Adjusting… Or rather, readjusting to life at Yancy Academy, if his odd memories were to be believed, was difficult. Some things Percy could do by instinct, such as navigating his way through the strangely familiar building to his classes, which were taught by strangers he had near to no recollection of. He was surrounded by people who seemed to be the same age as him, yet he knew none of their names. Not even the large, red-headed girl that enjoyed hurling insults at him. He had asked Grover once, and the other boy simply looked at him strangely. Percy never did receive an answer, so he simply dubbed the girl Red-Hair.

Red-Hair's insults were not very creative. She must have been quite fond of the word 'dork', for she used it in every third sentence. Her jabs slid off Percy's skin like water, aggravating her to no end. Before, he would have been incredibly satisfied to see his bully so frustrated. Now, he just ignored it. After the things he'd seen, the things he'd done, a few words were inconsequential. Thankfully, her attempts to put him down remained verbal. He was not sure how well he could fight in this body. Likely better than her, but his new balance may spell his doom.

Other than Grover, the only person Percy could vaguely remember was Mr. Brunner, his Latin teacher. Aside from teaching a language, the man also spent a great deal of class time discussing Greek mythology, which struck Percy as odd. The Romans were the ones who spoke Latin, after all. Another thing which stood out to Percy was the man himself.

Mr. Brunner seemed… Old. Not in the childish way, in which everybody above twenty was considered ancient, but almost like the man had lived long enough to see empires rise and fall. HIs eyes spoke of centuries, perhaps even millennia, of experience. Every time he turned those eyes upon Percy, he seemed both sad and indifferent at the same time. Almost like the man expected something horrible to happen to him, and was simply bracing himself for the inevitable. It was quite disconcerting.

Besides that, however, things were mostly fine. He did well in his classes, which was apparently not normal given his teachers' reactions, and only had to speak with Grover. He did not seem to have been very popular before. Though this may have caused him no small amount of frustration long ago, he was rather glad for the solitude now. This way, he was able to sort through his thoughts in peace. Grover was thankfully quite perceptive, and never bothered Percy without reason when he was deep in thought.

When he no prior engagements, Percy spent his free time exercising, attempting to strengthen his body as much as he could. Considering he had no acquaintances to occupy his afternoons, that was quite a lot of free time. Hopefully, he would never be as slow as that first morning, ever again.

All in all, things were going fairly well.

At least, until the day of the field trip came up.

"Can anyone tell me what scene this statue depicts? Perhaps… Mr. Jackson? What say you?" Mr. Brunner asked. Said boy currently had a glazed look to his eyes, and Grover had to nudge his friend with a crutch.

Percy blinked, then shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Please explain this statue to the class," Mr. Brunner replied patiently. Percy looked at the monument his teacher was gesturing towards.

"A man eating a baby… That would be the Titan King, Kronos, swallowing his children whole, due to his fear of being usurped."

"Excellent, Mr. Jackson! Now, for extra credit, would you be able to tell me why knowing such a thing would be important in real life?"

Percy narrowed his eyes at the Latin teacher. This was odd, even for the man who challenged his students sword-point to chalk piece. The way he spoke, it was almost as if he was testing Percy in a capacity outside of a harmless hypothetical question, as if this would truly have an impact on his life.

Then again, it very well might. Sometime after his initial awakening, between the struggles of learning to live in this place, Percy had sensed a well of arcane energy deep within himself. It did not feel unnatural, meaning this power had been with him long enough to integrate itself fully. Yet, try as he might, Percy could not recall anything out of the ordinary happening before, involving this power. That was not saying much, however, considering he remembered next to nothing about his life before Yancy Academy.

As such, he had no clue what types of otherworldly beings may or may not inhabit this world. When compared with his past experiences, ruling out the possibility entirely was foolish.

"That would depend, Mr. Brunner. Would you be willing to humor me, for a short while at least?" Percy finally asked. The man tilted his head in confusion, though he nodded all the same.

"This may be important if, say… Kronos was not truly a myth, and wished to finish what he started. From what I have learned in your class, should he succeed, the aftermath would not be pretty for mortals such as us."

His classmates began to laugh, pointing and ridiculing him. However, he blocked them out in favor of studying his teacher. Mr. Brunner paled drastically, his eyes wide in shock, before he finally composed himself.

"T-that is a good answer, Mr. Jackson. I fear, however, it is not quite the one I was looking for. I was hoping to hear something along the lines of the corruption of power, which drove a man to do something so despicable as eating his own children. Still, you have earned a few points for your… Imaginative, answer."

Mr. Brunner's explanation fell on deaf ears, for Percy's attention had been claimed by something much more worrying. Namely, the fierce scowl on Mrs. Dodds' face.

"Now, honey, you've caused us a lot of trouble. Why don't you do the smart thing and confess? You'll be much better off, I promise."

"Confess to what, Mrs. Dodds? I have done nothing wrong," Percy replied, eyeing the woman warily. Her normally raspy voice was much scratchier than normal, as if she had taken up chain-smoking recently.

Thunder clapped in the sky above, which Percy could have sworn was clear for miles around moments before he entered the museum.

"Did you honestly think you would get away with what you've done!?" Mrs. Dodds shrieked, all semblance of cordiality gone.

"There is nothing to get away with," Percy said calmly, though he was wound tighter than a spring. He was waiting, anxious for the moment when the woman would fly off the hinge and attack him. Given the way her eyes were glowing like cinders, that seemed to be a likely occurrence.

"Wrong answer, honey!" Dodds screeched, before her skin peeled away like wet paper. A wrinkled leather hide took its place, also revealing razor-sharp claws and vicious teeth. She wailed in anger, an ear-piercing noise, before lunging at Percy.

Fortunately, his intense workout regiment had provided a few benefits. He rolled out the way, though a stray claw still snagged on his shirt, ripping it slightly. He sighed quietly. Despite his efforts, his body still could not keep up with his reflexes. However, that was an issue for another time. Right now, he had to survive this fight.

With no weapons, and his already-short limbs, this fight would be uncomfortably personal. Thankfully, Mrs. Dodds- or rather, the beast she had become- was also limited, though her reach was slightly longer. There was also the fact that, given the wings attached her back, she could probably fly. Dive-bombing was something he would have to watch out for, as well as the increased maneuverability she would have as a result.

Another demonic cry broke Percy from his musings, and he was once more forced to roll out of the way as the beast charged him again. He hopped to his feet in an instant, and had to immediately dodge once more. The beast had used its wings to arrest the momentum from its leap, stopping right beside him, and began attempting to tear him to pieces with those dangerous claws. Sharpening his focus, Percy analyzed the pattern with which it struck. The beast had a tendency to step forward with the foot on the side it would be attacking from, to give it extra power behind its blows.

Steeling himself for the possibility of failure, Percy dodged the next slash by leaning backwards slightly, leaving as little room between his face and the claws as possible. Once it had passed by, he snapped his spine straight, then lunged for the still-outstretched appendage. Grabbing onto it, he yanked the creature's left hand further to the right, causing it to stumble slightly. Taking advantage of that moment, he drove a foot into his foe's exposed knee, producing a sickening crack and a pained shriek. It dropped to its injured knee, eliciting another strangled cry, but Percy was hardly listening.

He drew back with his right arm, turning slightly to gain more power from his hips, then thrust forward a claw-shaped hand. The hand shoved its way straight into the beast's chest, causing it to choke on air in surprise. Percy kept driving onwards, not stopping until his arm was elbow-deep in the leathery chest, protruding from the beast's equally-wrinkled back. The digits were covered in crimson blood, and in his palm was a pulsing mass of muscle.

Drawing his hand back, he let his foe fall onto its back. With a flex of his hand, the beast's heart was crushed in an explosion of gore. Oddly enough, the corpse dissolved into a golden dust, not the white mist he was used to. However, he did not notice. He was much more focused on the blood splattered across his face.

Nostrils flaring, Percy inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent he had missed, had longed for, had craved, for so long.

"Oh, that smell. The sweet scent of blood… It sings to me."

Left alone in the museum, with not a soul around, the joyful laughter of Percy Jackson bounced off the marble, echoing through the halls.

Though the Dream may have crumbled, the Hunt would never be finished.