Summary

My name is Percy Jackson. After I died fighting Kronos, a compromised reincarnation attempt led to my rebirth in a strange new universe. My only goal? Avoid dying a second time as I try to return to my own world and stop the rise of Gaea…

Chapter 1. I Die

A single choice shall end his days.

And so it did.

In front of me, Luke unlatched the side straps of his armor, exposing a small sliver of his skin just under his left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit.

He readied his knife and took a deep breath, preparing to stab down on the spot—his Achilles heel. I stood frozen in place, wide-eyed: it was all going to end here.

Until suddenly, Luke stopped. His face hardened into a mask of cruel rage, his eyes flaring golden.

"Foolish child… you DARE?" Kronos—this was definitely Kronos—threw the knife away, trembling in uncontrollable anger.

Before I could react, Kronos lashed out with his fists, sending me flying across the throne room. I slammed into a marble pillar at breakneck speed, spidery cracks forming across the stone. Gravity quickly took hold, dropping me unceremoniously onto the ground.

From an outsider's perspective, this might look like a fight scene from one of those cliche action movies where the laws of physics are ignored and no one bleeds—they need to be marketable to kids, afterall. But trust me, this was not cool. So not cool at all.

The curse of Achilles simply made me a better punching bag.

Taking the chance, Annabeth spoke, her eyes shining silver with tears. For a moment, I doubted if her Athenian dexterity of words and tactics could save our situation. But this was Annabeth, she could do anything.

"Luke, I know you're in there," Annabeth pleaded. "Take control, you can end this… you promised."

Kronos grinned. Luke appeared for a split second, looking a little distraught. A quick jerk of his head, and Kronos was in control yet again. "I underestimated the boy, but that won't happen again."

Now, his expression was confident, not disoriented nor clouded with blind rage. His grin was sinister, he had closely avoided death, but now he knew that it was game over from here. He was gaining strength at an exponential rate, and in a mere minute, he would burn through everything to his godly form.

I charged.

I swung at Kronos with rapid blows. Kronos, however, parried each and every one of them with ease, Backbiter a blur in his hands as he forced me stumbling back.

The increasingly blinding golden aura of the Titan of Time pulsed dangerously, emanating across the throne room.

I knew a blow was coming, my senses alerted me, screaming out like ambulance sirens.

I tried to be careful, mom, I really did.

As fast as my instincts were, I was not fast enough to meet the blow, Backbiter sending a mighty strike to my shoulder, feeling like a truck had slammed into me—what felt like the thirtieth truck today. I went staggering, off-balance.

Kronos, who had literally all the time in the world, did not wait for me to recover and proceeded to disarm Riptide from my hands with a mighty swing, sending it scuttering a dozen feet behind me.

Then it happened. It happened so quickly. Too quickly.

In a frenzy of panic, I fruitlessly searched my pockets. I needed my sword, it wasn't like I was about to fight with my bare hands—Kronos could send me flying across the room with his fist, while pathetic me would probably snap my wrist by punching him once.

I turned, diving to recover my sword, but Kronos was on me in an instant.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Kronos lunge, Backbiter in hand, face contorted in a wicked snarl.

I tried to twist my body to avoid the blow but was instead met with blinding pain. If the pain was any bit less, I would have been able to describe it with a myriad of fanciful metaphors, but it consumed every inch of my body. I felt as if my chest would explode, a choking sound escaping my mouth as I bit hard into my tongue.

In the corner of my mind, I heard Annabeth screaming my name, Grover bleating in shock. Through the blinding pain, I dimly perceived the richly inlaid marble floor I was sprawled on, and grimaced at the fact that my cause of death would be getting stabbed in the back by a badly named sword called Backbiter.

"The Hero of Olympus, the leader of your pathetic forces, dying on the ground before me. HA!"

Kronos laughed, a malevolent screeching of a sound. It vaguely resembled my attempt at playing the cymbals in fourth grade, accompanied by a thousand nails being scratched on chalkboards.

I bit hard into my tongue, drawing blood, but that sting was nothing compared to the pain I was in. I suddenly felt the familiar weight of Riptide returning to my pocket.

I heard Kronos turning around, facing a charging Annabeth, his gravelly chuckle slowly echoing across the hall of Olympus. "Prepare to die, girl. I would have spared your life, but it's too late for tha–… AAAAARGH!"

Riptide had pierced his Achilles heel. In his moment of glory, Kronos had become blind to his surroundings.

Behind him, I sank down on one knee, breathing hard.

"Fuck you," I spat. I felt dizzy, and I could feel whatever life force left within me ebbing, but there was this warm fuzzy feeling from defeating the Titan Lord.

Annabeth, Grover, my mom, they'd all be safe now.

I smiled. We won, life was good.

Then, I died.

"Back so soon?" Charon leaned forward on his desk, looking down upon me.

Hearing no initial reply, he sniffed in my direction. "You're dead this time, what took so long?"

I stuttered at his contradicting statements. "I- I—well… I died."

"You brought coins for passage? Thanks for talking to Hades about my pay raise, by the way."

I ruffled my opaque hands in tattered pockets. "Um, well, I don't have any drachmas this time. Since I helped you negotiate a raise and overpaid last time, can I get free passage?"

Charon wiggled his finger at me. "No can do, kiddo. Standard policy, no exceptions, or I'll get a deduction from my decennial bonus. You'll have to wait."

He pointed at a long row of fully-taken seats. "Take a seat over there, I'll see if I can cut down your waiting time to less than six decades."

I warily made my way to a corner and glanced around at the steel-gray walls. Being incorporeal was… well, light. I could feel no gravitational force acting upon me, and walking took no effort at all, yet my feet were still tethered to the ground.

I looked at the guy standing a foot away, and waved at him. He was dressed in khakis and a loose flannel shirt, his glassy eyes were staring dully at the ground.

"Hey! So… do you, uh- come here often?"

The man made no indication of my existence. I settled for quietly waiting.

I fidgeted and shuffled my legs around every so often. It felt like hours—it might have already been hours, or days, or years… it was hard to tell.

Finally, I heard a Nokia ringtone blaring out from Charon's desk across the room. I saw him pick it up, and his expression morphed from annoyance to surprise.

He pocketed his phone after a few seconds and looked over at me, waving for me to come over with obvious impatience.

Has it really been that long? It felt like several years had passed, but has it already been six years?

"Well, time to go," Charon growled.

I voiced my thoughts, "Oh, has it already been six decades? Or did my queueing time get reduced?"

The ferryman sighed. "Kid, you've been here for eight minutes. I just got a special call from my boss, something about you getting a premium fast-pass… I hate this job, I have to practice nepotism at least a dozen times every century."

"Um, okay."

I followed him into the lift. At least a hundred other semi-translucent beings scrambled to follow, but Charon waved his hands, shoving them back with some sort of a forcefield. "No no, I have to escort this boy first. Though, I promise to run a ride by the end of this year." He shouted over the crowd pushing against the invisible wall.

The doors closed. I stood uncomfortably. The floor started swinging, though it was completely silent. I would have preferred the lift music of the Empire State building over this chilling silence.

I thought that I would have been judged before the panel, and forced to relive all my embarrassing memories, but it was not to be.

I was escorted directly to the gates of Elysium. My premium fast-pass apparently included the whole package.

Though relieved that I wasn't going to be standing before a bunch of ancient figures watching a highlight reel of my life, I was uneasy with the special treatment I was getting. It all felt like a fraud.

My thoughts were interrupted, after climbing a small hill, by the view of the entire expanse of Elysium. It was beautiful, as if artists from each century had imagined and drawn a cliched utopian city, with all of them scrambled together in, somehow, perfect harmony—that was Elysium.

Despite its glamor, it was relatively tiny—a fleck on a canvas—compared to the billions present in the Fields of Asphodel. It was a sobering thought.

I remembered coming here on my first quest, filled with the depressing thought that so few people did good in their lives. In actuality, the only way to Elysium was probably some grand heroic act that few even get the opportunity to perform, while the rest are sentenced to eternity in a traffic jam, in a drowning sea of souls.

When I was led down the street, people pointed and stared and whispered. It felt surreal.

Charon, my temporary tour guide, chuckled. "Word gets around fast, you're already a celebrity around here."

Charon grinned at me. I looked at him uneasily, I had never seen him not carrying an expression of mild contempt.

"What? I'm getting a handsome bonus from this little errand. I'll just bring you to the regional assistant manager for rehabilitation, and I'll be on my way."

I felt as if I was going to be the only unhappy person in Elysium.

Months later, I applied for reincarnation. Not that I had anything against my newfound—and old—friends here, I was just uncomfortable… with the prospect that I was dead and would spend eternity in some luxury hotel as a damn ghost.

Nothing compared to living.

All it took was signing a form in a shabby office in the town center. Six days later, my request was accepted, and I was given a date and time for when an official would guide me through the process.

The atmosphere in Elysium was a little tense. Recently, rumors have gone around about Thanatos being compromised, as well as there being intruders in the Underworld, though officials in Elysium denied the happenings.

Though, leading up to my scheduled appointment, it was quite anti-climatic. Most of my Elysium friends were a little disappointed, but they wished me luck nonetheless. Some of the other demigods who died in the war were also thinking about doing the same, but were slightly hesitant—the removal of all memories was akin to permanent death, as one's experience in life defines who they were as a person. Others were content to settle down with their friends and loved ones for eternity.

According to a pamphlet, it was going to be a straightforward process: drink some of Lethe's water, jump into some soul recycling bin, and... tada! You are now a pathetic infant.

"What happens if you don't drink from the Lethe?" I asked my guide for the rebirth. We were on an empty gravel road, having departed Elysium a few minutes ago. The surroundings were desolate, a single withered tree accompanied the path, its sharp, twisting branches casting a malevolent shadow. I stumbled on a pebble.

My guide was a short, bald man who was apparently on parole from the Fields of Punishment. Due to the Underworld being massively short-staffed, Hades was offering transfer to Asphodel for some denizens of the Fields of Punishment if they performed a century of community service. It was not reassuring that one of the people in charge of my rebirth used to be a dangerous criminal.

The man cackled. "Your body ceases to function, then your brain implodes—usually happens when you're still in the womb, though some have lasted for a few hours after birth. Do you really think an infant can process the decades of memories and the instincts of an adult?"

Scratching my head, I muttered, "Er… no?"

"That was not a question, you dullard."

We made the rest of the journey in an uncomfortable silence.

Soon, a behemoth of a mountain came into view. Even from the furthest possible distance, you had to strain your neck to see the angry swarm of dark clouds obscuring its peak. Why are there clouds in the underworld? Even the mountain looked dead, the gray stones carried not a single living thing. Every so often, a few rocks would tumble down the sides, creating a plume of dust.

"That's your destination." The man—whom I have decided to call Joseph—pointed at the mountain. "It doesn't have a name. Few know of its purpose and what it contains, even fewer are allowed inside. None knows how it came to be, its existence precedes even the most ancient beings alive."

I shivered. "What does it contain?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Joseph replied scathingly. "You'll be received at the entrance in the base of the mountain, I'll be on my way now. Goodbye."

Joseph abruptly stopped, turned around, and walked back to the direction he came from.

Panicked, I called after him, "Wait! Can I at least know your name before you go?"

Joseph did not reply, opting to walk faster.

Continuing on the journey, I trudged along the path. I desperately hoped this wasn't some sort of prank where I get violently dragged down by flying shoes into the pits of Tartarus.

After an hour of walking while drowning in suffocating boredom, I was met with a towering gothic-looking metal gate tipped with pointed spears. Behind it was a tunnel lit by some scant torches, the flames danced with sinister intention.

In front of the gate stood a man. He was… well, handsome—enough to make me, and probably anyone else, exceptionally self-conscious about their appearance. He was tall and slender, carrying high cheekbones and skin without a single blemish, and dressed in an expensive business suit—one that would make Charon jealous.

The man gave me a stern stare. "You're late," he intoned.

I guess I didn't look apologetic enough. "Sorry, my guide, Joseph—though that's now what I call him, as, you see–"

The man cut me off, "My name is Adonis, I will be leading you through the process of your reincarnation today. Please follow me."

Adonis inserted an old, rusty key into the lock, and swung the creaky gates open. The gates closed as we walked in, locking themselves with a click. I gulped.

The tunnel was not as long as expected, and thankfully, it appeared that it didn't lead to Tartarus. However, it might have been much worse.

Three minutes later, we emerged into a vast circular cavern. There was no ground, but a gaping hole. There was something off-putting about it.

When I cautiously crept to the edge and looked down, I saw something terrifying. It was like one of those images of the galaxy taken by NASA telescopes, except that it was so overwhelming, under—or above—its gaze, I felt utterly insignificant. If I stared at this for too long, I felt that I would go mad.

I stumbled back, leaning onto the stone wall of the tunnel, breathing heavily.

"What you just saw is the only way to achieve true death. If gods weren't absolutely terrified of going within ten miles of it, they would be tossing all their enemies into it." Adonis stated in a monotonous voice, unperturbed.

In the middle of the cavern, with a rocky rope bridge leading to it, was a pavilion of some kind. Built out of gray stone, it contained a round pool that held a silvery liquid. Next to it was a chalice—presumably water from the Lethe.

Adonis gestured toward the center. "Cross the bridge, I'll be behind you."

I gulped, warily taking a first step. The bridge trembled. I flinched.

"C'mon, you can do this… no big deal—only risking complete nonexistence," I muttered to myself, sweaty hands gripping the handholds. "Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down…"

I made two… three steps. Soon, I was nearly a third of the way through. Adonis followed close behind, exerting no effort at all.

"You know, Perseus Jackson, "Adonis suddenly broke the silence. "There was a prophecy revealed shortly after your death."

I glanced behind me, confused. "And?" I queried.

Adonis continued. "It states that Gaea will rise unhindered, and–"

Full of confusion, I abruptly interrupted him. "What's Gaea?" For some peculiar reason, I shivered a little while speaking the name.

Adonis seemed annoyed, the only sliver of expression he had shown so far. "Gaea is the all-powerful earth mother, who will rise from her slumber and put down those puny self-righteous gods, and will establish an era of prosperity lasting for millions of years!" he declared with fervent intensity.

"Huh?" By now, I had realized that something was terribly wrong.

"The prophecy stated that you will be the only being capable of opposing her rise… but I wonder… what would happen if you cease to exist?" A creepy smile adorned his aristocratic face.

I pivoted to face Adonis, almost tumbling off the bridge in the process as a rope accidentally snagged my foot. "Dude, that's really not cool, I thought you were supposed to be my chaperone?"

Adonis spared not a word more, and lunged.

On the narrow bridge, there was no room for evasion, and Adonis caught hold of my arm, and gods, he was strong. He proceeded to grab my right leg, lifting it. I futilely tried to grapple at him.

With a single push to the side, I was sent toppling off the bridge. My limbs flailed as I fell, I screamed all the way.

As I plummeted to nonexistence, all I could think about was how embarrassing it was to be defeated in three seconds.

Beta'd by GodofFamine, as well as Scirre :D