bad move.

Everything around her was his element. Everything around him was his element. How had she ever even thought she could win?

He focused on the ground, causing vines to burst from it and wrap around the girl's legs, stopping her laughter and cutting her speech short. She turned in shock to see the vines, and almost missed Percy's charge.

With a short burst of Yoki and the help of her Claymore, she tore through the vines at the last second and rolled to the side.

Not willing to be taken by surprise again, she stood up and charged her opponent, locking blades with him, mid-path. Percy knew he would lose in a standstill without his Yoki, and so, he started to use the elements around him to try and trap her, forcing her to break the deadlock.

One of her mistakes had been showing him her best, most effective move, and he was using that against her. Every time she attacked him with the blade, Percy just moved it slightly off its path, using his control over wind and metal, causing her to miss her mark and end up wasting her energy.

And if she ever stopped in one place to think about her situation, he would charge at her with his Claymore and cause vines to trap her again, forcing her to keep moving.

Her inexperience meant that she had absolutely no way to get out of the little cycle, and by the time Percy was just starting to get winded, she was ready to collapse. Her Yoki wasn't able to keep up with all of this. She was using 60% of it just to keep herself standing by this point, and her opponent was barely even sweating a drop.

Every time she tried to strike, she was missing, somehow, and he wasn't giving her enough time to figure out how.

The only thing she could do was swing and hope for the best, and that's all she was doing. But it still wasn't being enough. Until he slipped up. She swung her Claymore over his head, and he leaned back to avoid it, but he leaned back just a little bit too far, and spread his stance a little too wide to compensate.

She would have just one last chance at this.

Her opponent was currently standing in a weak position just two feet away from her. His feet were placed wide apart, because he was still regaining his balance from the last time she swung the Claymore at his neck.

All she had to do was drive the Claymore through his heart.

Just one strike.

Victory was within her reach.

Almost as if she was using a pilum, she drove the sword forward, aiming for his heart with all the power she could muster.

And she got so close to victory too.

If only Percy hadn't expected it.

But he had. He had calculated the move. Using his secondary weapon, he caught the sword between two of the prongs of the tripod knife. Within three seconds from there, her arms were gone too.

Staring in horror at her bleeding stubs, 'Heavy-Bladed' Chloe could do absolutely nothing but fall down from exhaustion, while her opponent stared at her unmoving self.

Percy POV:

For all her bragging, Chloe had been ridiculously easy to defeat. Her lack of experience had practically made her equivalent to a child while fighting him.

On the other hand, he couldn't stop grinning at his work. Thirty minutes. In thirty minutes, he had absolutely destroyed an opponent who was physically stronger and much, much faster than him.

Now, he could eat in peace and nobody would stop him.

AN – SOOOOooo, im finally back…. After a month.

And now, Dae is growing more conceited as each day passes and… selective memory much?

Meanwhile, we FINALLY GET ON WITH THE PLOT!

FINALLY! It took so long to get here. So, anyway…. I am going to follow Leviathan's plot progression, and go with Percy killing every 'special' Claymore, and drawing on their power, but he won't be forming any armies, so Isley will come… later, so to speak. Him and Teresa will get their arcs…. Prolly by chapter 15? I would AT LEAST have introduced Teresa by then… I hope…

Although one thing's for sure, cocky Percy is coming starting chapter 14.

ON another matter, I've been having soooo many ideas for the RWBY arc that its been deadly to just keep continuing on this ClaymoreXPJO fic. Every time I sit down in front of the screen to write, my mind's just like: chuck the build up and lets go straight to Teresa coz shes like the one important character from this whole thing…

And that's not a joke, either. When writing the part about the Yokis, I completely forgot what Yoki was and actually started writing, "For some, it allowed them to enhance their speed severely, and for others, it allowed them to boost their strengths to the point where they could literally lift mountains. In some, it gave the owner a metallic skin, and in others, it could allow you to move like water." Would've been cool though… I can acc imagine Percy going to Remnant and being like 'so they're all Claymores? BUT WHERES THE YOKI!? I CANT SENSE THE YOKI!?'