This attack was different than the last. The previous monster attacks had been sudden, unpredictable things. This attack however had been announced. In truth, Jason wasn't even sure that it was an attack. A horn had sounded in the distance, one that was neither Greek nor Roman, and the two camps had immediately rushed into their battle formations. They had formed up directly in front of the camp, putting themselves between where the horn had sounded and the rest of New Rome. The monsters slowly filed out of the trees and the differences between this attack and the last simply continued. The monsters were all garbed in armor of some sort. It was red and seemed to be almost pulsing in a grotesque manner. Their weapons were just as bizarre, varying from simple human steel to Stygian iron to celestial bronze and several other metals Jason could not identify. But that was not what most caught Jason's eye. Next to the monsters, separated by several feet, was another rank of foes. But what Jason's eyes showed him simply could not be. Every demigod that had been taken was now standing easily next to the monsters, their expressions ranging from boredom to contempt. There wasn't a flicker of recognition in any of them, much less any joy about seeing their former comrades. He recognized all of them, he knew all of them on a personal level. Every demigod standing opposite him he had shared a moment with, whether it was in the midst of battle or around a campfire. Others in the Greek and Roman ranks were dealing with similar conflicting emotions, calling out to their friends desperately, the monsters temporarily forgotten. Jason was so focused on the formerly missing campers that he nearly missed it when they emerged from the forest where the monsters had come from.
Jason vaguely recalled Percy and Annabeth regaling him with their tale of facing down the monstrous Tartarus in his own domain and the terrible form he had taken. But evidently the primordial being had decided that the form he had shown them was not to his liking. His skin was a deep red, like the color of boiling lava, and flashes of light danced under his flesh. He wore a breastplate that seemed to be forged from the very souls of monsters as even as Jason watched terrified monstrous faces flashed across the metal only to be replaced by another. A cloak seemingly made of fire blazed behind him and the god wielded a wicked-looking spear in one hand, a shield as black as night in the other, and had a massive broadsword strapped across his back. He towered over even the largest of the Cyclopes in his army, putting him at well over twenty five feet tall.
Tartarus's form was so captivating that Jason had to do a double take when he glanced down at the god's feet and saw a familiar face smirking at him from across the field. "No way." He said disbelievingly, blinking several times to ensure that he understood what he was seeing. It was…. Ryker. But not like Jason had ever seen him. He was not wearing the customary dirty and ripped clothing that seemed to be the demigod's trademark. Instead he wore an immaculate set of dress clothes. Fine black dress pants, a long white T-shirt, and a silver vest over his chest without so much as a smudge of dirt or grime on them. Even his auburn hair was neatly combed away from his eyes. A saber hung from his hip in an Imperial gold scabbard, the hilt of the sword evidently made from some manner of silver metal. He had his hands in his pockets and a pleasant smile on his face. Every single detail of the son of Cybele screamed at odds with the Ryker that Jason knew.
"Quite the showing you have prepared for us." Ryker called pleasantly, his voice modulated and cultured, missing all of the roughness that it usually bore. "I do so hope that you won't disappoint us. We have been ever so looking forward to this fight for some time."
"How?" Jason instantly recognized the sound of Percy's voice, and the rage that caused it to tremor. "You died! I made sure of that!"
"Oh, you are quite right." Ryker chuckled cheerfully and his left hand traced the pattern on his saber's hilt. "Forgive me, I do not think we have been properly introduced. Judging from your anger and those green eyes, I assume that you must be Percy Jackson? Son of Poseidon? Ah, it is lovely to finally meet you! I have heard so much about you from the monsters, do try to live up to my expectations. I would so hate to kill you without my standards being met. It would be such a waste."
"I know who you are!" Percy hissed, uncapping Riptide and leveling it at Ryker. "You betrayed us!"
Ryker looked genuinely confused and frowned for a moment. He seemed to puzzle over this and then slowly shook his head. "No, I do believe that you have me mistaken for someone else. I am sure that we have never met before. You would not be standing there if we had. I have made it my personal standard to kill any demigod in service to those wretched gods. So, forgive me, you are clearly mistaken. Worry not, I have been told that I have a face that could be misconstrued for others. I'm sure that it will happen often enough."
This cultured and very proper Ryker standing before Jason was quickly annoying him, though he did not even know why. How dare he act like he did not know them, especially after betraying them? "Answer his question!" Jason shouted angrily. "You died!"
A look of comprehension passed over Ryker's face and he glanced up at Tartarus, who was watching this exchange with a satisfied smirk, with his eyebrow raised. "I assume that I knew them before I died?"
"Of course." Tartarus's voice rumbled across the clearing, scaring several birds from where they rested in the trees. "They were the ones who killed you."
Now it was Ryker's turn to look satisfied. "Ah, that makes sense." He nodded and turned his attention back to the assembled camps. "You understand if I do not recognize you. As I understand it dying has a tendency of taking one's memory. Fret not! I shall be most delighted to return the favor of you killing me ten-fold. You may die peacefully, knowing that vengeance has been served."
The simple and carefree way Ryker spoke of dying and killing sent shivers down Jason's spine. Ryker had enjoyed fighting before, but Jason knew that the demigod had never taken any pleasure in killing. Even working for Tartarus before being killed must have torn at the son of Cybele's heartstrings in such a way that must have been nigh on torturous. This Ryker though, this Ryker simply did not care. He glanced up and down the line of demigods and saw, with little surprise, that Ryker's words had taken a significant impact on their morale. Only Percy seemed unaffected, lost in his rage as he was. Piper, who was standing beside the son of Poseidon, frequently looked at her friend in worry as Riptide swung back and forth at his side. Percy's eyes were full of murderous intent, eager at his chance to kill Ryker himself in vengeance for Annabeth. The gods had taken positions among the demigods and even they were not smiling. Not even Dionysus, one of the few Greek gods who could maintain his form at New Rome, bore his customary bored look. Every one of them was filled with tension, their godly weapons in hand as they stared down their age old foe. Some of the gods who had children on the primordial god's side were looking at their offspring with concern or disgust. It seemed to Jason that there was truly no middle ground.
It looked as though Frank was about to launch the command to begin marching forward when Ryker loudly clapped his hands together, the sound like a gunshot across the tension filled clearing. "Well, as much as I would enjoy hamstringing each and every one of you, gods included worry not, I am afraid that we must be off." The monsters began to turn around and disappear back into the forest, followed by the demigods after the last monster had gone. Ryker and Tartarus were among the last to go. The son of Cybele was halfway to the trees when he paused and turned back to regard the assembled camps. "In case I wasn't clear, forgive me if so, but do I really have to state the obvious? This is a declaration of war. We will return in a week's time to slaughter each and every man, woman, and child. Do not fret, gods and goddesses, I will personally see to it that just as many of you are put to death. That is to say, all of you. We would be so appreciative if you make it worth our while. I am afraid that I do not foresee the mortals putting up much of a fight when we begin to eradicate them. Lack of magic and all, you understand. Well then! With that being said, I must be off. I wish all of you a pleasant day, truly. You do not have many left after all, and it is such a lovely one."
Ryker turned away again and took a step towards the forest when the sound of a bowstring thrumming came from over Jason's shoulder. A silver arrow streaked towards the demigod and, for a moment, it looked as though Ryker was doomed to die in the precise manner he had the first time. But with inhuman reflexes the demigod whirled around, his right hand covered in some manner of misty black substance. He placed the hand directly in front of the arrow's path and Artemis's projectile simply shattered into a thousand silver sparkles. It would have been quite a spectacular spectacle had the significance of what the camp just witnessed not dawned on each and every single person present. Even the gods looked stunned, none more so than Artemis.
Ryker lowered his hand and gazed at his palm, evidently disheartened. "A pity." He said heavily. "I was hoping that an arrow fired by the Goddess of the Hunt herself would at least shatter my arm. If that is truly the best you can offer, I am afraid that this battle will be over far sooner than I would like. Do try to put some more effort into killing me next time, would you?"
"Ryker!" A goddess stepped forward, a lion at her side and a worried expression on her face. "Stop this now!"
The demigod studied the goddess for a moment, his eyes glancing down to the lion, and then a slow smile began to creep over his face. It was a smile of such saintly joy that, for a moment, Jason thought that Cybele's words had actually reached her son. "Aah, Cybele!" Ryker said happily, the dark weapon that had surrounded his hand fading away, "I was hoping that you would be in your Greek aspect dear mother! If you had been in your Roman aspect I suspect that I would not glean as much satisfaction as I will from killing you in this form. Please ensure that none of my compatriots reach you before I do if you would be so kind. I would rather enjoy being the one whose hands' are coated in your blood. It will make a great day that much better. I am sure that you understand. Well I really must be going now. Things to do, people to kill. I really did mean what I sad, I hope you all have a positively lovely day. Farewell my wonderful victims!"
With that grim yet cheerful goodbye, Ryker strode purposefully away into the trees without so much as a backwards glance.
