Time: Same time
The volcano had finally erupted, and everybody could bear testimony to the fact that it would not be a pretty sight.No, it would be rather violent.
Slowly, in horror, stupefied, Artemis turned her head towards the god.
There was no visible change in his position. He was still holding the bowl to his lips, but the broth was leaking past him leaves, staining his chin and making his orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt brown. A vein popped on his forehead, the arteries in his neck stood up, his hands clenched tightly around the glass bowl. A web of cracks spread along the opaque, blue surface of Percy's bowl, with his fingers as epicentres.
Finally, the glass bowl shattered, covering Percy with hot broth, but he showed no reaction to the second degree burns that he had received. His eyes were crazed, the black pupils in his dark sea green irises dilated, a web of fine capillaries visible in his sclera. Although his head was tilted backwards, facing the ceiling, his insane, bloodshot eyes were concentrated on an extremely frightened blonde with a big mouth.
The most horrible part?
He had bitten a chunk out of the glass bowl, and sharp shards of glass were embedded around his stained chin, drawing blood, which mixed with the broth on his shirt. His mouth was slightly open, revealing bloody, sharp and glistening teeth, and a mouthful of golden ichor. Slowly, the ichor trickled past the corners of his lips, dribbling down his cheeks and neck to join the fluids staining his shirt.
Slowly, limply, his arms fell to his sides, thudding lifelessly to the cool, hard, marble floor.
Even that was not the most horrible part.
The most horrible part was how he was absolutely immobile, as if he was a warm, lifelike animated statue.
He was looking like a living zombie.
The ones around him were too in shock at his look to do anything. Aphrodite fainted in horror at the sight, collapsing in Hestia's arms, who scrambled away for her life from the insane Dark god, drawing the unconscious goddess with her.
Artemis' hand tightened around her silver dagger, thankful for its presence. Desperately searching for a weapon to defend herself with, Calypso slowly reached out towards the steak knife that lay on the table. Her hand was shaking as Percy broke eye contact with Athena to follow her subtle movement with his dilated pupils, still immobile.
Calypso almost let out a sigh of relief when her hand closed around the cool handle of the knife. Save for a low growl escaping his throat, Percy allowed her to hold it in her violently shaking hand as he returned his eyes to his primary prey.
The Hunters had drawn their daggers, while Piper had Katopris in her hand, open-mouthed at the sight. Reyna, who had been expecting an eruption for a while then, clamped down harshly on her Praetor face. She clenched her wrapped fists tightly, raising them to protect herself, and mentally cursing her lack of a suitable weapon.
It was as if they were watching a horror movie. Just... the horrors were in the same room as them.
Thalia slapped the bracelet she carried everywhere, backing into a corner as Aegis zoomed into existence. She raised her shield to protect the Little Big Three, Rachel and Drew, with the other fighters standing before her shield.
It was imperative that no one got hurt. Otherwise, there would be much worse consequences, if the goddess' words were true.
Percy could fade. Permanently. They would not even remember that he existed.
Thalia's heart clenched tightly at the thought, her resolve becoming steel as she saw Rachel comforting the three youngest in the room, the only three who had not been exposed to combat (that much). The Little Big Three were sobbing quietly, immediately shushing themselves as they choked back their sobs, frightened that it would draw their big brother's attention. Drew was cowering in the corner, more frightened for her own life. Thalia resisted the urge to snarl at the Asian girl.
There was a crash on the other side of her shield, and Thalia raised Aegis higher, bracing herself for impact.
The storm had begun.
Using the momentary distraction provided by the unfortunate daughter of Zeus, Percy lunged at Athena, his jaws spread and ready to rip her throat out. His ears rang and his eyes saw red. Hot ichor pumped in his veins, spilling out of his bloody and mutilated mouth, his godly genes working overtime to heal him.
Athena tried to jump back, her arms raised to protect herself, but she found herself petrified, paralyzed by the horrors, the screams, the nightmares, she saw in Percy's insane eyes. He was truly a Dark god, and Athena desperately prayed to all deities above that someone put Percy's mask back on. A shrill scream tore itself from her throat, as she clumsily scrambled away from the untamable monster she had created.
But before Percy could satisfy his animalistic desires, the carnal rage and lust to feel her ichor on his lips, to feel his teeth sinking into her delicate, tender neck...
Artemis threw herself into the god mid-air, her shoulder crunching against his ribs as she bashed him into the island, a few feet away from the table. She ignored the throbbing pain spreading down her arm as she violently, without any mercy, fought Percy as she fought a monster.
Percy's back crunched against the reinforced stone and wood of the island, and he could feel his spine snap as he left a crater in the godly furniture. His broken ribs, burning in pain, were bloody, with a few splinters sticking out of his chest.
He ignored the pain, the fury-fuelled adrenaline numbing the pain, his tunnel vision concentrating on a paralyzed wisdom goddess, who was moving her mouth in silent screams. Her eyes were wide as she was caught in the violent throes of her worst nightmares... Percy's bloody lips curled into a sadistic smile.
Nonchalantly, he tilted his head to the right, letting Artemis' fist smash into the broken wood of the counter. He felt cool ichor trickle down his cheeks, the back of his head slick with gold, his raven hair matted and damp.
He could feel his godly power ebbing, supplying his enemies with his power. Percy tried to resist the flow, but the rituals conducted made it impossible- his enemies could hurt him in 'self-defence', he could not retaliate to save his hide.
He turned to the last resort he had. Concentrating on the connection his Dark self had with the massive Sea of Chaos, and drawing all the willpower he possessed, he pulled again.
Percy's nerves felt like they were on fire. He felt intoxicated by the evil power as he gripped Artemis' shoulder. Her silver irises widened in shock as she tried to protect herself. There was a soft hiss, and with a loud explosion, the auburn-haired goddess was blown back.
She crashed into the reinforced glass door, which finally yielded, shattering to let her body crumple to the ground outside. She lay unconscious in the mud, in the midst of the storm raging outside, her auburn hair wet. The rain swept in a grey curtain, finally allowed access to the room. The ones who were close to the broken door were wet, as a cold, fierce gale brew up in the room. However, its effect was negligible in front of the hateful chill that Percy's Dark aura exuded.
Phoebe and Atalanta inched to the open window, wary of the mindless predator in the room, barely feet from them. Cynthia, Ruby, Cathy, Angela and Sydney closed ranks in front of Aegis, their knives forming an impenetrable fortress.
Once safely out of the room, Phoebe crouched beside the unconscious Artemis. Her shirt had been ripped apart, revealing her smooth, pale skin, almost glistening silver like the moon. Her auburn hair was muddy in the storm. But worst of all was the fact that her shoulder was slowly crumbling, her skin breaking off like chips of porcelain. It all spread outside from the shape of Percy's handprint traced upon her delicate shoulder, the muscle in that area showing, already a sickly brown colour, the flesh rotting, all the skin gone. The clear rain battered her like a relentless sheet of arrows.
The red-haired daughter of Ares, her clothes drenched and sticking to her skin due to the torrential rain, stood up, and shouted a warning to the others. "Don't get close to him! He can decay bodies with a touch."
Saying so, Phoebe lifted her goddess to her shoulders, and crouching through the storm, made her way to the back of the house, to reach the infirmary through the back door. Atalanta covered her back as she retreated.
Back in the chaotic room, Reyna had engaged Percy in close combat, disregarding Phoebe's warning. It was obvious that he could decay stuff- everything that he touched with his hands crumbled into dust.
Somehow, she had stuck out so far.
Although it might have been because Percy was not attacking so much. He took the occasional, sloppy, casual, lazy or exhausted swipes at her with limp limbs, but mostly he dodged, with small, casual movements that made Reyna's blood boil.
She aimed a knee right at his face, expecting him to dodge again with a slight tilt of his head. Sloppy move on her part.
The Praetor screamed in anguish when she felt an intense, burning pain shred her body apart, spreading from the knee aimed at the god. Biting down on her wrist to stop her screams, she looked down through the tears welling up in her eyes at the god. The pain was unbearable, and Reyna considered herself lucky to be able to survive power that could knock out the supreme badass feminist Artemis with one touch.
Percy's dark sea-green eyes were half-lidded, his expression bored as he stared at Athena. The bastard hadn't even been looking at her while he dodged her moves!
His left hand blocked her knee, strong and firm, barely centimetres from his eye, while his right had not moved a single inch from its immobile position on the floor. He had not even blinked once during the whole ordeal, and his glassy, insane eyes were still concentrated on Athena, who was rolling on the ground in absolute pain. Reyna did not know whether his sight caused pain, or if it was something else he did that caused Athena to react in such a horrific way. Not did she care, she herself was in too much pain, burning, mind-numbing, overwhelming pain originating from her captive knee, to be able to think.
Somehow, he had gone from a blazing, volcanic animal, to a cold, polar monster.
Unconsciously, his grip tightened on Reyna's knee as he stared at Athena. His muscles strained as he lowered her joint to the floor, trying to view the tortured wisdom goddess more clearly, not conscious of the pain he was bringing the ex-Praetor as he bent her lower body unnaturally. The thin fabric of her yoga pants had eroded a long time ago, the skin under his hand crumbling like sand. He felt blood run down his palm, cool and soothing, but that dried away too before it reached the ground. He was vaguely conscious of the flesh rotting and crumbling beneath his palm, the pained whimpers of the girl above him.
The only thought running through his primitive mind was that he should have been able to do it more easily. Why was he so exhausted, as if he had trudged through Tartarus itself?
It did not reach his mind that he was almost on the verge of fading as he hurt the members of his harem, directly violating the strictest of the Ancient Laws.
Suddenly, as if out of the Sea of Chaos itself, a knife slashed at his wrist, forcing him to let go of his hold on the Roman. She fell to the floor, kicking at him with her one good foot, as she scrambled away from him, as if he was a monster risen from the darkest depths of Tartarus.
Was he a monster?
Why was he acting like this?
There were cannons firing in the distance, torturing him in his sleep. He saw Annabeth, his angel, blown to a fine red mist in front of him. She had been laughing at a joke he had made when she had died. There was a monster army, thousands strong, calling for his blood, banging against a wall, the only barrier separating him from them.
The earth beneath his feet softened, turning to mud with blood.
Annabeth's blood.
His eyes rang. He felt afraid, scared, alone. Like a cornered animal.
He would fight tooth and nail. But it would be in vain, he knew. He would be killed either way. He would go down fighting like the warrior Annabeth deserved, and had hoped he would be, he decided.
It was an act, a clever facade he had erected, something only she could see through. Beneath the wraps of steel and blood that he clad as a warrior, was a frightened boy looking for comfort.
He imagined the disappointment in her dead eyes.
The faces in his vision greyed and distorted, replaced by the accusing, blank stares of Annabeth's ghost.
They were monsters, all of them.
The sky outside was burning with thunder that streaked across the sky. A storm was brewing, not allowing him to see the clear, star-spangled sky before he died. His muscles and skin burned, as if he was on fire. His bones were sore, screaming in protest as he strained himself to the limits. A cut on his wrist gushed ichor lavishly, burning, yet numb and distant at the same time. He felt blood, cool yet warm, drenching his body, his clothes wet with the same, sticking to his skin.
He could not see anything.
It was all Dark.
There was a sharp pain in his jaw, and the next moment, he felt his skull pinned against something hard, like a board.
Piper's eyes were wide at what she had just done, and she felt like screaming in horror at her actions. She had moved before her mind could process what she was doing, to save Reyna.
Katopris was now buried to the hilt, in Percy's jaw, pinning him to the wood of the counter. She had pierced right at the joint where his two jaws met, and Katopris had travelled all the way into the wood of the counter, restraining his head.
Percy's jaws were parted wide, revealing his sharp, teeth glistening with ichor, his ability to close them to any extent taken away by the undoubtedly intense pain in his jaw. His glassy eyes, unexpressive of any feeling, physical or emotional, stared at Piper for a moment, before wandering over to his prey.
Athena had a short period of reprieve, as she lay on the cold, marble floor, gasping for breath. It was an experience she never wanted to repeat again, whatever the rewards. Sweat poured down her forehead, her blonde hair spread on the floor. She felt her face being sprayed by the rain coming in from the broken glass door, and she welcomed the cool, refreshing liquid. She lay beside a large pile of dust from a part of the destroyed table, which had been decayed, and turned to fine sand instantly by Percy's touch.
Powers of destruction are always greater than powers of creation, she mused absentmindedly, her mind not comprehending the gravity of the situation.
The thought scared her. She had often read that people thought of inconsequential things mere seconds from their death. About what their children would have for dinner, about their partner's hair, the weather, the stars and the sky, a particularly nice book or poem.
Was she dying?
Could Percy have killed a goddess just with an intense stare?
It should not have been logically possible. The Ancient Laws did not allow it. The harem master could not even hurt his concubines without hours of effort or serious harm to themselves.
Calypso tended to her, checking her pulse, and using some quick battlefield first aid spells to heal her as much as she could in a few minutes. Her almond-shaped amber eyes danced with worry for her patient, her usually lustrous and perfect caramel hair dishevelled. The moonlace flower in her hair had wilted from the sheer hatred and disdain for all living things being radiated from the Dark god.
Athena dared a glance at the stationary god, but immediately turned away, frightened for her life and sanity.
He was again immobile and limp, again like a breathing zombie. To anyone unwary, it would seem like he was resting, or even, asleep. Although his blank expression and unexpressive eyes did not give anything away, Athena could see the gears turning in his head.
And that frightened her even more. The only thing worse than an almost omnipotent mindless monster on a killing rampage, was an almost omnipotent, intelligent monster, capable of planning, on a killing rampage.
His hands rested limply on the ground. His skin had paled a lot, as if he was dead. Athena wouldn't be surprised if Percy did not show any signs of life, after all, he would be a hypocrite if he hated everything living when he was alive himself. Of all the Dark things that Percy was, a hypocrite was not one of them.
The wisdom goddess could feel his glassy, dark sea-green eyes on her, and resisted the urge not to look at him, remembering the horrors she had gone through.
The moment she had made eye contact with him, she had felt his godly power, Dark and unholy, vile, malevolent and hateful, ram its way into her mind with the subtlety, and the strength of a rampaging rhino. She had seen all the things that she was not proud of, that she wanted to forget, all the things that had made her contemplate the purpose of immortality, all the things she feared, all the things she could not dream of in her wildest nightmares. It went beyond even that, using her fears as a base to build upon, and it kept building and building enough nightmares to give any regular god permanent PTSD after a few minutes.
Fortunately, Athena was not any regular god. She was an Olympian, one of the strongest ones, and her mental fortress was the strongest on both Olympus and Othrys. The fact that she could feel her sanity stretched to its very limits, strained and bent, scared her. One of her greatest fears- losing her most treasured weapon, armour, jewel, her mind- had come so close to becoming reality.
And at that point, Athena wondered if Percy not only showed people's worst nightmares, but also made them come true. She shivered at the thought of the utter chaos it would cause in all worlds.
Her train of thoughts was cut off when she felt a hand on her neck.
Tight, harsh and strong, almost choking her and cutting off her air supply.
Slowly, her neck was twisted, directing her head to a particular direction. Athena craned her neck to see who it was, straining her eyes and spreading her godly senses to see who it was treating her in such a way. Her stormy grey eyes widened in horror.
There was a small, almost unnoticeable tendril of godly power around her neck. A tendril that would not have been noticed if she hadn't been looking for it particularly, and hadn't known where to look for it.
A tendril of Dark and unholy, vile, malevolent and hateful, godly power wrapped around her neck.
She opened her mouth to scream in horror, but no sound came out. She tried to close her eyes when she saw in which direction her eyes were being directed.
But she couldn't.
Her body wouldn't obey her orders.
AN: Happy Holi to my fellow countrymen! Also, let me know in the comments/reviews, what type of weather do you prefer? Personally, I can't see why people prefer sunny weather. Everyday is sunny, typical scorching tropical weather in India. I would prefer a strong thunderstorm any day over anything else.
Keep calm and CR7!! Keep calm and LM10!! (Messi)