Hey guys! So I wanted to get this chapter in last tuesday, but school got in the way, as per usual. Anyway, this little authors note is to announce my plan to take Rise of Perseus further. I've decided that I'm going to turn this into a small series of short(ish) stories, a trilogy most likely. Also worth noting is that part one (this part, in case you are falling behind) is almost over, but rest assured that I've got plans for part two, and they are… well, I've got plans, haven't I? That was all, now onto chapter eighteen!

Perseus- Trial by Combat

It doesn't matter how powerful you are, how divine and godly you become, or how manly you think you are; it always hurts when a girl slaps you across the face.

"What kind of plan is 'wing it!'" Reyna yelled at me. She, Frank and I stood alone in the council room, once again having a very 'Roman' debate. Frankly, I wasn't sure whether to feel touched or angry at her; it was literally the only option we had left.

"Reyna," Frank began. "You know you're being unreasonable. Percy- I mean, Perseus, made the only choice where we could all come out of this in one piece."

"My point exactly!" She yelled again. "Where we 'could' all come out of this in one piece. Percy, there must be another way. You can't beat Mars, not like this. You are still weak, at least by god standards. If you asked for a month, at least we could have given you some form of worship to increase your strength."

"Reyna-" I tried.

"I've got a better plan. We'll evacuate as quickly as possible, leave everything of unimportance behind, and when we're a safe distance away, you can 'god' yourself away," Reyna said, so quickly that I had difficulty understanding her.

"You know I can't do that, Reyna. It's a matter of honor. And that would leave Olympus practically defenceless from the outside."

She fumed, and I thought she was going to hit me again. Why was she acting like this? We all know what I have to do, and I am ready to accept it. Why won't she?

"No," she said. One word, like a command. When did she get the right to tell me what to do? In fact, I should be ordering her around.

"Prepare the evacuation. I have a fight to attend… that is an order, praetors."

"What?" Reyna looked like she'd just been punched in the gut. "Who gave you the right to order us around? You may be a god, but you aren't an Olympian, and you damn well aren't my superior."

My patience was wearing thinner by the second, and I was on the verge of snapping. She was being unreasonable, and she knew it… which begged the question as to why I was still standing there in front of her.

"I don't need your permission to do this. Frank, I'm sure I can trust you to put New Rome first. Prepare the evacuation, and talk some sense into her while you're at it." Then, I turned my back on them, and was about to start walking when something hard hit me in the back of the head, and shattered.

I turned, with shards of glass jutting out of my hair, and glared daggers at Reyna.

"Get a grip on yourself. You are being very un-roman, arguing with me like a little girl. Put your people first, praetor, and do your job!" That last part came out like a roar, and boomed throughout the chamber, threatening to pull the whole building down.

Our eyes met, and she just stared at me for a good ten seconds before looking away.

"You… are right. I'm sorry," she sounded undeniably sad. I kept telling myself that she was disappointed in admitting that she'd lost that round, but I couldn't help wonder…

I forced those thoughts away; they were probably the last things I needed on my mind.

"Good," is all I said as I turned away, and made my way to the doors.

"Just… be careful, Per… seus." I turned, and looked at them both once more.

"Take care, both of you," is all I said, before turning and pushing my way through the doors. It felt way too much like a goodbye; and not a 'see you later' goodbye, but more like an 'I'll meet you both in elysium' goodbye. Well, technically I can't die, so all I have to fear is anything worse than death… something I have no doubt Mars will be able to deliver me.

Well, there's no putting it off now. It's time for my trial by combat.

'Literally no time at all, since I can teleport and stuff-' later:

I stood in the field of Mars, and my mind wandered back to the last time I'd been here, when playing war games before I got my memory back, and I thought life was complicated then. It all seemed so easy looking back on it, but I guess that's what happens when you are watching the god of war twirl an imperial gold assault rifle in his hands.

"So," Mars said. "Modern or classic?" I motioned with my blade, and Mars nodded as his rifle turned into a sword; a bloodied black gladius.

"You know, Ares asked me the exact same thing when I was twelve; he was about to be beat up as well," I said, gripping Riptide with determination. I had left my knife sheathed, deciding it would be better to learn Mars's fighting style before bringing out the more complex moves.

"Bravado get's soldiers nowhere on the battlefield," he said.

"Neither does funny outfits," I said.

"You're one to talk," he replied gruffly.

Standing together, our outfits couldn't possibly contrast any more. He wore some sort of S.W.A.T. combat armour, and large sunglasses that couldn't quite conceal the glow of his flaming eyes.

When I caught myself judging his outfit, I cursed myself and looked at my own attire.

I looked good in the roman ranks, but now I just felt like an idiot. I shapeshifted myself into something more suitable; shapeshifted armour offers no protection to anything other than your ego anyway, so it didn't really matter. I dubbed a camp Jupiter shirt, but the SPQR was written in gold, and gleamed in the sunlight. I coupled that with deep blue jeans, and a pair of simple black and white adidas runners.

I held up Riptide, and looked at it's celestial bronze blade. As if sensing what I wanted, it's form momentarily rippled and changed, like when it goes between sword and pen form. Riptide looked like a completely different weapon, an imperial gold gladius

I looked at my blade, my old friend, in awe, as it magically started to engrave itself. The blade began to tell a story; starting at the pommel, there was a woman, a nymph with wavy hair, and a sword, Riptide, by her side. Right above that, there was a young girl giving a warrior a small object. Zoë and Hercules.

The blade began to tell tragic stories, of nearly a dozen warriors who had died wielding this blade. It told of many battles and just as many deaths, and it was halfway up the sword's blade that I began to recognise the feats as my own.

The blade felt heavy in my hand, and I could feel… something within myself, something that wasn't there before. But somehow, someway, Riptide felt… alive in my hands, and in my heart… if that makes any sense.

I eyed Riptide and said, maybe to myself, maybe to my sword, "Don't you dare start talking, because we've both seen how annoying talking swords can be. Or at least, don't start singing at the top of your lungs, okay?"

Thankfully, Riptide stayed silent, and I was beginning to think I was going insane until the blade lightened in my hand, and I got a reply. Not like Riptide was actually talking to me, but like my mind was automatically interpreting messages, or feelings; but I got the gist of what it was saying to me.

No promises.

Great.

"Are we going to get this over with now, or do you need to clean your sword too?" Mars said.

"I am detecting an undertone of sarcasm," I said in reply. "Maybe I will." Riptide seemed happy with the suggestion, as if the thought of a good cleaning lifted it's spirits. I felt guilty of not cleaning my sword… at all. Whenever I take it out of pen form, it's always squeaky clean anyway, so I never had to worry about it. But now I feel like I'd been neglecting it… him… her?

Afterwards, I told myself.

Yay! Riptide seemed to say.

You can read my mind now?

Yep.

Great, I thought in return.

I know, right?

By the way, my sword can't detect sarcasm as well as me.

Our little conversation was cut off when Mars's sword lodged into the dirt at high speed, sinking down to it's hilt, right between my feet. I jumped with a high pitched F-word that sounded a lot like duck.

"You'll have plenty of time to talk to your sword when you are being dragged towards chaos!" Mars barked, as he outstretched his hand, willing his sword back into his grasp.

Then he came at me.

He moved like the wind, every strike smooth and fast. He wasn't hitting hard - I could parry his blows easily enough - but he was keeping me on my toes, and I had a hard time finding an opening to strike, mainly because I was spending all my time on the defencive. So all I could do is study him and - as unlikely as it was - find a flaw that I could exploit.

He was a flurry of maneuvers and counter maneuvers, and he watched me like a hawk, no, like a vulture, eyeing me like a fresh meal.

Do you have any other tricks up your metaphorical sleeve? I asked Riptide.

Yes, is all I got in reply.

Just as I was getting used to Mars's fighting style, just as I was beginning to see a pattern, Mars took a step back, which surprised me, and then stepped back in again, trying to stab me. He would have succeeded if it wasn't for Riptide, who morphed in my hands. Mars looked a little shocked when he accidentally headbutted the head of the spear I suddenly ended up holding in my hands.

He retreated a few paces, dabbing his hand at the small gash on his forehead.

"Oh, so we're playing dirty now, are we?" He said, and with a flick of his wrist he was holding a black spear that was - of course - dripping blood.

"Guess what, mine does that too," he said, with the slightest, almost invisible hint of a smirk. That's the Mars equivalent of a cocky grin.

I stamped the butt of my spear against the ground and as if it was reading my mind (which it was), two more prongs appeared on my weapon. Ornate engravings of fish, horses and the ocean quickly appeared on my weapon, a testament to my father.

You make a mean trident, I thought.

Thankyou, now let's see if you can wield me, it replied. I'll admit it, I'm definitely warming up to my new and improved Riptide, even if I can't decipher it's gender orientation.

"Even as your own god, you're still standing in your father's shadow," Mars said, as he charged at me. Funnily enough, being a son of Poseidon, you'd think I'd have used a trident before, but holding it in my hands, I realised that I had no actual training in the use of this weapon. So I acted on instinct.

I caught his spear between Riptide's prongs as it came straight for my face, and plunged my trident deep into the ground, entrapping his weapon. In that same action, I pushed myself off the ground, and twisted myself around, sending my heel streight for his face. Needless to say, my sneaker had a very short conversation with his nose.

He fell backwards with a roar, and rolled back to his feet in one quick motion. Then he ran at me once more, deciding to go all Bruce Lee on me. I didn't have the time to pull Riptide from the earth, so I rolled backwards on my heels. But he was faster than I expected, and as soon as I was back on my feet, his foot hit me in the chest with relatively the same effect as a dumpster truck hitting a cyclist at two hundred miles an hour.

I tumbled over, and took a ragged breath; it felt like my lungs were going to explode. I gripped my chest, and counted ribs. Surprisingly, none were broken. Mars's shadow fell over me, as he held Riptide in his hand.

"I'm disappointed, Perseus. I expected the fight to last much longer than that," he said, as he tapped my back with the prongs of my trident. "I had such high hopes. I couldn't prove strong enough to withstand him… but you project courage and hope to all around you. I thought you could do this… but here we are… both of us, failures." He planted a foot on my back, and raised the trident above his head, and then brought it down on me.

How unfortunate, that he found himself stabbing air with a pen. He stumbled forwards, and I took my chance. In one smooth motion, I ripped my bone and stygian iron knife from its sheath, and brought it up to meet his face. He screamed as the stygian iron blade tore through his face like a knife through butter.

Mars clutched his- well, what was once his eye. "How!?" He screamed at me.

I didn't stop to answer the question. I lunged, and he evaded me. I extended my free arm, and Riptide flew into my hand. It quickly morphed into a shield, but unlike it's other forms, which were ornate and elaborate, the shield simply had SPQR carved in big, bold letters across its surface.

I charged, shield first, and Mars willed his weapon back to him, changing it back into a sword mid-flight. Sword met shield, and I hit hard, but not hard enough to knock him over as I intended. He pushed me away, and then struck at me. I parried with my shield, knocking his sword arm away, and then I struck at the hilt of his sword. He screamed as he dropped his sword - and his middle finger with it. He clutched his hand, and looked up at me, ichor pooling in his teeth.

"End it then, Perseus. Do as our fathers have always intended. Replace me, Perseus, god of war. Complete your quest."

"I have no intention to replace you, Mars," I held my knife against his neck. "Why are you doing this? Ares I would understand, but why you?"

"He came to Ares first… my counterpart was easily manipulated, and when he was turned, my mind was fractured," he said, bitterly. "I… tried to withstand it, I had been for months, but father… Jupiter would do nothing! Said that the greeks and romans are intertwined, and that if he is here, all hope is lost."

"Who? Who is here?" I asked.

"The primordial. He is here for one reason, and one reason only… and I think you know exactly who I mean." Unfortunately, I didn't. "He wants revenge, Perseus. No one enters his domain, and escapes… twice. Especially when that same person had a role in the death of his wife." Now I knew exactly who he was talking about.

"It's not possible. He can't come up here… he can't leave his domain, can he?"

"You've seen him take a physical form. If others can leave, why can't he? He is coming Perseus. You can stop him."

"Why do you help him now? You seem fine to me."

"I helped… because I thought that if I could… get everybody out, force the romans, my people, away, then maybe they would be able to find refuge away from the chaos. Not all battles can be won, not even by romans."

"So you lost hope, that's it?"

"It was all I could do without breaking my mind… but with you here, maybe… just maybe- arrgh!" He gruffed, and placed a hand on his temple.

"I've got to get you back to Olympus. Let me help you with that headache."

I sheathed my knife, and morphed Riptide into something new.

Mars looked up and me just in time to see the massive hammer smash into his skull, and he was knocked to the ground.

"Ugh!" He grunted, "You wanna end this do y-" I cut him off with another strike of the hammer. This time, he was out cold.

I looked at the knife sheathed at my leg.

"Stygian iron, the metal of the underworld. Got to remember that one."

"Let's get him to Olympus," said a deep, dark voice from behind me. I turned and met with a familiar sight.

"Hades," I said. He cocked his head.

"Try again," he said.
"Pluto… right?" He was pale, and wore a dark grey suit that swirled with the despairing souls of the dead. His face was slightly different than how I remembered him, but the ring he wore on his finger was similar, to the one I'd seen Hades wair. Actually, he looked a little bit like Hitler… not that I'd tell him that. Although, being the god of riches, death and stereotypical evil stuff everywhere, maybe that was intentional.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."