"I am Order."

I tilt my head. "Order?"

"Yes. Order. The guardian of the universe. The master of balance and justice. Lord of the most underappreciated big brothers ever," he introduces himself.

"So basically like Nemesis and Apollo combined, right?" I ask.

"Yes," Order smiles, "Heck, I'm the person who created the whole lot of them."

I scratch my head. "But isn't Chaos the creator of everything?" I ask. Order shakes his head. "Chaos created the inanimate objects. She created spacetime, the elements, planets, and everything lifeless. I am the one who manipulates her creations into things far more beautiful. I was the one who wrote the laws of relativity. I put Chaos's universe under a set of rules, in order to give it a somewhat semblance of coherence. Best of all, I am the one who breathes life into Chaos' universe."

I say the most intelligent phrase that comes to mind. "Oh."

"Right," Order continues, "Do you know why we saved you from Hades' realm?"

My facial expression made it abundantly clear that it didn't. Just to clarify, however, I answer in the negative. Order explains. "We saved you from there since we didn't want such a noble hero go to waste. We saw your deeds on Terrum and decided to put you to even greater use, but this time in the right direction."

I clasp my forehead. Primordials and creators almighty, how many right directions are there? First it was getting a good education and going into a decent college, as my mother always told him to do. Then, when I heard about the mythical world, it was about doing anything to please the gods, mostly consisting of mundane "quests" that had little to no point. After that, it was saving the gods themselves against their archenemies: the Titans and the Giants.

Now, the right direction is … I have no clue.

"Trust me, this is the actual right direction," Order says, sensing my exasperation. I remain skeptical until I consider the fact that he's the creator of the universe. Unless he turns out to be something like Galactus, I'd say that his direction is the right direction.

"Can you elaborate further?" I ask. Order rubs his hand over his head. "I'm not able to explain in full detail," he says mournfully, "but I can tell you that we're essentially an army dealing with way bigger threats against life and civilization. Before I give you the utmost detail, however, I must ask you this-"

I nod. It had better not be an algebra problem.

"- are you in or are you out?" Order finishes.

It was a straight to-the-point question, but it is surprisingly hard to answer. The logical side of me dictates that there is only one rational answer. If I decline his offer, it means that I have to spend the rest of eternity in the Fields of Punishment, and that doesn't sound pretty enticing to me. The more emotional side of me argues that I shouldn't simply abandon everything I've ever stood for just because of this bald dude.

I am visibly torn for a few seconds, but then I realize that the same beings that I've served just threw me into the Fields of Punishment without so much as a second thought.

I open my mouth. "I'm-," my voice broke. I take a few deep breaths.

Finally, I say it.

"I'm in."

Order smiles. "Excellent," he says, "Now if you would follow me please. I will take you to your commander, where he'll brief you for what is about to come."

Order waves his hand, and chunks of a primordial-sized ring slowly materialize and piece themselves together. When it finishes moving, bolts of multicoloured plasma fill the hole in the ring. It weirdly reminded me of a Stargate, from the Stargate series.

Order beckons me forward. "We'll be warping to Concordia Prime, where the main training camp is situated. No need to brace yourself: this is engineered to provide a pleasant and fulfilling experience while warping. Now just step in, and go to the man inside the tent in front of you. Good luck, hero."

With one last glance at Order, I step into the portal.

It had barely been a second until I materialize into a gray landscape, very similar to the Fields of Asphodel. As per Order's instructions, I step into the large, ornate, and black tent in front of me.

As soon as I step in, a clear voice with a crisp British accent cuts through the air.

"Ah, Perseus Jackson. I've been expecting you."