Chapter 27: Harshness Overload: Acts and Decisions

"Ugh, why, why, why," muttered Frank as he sniped a telekhine. "Why does Percy have to leave and not see this?"

In truth, he wanted to be surprised. Percy who'd no doubt headed towards the main camp and had not spotted them because the monsters came out from the hills, while Percy, the never-changing reckless guy, flew around a mountain.

Then again, he probably wouldn't be any help since he was immortal.

Frank continued to hit more Ordians with his arrows, a lot of them saving a camper's or a veteran's life. He could see a blur of brown appearing and disappearing all around, dispatching monsters in its wake. Hazel and Arion. His mouth tightened. They were the most stubborn pair to ever be seen. He only hoped that Hazel would be alright.

Despite all that, the monsters didn't seem to be decreasing in number. Like for every one dead, five grew back. Ah, pardon—replaced them. He'd been thinking too much about hydras.

He took a quick glance around. Still more are pouring in like a flood out of a dam. But the opposing army couldn't have been more than three hundred. If only it was summer, and everyone was here, they wouldn't be the ones outnumbered, but the ones outnumbering. They could have won easily, too.

But, well. The Fates had other plans. (And little did he know, most of it was uncontrollable.)

"Damn it." He'd reached behind him and realized his quiver was empty. He pulled out a spear. Never his best weapon, but it would do.

He jumped down and impaled an Ordian in quick succession, breaking it into silver dust. He swung the spear at another one, making it yelp, and he used the moment to thrust it into oblivion. More monsters filled its ranks. His grip tightened on his spear. One of these days, he was going to get a halberd. Spending time in the Argo II with four Greeks could teach you some of their moves.

Jabbing at every monster getting in his way, he made a path of destruction towards where most campers were, their backs to the Pomerian Line. Typically, he didn't have a shield, so it was a bit hard blocking all of the attacks, but those that did connect turned out to be flesh wounds, so it was nothing to worry about. They mostly hit his armor, anyway.

Francis stabbed a snake woman with his gladius. Seeing Frank, he yelled out, "Testudo!"

The legionnaires and veterans locked shields. Frank got to the side and stabbed more monsters with his spear, the others at the side doing the same with their respective weapons.

"Frank!" the male praetor yelled. "Bow?" Then he directed another shout to the Romans, "Fire!"

Pila flew from little gaps in the above shields and cut down to the enemy in front of them. Silver dust fell; more monsters stepped through them as though the dust wasn't their allies just earlier.

"Fresh out of bullets!" Frank yelled back. He spied a tiny group of Romans in an orb, the other praetor Maren with them. The faithful praetor metal dogs stood by them, snapping and swinging at anything that got too close. He was tempted to leave his own position, but he wasn't sure if there was another one who would take his place.

"Gods damn this," Francis said shamelessly. He was beside him now. He butted heads with a monster dog and beheaded it. "We're outnumbered. We can't lose anyone else."

"Allow me." Frank plunged his spear into a Cyclops's eye and left it there. He broke from the formation to run, transforming into a wild boar and flattening everything in his way. He cleared the area around the group of Romans he saw, giving them some breathing room, and then transformed into a great red-scaled dragon. He spotted a giant at the corner of his reptilian eyes and flew, blowing fire along the way.

He landed at the part of the Field of Mars that was crawling with Ordians, trampling some under his large webbed feet. The Ordian giant didn't waver and merely squared its mouth, showing him its crooked yellow teeth, which he assumed was a sort of a grin. He didn't like it.

Frank cursed at him, which turned into a roar in dragon language, then blew fire. The giant merely ducked, with surprising speed, and threw his massive sword like a javelin.

How unwise of it. Frank would've laughed. But then the throw speed was great, too, and before he knew it, the giant's sword had lodged itself into his left dragon eye.

…

When Hazel heard an agonized roar, she almost cried. A Lydian drakon had somehow appeared near the smaller group of Romans and stomped on everything its feet touched, even its own allies. She'd continued circling and had been relieved that none of the Romans there had been included in its death path, but as a daughter of Pluto, she could sense something down there. Some things metallic and small.

Hazel twirled her spatha, plunging it to a snake lady's skull. Arion whinnied, exhilarated.

Earlier, she saw Frank transform into a dragon. She couldn't see him anywhere right now, but his fire had immensely decreased the enemy's numbers. Now it wasn't a five to one ratio, but three to one. That's still progress in itself.

Hazel peered through the thinning flood of Ordians, to the pieces of metal glimmering under the sunlight. She could make out broken shards of gold—Imperial gold.. Someone's weapon, maybe?—and..

Her eyes widened. Oh gods, if Reyna found out—

This time when she heard a whimper, she was certain it wasn't from anything else.

Hazel turned just in time to see a dragon with magnificent red scales pulling a big sword out of its eye in an almost humanly way, its build shrinking into that of a middle-aged man.

And then she saw the drakon heading his way.

…

Frank wasn't sure what he wanted right now: nectar, or to blow that oversized douchebag up into unrecognizable smithereens.

The wound didn't hurt. Gouging the sword and by default his eye out didn't hurt. No, it was just a freaking flesh wound. A flesh wound didn't hurt. He wasn't feeling anything.

Anything but anger, that is.

The air around him was literally scorching in red-hot battle aura. He bent down to pick a gladius from a fallen comrade. He was going to finish that giant up, and everything else with it. No one had to feel the pain that he felt.

He fought, his vision swimming in red with blood and rage. He didn't know how long he'd held that sword, but as time went by, its victims decreased by a drop. He noticed more unfamiliar people near the groups of Romans behind him, but his vision was blurry. His eyes—eye—could be playing tricks on him, doubling the troops. Spots danced in his vision. He slowed...

Frank heard a roar, then a scream. More screams. He turned groggily, almost drunkenly. His blood turned cold. He staggered back, his mouth open in a silent scream. No!

He charged at the drakon, unconsciousness threatening to overpower him.

Piper ground her teeth as she stared unblinkingly into Katoptris, the violence it displayed almost sickeningly fascinating.

A splash of poison and blood. Purple and gold. A bad premonition. Or maybe it was already happening.

She looked at her friends. Reyna had been looking into the west, tapping her foot anxiously. Maybe she'd felt it too.

She looked at her husband. Jason had been pacing back and forth ever since the hurricane had been smothered, occasionally pausing to glance toward the east, the direction of Olympus, before resuming stride. It was starting to annoy her.

Meanwhile, some campers were polishing their weapons and armor, or sparring with each other. The rest were either looking into the west like Reyna was, or to the east like Jason was. Like eighty more Jasons and Reynas. By then, she was ready to explode.

"Camp," Jason finally stopped and called out, much to her relief. "I'm heading to Olympus."

Protests were then thrown about—some asking to go with, others asking to go to the opposite direction. It was driving her mad, and she'd had enough.

"Skáse!" Her charmspeak flowed powerfully in smooth velvety ribbons. They silenced. Thank the gods everyone was taught Greek. "Thank you. Now, let's talk about this. Jason goes to Olympus alone. It's immortal business."

No one had a violent reaction, probably in fear of being reprimanded. Her husband threw her a grateful look and called Tempest. They watched as the camp director mounted his steed and zoomed away with a blast of lightning.

"We'll travel to Camp Jupiter, half of us, including Reyna and I," Piper continued when no one spoke up. "More Greeks, less Romans. The Romans work better in groups so if the campers staying get attacked, you have better defense. Besides, it keeps you from ditching each other."

The campers all glanced at each other with guilty looks on their faces. Many of them looked defiant, but nobody brought up an argument. True, the two groups of demigods have made peace and had friends from the other group, but there was still... for lack of better terms, tension and mistrust offered by snakes from either side. Their rivalry went deep, and that was to be expected.

"I want Greek volunteers," Piper announced. "Reyna will pick the few Romans."

And so it had. About ten minutes later, the camp was cut into two. Not everyone who had volunteered had been accepted or who was good had been picked. There was still something whole in their camp, after all, so a few best had to stay and lead its defense if ever a likely attack happens.

Or so Reyna thought. Piper thought they were too conservative. She already had half stay, and that was sufficient. Why have some of the best stay? Jason would probably not agree with her on it. Then again, maybe nobody would. They haven't seen what she had in her mirror.

For transportation, thankfully, the stables were untouched by the hurricane because they were on the far east hand side. They had about a dozen chariots stashed nearby, and twice the number of pegasi. More campers meant more transportation vehicles. Cars were too slow. Airplanes were too much of a hassle. Boats... well, they were in the middle of the continent. Romans never liked boats, anyway.

Two hours later, they were hovering over the valley of Camp Jupiter. But right now with Ordians and white dust and blood covering the surface, it looked more like a valley of nightmares.

The situation didn't look good. A blur of red and brown—Hazel and Arion, probably—was battling one to one with an armored giant that Piper didn't recognize. A group of Romans had their shields locked and was attacking from that tight formation, easily evading a large drop in troops. A smaller group was fighting back to back: a last stand formation. A drakon barreled toward them, stomping everything in its path, with only a blur of brown—Hazel and Arion—distracting it.

A feeling of dread seized her. Her vision dimmed for a moment as she strained to remember something. But wait... wasn't Hazel the one battling the giant?

No time to find out. They landed at a clear area and immediately unloaded. Most charged into battle, and Piper was about to follow when Reyna stopped her.

"No, Piper; go to New Rome. Don't let anything that could harm the citizens pass through." Looking into her glittering dark eyes, Piper understood the message beneath it.

"I saw Hazel somehow battling a giant and a drakon at the same time," Piper told her urgently. "Make sure she doesn't get hurt. Please."

A quick but determined nod, and then they were off. Piper was actually thankful when some foolish monsters came at her. It gave her an excuse to skewer them, and maybe even the ones too close for comfort even though they did nothing.

When she got to the boundary, Terminus was screaming his head off.

"Hey hey hey knuckleheads take me to that giant and I'll smash him to a pulp do you just know how much of a crime it is to hit a Camp Jupiter graduate huh? And leave one side of him unable to see?! That's just outrageous! You girl," he suddenly addressed Piper, surprising her, "pick me up and throw me to that giant with the brains of a spearhead no no the brains of a nut and by nut I mean that small metal thing you use for mechanics so I can butt that so-called nutbrain with my harder than steel marble head!"

"You can't do that," Piper said. "You'll shatter before you even reach it."

Terminus glared at her. "Are you patronizing me? And hey, no weapons allowed!"

She'd tried to step through with her knife still in her hand.

"I need to protect the citizens!"

"I'm here, ain't I?"

Piper cocked an eyebrow. "Didn't you just want me to throw you to the giant?"

"But you refused, so I'll stay here, and you go help the legionnaires! Otherwise, you'll have to enter unarmed!" If it had arms, the statue would probably be crossing them.

Piper smirked.

"Run along now—hey what are doing?!" The daughter of Aphrodite picked the statue up from its pedestal. "Have I also mentioned that it's a crime to touch a god against their wi—AHH!"

"Harder than steel!" Piper hollered over to the airborne marble statue, then strode past the Pomerian Line. The Ordians seemed to have been aiming to destroy it last, since most buildings were untouched. There was a bit of fire at the edge of town, but it looked like it could barely survive past the walls they were currently eating. Come to think of it, most of the residential houses were made out of stone and brick.

Speaking of those, most of them were two-story villas that you would see on a summer-only neighborhood. But the problem was that a clump of those in one area looked indistinct from one another, so it was impossible to tell which was which if they didn't paint their mailboxes. In another area were smaller identical one-story houses.

Since both Reyna and Hazel had families, she figured they had bigger houses. She trudged down the cobblestone street, trying not to dizzy herself with the similar appearances, when a gleam caught her eye. It was the same old villa, not apart from the dozen ones she'd walked past, but something about it was particularly different.

On the red-painted mailbox were white block letters: Zhang.

Piper marched inside.

It was homely. The living room TV was on, in a static. The door to the kitchen was half-open. A guest room door also ajar, and beyond she could see strewn blankets and rumpled bed sheets. Someone must have slept there recently.

She climbed upstairs.

There were three doors along the hallway. The first one to the left was a girl's bedroom, the walls painted pink and purple. A four-poster bed, the kind you see in Medieval Europe (or maybe in a movie set,) was on the other side of the room. Toys cluttered the floor. It was Marie's, Frank and Hazel's daughter's bedroom.

The next had marble-colored walls, a king-sized bed, a massive wardrobe closet, sword and armor hooks, and posters of Camp Jupiter. Piper could only guess it was the couple's bedroom.

She checked the door to the right. The room was bare, save for a closet, a bed, and a bedside table. The walls were painted baby blue. When she entered, sitting on the floor was Marie, playing with a stuffed elephant.

The little girl's face lit up. "Auntie!"

Piper smiled, momentarily forgetting the state of war she was in, as Marie hugged her legs. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for mommy and daddy," she replied, looking up at the daughter of Aphrodite with innocent beady brown eyes, so similar to her father's. "They said they would come back after they beat the thieves."

'Thieves' would be an exaggerated understatement.

"Why are you here, then? You should wait for them in your room, like a good girl," Piper said gently. It had been ages since Drake was a kid, but she could still remember how she calmed his hyperactive brainiac butt. In this case, the opposite.

"I'm lonely, and a nice boy was here, so I went over and talked to him," Marie said.

Piper shivered involuntarily. This girl was a legacy of Pluto. She might've only been seeing ghosts, but she had to ask. "Where is he? Who is he? What did he say to you?"

Marie smiled up at her. "He just left to go to the Consul's house. I don't know his name. He told me everything would be alright, and that my baby brother would be beating me to the great place. I don't see him yet, though."

Her heart throbbed. Something was going to be wrong. "What's the great place?"

"I don't know. I think it's his bedroom, so here I am."

Her eyes widened as she realized something. "You have a brother?"

Marie nodded excitedly. "Daddy said he's still hiding in mommy's tummy, so I don't see how he would beat me to his bedroom."

Before she knew it, Piper had bolted out of the room, just in time to see a person in white hasten further into Marie's bedroom. It looked like the person was inside all along, peering through the gap in the door. She flung the door open, only to see the white-clad person disappear outside the window.

She raced downstairs. Her mind turned in on itself, giving her a headache that wasn't compared to anything she would soon feel. She couldn't believe she forgot about it. Hazel was pregnant. What possessed her to go fight with not only her life, but with another's? She had to go there and stop her before it's too late, even if it cost getting trampled on by Arion.

She emerged from the villa, and was about to run to camp, when the person appeared at the corner of her peripheral vision, running to the opposite direction. She clenched her fists. Hazel had Romans all around her to protect her, even Arion could. In New Rome, however..

She remembered what Marie had said, he just left to go to the Consul's house.

Piper sprinted after him. Thankfully, he wasn't too fast of a runner, but something told her that he was slowing down deliberately. Maybe he had something to show, she realized. As if mocking her, he looked over his shoulder, his starry eyes giving her a forlorn wink that dazed her with the sense of déjà vu.

He rounded a corner, his cape billowing behind him. Piper followed, but he was gone. She was now in front of another two-story villa, but this looked different somehow. Much more Roman and elegant, in a way. It was quiet and empty, the front garden passing her an air of an ill foreshadowing instead of fragrance and comfort.

The air brought her a piece of smoke-scented parchment, which was charred at the edges, but the words on it were still comprehensible.

You should have gone the other way.

Once her feet touched the ground, she glowered.

"You can't let Percy defend Olympus alone!"

Angel looked at her, expression almost amused. "Do you hear yourself? He'll be fine! I bet he'd even take you on a date after he kicks Order's ass and saves the day as always, of course with the battle cry 'for Artemis!'" The impression was effortlessly off the line of being an impression.

Nonetheless, Artemis admired her way of thinking that their victory was set in stone.

Well, maybe Angel was right; but it doesn't always mean that carving it was easy.

It was as easy as doubting Percy. Promising to be with her with the rest of their lives, that she could believe. But promising that she would be immortal as they spend the rest of the lives with each other, now that she couldn't.

How would he make her immortal? He wasn't even the supreme yet. He was still an heir. ...Okay, maybe that came out a little cruel. But she understood how it was to be an heir. She knew she was one of Zeus' favorites, only next to Athena, but there were still things she couldn't do. Like making her hunters fully immortal.

That's it. Maybe Percy only made her semi-immortal, not aging, not prone to any life-threatening disease, not fading, but dying, most times not heroically but in a painful way.

But, if that's the case.. Summoning Moonshade, she trudged up the hill, following the goddess Enkeli. It didn't explain how she could make her sword magically appear in her hand. Perhaps it was part of the new power showcase, but even Percy didn't have that. At least she thought he didn't. He seldom used it, if ever.

The first monster the Xiphos killed was an unlucky one still outside the boundaries. Somehow, the Ordians have gotten through, the pine tree ward now covered in claw and blade marks. Artemis cringed, thinking of her lieutenant.

Angel paved the way with her arms outstretched, both hands holding a short sword that looked like it was made out of tainted glass. It sliced through monster flesh seamlessly, without even juddering. She paused to look back at her.

"You better go on to your hunters," she suggested, tilting her head toward that direction. "I don't suppose you're proficient enough with that toy, so I'll have you gunning these jerks from afar. Also, it keeps you from danger, unless you fall out of a tree, that is."

Her onyx eyes alight with mischief, Angel spun in a circle, making the monsters give them a wide berth. Artemis, albeit a bit affronted by the verbal jab, took it as her cue and did a hunter's sprint (which was easier to say than faster than any shit you've seen before) to the trees, swinging Moonshade wildly to keep Ordians at a distance. She had to admit it was a newbie move, but anything else would slow her down.

When she got there, Thalia met her delighted gaze with a glare. Yet she helped Artemis climb up her tree, a little confused as she did so. "What the hell, Artemis? You transported me to the roof."

Artemis was wheezing, leaning heavily on the bark of the tree as she sheathed her sword. "I'm sorry, I was panicking. I thought Zeus was going to kill you."

Thalia's expression softened a tad. "Well.. I'm okay now. But what happened to you?"

Artemis grimaced, summoning a bow—not her symbol of power, unfortunately—and a quiver of arrows. "Zeus took away my goddesshood, powers and stamina and all. 'Punishment', he says."

The lieutenant of the Hunters stared at the new bow. "Um."

"Long story. I'll tell you later."

Thalia frowned, but continued picking off monsters with arrows, some getting close enough and the branch she was perched on low enough that she used her electric spear to stab the top of their heads.

Artemis did likewise, only shooting with less speed than she was used to. It bummed her out since a hunter needed speed to successfully play predator. Screw Zeus and his likely paranoiac tendencies.

The lone upside to it was that she could kill anyone she wanted at any time she wanted. No darned Ancient Laws to hold her back.

Well, maybe Percy brought her back to being an unwilling follower of it all, but of course no one would know that unless she told someone, which won't happen any time soon.

Then she felt a slight disturbance in the air behind her. She briefly halted shooting and whirled around. Nothing was there. Maybe it was just her dulled senses. They had been ringing ever since Zeus took away their sharpness, as well as more than half of her skills as a hunter, not to mention the dignity that came with it.

But she felt it again. She turned, and this time she saw a giant monster bird, its feathers gleaming metallic white in the afternoon sunlight. Its beak was long and sharp, triangular, like a hummingbird's, the edges of its mouth jagged with uneven teeth, which birds weren't even supposed to have—and it was flying for her heart.

"Get down!" she heard someone yell.

But Artemis was stunned into place. She couldn't move. All she could do was stare as her death came for her, and think, This is the perfect time to see if I'm semi-immortal or not.

Something hit her, sending her hurtling sideways off the tree branch, Thalia's shout of surprise now an echo in the back of her head. There was a cry of pain. Her side stung, and she felt something spray over her like rain. Something sticky and hot. Blood.

She was vaguely aware that the pain in her side was too dull for it to be an injury, because if so, her blood would have soaked her back, not her forwards. The blood seemed to be hotter and brighter than dark red mortal blood, as hers now was (or so she thought.) With half-lidded eyes, she was also dimly aware (literally; her vision was blurring) that the giant bird, to her relief, had been killed, most likely by Thalia, and now it lay in the shadows a few feet from her.

And that there was someone lying on top of her, their body positioned in a way that it would be impossible to get a strike through to her without hitting the body first. It was soft and curvy, therefore she decided it was a girl, and minutely relaxed.

However, her heartbeat jumpstarted upon closer inspection: it was Angel.

To her horror, her wings were out, and she was missing one.

Artemis hefted them up with difficulty. She slipped out from under the young goddess and stared at the dead bird. It hadn't occurred to her that it was a disembodied wing.

"I.. I can't believe you did that," she said, not caring if no one was listening.

But Angel opened her eyes, bleary. She flashed a small smile. "Both of them will kill me... if you die."

Artemis sat up to throw a stray Celestial bronze arrow at an incoming snake woman. It hit between her eyes and she dissolved. "Both of them?"

Angel shook her head, dismissing the thought. "The bird's not dead yet." She struggled to stand up. Artemis helped her. "I can't do it anymore, obviously. And my archery sucks. Hopefully yours didn't change."

The thing was still flying around, scaring the archers on the trees. Looks like Thalia hadn't shot it dead yet, after all.

"Uh-oh." It had circled and was coming for them again. "That's your cue, Arty."

Artemis felt a tug in her gut, like the one she would feel every time she would teleport. But she wasn't doing anything, not yet at least. It was almost like it was telling her to do something. But what?

"Um, Artemis? The half of my blazer's already ruined with blood, so please don't make me ruin the other half, not that I would like to, anyway.."

The fowl was getting closer, its beak opening to reveal a similarly shaped and bloodstained tongue. It squawked excitedly as it came, probably thinking that it had its snack cornered.

Artemis was going to prove it otherwise.

Another tug in her gut. More distance covered. Only a few seconds left to do it. She wasn't sure how to shoot it down since her bow was lying around somewhere she couldn't see it, but her instinct told her to just do something. And so she did.

She raised a hand, as though it would hold the bird back from its assault.

"Artemis?" Twenty feet. Her stomach was now feeling queasy, twisting uncomfortably from anxiousness. "I thought you lost your moon beam powers? Besides, it's not even nighttime yet.."

Less than ten feet. Her vision reddened, like a nonexistent red alarm had gone off in her head. She was sure she was hyperventilating.

"Yo? You sure that could hold it off? It sliced my wing, so I don't see how your little hand could do it instead.."

A meter away. Artemis wanted to tell her to get out of the way in case it, whatever it was, didn't work, but she didn't need to. Angel already had a plan.

"On three, we eat soil."

FWOOOOSH.

A plume of extremely hot black fire exploded from the palm of her outstretched hand. It extended towards the giant's open mouth, and that unusual fire devoured it instead of the other way around. The image was gruesome, disturbingly similar to the one she almost saw at the cemetery. To be frank, the large bird burst into black blood and bones, since its internal organs had probably been scorched.

"Ooh, damn, that was way better than mine! Do it again!"

Percy stopped. It was eerie. Beyond the throne room doors was quietness. He knew for a fact that it wasn't soundproof. Maybe the gods took the battle elsewhere? But the thrones were here. Could it be possible that Order was done and he was too late?

...No. No, it wasn't possible. It couldn't be. However, there were sounds of battle at the temple yard, so he went there first, not even thinking to check the throne room first.

He got even more and more anxious when he saw the remnants of the fight that passed over the place. Wreckage. Where were the occupants?

For the first and last time, he wished he could have a divine form so he could incinerate the Ordians just by showing them his, ahem, awesomeness. But it could do more harm than good, so no.

Then he saw it. In the middle of the temple courtyard, there Nico was, defending himself and the nearby nature spirits from the onslaught of Ordians. It was going bad; they were being overcome quite quickly.

Hold on, he thought, speeding up his pace. You'll make it, I'll make it, we both need to make it, or else we're dead meat.

Percy reached the battle, enabling him to help eliminate the Ordians. But he was still quite a long ways away from his friend. He had to get there somehow.

Suddenly, he saw a dracaena pop up beside Nico, her trident aloft and ready to strike. The boy was too busy fending off the more insistent wave to notice.

"Nico, get down!" he shouted, hoping he was fast enough.

But it didn't have the intended effect. Nico's head whipped around at the voice, and instead of getting down, he froze, startled at the sight of him. Because of this, his back had turned toward the dracaena and she took the opportunity to stab him through the chest.

The force on it was terrifying. Percy could only watch in horror as the dracaena continued to push forward, deepening the wound she inflicted, until luckily, a dryad transformed herself into a tree in their path to lessen the power Nico would be slamming with. Who knows what would happen if there was more momentum.

The dryad's sacrifice was for naught. Nico could only last for a few more precious seconds, and he knew it.

Percy blasted fire to a path in front of him, clearing monsters (and unfortunate spirits) of it, and ran to Nico. Coincidentally (not,) his fire had caught the snake woman who had impaled Nico, and now the nature spirits had formed a circle around the tree, trying to protect both from any further damage.

When Percy got there, Nico had slid down the trunk, leaving a horrific vertical ichor stain. He was now lying down face up, fighting to breathe and eyes closing.

Percy skidded to a stop and knelt beside the son of Hades. He frantically applied pressure on the wound. "Nico, Nico," he breathed through his teeth. "You're going to be alright." One of the only powers he wanted to have and what he couldn't have: healing.

Nico looked over him with half-lidded eyes. "Be...hind you.."

There was an eight-foot tall giant behind him, its spear poised to strike. It somehow got through the satyrs and nymphs.

Percy brought Riptide to knock the spear off its course, before proceeding to completely disarm the giant of it. Then, in the blink of an eye, he summoned his fauchard from the hammer space behind him and threw it like a javelin, the scythe blade hitting at its neck, the trident prong enclosing it within the two blades. It flew with such force that the giant was sent to vaporize over the railing, dragging the fauchard with it.

There goes a perfectly good weapon, Percy thought sadly. Practiced decades with it only to lose it to some behemoth.

To think it was much less of a worry right now. He fetched his canteen of nectar.

"Nico, you need to hold on..," Percy told him, breathless. He poured nectar on the wounds. It could only do so much as to sustain him for a few more seconds. One of the trident prongs have already pierced his heart.

"Percy," Nico started between sharp draws of breath as the nectar seeped into him, easing the pain by just a little. "I.."

"Save your strength," the son of Chaos whispered, as if he couldn't save his. "It might help you when you reform."

Nico didn't listen. "I always thought... that I wouldn't be surprised... but I guess I.. I guess I was wrong."

"People make mistakes, even me," Percy told him gently, smoothing his friend's bloody shirt. There was nothing more he could do but see him off, as if he would be going on a vacation instead of the worst place on Earth.

"No you don't; you're not 'people'," Nico disagreed, closing his eyes and letting his breathing slow. "You're a hero.."

Nico smiled feebly, his hand turning limp. His albino skin started to lose its luminescence, as his onyx eyes started to pale. His lips darkened.

Percy merely watched, mesmerized. From the way Nico smiled, Percy could tell he was still conscious. Who on Khaos would be so merciless as to let immortals feel every literal fiber of their being as they turn to dust?

"Look out!" a shout jolted him out of his reverie. He turned and almost got cleaved in two if not for the floating Imperial gold sword that blocked him, saving his face and his life.

Only, it wasn't floating. Someone was holding it, as tall and firm as a Roman fort.

It was Jason.

He looked angry. "Percy, you graecus! You should've checked the throne room first!"

Percy blinked. He'd admit that this wasn't the reception he expected from him. "Uh, what?"

Jason flashed him a fleeting grim smile, which would have looked more like a grimace if the corners turned down for a little bit more. "Just go. The gods are dying in there." Percy hoped it was just an expression. "I'll take care of Nico."

The son of Jupiter set to work, dispatching the remaining Ordians. Percy had no choice but to obey. In the end, Jason was still the one used to ordering people around, and he sure knew how to do it.

As he neared the throne room, he looked back one last time. Jason zapped the final monster to oblivion, and knelt down beside their cousin, where he once had been. The Roman held his cousin's hand as he disintegrated into black dust, scattering his essence to Tartarus.

Percy slammed the doors open.

The room was wrecked; cracks thundered down the walls and on the not-so-gleaming floor. Shattered glass littered the low-burning hearth. Half of the thrones were broken: Dionysus', Poseidon's, Ares', Hephaestus', and a bare marble throne between Athena's and Aphrodite's, both of which were relatively undamaged.

Artemis.

His mind raced, his heartbeat advancing. Would it weaken her? She wasn't an Olympian anymore, so it shouldn't affect her, right?

She wasn't here, anyway, so at least then, Order won't be able to do anything if ever she did weaken. The one with the other gods, however, now that's a different story.

Where was everyone?

Just then, a crack appeared soundly on Apollo's throne. How in Khaos did that happen? Were they invisible? Unless—

He dashed behind the thrones of the gods, which was a long way considering the sheer size of the room. He found a huge empty circular area, strongly enchanted with Mist that even demigods couldn't see through it unless they went and looked. It was an arena of some sort.

Unfortunately though, it wasn't really empty.

The Olympians were there, along with Order and a man wearing a white suit and cape, his face hiding in a hat. The surprising thing, or maybe the unsurprising, was that the man was the one who attacked Ares and what looked like slammed him to Apollo's throne. Order was the one holding off the other gods. Considering Order probably didn't want to play dirty, Percy decided it was unsurprising.

They hadn't seen him yet, which was about the best thing that ever happened that day.

Or maybe not, since there was the dream connection with Artemis, but..

"Whatever the hell did I do to you, punk?" Ares was already weak due to his throne of power being destroyed. He was trying not to show it by using words. "I don't know you."

"Yeah, well, I don't know you, too," the man said, pulling out a tainted silver sword, which would have looked black if not for the room's brightness, gleaming with familiarity. White stars sparkled at its end. "But I know you'd been a pain to one of the people closest to me."

He thrust the sword forward, but it didn't meet the desired flesh. Sparks flew, and then the whole sword was aflame; the man wasn't affected by it at all, but he dropped the sword in shock, it sliding out and clattering to the floor at his feet. The flame, losing contact, smothered.

Hephaestus had jumped in front of him.

Hera leaped up and attempted to get there, but Order was holding off well. How had the forge god gotten through then? Percy bristled with rage, for the man, for Hephaestus, for Order. That would be his job: take Order from behind, however dishonorable it was.

"No..," the man wound his fingers beneath his hat, it coming dangerously close to falling off the head it sat on. "No, I wasn't going to.. You shouldn't have done that!"

Ares just stared in horror as Hephaestus fell to his knees. His form shimmered, and he gave parting glances—to Hera, to Aphrodite, and to Ares. The last one was particularly forlorn, a look of forgiveness and triumph. And then he faded lying down at Ares' feet.

Percy couldn't understand something. Why weren't the gods fighting back? One of them died because of not fighting back! He tried to think of a sound plan, but his strategy-reinforced mind backfired on him because of desperation and anxiousness. He would have to wing it again.

The man recovered, picking up his sword again. He set it aflame with Greek fire. "You... I'll kill you. You did that, didn't you?"

Whoever this guy was, Hephaestus was obviously important to him.

"You fool!" Ares screamed. "I couldn't control gods, even demigods, that way, and never would I even think of controlling him."

It was the wrong thing to say.

With a roar, the man thrust the sword forward into Ares' chest. The war god screamed in pain as his skin started to glow green. The flame engulfed him fully, burning him from the inside out. His glowing figure started to fade. Hera jumped, again, to try and get to him, but Order held her off.

Throwing all precautions to the wind, Percy charged at him.

The gods gasped. Order turned just in time for him to block the swing from Riptide with his sword. It was similar in a way to the man's, but still different. "Percy Jackson," he greeted emotionlessly, not even moving as Hera helped herself to her son's side.

Percy only narrowed his eyes and pushed forward, not letting the other overpower him. He took his right hand from the hilt of his sword and tried to punch Order in the face, charging his fist with lightning.

But Order caught it, his face grinning. "Wrong move." Order sent lightning, which wasn't supposed to affect him, up his arms and to his body through his fist, making him want to twist in pain. He felt weaker. His eyesight dimmed. Order let go.

Percy leaped away from him to breathe. "What did you do?"

"Be thankful," Order said, "that I didn't make you as useful as the gods here, which is to say not at all. I left you with two powers: one that I like, and one that my grandson likes to use. Why? Because I want to see you try to stop me."

Percy didn't stop to think who this grandson was.

"Left me with one.. No... no!" He jumped, thrust his hand, stomped his feet. Nothing happened. Practiced whole decades with them, and just like his fauchard, they disappear. What were those two powers?

"Come." Order gestured him with a hand. "Come and fight me, son of Chaos."

The man at the thrones looked up from mourning the remains of Hephaestus.

Percy looked at the gods. "Aren't you going to help?"

"We couldn't," Athena said sadly. "Our powers—"

"You still could move, couldn't you?" Percy snapped. Athena reminded him of someone, and both reminded him of a dull sword, all of which angered or annoyed him.

"Y-yes."

"Then get your weapons! The reason why two gods faded today is because of other gods, not an enemy," Percy yelled at them, his calm now nonexistent. He jabbed his finger at the man at the thrones. The latter looked shocked at this. "If you don't have the guts to fight Order, then at least get him!"

After getting out of their initial shock being shouted at, the gods advanced toward the man. He retreated to the throne room. They followed, Hera going a second after sparing a glance at the place where her sons died.

Poseidon stayed behind. Order spat at him with certain distaste, for one reason or another. Percy didn't understand why, since Order was mostly neutral with the others. "You want to fade as well, sea god?"

Poseidon shook his head, looking weary. "Percy."

The son of the sea god didn't look at him. He was afraid his resolve might break down, as well as his will. "Later, Father."

"But Percy, there might not be a later—"

"I know," he cut through. "This is the first time I became optimistic, okay? Don't kill my vibe."

Poseidon then followed the others without another word.

"They can't know about this," Percy demanded, raising his sword.

"Yes, they will," the god said.

Percy charged at him.

…

Battling Order at sword fighting was hard. He wasn't expecting that. He was expecting either of the two: one, they would battle with powers he'd worked so hard with (and eventually lost,) and two, battling him at sword fighting was harder, not hard. Everyone had their weaknesses, he guessed.

So he was caught off guard in a good way, and fortunately, not literally.

Order locked swords with him, quite purposefully. It was like he knew he had full control over the fight, which was true to an extent, but of course he won't say that. "Surrender, and you may retreat to your Khaos and have a second chance to defend what you love."

Percy ground his teeth. "That's no use. Everything I love is right here. And I don't want second chances."

Percy brought out his fist and charged it with whatever power he could muster. Order merely glanced at it. "Suit yourself."

Percy let it fly—and was surprised to find his fist a fireball, its surface arcing with blue electricity.

Fire and electric powers, he realized. Two powers that Poseidon didn't cover. Two powers he was minor in. Just great.

It sailed right past Order's ear after he turned his head. It was so close that Percy got instantly frustrated.

"Nice try," Order grunted, "but try better than that."

They continued clashing swords.

Percy tried a trick, setting his sword on fire, but Riptide quickly smoked up the flames after Order's sword touched it. He guessed that fire really just wasn't compatible with it, a sword from the sea.

He hated using the method Annabeth once used on more powerful enemies, but it could be more effective against the god if done correctly.

If done correctly.

"Who was that guy?" Percy asked, referring to Order's lone ally who was present earlier.

"Someone interesting," the god replied, his voice taking on a rather menacing twist. "I reckon you'd think so likewise."

"Why?" Percy asked, his eyes glittering stoically. "Because he's someone I hate?"

Order's face twisted into a semblance of a smile, frustrating the demigod even more. "You'll see."

Time passed. Percy had to guess that it was late at night already. He was exhausted. And if Order was ever tired too, he sure wasn't showing it.

He decided to do something different. "Don't look up," he told Order. "It's hopeless."

Order looked up.

Stupid, Percy thought and moved in, but suddenly he was in a headlock. He was losing breath fast. "Must... brrh.."

"No," Order was quick to disagree, seemingly taking pleasure that he was killing the hero slowly. And then the grip loosened a tad, but Percy still wasn't able to move out of it. "Ah. You've come, grandson."

Percy opened his eyes, to see the guy in the white suit. The gods were nowhere in sight. Then he looked at the guy. He looked familiar somehow.

"Yes." The guy took a glance at the son of Chaos, then turned away. "Just subdue him, please."

"No."

The guy looked surprised, then angry. "But, our agreement—"

"Has nothing to do with him," Order finished for him. "You said not to include him into the mess. I will, by doing this. I am a man of my word."

The guy was silent, the only visible part of his mouth fashioned as a firm line.

"Go on," Order continued, prompting the guy to look up at him. The god's grip tightened again, and Percy started to feel nauseous. "Kill him."

The guy glared. "No," he argued without hesitation.

If Percy had time to think, he would've thought it was weird for an Ordian to deny a direct order from... Order. And, who was he?

"No?" There was no real way to tell, since Percy could barely see half of Order's face (literally,) but despite his words, Order hardly sounded surprised. He guessed that the god probably would be so if the dude said yes.

"No." The guy took off his hat and threw it to the ground. Percy's eyes widened. That's why the sword was familiar. It was—

"Arc," he breathed. Grandson?

"Dad," Arc said, stepping forward. "I would—"

"Our agreement, grandson," Order reminded him firmly, stepping back. Percy's feet skidded on the floor. "Your father, or die by me. Choose wisely."

"S-say.." Percy whispered, and Order's grip loosened just enough for him to speak, but not enough to let him breathe freely. "Arc.. I believe in you, Son. I don't know how you became his grandson... but I believe in you."

"Go on, take out your desired weapon," Order demanded of him, and grudgingly, Arc brought out a crossbow. "Kill him. Shoot him in the eye."

"Arc," Percy breathed finally as Order tightened his grip again. "Just look up... it's hopeful."

Moonlight shone down on them through the glass panes in the ceiling. Percy hoped it was enough to give his son the strength he needed.

The full moon hung high in the sky. It was midnight.

AN: Thank you for reading up to this point, have a nice day! ~SmartzyFan