Percy emerged from the dense forest, his body weary from days of constant travel. He had traversed through rugged terrains, crossed babbling rivers, and ventured deep into uncharted wilderness. His journey took him through villages and towns, where he lent a helping hand to those in need. Whether it was mending broken roofs, defending against bandit attacks, or simply listening to the troubles of the people, Percy dedicated himself to making a positive impact wherever he went.
During his travels, Percy encountered several instances that tested his resolve. In one village, he helped a grieving family retrieve a stolen heirloom, tracking down the thief and ensuring justice was served. In another town, he protected the residents from a group of unruly outlaws. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of gratitude and hope behind him, inspiring others to believe in their own strength and capacity for goodness.
As he exited the forest, a small village nested amidst the trees caught his sight. Sensing the weariness in his bones, urging him to seek respite, he made his path towards it.
Traversing trough the main street, Percy took notice of how quiet it was. The village seemed untouched by the chaos of the world, an oasis of tranquility in the midst of turmoil. He observed the humble abodes and saw the villagers going about their daily tasks, their faces bearing the wear of a simple yet contented life.
Some villagers, despite being engrossed in their daily routines, paused to observe Percy's arrival with curious eyes. Word spread quickly trough the tight-knit community, signaling the presence of a wanderer passing by their home.
Making his way through the village, Percy discovered a serene spot nestled under the shade of a massive willow tree. Its drooping branches cascaded down, creating a natural canopy that beckoned him to take respite. The area beneath the tree was adorned with handcrafted benches and colorful flowers, providing a picturesque sanctuary he could use to recover his energies.
Percy settled himself on one of the benches, his tired body sinking into its well-worn embrace. He closed his eyes, basking in the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft melody of birdsong that filled the air. The peaceful ambiance enveloped him, melting away the strain of his long journey.
Lost in the tranquility of the moment, Percy was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. Opening his eyes, he an elderly man walking in his direction, his pace slow and steady.
Percy watched the man until he came to a stop right in front of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of the man's lips, his eyes sparkling with a glimmer of curiosity and happiness as he extended a welcoming hand towards Percy.
"Greetings, young traveler," The elder's voice carried a timbre that reflected both his age and the wisdom he had acquired throughout his years. "I couldn't help but notice your arrival and couldn't resist extending a warm welcome. The willow grove has always been a place of solace for those seeking rest and reflection. I hope you find what you seek here, and perhaps, a moment to share the tales of your travels."
Percy offered a grateful smile to the kind man and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, sir," he replied. "My name is Percy Jackson. I've been on a journey for the past week and I'm really feeling the strain. Your village seems like a tranquil haven amidst the chaos of this world."
The elder nodded, his eyes crinkling with understanding. "Percy Jackson, a name that carries the weight of a traveler's stories and adventures," he mused. "Welcome, Percy. Our village may be small, but it has provided sanctuary to weary wanderers like yourself for generations. Here, we value the simple joys of life and the bonds we forge with one another."
Percy's fatigue-laden shoulders relaxed at the mention of rest. "I appreciate your kind words," he said. "In fact, I had planned on leaving by morning to continue my journey. It's good to know that I can spend the night here."
A knowing smile curved on the elder's lips as he listened to Percy's words. "Ah, Percy, you have impeccable timing," he said. "Tonight, as the moon rises and casts its ethereal glow upon our village, we gather for our traditional bonfire ritual and storytelling. It is an occasion to honor our ancestors, recount ancient tales, and celebrate the tapestry of our community. I extend an invitation for you to join us in this cherished event."
Percy's gaze wandered for a moment, his mind drifting back to the memories of his time at Camp Half-Blood. He recalled the crackling bonfire, the eager faces of his fellow demigods, and the anticipation that filled the air as stories of heroic quests, ancient myths, and personal triumphs unfolded. It was a tradition that had bound them together, creating a sense of unity and camaraderie amidst a world of gods and monsters.
A nostalgic smile played on Percy's lips as he turned his attention back to Elder Hiroshi. "You know," he began, his voice tinged with a touch of warmth, "I have fond memories of gathering around a bonfire to share stories back at home. It was a time when we felt connected, a reminder that our lives were connected by something greater than ourselves. I'll join your ritual tonight as well. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr…?"
The elder's eyes sparkled with understanding and appreciation. "Ah, the power of stories," he mused. "They have a way of transcending time and space, forging bonds and igniting the flames of inspiration within us. I have no doubt that your tales will enrich the tapestry of Willowbrook, just as our stories will leave an indelible mark on your own. And please, there is no need for formalities. Please call me Hiroshi."
With their conversation drawing to a close, Percy bid farewell to Elder Hiroshi. As he found a quiet spot in the village to rest and prepare for the bonfire ritual, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the serendipitous encounter that had brought him to Willowbrook. It was a chance to not only replenish his weary body but also to immerse himself in the power of storytelling once again, to do something funny to revitalize his spirit. He would also use this opportunity to carry on the legacy of his friends once more, making sure their efforts will be known even in this world.
The village square buzzed with anticipation as the moon reached its highest point in the sky, bathing the surroundings in a gentle, ethereal glow. Villagers of all ages gathered around the towering bonfire, its crackling flames dancing in mesmerizing patterns. The warmth of the fire mingled with the cool night air, creating an ambiance that embraced the hearts of those present.
Elder Hiroshi stood at the center, his presence commanding respect and attention. His weathered face held a serene expression as he addressed the villagers, their eager eyes fixed upon him. "Tonight, we have the pleasure of welcoming a distinguished traveler among us," he declared, his voice carrying through the air. "Percy Jackson has graced our village with his presence, and he has kindly agreed to share one of the many stories he has undoubtedly gathered on his remarkable journey."
The villagers murmured in anticipation, their curiosity piqued by the prospect of hearing tales from distant lands and extraordinary adventures. They parted slightly to create a space for Percy, who stepped forward with a blend of humility and confidence. The flickering firelight cast intriguing shadows upon his face, accentuating his earnest expression.
Percy nodded to the villagers, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Elder Hiroshi, and thank you all for welcoming me into your village," he began, his voice carrying a tinge of excitement. "Throughout my travels, I have encountered remarkable individuals, witnessed extraordinary sights, and experienced the power of the human spirit in its purest form. Tonight, I am honored to share one of these stories with all of you."
"Once upon a time," Percy began, his voice carrying a sense of wonder, "there was a beautiful and powerful woman named Annabeth Chase. She possessed a remarkable intellect and an unwavering determination. One day, she embarked on a quest with her friends to stop an ancient evil of rising, which would culminate in the destruction of the world."
As Percy continued with the story, the villagers listened intently, their expressions reflecting a mixture of awe, curiosity, and empathy. They marveled at the fantastical elements woven into the narrative, their imaginations ignited by Percy's vivid descriptions.
As the tale progressed, a few villagers couldn't contain their enthusiasm and raised their hands, eager to engage with Percy. He welcomed their questions, encouraging the interactive nature of the storytelling circle.
"Did Annabeth face any dangerous monsters along her journey?" one villager inquired, leaning forward with anticipation.
Percy nodded, acknowledging the query. "Indeed, she encountered many formidable adversaries," he replied. "There were fearsome creatures guarding the artifact, each with their own unique abilities and challenges. Annabeth had to rely on her wit and strategic thinking to overcome these obstacles."
Another villager chimed in, his eyes filled with curiosity. "And what about her friends? Did they all make it through the quest unscathed?"
As the villager's question hung in the air, Percy's gaze turned somber, his eyes reflecting a tinge of sadness. His voice wavered slightly, betraying the weight of the memory he carried.
"Not all of them made it through unscathed," Percy responded, his voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and admiration. "There was a great sacrifice made by Annabeth. In a moment of utmost bravery, she made the ultimate selfless choice and sacrificed herself to ensure the victory of her friends and bring peace to the world."
A hushed silence fell over the villagers as Percy's words sank in. The crackling of the bonfire seemed to intensify, as if echoing the magnitude of the sacrifice. The flickering flames cast shadows on the faces of the listeners, their expressions shifting between awe and reverence.
As Percy concluded the tale, the villagers remained silent for a moment, as if allowing the weight of the sacrifice to settle within their hearts. Then, a murmur of appreciation and awe rippled through the crowd, mingling with the crackling of the bonfire.
One villager, her voice filled with admiration, broke the silence. "Such bravery and sacrifice," she said. "Annabeth's selflessness truly exemplifies the power of friendship and the lengths we are willing to go for those we love."
The sentiment resonated with the others, and nods of agreement rippled through the gathering. The storytelling circle had not only entertained the villagers but also touched their hearts, leaving an indelible mark on their souls.
Percy, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride, gazed at the flickering flames. It felt good to talk about Annabeth to other people, even if they thought it was a made-up story. He no longer felt empty whenever he thought of her, even if he did miss her at times. Perhaps he was finally healing from his loss and opening up to these people made him realize that. Either way, he knew she'd always have a special place in his heart dedicated solely to her.
As Percy's story came to a close, Hiroshi sat quietly, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of age and experience.
"Thank you, Percy, for sharing such a powerful tale," he said, his voice resonating with a sense of reverence. "Stories have a way of shaping us, of reminding us of our own strengths and the sacrifices we are capable of making for the greater good."
The villagers nodded in agreement, their faces mirroring the gratitude they felt towards Percy for sharing such an incredible story. But as the elder's gaze swept across the gathering, he noticed a restlessness, a longing for another story that lingered in their eyes.
With a knowing smile, the elder turned his attention back to the fire, the flames dancing in sync with his words.
"Long ago, in the heart of our village, there were two children," the elder began, his voice carrying a somber tone. "Their parents, wise and loving, had always warned them of the dangers that lurked beyond the boundaries of our humble abode. But as children often do, they disregarded those warnings, enticed by the promise of adventure."
The villagers leaned in, their eyes fixed on the elder, captivated by his words.
"One fateful day, a stranger arrived in our village," the elder continued, his voice tinged with both sadness and caution. "He carried with him a bag of candies, sweet treats that enchanted the hearts of the children. They craved more, and the stranger, unable to resist their pleas, told them that he had an abundance of candies at his house, just a short distance away."
A murmur of concern swept through the villagers as they listened, their imaginations intertwining with the unfolding story.
"The children, their desire for the candies overpowering their judgment, followed the stranger," the elder said, his voice filled with foreboding. "They ventured beyond the limits imposed by their parents, enticed by the allure of the unknown. The trail they left behind, a path marked by small footprints, led their father on a desperate search."
The fire crackled louder, mirroring the mounting tension in the air.
"The father followed the trail, a trail that led him to an abandoned mansion," the elder continued, his words laced with a shiver of trepidation. "But as he stepped through its doors, his heart sank. The bones of his beloved children lay scattered across the cold, unforgiving floor. Panic gripped him, and in his anguish, he failed to see the evil presence that lurked behind him—a malevolence that took hold of his very being."
A hushed silence settled over the gathering as the villagers absorbed the weight of the tragic tale.
"Some still believe that the evil resides within the old mansion, a relic of that dark chapter in our history," the elder confessed, his voice carrying a blend of uncertainty and conviction. "Most dismiss it as mere legend, a story fabricated to keep children in line. But none have been brave enough to venture into its depths and face the truth with their own eyes."
A villager, skeptical in nature, scoffed and retorted, "A fanciful tale, created to scare the innocent minds of children."
But another villager, older and weathered, spoke with a tremor in his voice, his eyes distant with the weight of a haunting memory. "I, too, once dismissed it as fiction," he admitted, his tone filled with a mix of fear and regret. "But when I was a child, I strayed too close to that mansion. Even to this day, I still remember the screams of pain that echoed through the night."
The bonfire crackled and the wind carried a chill that seemed to echo the whispers of the past. The villagers exchanged glances, uncertain of what to believe, yet aware of the lingering unease that clung to their hearts.
As the bonfire dwindled and the villagers dispersed, Percy's mind buzzed with a mixture of skepticism and a growing sense of unease. After facing Onis in two different occasions and losing the only friend he made ever since arriving to one of them, he couldn't bear the thought of more innocent lives being lost.
Spotting the man who had shared his chilling encounter with the mansion, Percy approached him with a determined stride. "Excuse me," Percy said, his voice laced with urgency. "You mentioned that you were close to the mansion. Can you tell me where it is?"
The man's eyes met Percy's, a flicker of recognition passing between them. "You believe the story, don't you?" the man questioned, a mix of concern and caution evident in his tone. "It's not just a tale. That place holds darkness and danger. Are you thinking of going there? I highly recommend you not doing so. It's a death wish."
Percy's response came swiftly, a white lie meant to deflect suspicion. "Oh, I'm just curious," he replied, forcing a nonchalant smile. "Besides, I would rather not risk it if the story is real. If I'm ever close to that house, I'll avoid it every way I can."
The man looked at Percy for a few moments, as if pondering whether to believe him or not. Finally, he sighed and said, "It's about ten kilometers northwest. It's impossible to miss it once you're there."
Without waiting any further, Percy turned and hurried away, his heart pounding in his chest. Sleep would have to wait. Every fiber of his being urged him to reach the mansion as soon as possible, to confront the lurking evil and protect the innocent from its clutches.
As Percy pressed on through the night, the path to the mansion seemed to stretch into eternity. Each step he took was guided by his never ending determination, his senses heightened to the eerie silence that surrounded him. The moon cast long shadows, amplifying the mystery and foreboding that enveloped the land.
His thoughts raced, and memories of past adventures intermingled with his current quest. In the midst of his journey, a pang of longing struck him, and he couldn't help but wish that his faithful hellhound companion, Mrs. O'Leary, were there with him. He imagined her by his side, giving him a ride and gracing him with her company.
Hours passed, and the darkness seemed to press against him with an invisible weight. But Percy pressed on, guided by an inner compass that refused to be deterred. And then, in the first light of dawn, he caught sight of the structure ahead—an imposing mansion that stood like a sentinel against the encroaching daylight.
As he approached, his eyes were drawn to a weathered sign standing proudly at the entrance, its letters faded but still discernible. The words etched upon it revealed the name of the mansion, its haunting presence etched into Percy's mind: "Ravenwood Manor."
A shiver ran down Percy's spine. The name resonated with a sense of unknown. Unfazed by the warning signs, he steeled himself for what lay beyond the mansion's doors. With each step closer, his resolve solidified, determined to confront the malevolent force that lay dormant within Ravenwood Manor.
The sun began to cast its warm glow over the landscape, painting the mansion in golden hues. But Percy's focus remained fixed on the looming structure, his heart echoing with the urgency of his mission
Percy stood at the edge of the mansion, the boundary between the outside world and the depths of darkness that lay within. The mansion itself seemed to emerge from a forgotten era, its grandeur tarnished by time and neglect. Its once-majestic facade now bore the marks of decay, with crumbling bricks and ivy that crawled along the walls like twisted fingers.
The windows, once filled with vibrant stained glass, now stared back at Percy with empty, hollow eyes. The panes were shattered, fragments of glass scattered on the ground like broken promises. The wind whistled through the cracks and crevices, creating an eerie symphony that echoed through the desolate halls.
The mansion's architecture spoke of opulence and grand design, but it was now draped in a shroud of darkness. The once meticulously manicured gardens had grown wild and unruly, with twisted vines snaking up the stone pillars and weeds claiming their territory. The air was heavy, suffused with an unsettling stillness that whispered of forgotten secrets and trapped souls.
As Percy stepped closer, he couldn't shake the feeling that the mansion itself held its breath, waiting with bated anticipation for his arrival. The front doors stood ajar, creaking on their hinges as if inviting him into the abyss within. Shadows danced and flickered through the broken windows, playing tricks on his eyes, creating phantoms that seemed to move just beyond his periphery.
Every step forward felt like a plunge into the unknown, a descent into a realm where reality and nightmares merged. But Percy was undeterred. Uncapping Riptide, he carefully entered the silent manor, fully disposed to put an end to the evil that lies inside.
As soon as he entered, a musty odor assaulted his senses, a mix of dampness and decay that hung heavy in the air. The entrance hall greeted him with faded grandeur, its once-polished marble floor now covered in a layer of dust and debris. The intricate chandelier above, adorned with crystals that had long lost their sparkle, hung precariously, casting eerie shadows on the cracked walls.
The grand staircase, its banisters worn and chipped, stood as a solemn sentinel leading to the upper levels. Cobwebs clung to the ornate railings, weaving a tapestry of neglect and abandonment. Percy's footsteps echoed through the empty halls, resonating with a hollow sound that seemed to mock the life that once thrived within these walls.
The rooms he passed were frozen in time, frozen in a state of disarray. Tattered curtains hung limply from the windows, their fabric faded and moth-eaten. The remnants of furniture, now covered in layers of dust, were mere skeletons of their former selves. Paintings, once vibrant and alive, now faded into muted colors, their subjects staring out with hollow eyes.
Shafts of light filtered through cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting elongated shadows that danced on the cracked plaster. The silence within the manor was broken only by the soft rustle of rats scurrying across the floor and the occasional creak of the aging floorboards beneath Percy's weight.
As Percy explored deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The atmosphere grew heavier, as if the very walls of the manor held secrets that begged to be revealed. Each room he entered whispered tales of forgotten lives and the passage of time, their stories trapped within the decaying confines.
As Percy stepped further into what appeared to be the main room of the mansion, his eyes scanned the dimly lit space. The flickering candlelight cast distorted shadows on the worn tapestries adorning the walls, depicting scenes of a bygone era. Just as he was about to explore further, a figure emerged from the shadows—a maid dressed in a faded and tattered uniform.
The maid's voice carried a sense of weariness as she spoke, her tone tinged with both caution and curiosity. "What brings you to this forsaken place?" she inquired, her eyes studying Percy with a mix of suspicion and wariness. "Are you here to steal? There is nothing of value left within these walls."
Percy's gaze met the maid's, his expression earnest and sincere. "No, I have no intention of stealing," he replied, his voice steady. "I've heard rumors of a curse that plagues this manor. I seek only to understand and, if possible, put an end to the darkness that resides here."
A glimmer of recognition flashed across the maid's eyes, and a cautious smile touched her lips. "You speak the truth," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Come, follow me. There is a secluded room where we can speak in private."
With the maid as his guide, Percy was led through a labyrinth of corridors, each step drawing him deeper into the heart of the manor's secrets. Finally, they arrived at a secluded chamber, where two more maids awaited their arrival.
"Sister," spoke the maid on the right, her voice tinged with curiosity as she observed Percy. Her long hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, while her companion, with a suspicious gaze, sported short hair that brushed against her shoulders.
Greeting them with a gentle smile, the maid who had guided Percy responded, "Ah, hello sisters. This is a wanderer. He has heard of the curse and wishes to end it. What was your name again?" Her eyes, filled with a feigned warmth, met Percy's.
"My name is Percy Jackson," he replied, his voice firm yet inquisitive. "If you don't mind, I would like to ask all of you some questions to better understand the situation. How long has this curse been haunting this place? And why do you all continue to reside here, even though those who enter never seem to return?"
The one with long hair stepped forward, her voice filled with a mix of resignation and sorrow. "Leaving is not as simple as it seems," she began. "We have attempted to escape this manor before, only to be met with an excruciating pain that feels as if our very insides were on fire. So, we remain trapped within these walls."
Percy's empathy was evident as he contemplated their plight. "To be forever confined to the same place must be a terrible fate," he mused aloud. "How do you manage to procure food and fulfill your other needs for survival?"
The same maid responded, her voice tinged with a hint of longing. "Since we cannot leave the house, we rely on someone from the outside to bring us fresh provisions. However, finding someone willing to help is a challenge, and hunger often bothers us."
Percy's brow furrowed in confusion. "But if nobody can leave the manor, how is it that you receive assistance without the curse affecting those who aid you?" he questioned, a sense of unease creeping into his heart.
The room fell into a heavy silence, each second stretching as Percy's suspicions grew. Finally, it was the maid who had guided him who spoke, her smile appearing forced to his discerning eyes.
"The house holds a special favor for humans who offer aid to those in need," she replied, her words laced with an underlying meaning. "But, dear, you seem exhausted. Would you not appreciate a moment's rest?"
"Humans," Percy thought, a flicker of realization dancing in his eyes. "They speak as if they are not humans themselves, much like the monsters I've encountered in my own world. Something is amiss."
Percy's hand instinctively found its way to his right pocket, fingers discreetly brushing against the hilt of Riptide, ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment's notice. His senses were on high alert, fueled by the rising tension in the room.
"But wait, I still have more questions," Percy pressed on, his voice unwavering. "You never answered how long this curse has plagued this place. And what do you mean by 'humans'?"
Tension hung thick in the air as Percy's suspicions intensified. He could feel the weight of the impending confrontation, a battle of wits and determination. With his hand poised near Riptide, he prepared for whatever awaited him, understanding that the answers he sought were entwined with danger and uncertainty.
The same maid who had inadvertently revealed too much finally spoke, her voice carrying a note of regret. "Ah, it seems I have spoken more than I should have. But fret not, dear wanderer. You need not concern yourself too greatly. After all, your time in this world is limited."
As the words hung in the air, a palpable tension gripped the room, and a chilling realization washed over Percy. The three maids, once seemingly ordinary, began to transform before his eyes, shedding their human guise to reveal their true forms.
The maid with long hair, her features now distorted by wickedness, grew taller and more imposing. Her once fair skin turned a sickly shade of gray, marred with jagged crimson markings that seemed to pulse with an unholy energy. Her eyes glowed with a malevolent gleam, burning like fiery coals within their sockets. She sprouted a pair of twisted horns from her forehead, their sharp tips glistening ominously in the dim light. Her hands transformed into gnarled claws, each finger ending in a wicked talon capable of rending flesh with ease.
The second maid, the one who had guided Percy through the manor, underwent a more subtle yet equally menacing transformation. Her limbs elongated, contorting into sinewy tendrils that seemed to writhe and coil of their own accord. Her eyes, once filled with suspicion, transformed into orbs of piercing yellow, reflecting the predatory nature that lurked within her newfound form. Dark scales encased her body, offering an additional layer of protection against any who dared challenge her.
The third maid, who had remained mostly silent until now, underwent a transformation that was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. Her entire body swelled, growing in size and stature until she towered over Percy like a malevolent giant. Her once delicate features hardened into a twisted, grotesque countenance. Her skin turned ashen gray, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to writhe and shift with a life of their own. A pair of massive, leathery wings unfurled from her back, their bat-like appearance casting an ominous shadow across the room.
The room trembled with their newfound presence, their monstrous forms radiating an aura of dark power. A collective, low growl emanated from their throats, echoing through the chamber like a chorus of impending doom. Their transformation complete, they stared at Percy with eyes filled with malice, anticipation, and hunger.
"You possess a keen perception for one so young," the third maid sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "It's a pity we'll have to devour you. After all, when food willingly enters our house, we can't refuse."
Percy's eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination igniting within his gaze. "I sensed something fishy from the start. And I'm not talking about your fish scales, old lady. I'm sorry you're trapped in this cursed existence, but I can't allow you to claim any more innocent lives. Today, I will put an end to all of you."
As Percy's words struck a nerve, the second maid, driven by fury, lunged towards him with blinding speed, her serpentine hair thrashing in the air. With a venomous hiss, she aimed to deliver a swift, deadly strike, hoping to end Percy's defiance in an instant.
Reacting with lightning reflexes, Percy's hand moved like a blur as he uncapped Riptide, the celestial bronze blade springing to life. He shifted his body with agility honed through countless battles, evading the imminent strike by a hair's breadth.
In one swift motion, Percy spun on his heel, his blade tracing a brilliant arc through the air. The keen edge of Riptide sliced through the air, meeting the second maid's extended arm with an unstoppable force. A resounding clang filled the room as the blade connected with her limb, severing it cleanly from her body.
Time seemed to slow as the dismembered arm, tinged with a sickly shade of gray, flew through the air in a grotesque dance of violence. A spray of dark, viscous ichor spurted from the wound, staining the ancient walls of the mansion.
The second maid recoiled, her unearthly shriek piercing the air, a symphony of pain and rage. She clutched her stump, her inhuman eyes blazing with a mix of agony and malevolence.
Maid number one's voice dripped with a mix of amusement and curiosity, her eyes gleaming with a newfound respect for Percy's prowess. The corners of her twisted mouth curled into a malicious smile as she remarked, "My, my, aren't you full of surprises, traveler? It seems you possess more than just a quick wit. But tell me, where were you keeping that blade of yours? Neither of us could detect the unmistakable scent of steel lingering around you."
A mischievous glint danced in Percy's eyes as he retorted, his voice laced with amusement, "That is for me to know and for you never to find out." And he lunged towards her.
In an instant, Percy's body sprang into action, propelled by his constant resolve. His movements were a blur of grace and deadly intent as he launched himself towards the first maid he met. The room echoed with the sound of his boots hitting the floor, each step propelling him closer to his target.
The air crackled with anticipation as the distance between them closed rapidly. Percy's grip tightened around Riptide, his knuckles turning white, ready to meet the impending clash. His mind focused solely on the task at hand, his instincts guiding his every move.
Maid number one, her eyes widening in surprise, barely had time to react before Percy's blade slashed through the space she had occupied just moments before. A shower of sparks erupted from the collision, filling the room with an ethereal glow. Percy prepared another strike and began swinging his sword once more, but was obliged to step back as the place he was just one second before was attacked by the giant claws of the last maid.
"It seems this won't be as easy as I expected," he thought.
Taking a brief moment to recompose himself, Percy surveyed his surroundings, his eyes darting across the dimly lit room. His gaze settled on a nearby table, cluttered with forgotten trinkets and debris of the manor's forgotten past. The flickering candlelight danced upon the objects, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with his racing heartbeat.
A determined glint sparked in Percy's eyes as he realized the potential in his surroundings. "Okay," he thought, a plan taking shape in his mind. "I've got a plan."
With a newfound focus, Percy swiftly maneuvered around the room, his agile movements resembling a skilled dancer gliding across a stage. He deftly evaded the swipes and lunges of the remaining maid, using the objects scattered throughout the room as strategic barriers.
As Percy neared the table, his hand instinctively reached out and snatched a worn wooden chair. Its legs scraped against the floor, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere. Gripping the chair tightly, he twirled it expertly, using it as both a shield and a distraction.
The remaining maid lunged once again, her claws poised to strike. But Percy anticipated the attack, his body moving with the precision of a well-honed weapon. With a powerful swing of the chair, he deflected the blow, creating an opening that allowed him to swiftly strike back.
In one fluid motion, Percy released his grip on the chair, his hand seamlessly transitioning to the hilt of Riptide. The celestial bronze blade shimmered in the dim light, its deadly edge hungry for its final mark.
With a lightning-fast strike, Percy executed a graceful arc, using the momentum of his swing to amplify the force behind his blow. The sharp blade of Riptide cleaved through the air, meeting the exposed neck of the first maid with unrelenting precision.
Time seemed to stand still for an eternal moment as the blade found its mark, severing the head from the body in a swift and definitive strike.
The first maid's body collapsed to the ground, lifeless and defeated, while her severed head rolled across the floor, coming to a haunting rest at Percy's feet. The air hung heavy with the weight of the moment, the silence broken only by the sound of Percy's heavy breaths and the maids' shocked gasp.
The remaining two maids, their eyes filled with fury and resentment, glared at Percy with a seething rage. Hatred burned in their eyes as they processed the loss of their comrade, their anger fueling their determination to bring him down.
"You... you insolent boy!" one of the maids hissed through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with venomous disdain. The words hung in the air, laden with the weight of their shared wrath.
Without hesitation, the enraged duo lunged at Percy in unison, their movements coordinated and precise. Their claws gleamed menacingly, poised to tear through flesh and bone. But Percy was ready, his instincts honed by countless battles fought and won.
Reacting swiftly, Percy snatched the fallen chair from the floor, raising it like a shield before him. The first maid's attack collided with the chair's sturdy frame, the impact reverberating through the room. The force of her strike propelled her forward, causing her to overshoot Percy, leaving herself vulnerable and off balance.
Seizing the opportunity, Percy spun on his heel, his body twisting with practiced grace. The chair became an extension of his will, a weapon of defense and offense combined. As the second maid lunged with her deadly claws, Percy deftly deflected her assault with his sword, the celestial bronze blade meeting the monstrous claws with a resounding clash.
In the midst of the clash, Percy's mind worked swiftly, calculating his next moves. With a burst of agility, he pivoted on his heel once more, swinging the chair in a swift arc towards the second maid. The wooden chair connected with a satisfying thud, striking her with enough force to momentarily stagger her.
In that momentary lapse, Percy saw his opening. He lunged forward, closing the distance to the recovering first maid with lightning speed. With a fluid motion, his blade sliced through the air. The head of the first maid, still reeling from the chair's impact, separated from her body in a clean, decisive cut.
The room filled with a cacophony of enraged screams and the sickening thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground. The remaining maid, overcome with shock and fury, watched as her sister's lifeless form crumpled to the floor. In that moment, a mixture of terror and anger flickered across her face, mirroring the fate that awaited her.
The remaining maid, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and desperation, trembled before Percy. "P-Please... spare me," she stammered, her voice laced with fear. "I-I'm not here by choice. We were... turned into these abominations. The one who cursed us, he... he forces us to do his bidding. If I don't obey, he'll kill me."
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, leaving Percy's brows raised in astonishment.
"What do you mean... turned into demons?" Percy asked, his voice laced with surprise. He had always believed that demons were creatures of darkness from the very beginning. He never knew they were once humans.
The maid sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes as she mustered the courage to speak. "We were... humans, just like you," she said between sobs. "But the one who cursed us, he twisted our very souls, transforming us into these monstrous forms. We are trapped in this eternal nightmare. He can kill us at any moment he wants, and he will do so if we disobey."
Percy's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and curiosity. He had encountered many monstrous beings in his life, but neither of them were humans before. The notion that the Onis were once ordinary people shook him to the core. He needed to know more, to understand the nature of their torment.
"Who is the one responsible for this? What is his name?" Percy inquired.
The maid's face contorted with terror as she heard the question. Panic surged through her, rendering her paralyzed with fear. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "I-I can't... I can't say his name. If I do, he'll... he'll kill me."
Percy's gaze hardened, his resolve unshaken. He pressed on, attempting to elicit more information, to unveil the identity of the malevolent force behind their suffering. But no matter how many questions he posed, the maid's cries grew louder, her fear overwhelming her ability to speak.
Realizing that he had reached an impasse, Percy made a solemn decision. He raised his sword, his grip firm and resolute. In one swift motion, he brought the blade down, severing the last maid's head from her trembling body.
Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the soft thud of the maid's lifeless body hitting the floor. Percy stood there, the weight of his actions heavy upon his shoulders. He had extinguished the source of her suffering, but he couldn't shake the sense of sadness that enveloped him.
"I don't know if there is an afterlife in this world, but I do hope you get reborn and live a better life," he thought.
"It seems my assistance is not needed here," a deep, resonant voice echoed through the room, capturing Percy's attention. He turned his head to the source of the voice and laid eyes upon a formidable figure, emanating an aura of unwavering strength and resolve.
Standing before Percy was a man of imposing stature, his muscular frame suggesting years of intense training and countless battles fought. His hair, black and slightly spiky, was styled in a manner that went slightly up and backwards.
Clad in a black and white uniform, the man bandages resembling kyahan, offering both protection and support. His feet were adorned with white zōri, and draped over his shoulders was an olive green happi, adding a touch of authority to his appearance.
In his hands, he wielded a fearsome weapon, a spiked flail and axe combination. The spiked flail, with its sharp-edged metal links and deadly spikes, exemplified the ferocity and power behind his attacks. The axe, with its gleaming blade and sturdy construction, served as a testament to his proficiency in close-quarters combat.
But what caught Percy's attention the most was the man's eyes: pure white globes devoid of any color that held a serene and profound emptiness, proving his blindness. Within those sightless orbs, there was a depth of wisdom and resilience, reflecting the countless battles he had faced without the aid of vision. His gaze, though unseeing, seemed to penetrate the very essence of those he encountered, imbued with a keen perception that surpassed the limitations of the physical world.
While Percy studied the man's expressions, he spoke once more. "I heard the sounds of a fierce battle, and now the malevolence of the Onis has dissipated. Tell me, young warrior, was it your hand that brought forth their demise?" Gyomei inquired, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and expectation.
Percy nodded while looking at the man's pure white eyes, the sight slightly unnerving him. "Yeah, it was me. Took some effort, but I managed to take them down. Who are you?" he responded, his tone confident yet inquisitive.
A gentle smile played upon the man's lips, as if he had already anticipated Percy's answer. "Forgive me for my poor manners," he spoke with humility. "My name is Gyomei Himejima, Stone Hashira of the Demon Slayers. And what might your name be?" His words carried a weight of respect and intrigue.
With a touch of pride in his voice, Percy introduced himself. "My name is Percy Jackson," he stated, allowing a hint of his self-assurance to seep through.
Gyomei's hand found its way to his chin, his expression turning pensive. "Percy Jackson... Percy Jackson..." he mused, searching his memory. "I don't recall encountering anyone in the Demon Slayer Corps with such a distinctive name. Tell me, Percy Jackson, what is your rank? To subdue Onis that have roamed for decades, your standing must surely be high."
Percy blinked, momentarily taken aback by the assumption. "Oh, no, you've misunderstood," he clarified. "I am not a Demon Slayer. I am just a traveler who wishes to aid others whenever he can."
At that moment, Gyomei, the unwavering pillar, performed an act that left Percy bewildered. He joined his palms together in a prayerful gesture, his eyes brimming with tears. Emotion welled up within him as he spoke, "I see. The world is indebted to have someone like you traversing its lands. Your recent triumph, Percy Jackson, is no small feat. Namu abida butsu."
Percy, unsure how to react to the unexpected display, raised his hands in an attempt to console the towering man. "Hey, it's okay. No need to get emotional. I simply do what I'm good at—helping people and kicking some ass," he reassured with a mix of concern and humor.
Gyomei's mingled tears and prayers ceased as he regained composure. "I understand," he acknowledged, his voice resonating with deep conviction. "You mentioned you are not a Slayer, Percy Jackson. Yet, why not consider joining our ranks? If your desire is to safeguard humanity against the Onis, becoming a member of the Demon Slayer Corps is the most fitting path. We frequently undertake missions aimed at combating these demonic forces in the vicinity. Your strength would be an invaluable asset to our group."
Percy pondered Gyomei's words, his mind drifting to the memories of his friends and the battles they had faced together. He couldn't deny that having companions by his side made the fights easier and the burdens lighter. Perhaps joining a group dedicated to fighting Onis would provide him with the support he needed.
"You know, you might be onto something," Percy admitted, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "Fighting these Onis alone can be tough, and having a group of like-minded individuals to rely on could make a difference. I'm interested in joining the Demon Slayer Corps."
Gyomei's smile widened, his appreciation for Percy's decision evident. "I believe you would be a valuable addition to our ranks," he said, his voice filled with genuine respect. "To join, you will need to pass the entrance exam. It is a rigorous test that evaluates your skills, determination, and potential to become a Demon Slayer. The exam will take place two weeks from now at Mount Fujikasane."
Percy nodded, taking note of the details. He was ready to face the challenge that awaited him and prove his worth. "I appreciate the opportunity," Percy responded, gratitude lacing his words. "I will make sure to be there and give it my all. Thank you, Gyomei."
Gyomei offered a nod in return, his unwavering confidence evident. "You're welcome, Percy Jackson. I look forward to witnessing your strength and resolve during the exam. May your path be guided by the determination to protect others and vanquish evil."
As the conversation with Gyomei concluded, Percy felt a renewed sense of purpose coursing through his veins. The encounter had opened his eyes to a world beyond his own, a world of those who fought tirelessly against the Onis. With each step he took away from the grand manor, he could sense the weight of his decision settling upon him.
Leaving the safety of the manor behind, Percy embarked on a journey towards Mount Fujikasane. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, yet he felt a surge of anticipation and determination. The thought of facing the entrance exam, of proving himself worthy to join the ranks of the Demon Slayer Corps, fueled his resolve.
And so, with an unyielding spirit and a heart filled with determination, Percy began his journey towards Mount Fujikasane. The trials and tribulations that awaited him on the mountaintop were the next steps in his heroic journey, and he was ready to face them head-on, ready to embrace his destiny as a Demon Slayer.