Chapter 5

Sometimes, all it takes is looking into a mirror for us to realize what our lives have amounted to. Some people might not be ready for that kind of weight.

-Quote attributed to Michael, Overseer of Heaven

"Confidence? Can you learn how to be confident?" Ingvild asked.

Percy stretched his hands above his head. "Of course you can. It'll take some time, but there's nothing that says you can't learn how to be more confident."

He hadn't always been as confident as he was today. It took serious conscious effort to pull off, but in the end, it practically paid for itself.

And despite what Tiamat liked to say, he wasn't arrogant. Just because he was confident didn't mean he was arrogant.

Gods were arrogant. Percy wasn't a god. In other words, he wasn't arrogant. Simple math. It all added up. It didn't take a genius to see that.

Arrogant people didn't learn from their mistakes. Percy did learn.

One of the most important things he'd learned had been rolling with the punches as they came. It was probably the only thing that kept him from going crazy after so long… after dying more times than he could count…

Tiamat had been right, in a sense. Adapting quickly was a good trait to have. Percy thought he was pretty good at adapting. All half-bloods who lived to be his age had to learn how to adapt.

That wasn't to say he couldn't be surprised by things, though. Arriving in this timeline at all had surprised him. It was different from the other timelines he'd been shown. For starters, this place had angels. And capital "G" God.

The Greek gods were alive in this timeline, too.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that. He almost thought they were better off dead and gone.

And if they were alive, he also had to consider the possibility that the Titans were still alive in this timeline. With everything he'd already done to get rid of them, it was annoying to think that they could be a threat again. Michael hadn't known about the status of most of the Titans, though he was sure Kronos was still being jailed by Tartarus, which hardly gave Percy much peace of mind.

Percy wanted to puke just thinking about Kronos.

His hand curled around Riptide's phantom handle.

After fighting him for so long…

After seeing Backbiter kill so many people…

After dying so many times…

He was finally free of Kronos. No more war, no more Typhon, no more dead cities.

It was over.

Finally over.

Kronos was dead.

This timeline's Kronos wasn't his timeline's Kronos. The Titan Lord wouldn't escape Tartarus.

Percy repeated that to himself every day. Gods, he probably sounded like Zeus.

But just knowing that Kronos was alive made him feel like he was short of breath. His nerves sparked with anxious energy at the thought. Whenever he thought about Kronos, he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up. He slept because he needed to sleep, but his dreams were filled with memories of that blood-stained scythe.

Scythes…

Gods, he hated scythes.

Gods, he absolutely loathed scythes.

He dreamed of scythes. He hated scythes.

He hated Kronos. He hated the Titans. He may even have hated the gods themselves.

Things would be different in this timeline. He didn't know why he was here, but he knew things would be different—they had to be. If he had to do it all over again…

Well, he didn't think he could.

Scythes…

It was a good thing he had other things to focus on these days. The constant danger he felt from being around Tiamat grounded him, taking away the anxiety when things got too quiet.

Tiamat was the kind of god he could handle. She was dangerous, but she wasn't evil. Not from what he'd seen.

Focusing on Ingvild would also help. If he kept himself occupied, he wouldn't think about scythes and screams. His stomach would twist less, and his blood wouldn't boil as much.

Hopefully.

Percy glanced at Tiamat from the corner of his eye. With just a look, anybody would be able to tell she was just a bit different. Her blue hair fell to her chest, dark near the roots and turning lighter as it went along, impossibly photo-perfect at any given moment. Not a single strand ever seemed out of place. Ever. To boot, her skin didn't have a trace of aging or scars. No noticeable lines or wrinkles. Nothing.

It was odd. She managed to avoid the uncanny valley, though just barely.

Even the gods from his home appeared more human than her. Maybe it was because she was a dragon and a god. A dragon-god? God-dragon? Dragod?

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he'd met a dragod.

He wasn't overly impressed. She gave him vibes similar to some of the gods back home. Apparently, she could transform into a real dragon—one with scales and claws and stuff—but rarely did in the human world. It was a choice, she liked to say.

Well, Percy hadn't really been surprised about that, either.

"Will… Would you be willing to…" Ingvild wrung her hands in front of her plate, eyes darting between him, Tiamat, and the small piece of her sandwich still left.

Percy looked at her. She, like Tiamat, could easily turn heads. Lilac colored hair and copper-orange eyes weren't exactly the norm in New York… or anywhere else in the world, for that matter. People would assume she was wearing special contacts and dyed her hair. Maybe they would think she was a cosplayer.

He honestly felt bad for her. She'd lost her family, friends, home—practically everything—twice over in such a short period. The past two weeks of her life must have been a living nightmare.

Maybe that's why he trusted her more than he trusted Tiamat. He'd been in Ingvild's shoes before. She was handling it really well, he thought. Much better than he had. Listening to her talk earlier, Percy had to admit, she had done a good job of pretending her life wasn't going terribly.

She lacked self-esteem, though. From the way she talked to the way she avoided looking at him, it was obvious that she didn't have a high opinion of herself or her abilities.

Ingvild definitely reminded him of himself at a younger age. She also reminded him too much of the younger demigods at camp. Some of the newest campers had stories similar to hers. Some of their stories were worse.

When it came down to it, Ingvild was kind of like a half-blood too.

"Sure," he said, already knowing the rest of her question, saving her the trouble of asking. "I can show you a few of my secrets."

"You will?" Ingvild looked hopeful, if also somewhat reluctant.

He didn't know what that was about. Maybe she had gotten cold feet. Or buyer's remorse.

"I can't promise fast results, or any results, really, but I can give it a shot." Percy had poached his fair share of nuggets of wisdom from Chiron. He was sure Ingvild could use a couple of them at this point. He channeled his inner mentor and said, "Really, it all comes down to your frame of mind. I can tell you how to do things, but if you don't want to do them, then it's kinda like spinning your wheels in the mud."

"Oh," Ingvild said. She worried her lip for a second. Then for another second. And then for a third and a fourth. The kitchen became awkwardly quiet. "What do I need to do?"

"For now… we'll play it by ear. Experience taught me everything I know in a practical sense."

"You mean the journey you took to the Underworld?" Ingvild asked. Her usual way of talking made it sound like she was in a daze half the time. She spoke slowly and usually did her best to break eye contact after only a second.

Percy smiled ruefully. "It took a lot longer than that. Let me tell you a secret," he said, gesturing with his fingers for her to get closer. He leaned in, and, whispering loud enough for Tiamat to hear, said, "I was only twelve when I went to the Underworld. Not exactly an age where most people would be confident doing just about anything."

Ingvild leaned back. "You were only twelve?"

"Really tells you a lot about the gods from my neck of the woods, huh? Trust me when I say it was zero percent fun. And I didn't suddenly have a bunch of confidence after the whole thing was said and done." Though, Percy would admit it was hard not to feel good after knocking Ares down a peg.

"If something like that can't make you confident, what can?"

"Well, that was just one thing. And I never said it didn't make me a little more confident. I just wasn't bursting at the seams. Like, I wasn't ready to ask a girl out on a date, but I was able to order my own food at Burger King… that kind of change."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"I'm glad you think so. Some people don't get it."

"I don't get it," Tiamat said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect a god to understand. Or a dragon for that matter."

Tiamat pointed at his chest. "Your prejudice is showing again. While I might not be as inclined to take offense, some other gods are much less forgiving."

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"Then why do I end up reminding you every day?"

"Why don't you ask yourself that at night from now on?"

Tiamat snorted. "Bold of you to sass me."

"Anyway," he looked back at Ingvild, "it takes time to change your frame of mind and really become confident. Earlier, I think I made them sound like they were two totally different things, but they're not. Plus, you can be confident in other people, while also not being very self-confident. Not exactly ideal, but not the worst thing in the world."

Ingvild took a while to mull that over. "I think I understand. So I should be self-confident and have confidence in other people?"

"Exactly!" Percy nodded his head eagerly, glad he was getting through to her. "That's exactly what I'm saying. It's great to have self-confidence, but if you don't give other people your confidence, it becomes a lot harder to trust them."

"Is that personal experience I hear coloring your tone?" Tiamat asked.

"I've met a lot of gods," he said with a shrug.

"Are you implying something?"

Ingvild made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. She twisted around to look out the farthest window from where they sat. There wasn't much to look at since right across the way was a massive office building, but she stared all the same.

"Trusting people…" she lowered her eyes to her lap, where she worried at her fingers. "This is all a little complicated, huh?"

Percy and Tiamat glanced toward each other surreptitiously. Percy thinned his mouth. "Yeah, it is. No two ways about it. It'd be easier if we could do everything ourselves, but, uh, that's not how the world works. Even the biggest villains have minions."

She looked back at him. "Who do you trust?"

Percy frowned. "I trust Michael. I trust you. I trust... Well, I kind of trust Tiamat."

Beside him, Tiamat swept her hair away from her eyes. "And yet, we're still maligned."

"I wouldn't knock back drinks with you if I didn't trust you at least a little," Percy reasoned. Getting drunk with gods wasn't something he did often.

In fact, he'd only done it with Tiamat.

"Trust is important," Percy told Ingvild, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "That's the long and short of it. Confidence and trust go hand-in-hand. And they'll both go a long way in keeping you alive."

"But those two things alone a life don't save," Tiamat said. "You'll need the ability to keep yourself safe until the Old Satan loyalists decide you aren't worth their attention or they die. Knowing them, it's likely to be the latter before the former." She nodded at Ingvild. "Unless you expect Percy to keep you safe for the rest of your life, I'd suggest learning how to use your power."

Ingvild brushed a few strands of stray hair away from her face. "I don't know how to use my power. Or what my power even is."

"You are a descendant of the Leviathan. That means your specialty will be Sea Serpent of the End. It is a form of water conjuration and manipulation at the ultimate level." Tiamat gave the girl a sharp smirk. Her dark eyes took on a blazing gleam. "You fit perfectly with this team. Fate has seen fit to draw us together. Its last irrational act was to have us meet. I wonder why that is?"

"Let's focus on the here and now," Percy said.

"Well," Tiamat scrunched her eyebrows, "apart from your specialty, you have immense stores of demonic power, which means you'll be able to cast a great deal of magic." She held up her hands, one filled with a flickering mass of flames and the other crackled with electricity. "While water will be a great ally, other types of magic will provide you with unparalleled utility. Translocation, wards, rejuvenation, communication; these are all essential fields of magic for any devil worth their salt."

"That's… a lot to learn," Ingvild noted.

"The final thing we should touch on is more a theory of mine than anything concrete." Tiamat knocked on the countertop with her knuckles. The sound that followed was dull. "I think you have a Sacred Gear within you—an item of power created by Yahweh."

Percy wasn't an expert when it came to Christian mythology, but he was sure Yahweh was the name of the Christian god. Or God.

Religion was all a little confusing.

"An item of power? From God?" Ingvild gave herself a once-over. She stared at her hands, opening and closing them a few times before shaking her head. "Are you sure? Why would God give me a… a Sacred Gear?"

"Give you? He hasn't given you anything. He can't. From what I know, there are a limited number of Sacred Gears, and they are randomly—exclusively—distributed to humans at birth. The system was Yahweh's little brain-child, created to give humans a fighting chance against monsters looking to harm them."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Hey, that's a good idea."

"It hasn't lived up to expectations," Tiamat said.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"There are too many humans and too few Sacred Gears," Tiamat said. "Not to mention, in the past, people would often use their Sacred Gears in order to further their own goals instead of defending humanity as a whole. Despots, nobles, warriors, hedonists, humans all."

Percy felt like he was starting to get a better grasp of the big picture. "So, they're weapons."

"Many are," Tiamat said with a short nod. "Not all, but many."

"How do I have a Sacred Gear, though?" Ingvild asked, wringing her hands on the countertop. "I'm a devil. If only humans are supposed to have Sacred Gears…"

Tiamat spread her arms and shrugged slowly, shaking her head with a small smile. "To be blunt, Yahweh's death proved many things. Astounding arrogance. He must have either had unwavering confidence in his system, or he believed himself above death." She laughed cruelly. "And people still consider him infallible. Propaganda, I tell you."

Ingvild blinked dumbly for a few seconds. She pushed her seat away from the island, letting the legs screech against the hardwood. Percy winced. He didn't want to know what the deposit was for a place like this. Honestly, he really didn't.

"I thought... God couldn't die." Ingvild glanced between Tiamat and Percy in quick succession.

"He already has," Tiamat said. "Yahweh has been dead for a thousand years."

"That's… really?"

"Yes."

"Really?" The girl looked at Percy, perplexed.

He frowned thoughtfully. "Gods can die," he said carefully. "If it's alive, it can die. Gods aren't an exception. Some of them might reform, but it doesn't always happen. Maybe he'll come back since Christianity is such a big deal."

Tiamat snorted. "Don't put any eggs in that basket."

Ingvild let out a long breath. She slid out of her seat and put a hand to the side of her head. "I'm sorry… I'd like to… I'd like to lie down…"

Percy got up as well. "Sure, no problem. You can use my bed again if you want to." She gave him a grateful nod and started to shuffle off. "You need help?"

"No," she said quickly, "I'll be fine. Thank you."

With that, she left the kitchen, turning the corner into the hall leading to his bedroom.

Percy glanced at Tiamat. "You think she'll be okay?"

Tiamat sucked a hissing breath through her teeth. "Yes, I think so. You don't seem so surprised to learn about Yahweh's death; however, I can't imagine Michael telling you such a closely guarded secret."

"That's because he didn't," Percy said.

"Then you must never have been a follower of the faith," she said. "Or maybe… the reality you came from doesn't have the Abrahamic religions?"

"No. It was as popular back home as it is here. God was a pretty big deal," he said. "I don't think I ever believed in him, though. Other gods existed, but God? I doubt he was ever alive. Either that or…"

"An interesting thought."

Percy jerked his head noncommittally. He glanced at the hallway branching from the kitchen. "I didn't know devils could be practicing Christians."

"Normally, they can't. Entering sacred places such as churches will weaken or hurt them, praying will cause them pain, crosses will burn into their skin."

"Just going off of her reaction, Ingvild seems like a devout Christian."

"Maybe she was raised as a typical Christian before she was taken to the Underworld. It lends itself to my atavism theory."

"I'm just gonna pretend I know what that is."

"The beauty of the Internet is that you can learn just about anything with it," Tiamat said blandly. She glanced at the ceiling. "I doubt Michael would appreciate you having this knowledge. Yahweh's death is still a sore subject for Heaven. You are in a very select group of humans who know about this."

So God is just another dead god. I guess Gabriel slipped up a bit back then, he thought, remembering how the angel had referred to God in the past tense. That makes a lot more sense now. If he was alive, he probably would have met me himself when I smashed the walls of Zebel.

He knew Michael and Gabriel had good reasons to keep quiet about the whole thing. He didn't have the right to feel offended. It was a two-way street they had going. Percy hadn't given them much reason to trust him in the first place.

All said, he actually felt bad. Michael and Gabriel seemed like good people.

Michael, especially, had gone out of his way to help settle Percy into starting a new life in this timeline. He had given Percy an apartment, documents to prove his American citizenship, a fake high school diploma, and money for food and some other things to make his life a little less stressful.

"Have you ever been disillusioned? Like her? Has it ever hurt like that?" Tiamat asked.

He looked at her.

She was looking right at him.

"A disciplined person like you must have handled it exceptionally well," she continued.

"Is that supposed to be sarcasm?"

"I'm only trying to understand you more," Tiamat said. She tilted her head toward the hallway. "Seeing her struggle with a truth you and I are already privy to made me wonder." Her eyebrows rose. Her face became expectant. "Did you ever experience something like that?"

"Don't we both know the answer to that? You're a smart dragod. I wouldn't put it past you to have it all figured out by now."

She chuckled, running a finger just under her eyebrow. "I'm flattered that you think so. Of course, I have figured it all out, but it's flattering nonetheless, and I wouldn't be opposed to hearing more praise from you." Her smile canted into something caught halfway between annoyance and amusement. "Though I'd prefer it if you never called me a dragod ever again."

"No promises there."

"Tragic." Tiamat leaned on the countertop. Her finger tap-tap-tapped against the luxurious granite. It was clockwork. Tap-tap-tap. Somehow, it was loud enough to echo. It only stopped when Tiamat stepped away from the island. "I think I'll take the girl as my pupil. It's been too long since I last taught somebody, immortal or no."

He balked at hearing that. It was hardly his place to argue. If Ingvild wanted to be taught by Tiamat, that was her own thing. Still, he asked, "What's the catch?"

Tiamat kept her skewed smile, though it became less annoyed and more amused. "You want to keep her safe, yes? For your own inexplicable reasons, you—"

"Don't pretend that I didn't already give you my reason," Percy said.

"You really feel so strongly about it?" Tiamat asked skeptically.

"Yeah."

"Then you'll have no problem allowing the girl to remain with you while I educate her. You be her home, and I'll be her school."

"You're right," he said, gathering the empty plates still on the counter. "I don't have a problem with that. Actually, that's a really good idea."

"Huh?" Tiamat raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you would agree so quickly. Or so eagerly."

Percy let his hand briefly wander to the outline of his pen. His hand curled around Riptide's phantom handle. "We can't expect gods to do all the work. Besides, it doesn't sound like she has anywhere else to go. Not unless that Ulestar guy pops up."

"Which is doubtful at this point," Tiamat said.

"Exactly."

"She could be dangerous."

"You're dangerous. I still hang out with you, don't I?"

Though, one of the reasons he did was because, when they'd first met, he had checked whether or not he could control the water inside of her. Just like he had done with Ingvild. In both cases, he could.

Just a precaution, of course.

"Perhaps it is the same for both of us, then," Tiamat said. "You must pity her just as much as I do. Maybe you pity her more."

"Maybe," he said.

"It's settled then. This is a good deal, isn't it?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were reading my mind."

"Who's to say that I'm not?"

"If you were reading my mind, you'd already have rubbed my nose in it. That's the typical M.O. for you godly types."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Tiamat shot him a smirk. It was sharp, and he didn't care for the gleam of fire in her eyes. "You know us so well. You have it all figured out, don't you? It must be because, deep down, you're like us. Anomaly or no, you're also part god. Isn't that right? You are a demigod."

Percy's skin crawled. "I don't remember ever telling you that I was a demigod," he said. "So, why do you know?"

"How did you know I was a god when we first met?"

He carefully set the dirty plates in the sink and pushed up his sleeves before running some warm water. "To be fair, I didn't know you were a god. I just knew you were powerful."

"Through a gut instinct, I believe you called it. In other words, it was your sixth sense, correct?"

"Guess you could call it that," Percy said noncommittally.

"It was the same for me," she said. "When I saw you, I saw the smolder of godhood. Human and divine. You are god-born; a human demigod. It had been a long time since I last met one of your kind."

That made sense, Percy figured. He didn't have the kind of intuition gods and monsters did, though it was better than normal humans. "Well, I can't really get mad if that's the case. Just do me a favor and keep it to yourself. I don't like advertising myself as a half-blood to just anybody."

"Just to specific people?" Tiamat asked.

"Pretty much."

"Am I specific now?"

"Pretty much."

She grinned indulgently and glanced at the digital clock displayed on the kitchen range. "Well, I'll get out of your hair for now."

"Leaving so soon?" he asked. She had arrived only a few hours ago, just before Ingvild had woken up.

"I have some business in the Underworld to attend later in the afternoon."

"So you're just gonna let me be the one to break the news to Ingvild, huh?" Percy turned off the water and set the cleaned plates into the dishwasher. "Typical god."

"Learning how to delegate tasks to those more suited is a skill you might want to learn," Tiamat said. She flicked her fingers at him in a vague gesture of goodbye. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow. We can talk about the logistics of our team then."

Percy dried his hands. "Sure. I'll be holding my breath."

Tiamat only rolled her eyes before teleporting away in a flash, the blue mandala disappearing a second after she did.

Strange as it was to think… maybe she knew him better than he'd thought.

It became creepier the more he thought about it.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Kronos was dead.

Percy had killed him.

Kronos was dead.

Percy was safe.

Kronos was dead.

Percy had won.

None of that felt like it was true. Despite having the presence of mind to know it was true, Percy still felt like it wasn't. Maybe it had never been true. Or maybe it had been true at one point but wasn't true anymore.

After so many years…

Despite all that fighting…

Because with every timeline…

The nightmares followed him.

If he didn't need to sleep, he wouldn't. If it were up to him, he would never close his eyes. Sometimes, even blinking brought memories of a falling scythe.

And Percy hated scythes.

In his nightmares, there were always scythes.

And sometimes those nightmares felt real. Backbiter often bit into his back, striking the place opposite his navel. The searing touch of celestial bronze and tempered steel quickly turned into a cold embrace.

Again and again, beneath rain and sun and snow, it came for him.

Percy died again and again in his nightmares.

In reality, his nightmares were actually just memories.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Percy woke up to the sound of music and a burning sting behind his eyes.

He pulled his head off the spine of the sofa and groaned at the stiffness gripping his neck. The scent of something cooking and the airy huff of the range's overhead fan made him look into the kitchen.

Ingvild stood in front of the range, facing away from him. She moved to the pantry and scratched her head as she stared at the contents. She pulled out a few plastic containers of spice, then went right on back to the range, where a light waft of steam rose from two pans.

The TV was still playing in the background. He'd fallen asleep watching something. He couldn't remember what it was he'd been watching. He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

As he got closer, the sound of music filtered through the whirring of the range hood. A soft, lilting hum dragged silken sheets across his brain.

He could almost see the song as Ingvild continued to hum it.

"You could have woken me up to make dinner," Percy said.

The girl almost jumped in surprise. She spun around, fisting the front of her blouse tightly. "I… I was only…"

Percy held his hands up to placate her. "I'm not angry or anything. Actually, I appreciate that you went through the trouble. Whatever you're making smells a lot better than anything I can whip up."

"Well… there was some meat in the refrigerator… I hope you don't mind that I used your food." She glanced at the pans on the stovetop. Inside was a mix of ground beef and vegetables.

Stomach growling, Percy said, "Nah, I don't mind. You look like you know what you're doing. How long ago did you wake up?"

Ingvild shrugged a little. "Not very long."

"Hm. Need any help?"

She shook her head. "Everything is almost ready. The potatoes just need a few more minutes."

"I'll grab the plates then."

Once it was all done, he watched as Ingvild served. He took the full plates to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.

"Want something to drink?" he asked once she sat down.

"Um… water, please."

"Sure." He filled a glass for her and grabbed a cola for himself, then went back and planted himself next to her on the sofa. "We probably shouldn't be eating on fancy furniture like this, but you've gotta admit, these are way more comfy than the stools at the island."

Ingvild nodded. They ate quietly.

Having company was nice, Percy decided. Even if that company was someone like Tiamat, it was still nice. When it was a kind girl like Ingvild, though, it was much nicer.

The food was also really, really good. A little spicier than he'd expected, but good regardless. Actually, the heat was probably what brought the whole thing together.

It definitely tasted better than anything he'd ever made from scratch.

"I didn't know animals like that existed," Ingvild said. She was looking at the TV, which was now showing the everyday life of giraffes in the African savannah.

"Giraffes are pretty cool. Some of them know martial arts, which can be a pain to deal with, but—they're cool for the most part."

"It has such a long neck… and it's so tall…" She continued to wonder at the screen. A hint of wistfulness clouded her face. "I guess a lot of people would know about giraffes these days."

"Probably," Percy agreed. "Anybody with access to the Internet can learn almost anything they want. Used to be you had to go to, like, a library or something."

"I heard about the… er… Internet and computers while I was in the Underworld."

"Ever use them?" he asked.

"No. I was curious, but we didn't have any in the manor."

Percy jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got one in my room. I can show you what's what if you want."

"That sounds like it would be useful," she said gratefully. "There is still a lot for me to learn, I think. I suppose I'd like to learn more about what became of my home."

That made sense. He'd wanted to do the same thing after arriving in this timeline.

After so long… it was strange living in New York again. It was strange…

He could hardly believe this was his life now.

It didn't feel real.

It didn't feel right.

Reality told him he'd won, but in his dreams, he could still win for real.

Kronos was dead.

Percy had won… hadn't he?

The husk of his city begged to argue.

The dead begged to argue.

The sound of his fork scraping against the bottom of the plate made him frown.

He'd already finished his dinner… When had that happened? He blinked, already feeling tired again. The naps he took never seemed to give him a lot of energy. It was probably why he took so many in the first place.

"That song you were humming earlier," Percy said, "was really nice."

Ingvild tore her attention away from the TV. Her eyes widened in surprise for just a second before drooping again in their typical fashion. "I… I think it's a nice song too. My mother used to sing it to me… a long time ago."

"Ah." Percy rubbed his hands together. "I don't think I ever asked where you were from, did I?"

"I'm from a town called Bergen." Somehow, for some reason, she'd gained a noticeable accent when she said Bergen, giving the r a short trill.

Percy scratched his chin. "Bergen? Where is that? Germany? Iceland?"

"It's in Norway, on the western side."

Well, he hadn't been too far off. "Norwegian, huh? That's pretty cool. When did you learn English? The only time I heard an accent was when you said Bergen. You're crazy fluent."

Ingvild tilted her head like a confused puppy. Then, realization spread across her face. "Oh. This must have been what Ulestar was talking about. Devils can speak every language, he told me. It would make sense, I guess, since I didn't learn much English while I was in school."

"Oh." Percy hadn't known that. "That's a pretty useful trait."

"I think so too." She took the final forkful of her dinner and chewed thoughtfully. "Why did you want to know?"

"I guess… I was still thinking about the whole 'God' thing," he lied. Mostly, he'd been wanting to stave off another nap. It would have been embarrassing to fall asleep so soon after dinner.

"I was thinking about that too," she said softly.

"Come to terms with it?" Percy asked.

Ingvild stared at her empty plate. "Even if I'm a devil… is it wrong to believe in God?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to believe in God," he said carefully. "I'm not positive God is dead either, but I don't know why Tiamat would want to lie to us about something like that. She's probably telling the truth."

"That… I'm sorry. Maybe I just need more time to think about it."

"Let me know if I can help somehow," he said, leaning back on the sofa. "There's probably not much I can do, though. Guess it all comes down to your frame of mind again."

Even though she had just slept half the day away, her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on him. "When will you teach me how to become confident?"

Percy ran a thumb over the beads on his necklace. Seven, just like he remembered. "That's more of a gradual process than something you'll see results for immediately."

"Then what can I do right now?" she asked. "Isn't there anything?"

"A good start would be staying alive."

"I suppose that's true…"

"That was supposed to be a joke. Kind of. What I mean is that, right now, focusing on keeping yourself safe is pretty important. Tiamat was right; it would be a good idea to learn how to use your power."

She tilted her head. "Would you show me how to use it?"

"Tiamat called dibs on teaching you magic after you went to lie down." Percy gave her an encouraging smile. "Since she's a god and a dragon, I'm assuming she has a pretty good idea of how to teach you."

"I see…" She clenched her hands together tightly. "And my Sacred Gear?"

"My guess would be that Tiamat is gonna handle that too. She seemed to know a bit about them," he said. "In the meantime, you can stay with me. Does that sound good to you?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "I wouldn't know what else to do."

"Well, we've all gotta start somewhere."

"Where did you start?"

"I started at a camp. That was a long time ago, though. The camp doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Why? It wasn't your fault, was it?"

"Well… no…" Ingvild glanced away for a moment. "My condolences." She wrung her hands. "If I can help somehow, please let me know."

"Sure, thanks."

After so long, it was strange knowing other people were willing to help him. First, Michael and Gabriel, then Tiamat, and now Ingvild.

A lot of people had helped him get to this point, and he'd hardly repaid them for their sacrifices. If not for them, Kronos would have won long before the battle in Manhattan.

Of all the timelines I could have ended up in, it had to be one without a trace of my friends and family. Percy chewed on the inside of his lip. He figured it must have been the balancing of his luck. Percy really did consider himself lucky, in the end. Though there was always room for improvement in that department.

Percy gathered the plates and stood up. Ingvild stood as well, but he shook his head at her. "Don't bother. I'll wash the dishes."

"I want to do my part."

"You cooked. I count that as helping do your part. Don't you?"

"That wasn't enough."

"Seriously?"

"After you saved my life… and now that you're offering a place for me to be safe… I don't think one dinner is enough. It's not fair."

Percy felt his mouth twitch. He handed her the plates. Honestly, he didn't like doing housework and chores anyway. This saved him the trouble.

Ingvild nodded at him and walked off to the kitchen, apparently pleased with herself. Percy scratched his head and sat down again. The sound of running water, clinking metal, and humming filled the apartment. A warmth settled in his bones.

He blinked.

He fell asleep.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Percy woke up to a mostly dark apartment.

The blinds were closed, and the lights had all been turned off. The TV cast a bright glow on half of the living room. On the other sofa, Ingvild was curled up, sleeping in the same clothing Tiamat had given to her.

"Ingvild." Percy went to her side and nudged her arm. "Ingvild, let me get you something better to sleep in."

The girl let out a small puff of air from her nose but didn't stir otherwise. Percy nudged her again, this time poking her cheek, only to receive the same response.

That wasn't normal. He frowned and put both hands on her shoulders, shaking her a bit more forcefully. He got a snort for his troubles.

After considering his options, Percy scooped her up and carried her to his room. He laid her onto the bed. From what he could tell, she was sleeping peacefully, her breathing only broken by the occasional snore.

Is this… because of the sleeping illness? He watched as she curled up and buried her head into the pillow. Another snore made him wince. Not exactly Sleeping Beauty, huh?

Percy closed the door behind him as he left. Whether he slept on a bed or on the ground, the nightmares would wake him up regardless. Sleeping for more than a few hours was basically a pipe dream these days.

He stepped into the living room again. As he did, his instinct-driven body reacted to a whispered hiss of air being displaced.

Riptide came up just in time to block a strike from behind. A short, grinding squeal of metal later had Percy closing in on the source of the attack. Amid his quick spin, he caught a glimpse of his attacker thanks to the TV light.

A robed person, wielding a scythe and wearing a metallic mask shaped like the skull of a goat.

Scythes…

Gods, he absolutely loathed scythes.

Percy wanted to freeze at the sight of the scythe, but his first reaction was to attack. His arm felt like it would be torn from its socket with how hard he swung at the robed figure. Riptide was barely more than a blurry blotch of glowing bronze, even to his own eyes.

The robed figure jerked back and let Riptide pass through where his neck had been.

He was as fast as Hyperion, Percy realized. Not good.

They both backed off for a split-second. The light from the TV created blue and white streaks on the skull mask. Dark sockets where eyes should have been somehow made the mask both more and less threatening.

Goat Head twitched before going on the offensive. He drove forward with blinding speed. Percy could barely make out the motion of two swings—a poorly disguised feint from the right, and the real attack which came from the left. If Goat Head had put in a little more effort, he might have fooled Percy with the feint.

Instead, Percy let it play out the way Goat Head wanted. He shifted Riptide to the right.

The scythe arced from the left. Percy lifted his left arm.

If he hadn't been invulnerable, that would have been it. Game over. The scythe would have cut through his waist as easily as wheat and killed him on the spot.

But it didn't. It couldn't. The scythe connected, and the blade tried to gut him, but all it did was push him to the side a little. His skin didn't split. The only place it could split was a small spot opposite his navel.

Goat Head didn't have time to be surprised. Percy dropped his left arm and locked the scythe in place, its blade pressed tightly against his skin. He struck hard and fast.

Riptide gouged through Goat Head's left shoulder. One arm dropped to the floor. Percy had been aiming for Goat Head's center of mass, but the god—because, yeah, it had to be a god—had managed to wrench to one side and avoid being turned into a halved god.

The god reared back, croaking in pain as he released his hold on the scythe. Percy stepped forward and swung at the god's head, only managing to graze part of the mask to knock it free from his face.

Another scythe materialized in the god's remaining hand. He spun around, and Percy blocked the strong strike that came his way.

When they parted again, the god summoned a white mandala behind him with a few muttered words. Percy hesitated when he saw the patterned circle, but didn't stop his attack. He pressed on, ready to swing or to lunge with his next step.

The mandala pulsed once before casting the room into inky darkness.

Percy bit back a curse, pausing. Everything was black. It was almost as if he'd gone blind. The darkness was crushing and all-consuming. A trickle of ice-water spilled down his spine.

He focused on his breathing and kept his ears open. That was the only way he would be able to know what was happening.

A shuffling from behind made Percy twist and slash.

The darkness receded. When his vision came back to him, Percy saw that there was nobody else in the room with him. He looked around, first to the kitchen, then to the entryway, and finally to the hallway. His eyes widened. He ran to the bedroom, almost knocking the door off its hinges when he burst through.

Ingvild was still sleeping on the bed. Her snores had become longer and louder.

He watched her for a few seconds, gave the room a thorough scan, then went back to the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something shiny on the floor. It was the goat mask. Apparently the god hadn't taken it with him. The god's severed arm was missing, though.

Percy turned on the lights. He capped Riptide and crouched down to grab the mask, handling it carefully on the off chance it had been rigged to explode.

What the hell was that about? He glared at the metal skull. It was in pristine condition except for a gouged line under one of the eye sockets, which must have been where his sword connected. Did the Grim Reaper just try to kill me? He wasn't Kronos… that's for sure.

Percy wasn't sure what had just happened. He'd been attacked for seemingly no reason. Ingvild hadn't been hurt—though whether that's because Goat Head got his arm chopped off or because she had never been his target was up for debate.

What did it mean? He didn't know.

What he did know was that he'd made a big mistake. Percy had shown one of his trump cards right off the bat. Impenetrable skin was great and all, but he still had weaknesses, not to mention his one mortal point. Now that Goat Head knew about his impenetrable skin, if he came back for revenge or to finish the job, he'd know better than to get cocky.

On top of that, Goat Head had been fast. Faster than Percy. Now he knew about Percy's invulnerability…

Percy recalled what Tiamat had told him. "I may be the first to confront you, but I won't be the last."

Not great. Not great at all.

Percy wasn't about to let it slide. Being attacked in his own home was where he drew the final line. There were lines before that, but this was the final line. To make matters worse, he'd been attacked by some scythe-wielding god with a thing for goats.

What could he do about it, though? Michael had told him to visit Saint Patrick's Cathedral if he ever needed help. Apparently, there were people there who could get into contact with Heaven.

It wasn't a horrible idea… but he didn't want to get Ingvild involved with Heaven. She was a devil, after all. Michael seemed tolerant of devils, but Ingvild wasn't just any devil; she was a direct descendant of the first Leviathan, whom Michael had probably fought against in that big war a thousand years ago.

Risky. Not to mention, if he left, Ingvild would be alone for a while. Sure, the cathedral was only a few blocks away, but Goat Head had somehow gotten into the apartment without a hitch. Teleportation made it too easy to invade other people's privacy.

Then again, he didn't go after Ingvild. He probably could have… but he didn't. Percy took his eyes off the mask and sighed in frustration. I must have been the target all along. Why did he wait until I woke up? How long had he been there?

There were too many questions, he realized. He wanted answers, but that meant either waiting for Tiamat to get back or leaving Ingvild alone while he went to the cathedral.

Or taking Ingvild with him… to a church.

That sounded like a bad idea.

Percy shook his head and stood up. He finally turned off the TV and made his way back into the bedroom. He sat at the desk opposite the bed, set the mask down, and settled himself so that he faced Ingvild. Even though the scythe hadn't pierced his skin, something inside of him ached.

Crossing his arms, he tried to push the thought of Backbiter out of his mind.

No luck. Never any in that department.

His next move might be the difference between keeping Ingvild alive and killing her dead. He wanted to make a decision before the sun rose.

It was going to be a long night. One thing Percy did know, though, was that Goat Head had to go.

Author Note: Hello again. Thanks for all of your support, and sorry about the long wait.

I don't think Ingvild's home has been mentioned across the translated material (including Shin Vol. 3), but since her name is mostly associated with Norwegians, it probably isn't a stretch to say she's from Norway. Along those lines, I don't think it's too much to think that she was raised to believe in God, considering she lived during the early 20th century in a predominantly Christian country.

Thanks for reading.