Title: [ Prime Genesis ]-Ω-[ Fallen Soldier ]
Fanfiction Type: My own twist on a sort of Chaos/Order Percy Jackson Fanfiction.
Beta: None
Expected Update Rate: Once a month on average. There will be times in which I update faster or slower, so average varies.
Words per Chapter Goal: 1,500-4000, maybe more.
Pairings: No Percabeth, Thalico, or things of the sort. Don't like it, don't read it. I'll most likely add a slight pairing later on.
Plot Plans: It's a surprise. All I will say is that it may be a bit surprising, and that there will likely be one or more stories that continue from where this will stop. I'll probably add a companion story or two containing my version of the universe's history. There will definitely be a companion story about the Four; some of my OCs. It will contain various short stories and legends, and also include their history.
Chapter Notes:
I'm really excited about this chapter, actually. This is where it all begins, so pay attention.
Remember that pearl of Seeker's?
That comes into play right about now. It's kind of important.
I changed my idea for how this chapter would go so many times… I think that I'm actually happy with this result.
I've finally decided to add a few of the HoO factors. However, the Romans will only be mentioned in passing, and may be considered ancient history, not a modern group of demigods. It was stated in The Lightning Thief that Chiron had taught Percy Latin, and so I figure that he would have some background in the Roman side of things as well.
PS: I believe that spirits are able to be hurt, especially in Tartarus, the torture realm for the dead. In a place where the dead are thrown to rot and monsters are meant to reform, I would say that it would be extremely easy for said dead to get hurt. In fact, I would go so far as to claim that the realm would be especially dangerous and/or poisonous to spirits, and likely more so for the living. It would be possible for spirits there to even need trivial things such as food or water, as it's a torturous place and such things would be rare. It would be a living realm for the dead, and give them a semblance of life.
Also, as Tartarus is the nesting place of monsters, I've added elder monsters. These are the monsters that have been forever trapped in the depths by the gods, and are stronger than those who are constantly killed. Honestly, I doubt that all monsters are able to escape that place to attack the living; some have to have either a long revival rate or be unable to get out. Ideally, these monsters spend a longer time alive and gain knowledge about survival that is lost upon their deaths and revivals. I'd think that they would also gain muscle and therefore strength and stamina; one does not survive long in the death realm without some sort of advantage.
I'd like to point out that things can die there, they will simply respawn at a different place a while after their deaths.
Book Status (Total)
Story Favorites: 19
Story Followers: 34
Chapter Status
Word Count: 3326
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I think that I'm getting this figured out to a good extent. Things should start happening this chapter or in the next few. Hopefully this story will get to the checkpoint that I'm watching for.
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Questions/Comments:
[AgitatedDog19288]~Glad you understand. I've recently got a lull in my scheduling so I should be able to add more. [Michael J. O'Malley]~I do try, and I'm glad that you like it. Hopefully I'm adding more things to catch your interest.
[Chapter 4]
"O sweet insanity, how doth thou sing? I hear nary but calamity; mistakes of thine god's king."
I Do not own anything from the PJO books, nor the books themselves Those rights go to Rick Riordan, the genius himself.
Percy was panicking. He knew that nothing could save him now. Once a dead soul enters, it can never leave. Not even Hades had the power to return a soul from The Pit.
He could already feel the pull of his memories; falling, falling, cold dark PAIN…
Gasping, he forced himself to focus. There had to be something, anything that he could do. After all, every problem has a solution.
He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. The freezing climate of Upper Tartarus was enough to effect even his dead soul. He didn't understand how he could feel it; nothing of the such was mentioned in the stories he had heard all of his life.
His body was shaking, yet unable to create any warmth. His head was spinning, and only his force of will kept him from passing out.
The thought struck him like a lightning bolt. The pearl. His hands desperately sought out his camp necklace, fumbling with the small beads strung on the leather cord. His nearly unresponsive fingers forced themselves around the object, slowly squeezing harder. Just before he could crush it, a wave of pain flew over him, knocking him out instantly.
He'd landed.
Percy awoke slowly. The first thing that registered was that he was being moved. He could feel himself lurching back and forth. He was being carried, he decided.
Next to come was the feeling of ropes cutting into his wrists and curling around his ankles. Then the pain. It felt as though every cell in his body were on fire, and someone had decided to scrape off the charred skin with a fork.
He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped his mouth. The movement paused, then stopped altogether. He was thrown down, drawing a surprised shout from his lips. He opened his eyes, only to see darkness.
He could only hope that he was blindfolded. The other options seemed a lot worse.
A half-blood without his sight… What a pathetic thing indeed.
There was the sound of fading footsteps, the squeak of a door, then silence. He tried to get into a more comfortable position, but received only pain for his efforts. With his hands secured behind his back he lacked the ability to use his one lifeline, so innocent among the other beads on the leather cord.
He shuffled, trying in vain to at very least loosen his bindings, but was quickly stopped when the door opened once more. The footsteps returned, staggered and layered over one another, hinting at multiple owners. They stopped not far from him Percy could feel their eyes on him, like lasers burning into his skin.
One spoke, yet all he heard was gibberish. After all, a human was not meant to understand the words of nightmares. Another responded and he felt something fiddle with the bonds around his hands. The ropes fell away, leaving his appendages tingling as his blood flow restarted.
Immediately his hands went to his eyes. instincts overpowering his logical thoughts, but no. There was nothing there. No rag blocked his sight, no fabric covered his vision.
Why couldn't he see…
He heard something move near him, and jerked away, hands going to his pocket. Nothing. Riptide was gone and he was dead and blind in Tartarus…
His arms were grabbed and held together once more. He could feel a length of rough cord being wrapped around his wrists, then his feet were freed. The mysterious beings pulled him to his feet, forcing him to follow as they walked on.
Minutes passed, perhaps hours. He could feel the pressure and heat of the sulfuric air beating down on him, turning his lungs raw and forming blisters on his arms. He let out a racking cough, but was forced onward.
There was no rest for the weary, let alone the cursed, after all.
Percy's captors eventually stopped again for a break. At that point the poisonous atmosphere had reduced him to near delirium. He felt them try to coax him to swallow something, but Percy was exhausted. He didn't have full control of his body, and so was little help as the beings tried to rehydrate him.
Distant murmurings broke through his haze, and he felt himself be grabbed once again and carried.
He dimly noticed that they never seemed to stop traveling. Just who had found him? He knew from his past experience that there were not only horrid monsters, but wronged beings who lived in continual guilt or punishment.
But then why was he tied up? He was already blind. It wasn't as if he would just randomly run off; he'd more likely run off a cliff within the first five feet than actually escape and miraculously survive the waves of monsters.
The pain from the fall was slowly vanishing. He hadn't noticed it before. Despite falling such a large distance, he didn't seem to have broken any bones. Then again, ghosts don't technically have bones, but everything in Tartarus is different. Ghosts feel like humans, humans feel… dead, to put it simply.
He could feel himself swinging from where he was held. His eyes were closed, or at least he thought that they were. He honestly couldn't tell, but there was pressure on his chest, and suddenly it was so hard to breath…
And so he stopped. Breathing that is. He was so tired, and honestly he should be dead anyway so why bother? It would save him a trip through Tartarus. Again. So he was fine with it.
But his captors didn't seem to have the same thought train. With a panicked move, Percy was laid down on something soft. Cloth, perhaps, or maybe a fur hide. Fingers pressed uncomfortably against his neck.
Suddenly, there was the odd feeling of his lungs inflating. He fleetingly thought that he felt air being forced down his throat before someone was hitting his chest.
He thought he felt a rib or wo crack before his traitorous heart jump started and he coughed. He couldn't breathe enough air, air that burned so hot as it flew through his lungs. He could feel the blisters form, and let his head fall back to the ground, totally exhausted.
Couldn't they see that the air was poison? That he was a fire that burned ever bright, only to be hit with bits of water, destined to be extinguished oh so slowly?
Couldn't they see that he couldn't survive here?
With a groaning sigh he surrendered to the darkness, allowing himself peace for the first time in a long while.
The first thing that Percy noticed when he woke was the lack of nightmares. Perhaps the dead didn't have any. Maybe Tartarus blocked all things, especially the odd anomalies of demigod dreams. Either way, it was something of a welcome change.
Then he remembered falling. He stiffened, senses going into overdrive as he tried to locate any nearby living things. He found nothing.
He let out a quiet breath, only to give a surprised shout as something grabbed his shoulder. He tried to jerk away only for their grip to tighten.
He heard the being give an unhappy grumble before releasing him. Percy immediately pushed himself away, only for his back to hit a barrier.
His sightless eyes darted around as he strained his hears for the quietest noise. Not too far away dried grass crunched under the step of something. He still had no idea of who of what had taken to watching over him. He'd never heard anything that sounded close to them, but then again many monsters dwelled in Tartarus and saw it as home, never leaving.
He belatedly noticed that his hands were untied, as were his feet. Before he could move again, however, the thing grabbed his arm. He felt a sharp prick, then it felt as if his veins were on fire. His back arched, but he made no noise.
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing his agony.
His arms jerked as another wave of heat traveled through them. He felt them being held down and struggled even harder.
Then it stopped.
His muscles relaxed almost against his will. The experience left his heart pounding and head reeling.
The being was speaking, but to his surprise the sounds started to blend together and form words.
"Calm, Champion. Your Patron has instructed us to keep you safe. Please, struggle naught and I will answer what I can."
Immediately he paused. He was a Champion of no god or goddess. At least he didn't think he was. Briefly he thought of Poseidon, but realized that Patronage was more of a Roman thing. The Greeks never put too much thought into it, and so the only real Greek Patron was Artemis with her Hunters. Even then it wasn't officially stated.
Then it hit him. Seeker, who had asked him to be her apprentice so long ago. Perhaps she made him her Champion?
He was about to ask when the being, who had sounded like a male, put his hand over Percy's mouth in an unmistakable gesture for silence.
After a moment he heard a rasping noise similar to that of a slithering snake. It drew closer for a moment, then slowly faded away.
The being let out a sigh of relief. Percy wasn't sure, but for a second he could've sworn that he saw a flash of harsh, dark blue; he instinctively knew it to be the color of fear. His confused frown did not go unnoticed.
"What? What is it?" Percy thought that there was a bit of concern in his voice, but blocked it out immediately. Instinctively he knew not to speak of the odd flash of color, and instead changed to a safer topic.
"My Patron. Who exactly do you mean?" It was a harmless question, really. They could make as many inferences as they would like, but only purposefully saying her name would confirm his theory.
There was a slight pause, then they answered back at a whisper.
"Seeker. Now get some rest, son of the sea god. We have far to travel and little time to do so."
Percy decided that they must've had some sort of power, because as soon as they stopped talking he fell into the abyss of sleep.
When he woke again, Percy immediately knew that they were in danger. There was an air of tension as his mystery friend ran. Behind them he could hear muffled growls and curses, the ground crackling as it was trampled by multiple beings. Dimly he noticed that he could understand even the most guttural growl; his mind automatically turned the sounds into words.
He wished he couldn't, as the monsters chasing them were screaming for death.
His hands, still untied, were resting on his chest. His immediate action was to go for his pocket, until he remembered that he was dead and no, Riptide did not transfer to the afterlife despite his wishes for it to do so. He knew that his sword would be needed for a new demigod in the future, and could only hope that they were worthy of the blade created from betrayal, bathed in blood, cursed by the war god, and yet for the most part faithful to its user in even the direst situation.
His second move was to grab at his necklace, only to realize that it was gone, missing, taken and with it was his only hope at seeing his friends again. His hand scrambled at open air, looking desperately for his lifeline to a better future, but finding no such thing.
The being gave a huff, noticing Percy's frantic movements. "Worry not, Champion. I have it so that you wouldn't try to use your pearl. Tartarus prides itself on the spirits it keeps, and is reluctant to let any go without a struggle. I'll return it once you're released from his bonds. If you try to leave before then, I worry that your very essence will be destroyed."
Percy froze at the thought. He didn't fear death when he was alive, but that was because of the promise of the afterlife. To be utterly destroyed was not on his bucket list.
His ally cursed and moved noticeably faster as an earth-shaking roar blasted over them. Despite his inexperience with the elder monsters of Tartarus, Percy knew this to be a drakon. He had met only one before, and that was the battle in which many of his friends were killed.
He was not impressed by the existence of another one, this one seemingly two or three times as massive as the one that Clarisse killed.
He was, however, impressed by his ally's stamina and strength as they simply shifted Percy's weight before running even faster. The fact that they seemed to have been running for a long period of time didn't bother them. In fact, they were still breathing regularly and showed no strain, though Percy could tell that they had reached their limit on speed.
Another burst of light flickered against the black void of his vision, highlighting the arms of the creature holding him. This one was a yellowish-green; nervousness, and a deep purple; worry. Percy frowned as the colors slipped away once more. He wished that he knew what was happening and what it meant. Unfortunately, that was really not the time to worry about it.
He heard the drakon roar again, this time much closer. He could feel the ground shake with its steps as it neared and hear its deep breaths. He thought he heard a yelp and a shattered cry as the drakon stepped on some unfortunate monster, but he wasn't sure.
It gave a growl, louder and closer than the last. It was gaining, despite the speed boost that Percy's carrier had given.
He got a crazy idea.
"Sword," he whispered, "do you have a sword? Maybe even a knife?" While he wasn't the best with the latter, lessons with Annabeth after the Second Titan War had come in handy, and he could hold his own, though maybe without the finesse shown by true wielders.
The being seemed to hesitate before shifting Percy to one arm, using the other to grab the long blade at its side. He placed the hilt in the demigod's hand. The balance seemed slightly off; the blade heavier than the hilt. Running his hand down the blade he found it to be a little longer than Riptide was, and the edges seemed a bit dull.
It would have to work.
Percy focused on his eyes, imagining a plague of colors amid the blackness that had taken him so completely after his fall. They slowly came into focus, outlining the fur on the being's arms. He wasn't sure if their arms were that hairy or if they were wearing a coat, but he would have to wonder about it later. Percy looked back above their shoulder and spotted the drakon twenty or so meters away and closing.
Highlighted a combination of red, dark red, gold, and black, the monster oozed the feelings of anger, death, destruction, aggressiveness, and oddly enough, the slightest bit of triumph. It knew that it was faster, and likely though that they would put up little resistance in a fight.
It would soon learn just how wrong it was.
He shifted, moving to crouch across his ally's shoulder, causing them to stumble slightly before straightening again. Percy waited as the drakon gave a roar, moving faster at the sight of its true prey.
Despite his death, Percy still had a half-blood aura that attracted monsters like a moth to a flame. That aura was in full affect, heightened by the toxic atmosphere of Tartarus and the fact that Percy should not have been there; he was not condemned, only trapped against his will.
He took a deep breath.
When the drakon was only a few meters away, he jumped.