We walk down to the Big House and into Chiron's office. I pull out another chair for the guest Chiron's expecting. Chiron situates himself into his magical wheelchair.

A moment later, the door opens with a thud, and a man walks in. He looks about ten years older than me. He has wild jet-black hair, unkempt yet neat in a strange way. His features are chiseled and hard, like an experienced warrior, with a dark and brooding expression. His eyes are sea-green, bright and, in contrast to the deadly look of the rest of his face, full of mischievous mirth. His 6'3" stature forces him to crouch beneath the doorway. I feel as though many of the campers have described this exact man several times, but at this moment, I can't recall his name. The man takes a good glance at me and smiles a lopsided smile, making him look like a scheming Hermes camper. He sits his lean, muscular figure down in the chair I brought out for him.

"Percy, good to see you again," Chiron says. "How has college life been treating you?"

"Oh, you know, Chiron, the usual," Percy answers. "The professors can't get enough of my talking to fish, but it's a usual day. A few years of bashing by Annabeth has made me a much better student, but I still can't wait to enter graduate school."

The sarcasm dripping from his voice was unbelievable. So this was the famous Hero of Olympus, son of Poseidon, and who I can apparently challenge in power. Already I feel both intrigued and uneasy.

"Who is this young lad?" Percy asks Chiron.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Chiron asks.

"Sure," I begin. "I am Arthur Romanchuk. I am supposedly the legacy of several gods. Currently, I live with the Hermes kids."

"You're undetermined?" Percy asks, almost offended. "I should go to Olympus myself and-"

"No, you don't understand. Chiron calls me indeterminate. I don't have a godly parent. My father is an Egyptian magician, and my mother a Greek and Roman legacy. I assume you are Perseus Jackson, the legendary Hero of Olympus? I am honored to meet you."

I extend my hand to him. Percy almost pales at what I said, and only shakes my hand half-halfheartedly.

"Another one who thinks I'm a legend," Percy muses. "I can't wait to become a god."

"You two both like to sell yourselves short, I see," Chiron chuckles out. "You two will get along splendidly. Now, Percy, state your business here. You are now going-on twenty-two years old and too old for the camp. I would let you stay in your cabin, but that would be improper. If you must stay, you are to stay in one of the Big House's guest rooms."

"I had a nightmare a while back," Percy begins. "The usual demigod nightmares. I believe I saw a lion creature of some kind. It had an eagle's head and some other oddly birdy features. I saw a dark silhouette shoot it with what appeared to be a crossbow. Then, a loud shout and it was gone."

Percy then turns to look at me.

"Now that I can see you, I realize you were the silhouette in my dream. Chiron, I would like to have a word with this boy."

"Go ahead, Percy," says Chiron. "I shall go back to my Latin classes, which I will need to have a one-on-one session with you tonight, Arthur."

"Whatever, it's a Tuesday, nothing much happens anyway," I respond.

Chiron then steps out of the door. Percy now turns his attention to me.

"You say you have no demigod parents, and that you're the son of an Egyptian magician," he continues. "I doubt such a claim, and hearing the camper's stories of you, I buy it even less. Are you sure you're not some exceptionally talented Hermes camper?"

"I am sure of it," I answer. "I heard about your own run-ins with the Egyptians. Something about hosting a god?"

"Who told you that?"

"Apollo."

Percy chuckles uneasily. "The old Sun God, what a swell of a time he had that year. Unfortunately, his quest killed my co-captain back on the Argo II. That reminds me. The campers here claim you're the best swordfighter here since when I camped here. It's been a long time since I sparred with a sword, all those pesky studies getting in the way. Care for a match this afternoon?"

"I'm more interested in learning than going toe-to-toe, but sure," I reply.

"You sound just like my girlfriend," Percy snorts.

"Annabeth, that's her name?" I ask. Percy nods. "I would love to learn from her! The architecture on Olympus was absolutely stunning! Of course, I did have some gripes about the questionable support beams used on the temple of Hera, but it's not my place to correct the Architect of Olympus herself."

"Now I understand the indeterminate label," Percy retorts, although I have said nothing rude. "I can already imagine you two nerding out and butting heads over support beams and post-modern aesthetics."

"You don't like me already?" I ask, feeling a bit ashamed.

"No, what gave you that impression?" Percy responds. His features are suddenly blindsided with surprise, and his eyes darken like churning sea waters.

"You sounded so rude!" I lash out. I hadn't been in much of a good mood lately, but it is unfair of me to lash out at this guy I just met. Percy's features suddenly return to that neutral, brooding look.

"I see you're not feeling too hot lately," Percy remarks. "A trip to the forges should warm you up."

"Tsk, tsk," I bite out. "Save it for the battlefield."

With that, I walk out of the office and head back to the Hermes cabin.

Later that day, I go out to the sparring arena. I spent most of the day forging a blunt sparring katana and some classic samurai armor. As great as Greek weaponry is, I missed using my familiar kendo weapons. Percy was right: going to the forges was a nice way to improve my mood. His sarcasm is biting, but I think I can tolerate it.

Percy was already by the arena waiting for me. He's dressed in Greek battle attire and holding a bronze Greek practice blade.

"Hey, kid," he calls out. "Ready when you are. What's up with that sword? That's not a European-looking weapon, much less a Greek or Roman one."

"It's a katana," I answer. "I spent most of my life learning kendo. This Greek fighting style is so weird to me, so I intend on doing this my way and at full strength."

"You sound like you could be my brother," Percy chuckles. "As my father has said once to me, 'The sea does not like to be constrained.'"

"Whatever, dude," I snort back. "Ready to spar or what?"

We each take our respective sides of the area. With Whitney acting as moderator and Amelia, an Apollo camper, acting as emergency medic, we begin the countdown.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!" Whitney calls out.

I take charge forward towards Percy. When I am in range, I take my stance. Percy takes first strike. Typical of his Greek-style of combat, he slashes at my legs. I take one step back and lower my sword to parry his blow. Percy withdraws and tries a jab. Again, which a mere flick of my wrist, I parry his next blow. Percy once again withdraws and try for another strike. I parry one wide blow after another. Finally, I see my opening.

I shout a loud kiai and slash hard at the opening. Percy immediately realizes my intent and somersaults backward, dodging my blow by the hairs on his arms. Still having the momentum, I charge forward and lift my sword high. Percy's disarray forces him to retreat. Instead of following through, I lower my sword once more and try a straight jab. The blade makes contact with Percy's side and sends him tumbling. However, his agility makes up for any such strikes. He stands up tall and begins his second set of attacks.

This time, Percy switches tactics. He stands strong and steadfast, almost as though he's going to hold his ground. Instead of a slash like I anticipated, he charges forward with a stabbing motion at my approach. Realizing my mistake, I step back and regain my stance. I keep my blade low and slash under his arm. He immediately crashes down on my blade. Combining a trick I learned here at Camp with the katana's curved blade, I close my distance to Percy, holding my blade underneath his hilt. I abruptly slash my blade backward.

Percy is hit completely by surprise. With another downward hack and a bit of twisty wristwork, I finish my maneuver.

CLANG!

Percy's blade lays about ten feet away from him. He is completely disarmed. He raises both of his arms in surrender, completely surprised by my tactics. I lower my blade and retrieve his for him. Unbeknownst to us, a crowd of spectators had gathered around to watch this showdown.

"What on earth was that fighting style?" Percy asks. "That was completely unlike anything I have ever seen."

Way to state the obvious, bro.

"It was like Roman legion training, being so well-grounded and offensive, yet you are one single person. You're an immovable object!"

"Kendo is all about waiting for the right moment to attack," I explain. "I didn't need to make my own weaknesses. I simply needed your energetic Greek style to open itself to me. Then, a few small shows of force seals the deal."

"I should probably learn your Asian ways with the sword," Percy admits. "But that last move clearly wasn't Japanese. It resembled the trick I learned from Luke Castellan when I first came here almost a decade ago. Gods, I feel old."

"You're right, it isn't Japanese, but it also isn't Greek," I answer. "The katana's subtly curved blade gives the enterprising user an extra degree of motion. It's meant to slash down on the enemy or stab like any European sword. But, unlike the Egyptian khopesh, the blade's curved side was meant for increasing strength and not utility, and so is blunter. It's more like the hilt of a blade, meaning I can improvise as though it is."

"That's very interesting," Percy notes. "You know what, can you do me a solid and forge me one of those? I know of plenty of kendo masters back in San Francisco. I came here thinking I needed to train the guy I saw in my dreams, but you, Arthur, you are truly extraordinary. Someday, you'll be a greater hero than I could ever be."

What has the world come to? The Hero of Olympus himself has congratulated me, but I know his words have to be flattery. Nonetheless, I accept his thanks.

"I am honored to be thought of like this by you, Percy," I reply. "I'll have the katana ready for dinner. Would you like Imperial Gold or Celestial Bronze?"

"Bronze, please," he replies. He studies me for a moment.

"You know, kid, I'll tell you this," Percy says. "When I first came here in the summer of 2005, I was having an awful time. I thought I had seen my mother die right before my eyes. I was overwhelmed by everything I had assumed to be a myth. That was also the day I met my girlfriend, and at first, we just couldn't get along. It took a life-threatening quest together across the whole country before she could trust me. I was once just like you, insecure and untrusting. Even after two huge wars, I still can't believe everything I saw was real. The Fates are cruel ladies, but if they shall ordain you as a hero, you will become one regardless of what you think."

"I just don't understand," I reply. "I lived almost twelve years of my life being no one particularly special. Sure, I was unlike most other kids and I was exceeding skilled at many things, but I didn't know it was my heritage that made me that way. I believe firmly in self-determination, and now I can't help but feel my life is now a lie, never once up to me."

"Don't discount your talents, kid. There's a reason Christians call them God-given: you don't know why you can do every you did, but never try to throw them away. Use them to fulfill your purpose. I have some catching up to do. I'll see you at dinner."

Percy walks off towards the Big House. I spend the rest of the day pondering what he had said to me. These thoughts remain as I begin forging his request.