PERCY'S POV

It seemed like nothing could be granted in the demigod world, atleast for him.

Now he sat on a small chair, inside a tent. It was Poseidon staging ground for his assault on the Southeast. The two brothers, Zeus and Poseidon, had finally decided enough was enough. Thousands of years of bickering, constant fighting and more had boiled over into one of the largest spectacles of mankind, divine war.

He had looked forward to maybe some peace, had he not deserved it? Yet it seems like the fates would never grant what he yearned for. Any hope of calm had always escaped the Son of Poseidon. All he had done was fight and serve his entire life. He was a warrior, that was for sure.

It seemed like he had nothing else to live for. He had been born to fight. One who abided by the way of the sword, the direction of the blade. The thrill of battle and the anger he exerted was the only thing that kept him sane- his heart pumping as he cut down his foes.

'Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.'

One day he may perish on the field of battle, to some foe greater then himself, but he was not bothered. He had realized his true purpose. He was a battle-born demigod. Maybe he didn't find fulfillment just serving his Father to his own ends, being a tool in his hands, but what other option did he have? The gods didn't care about him, but he had his own issues. It seemed like he could never escape his own desire to protect, to be loyal to those he knew. He cursed himself, knowing one day some traitor with a knife in his sheath and a will to stab could easily be his end, but he could not overcome.

It seemed something would not escape him- he had overcome the most deadly threats in the Greek mythos. He had tred tatarus, he had defeated Kronos, Gaea. Hundreds had fallen to his blade- and yet it seemed that he could not fight his internal issues. A monster he could not slay, one that could not be struck down by the blade, what he had always abided by.

What now? What would he do after the war? It seemed that he, like hundreds of heroes before him, would be cast aside- a dull blade. He didn't even know if the world would exist after the war. His only objective was victory, by the way of the sword, by the way of combat.

Victory was something that was indescribable to him- the rush of Adrenaline followed by that sweet taste, better then any Ambrosia and Nectar concoction even the gods could whip up. It was one of the only things that fulfilled him, that gave him that sense of being alive, of being useful.

How had he gotten to this point? Such a low from the moral highground he used to be on. He still did not murder if unnecessary, and he held onto his beliefs. He was still loyal, but he was no longer a bright son of Poseidon, taking everything as it came. It seemed he had changed tones, just like the sea. The teen years of his life- his personality was one of calm waves on a nice sunny day, perfect beach weather.

Now he was a oncoming storm. Clouds on the horizon, as the sea lashed against the shore. He had grown up maybe, or it was just the trauma he had gone through. First, the Titan war. Seeing the campers - his comrades, layed across the floor- split open, sliced through and trodden upon had left a mark he had never told anyone about. Then came the Giant war. Death after death- through tatarus. Zeus had thrown there ship- but Annabeth- Frank and hazel, they perished. The explosion Leo had caused killed him- and Jason and piper had plummeted to the ground- as Jason had been unconscious.

Now he was the only one left of the 7, and one of the only veterans of the Titan war, many of his friends perished in only the gods-forsaken span of 2 years.

Then there had come this war. He was just a card in the deck anyway- he knew that. He would see if he was folded, or gambled. Zeus and Poseidon had never trusted eachother for a millennium- and it seemed like that was just tension that could not be halted. Then after the Giant war, another outburst from Zeus. Another month of arguments, and anger turned into rage. Zeus tried something on the council, details had not been provided for him, and presented Poseidon his cards- Fold, or War. The thunder god had miscalculated though, and Poseidon played his hand well, and they had made a decision that might result in death for all.

Sitting on the chair, he knew that he was about to meet the infinitely headed monster of battle- one he had to conquer. He knew it would not be easy- but he had been hear before- Many times. He stood by the way of the sword and the blade, and he knew that was his only escape from the shadow of Thantos taking him.

The day seemed to pass by as he gave orders, preparing his battalions. He was basically a general of Poseidon army, being his son, and he had the job of organizing his forces before they engaged in this bloodbath. The combination of multiple engagement in the area had led to a massing of forces- and they had realized they would have to fight for this strategic location- as it led to Inner America from interstate 16. He had criticized his father and argued over the engagement, arguing he folded his cards and shifted his focus to Florida, which was a much stronger hold, but Zeus had managed to goad the Ill-tempered Earthquakes into such a engagement

He knew it would damage his forces heavily, but he was hoping he could score a knockout-punch without taking to much damage. Ever the optimist, even in a impossible seeming situation.

Now they had rallied, and he addressed his forces. Assorted groups, immobile from the Sea (tallest those who could walk on land) along with Bulls and Horses, being his sacred animals, with Cyclopes and those forces of other gods loyal to Zeus.

He wore a concern on his side, the call of the sea. Armored, with a bronze chestplate and helmet, which had intricate Atlantian carvings on the side. Passed down by his father to him as a gift, along with of course Riptide.

The call of assault had come, from a River Nymph, who had passed the message down from Atlanatis with speed. He ordered a double colluoumed march, and the Sea gods forces- 200 in total, began to cover ground towards the entrenched position of Zeus.

He muttered a prayer to his father, and whatever other gods he could think of that wouldn't smite him if they saw him - hoping that the battle would be a victory.

He led his colossus, straight into combat. He was not sure if he would live or die, but tallest he would do it how a warrior was meant to- with his sword in hand.