Chapter 33: Training is hard

[David's Pov]

"Ugh…" My throat groaned. I could taste the sand saturated across my lips.

How many times have I been sent to the ground? 15? 20? I had no idea. I stopped counting after 10.

I forced my jelly legs to stand up. The twelve Spartois stood in perfect formation. Shields locked. Spears held forward. Swords drawn.

I glanced over their shoulders at Ares, a.k.a my dad. He was leaning against his sword, giving off a huge yawn like he was bored at my performance. By now, even I could tell that he was acting insufferable to fuel my rage.

Still, knowing that didn't make it less annoying. It wasn't that I was not doing my best, I've only had training for two days before I left Camp Half-Blood for this quest. How can I match up to one of these seasoned undead warriors, much less twelve of them?

I shook off the thoughts. No time to think negatively about the situation. If I wanted to achieve victory against these zombies, I needed to be smart.

From afar, Ares scoff for whatever reason. I ignored it and looked over the Spartoi's formation.

A standard Phalanx in four by three. The upfront 4 each had shields and swords as their spears had been broken. Over their shoulders, four spearheads poked out like a spike of a hedgehog. If I charged head first, I'd get skewered by them before I could reach the first line. At the very back, four Spartois had their backs turned, guarding any attack that might come from behind. They each had their shields and spears ready, so trying to outrun and attack from behind would fail too. I knew that from experience.

The more I thought about it, the more impossible it felt to break their formation. I remember reading that Phalanx was one of the most secure formations you could make. A very defensive tactic, thereby making mobility their biggest weakness.

In theory, I could go around them before they advanced and poke at the side, where the defense was the weakest. But the problem was that these warriors were very skilled in combat.

As soon as I try to sidestep them, they'd scatter into a charge and overpower me in seconds and regroup back into a Phalanx before I could even get up. It made me wish for a pair of wings so that I could attack from the above. But then I suppose they would poke me out of the air before I can get a good swipe.

"Hey," suddenly, a heavyweight slumped over my shoulder. I looked sideways to find Ares had slung his arm around my shoulder with a tsk-tsk that tempted me to head-butt him in his teeth.

"Remember what I've told you back at Thebes?"

"What do you mean 'back at Thebes'—"

Then, the memory came back.

Right before Niobe totally lost herself and decided to collapse the entire facility of her kingdom, she had sent 6 of her elite guards to deal with me. I was, of course, absolutely overpowered until I decided to follow the advice of a disembodied voice; a voice that was identical to the war god, now that I thought about it.

"Trust your instincts!" It said. When I complained I had no idea how to do that, it responded: "That's the spirit!"

And right when I was about to get murdered, I thought, 'what could go wrong?' and stopped thinking, only to end up victorious in a matter of seconds.

Ares looked at my expression with a smug grin. I could tell that he knew what I was piecing together, and I didn't like the full picture because it was completely insane.

"You mean to tell me," I asked with a trembling voice. "I am better at fighting when I am not thinking, than when I am?"

He shrugged. "Eh, it's a first step in the right direction. Who do you think you are, some freak's brainchild?"

A streak of lightning flashed across the night sky. I could make out a very large, very angry-looking face of an owl was staring down at us from the sky. Ares flipped the bird up in response and gave an affirmative slam on my back before backing away.

I looked back at the impenetrable Phalanx. I've tried every strategy I could think of; the only thing I haven't done was, not think about it.

Even so, it was such a bizarre idea. I can't even tell how I managed to come up victorious in the previous situation, much less use it to my advantage. It was as far away from logical sense as possible.

…or maybe, that was the point.

I charged forward. The Phalanx tensed, getting ready for any attacks that might come. But this time, even I couldn't tell where it would be.

Because I stopped thinking about it.

And again, something miraculous happened.

Four spears came down immediately as I stepped in range. In the spur of the moment, I acted without an ounce of thought in my mind. I spun on the spot like a ballet, twirling and weaving in between the raining stabs, and crashed head-first into the first line.

The two Spartois I crashed into were forced to step back a few steps, caving in and disrupting the formation. However, the Spartois were quick at adaptation. The two at the edge closed in from behind, forming a closed circle around me while the remaining eight undead soldiers formed a bigger ring around the four, posed to stab in at any given opportunity.

Four swords came from four different angles. I swung out my left arm in retaliation, catching two swords in mid-way with my blade as I swerved around the other two.

Several spear tips jutted out like a trap had been sprung. I leaned back as far as I could go without falling back, ending up getting grazed on the chest. Not much deeper than a paper cut, though.

I twisted upright, slashing down at one of the four swordsmen. It blocked the strike with its shield, but that left its body unprotected for a brief moment. A moment I took advantage of without hesitation by kicking it in the ribs as hard as I could. I felt the bones crack under my foot as the Spartoi went sprawling backward, getting entangled with two extra spearmen and the three went sprawling on the ground.

The rest of the Spartois quickly closed the gap, continuing their enclosure. However, being surrounded by three was much less threatening than being surrounded by four.

Three swords came swinging, but this time I managed to deflect them all with a large slash. One sword went spinning in the air over the ring of skeletons, and I whipped around and grabbed the empty-handed one's wrist before it can draw a knife.

I pulled it close, using its shield to block the second volley of spears, and then pushed it toward the two swordsmen. It wasn't enough to knock them over, but for a moment, the line of spearmen was not protected.

I stepped forward with a strike to a neck, making one warrior crumble into dust. My first victory against these guys. I rolled beneath a jabbing spear and made it out of the ring of Spartois.

When I was back up to my feet, the 11 Spartois had already grouped up into a Phalanx again. This time, into a 4-4-3 formation because one spearman was missing.

"Seriously? All that trouble for one guy?"

Now that the high-packed action was temporarily over, I was just realizing how tired I felt. My arms felt like they had 10 tons worth of lead strapped to them, and my knees wobbled from the mere effort of standing ground. Apparently, emptying my mind was not something I could pull out whenever I wanted.

I readied myself for a next charge when Ares slipped in between us with a very much pleased expression.

"Alright. That's enough." He said and waved his hand to the Spartois. They all did a short solute for both of us before dispatching us back into a pile of weaponry and bones, which turned to dust.

"That was not enough. I only took out one guy." I pointed out.

Ares let a bark of laughter. "If you were able to take down 12 of them now, I wouldn't have even bothered to show up. No, you still have a lot to learn, brat."

What kind of father calls his own kid 'brat'?

Ares flicked his large blade around like a kid with a stick. Across the crimson red blade, I could make out several faces, riddled with pain and torment as they were tossed up and down in the air. The sight made my stomach feel queasy.

"Kid, what you've just learned is; that you are not good at thinking."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm not joking. None of your siblings are. Because that's not how I operate."

"That much is obvious. Please go on."

Ares frowned down with a small scowl, muttering something about sorceress having the longest tongue since Athena. I had no idea what I had to do with any sorceresses, but Ares was not in a mood for any off-railing questions.

"The point is, on a basic level, you are better off empty-minded rather than riddled with tedious thoughts. We specialize in 'improvisation', not 'deliberation'. Keep it simple. But that's not all."

"It is not?"

The war god nodded with a grin that Clarisse would show right before she'd slam me on the wrestling match. Not good.

Then he paced back a few steps, drew a circle ring around his feet, and then pointed the edge of his sword at my chest. Also not good.

"One step at a time. The next thing you'll learn is how to survive facing an unbeatable opponent. Make me step out of this ring.

Oh, and try not to die doing that, will you?"

[Line Break]

[David's Pov]

Yeah, so. Remember how I had massive trouble fighting against 12 expert undead soldiers? Compared to Ares, they were nothing more than a cakewalk.

Imagine if you fused the 12 soldiers into one; it has twelve faces and 24 arms, has much more honed skills, and a very annoying voice that taunts you with every breath you take, and you have a vague grasp of what I was put up against.

I'm starting to think that Percy beating him was either a lie or a mistake, because look—I fought both of them, and at least I could sort of make out what Percy was going to do.

With Ares, I can't even tell you what happens because even I couldn't make out what actually happened. One second I'm charging straight at the guy, or god, whatever, and the next second I'm flying back in the air and land face-first into a random dune.

Even when I tried to focus on the movement of the sword, I would be sent back without catching a glimpse of it.

"Come on! I could almost hear Cadmus groaning in shame!"

"Shut up!"

Ares cackled like the bully he was as I rushed forward again. This time, I tried my best to empty my mind of all thoughts. It was hard to do against the god of war, because being in striking range of his face made it very tempting to imagine breaking his nose. Or anywhere else for that matter.

So this time, I closed my eyes.

I know, basic suicidal move. But believe it or not, as I ran forward blinded, my mind zoned out from…everything. All I could make out of was the sensation of sand crumbling beneath my feet, and whatever the Tartarus Ares was blabbering about.

Then, I picked up a third sound. Something heavy slashing down through the air. A sword.

I raised my arm in defense and immediately realized that was a mistake. I'd rather have an easier time cutting through a waterfall because that's how heavy Ares's sword felt.

Needless to say, I was sent flying back again.

"I said you are learning a new thing!" Ares bellowed. "Don't think your old trick can save you now! And who closes their eyes during a fight?"

"Old trick? I learned that half an hour ago!"

Ares scoffed, then beckoned with his finger in the most infuriating way possible.

How to survive an unbeatable opponent? More like an insufferable opponent. At this rate, I'd die faster being too enraged than ever before any fatal injuries do the job.

But at the same time, I knew there would have to be a way. Ares may be a manifestation of most negative traits, but I doubted that he'd hand an unsolvable mission in the middle of a training.

Simply emptying my mind is not enough to go against the war god. I was much lacking in experience and skill compared to Ares, not even enough to make him move a step. I needed a boost.

A boost…

I looked down at the sigil on my left hand. I didn't like the idea of using it as a boost. That was not why Cadmus gave it to me. Besides, I only made it work once before, and I had no idea how I managed to pull it off.

But at this point, I was desperate for any openings I could get.

I focused on the sigil and recalled the crackling it provided. The specific surge of energy, which had gifted me the strength to stand my ground against nature's equivalent of a freight train.

For some embarrassing seconds, I felt nothing. On the contrary, the sigil seemed to be reluctant, resisting against my urge to draw power for just the sake of having more power.

Against my better judgment, I pushed forward. And finally, a familiar crackling sensation crawled over my left shoulder to engulf the entirety of my body.

Ares no longer had his annoying smirk across his face. Looking back, I'd say he was both disappointed and concerned, but at that moment I didn't catch that.

"Let's go."

I sprinted forward with advanced agility.

The crimson sword swung in just in time to block, but Ares slightly, just slightly, buckled under my attack. That was more than enough indicator for me to push on.

Ares growled like a tiger and swung his sword. I ducked under and sprang forward with a jab at his ribs. The blade got swatted away instantly, but the mighty war god shifted back just a sliver.

"Enough!" Ares bellowed and stomped on the ground, hard.

A wave of invisible force hit me in the gut. For a split second, I might've blacked out from the shock, but I stood my ground. The impact was rough, but it was still endurable to some amount.

Now, Ares clearly hadn't expected that. He snarled out loud in fury as he tried to grab my left arm, but I jumped back out of range.

The sigil sputtered out small golden sparks. It was doing its best to console me. It was not supposed to be used in this way, and the sigil was making it abundantly clear.

I ignored it. Instead, I shot a quip at Ares.

"Getting concerned?"

Ares growled again. His sunglasses were melting away from the heat of his fireball eyes.

"If you think that's the correct answer, I might as well chop your head off right here!"

He slammed his blade down with enough strength to slash a building in half. I rolled out of the way, but the impact of the sword hitting the ground was enough to send me flying into the air.

A gruff hand shot out and grasped my left hand, covering over the sizzling sigil entirely, and a blunt force smacked my hand like a mallet.

Suddenly, the newly found strength I had drawn from the sigil vanished. I was left vacant from the unforeseen lack of power as I fell back on the ground, more weakened than ever.

A feeble groan escape my throat as I barely managed to flip over. Over the hazy gaze, I saw that the sigil was no longer crackling. Instinctively, I knew that all the magical prowess it held was gone. And I didn't need any detective to figure out who did it.

"Get up," Ares growled.

I was conflicted between ignoring him or doing as he said, but Ares stomped on the ground again and my legs stood up regardless of my judgment. He threw away the half-melted sunglasses, which vanished in a cloud of red smoke, and put on a new one before scowling at my face.

"I don't need to tell you why I blocked you from using it."

He really didn't. But the fact that he of all people was accusing me of that made me push forward, again.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? You are—impossible!" I complained.

Ares wasn't flattered by my unintended praise.

"Then find a way. You don't rely on others to do your job for you. If you need something done, do it yourself!"

He waved his hand off, and I shuffled back to where I would usually start. On my way there, I tried to think of another way but nothing came to me. He was a god of war and combat for Christ's sake—

Boom!

—Zeus's sake, whatever. What the hell does he have against Jesus, anyway? Back on track.

How can I beat a god of combat on combat? That's like trying to outsmart Athena or outperform Hephaestus in crafting. Not to mention, the former happening ended up with a lady getting bashed over the head with a pedestal to her death, only to be reincarnated into a spider. Whoop-de-do.

At this point. I would've gladly believed that the whole ordeal was impossible, and Ares was playing a giant prank on me because he is insufferable. But I could also tell that he was being genuine. He did want me to beat him at his own game. For all his brutal, annoying words, he still believes that I could, and would, figure out how.

The problem was, that I had no lead to go after. And Ares took away the most powerful assistance I could've hoped for, the idea that he was strictly against.

There has to be a way. I just need to realize it.

"Think about who you are," Ares said from far away. "You already have all the abilities you need. You just need to use it to your full extent."

I looked down at the dead sigil. Cadmus had said that it would help

"Do you need a mirror to know who you are, son?" Ares said.

Son…

"Keep it simple."

Perhaps, the answer is supposed to be simpler than I thought.

I am David Lee. And, I am a son of Ares.

As one, I am naturally efficient in combat. I know everything about it by nature.

When we used to practice wrestling, Clarisse would always find a way to slam my back on the mat. After one especially harsh session, I asked how she did that.

"Well, you are the one making it obvious."

I had no idea what she was talking about then, and Clarisse didn't bother to explain it any further either. Now, I had a new, crazy theory—a wild guess with one evidence to back up, and one way to prove it.

I ran forward again.

This time, I didn't close my eyes or focus on the weapon.

Because the weapon is not the entirety of the attack.

Instead, I focused—no, analyzed Ares's entire posture. From how his feet shuffled ever slightly, to which part of his muscles contracted to send a swing in what direction. I know it sounds crazy and unreal, but that's one of the aspects of being 'efficient' at fighting.

When you swing your sword or throw a punch, it is not achieved on its own. There are always preliminary actions that take place, which a trained eye can spot and dissect if given a chance.

And if you know what attack is coming, it is easier than flipping a coin to counter it.

The upcoming attack was a left swing aimed at my side. I dove forward into a roll as the blade narrowly sliced overhead, and I sprang up with a slash from right under his feet. Ares sidestepped the attack easily, but he had a wide grin that hung from his earlobes.

With a quick spin, our swords met in mid-air. Red hot sparks flew in the air as I was pushed back; even when I knew what attack was coming, the sheer force of a god was much heavier than I could handle at the moment.

Still, I was standing my ground. Excitement coursed through my body. My mouth was smiling broadly as much as Ares was, and I realized:

We were both enjoying this moment, thoroughly.

"Come on!" Ares shouted with pure glee, "Show your dad what you've got!"

"As you wish!" I shouted back.

I lunged forward with a stab at his chest. Ares swatted it away with his free hand and tried to slice open my head, only to miss the mark by a nanosecond as I ducked for cover.

For the first time in my life, my ADHD-infested brain had found itself amid its true purpose: combat. And it ran with full capacity and beyond in delight.

I could sense everything. Every hitch of breath I drew from the air, every small muscle movement of both of us. They weren't kidding when they said ADHD was an effect of my battle reflexes; I doubted any normal human would be able to follow all the information flooding in.

But I could. I always could have.

And finally, at this moment, I was.

We exchanged three strikes in a flash. One of them wasn't even with our weapons; Ares tried to knee me in the stomach, and I blocked it by elbowing it down.

"Being left-handed is a gift," Ares said as he swerved his neck around my thrust.

"Because most enemies are used to fighting right-handed opponents, right?" I panted, blocking the overhead slash with the flat side of my sword.

Ares nodded with a grin and booted me in the stomach.

I was sent flying for the last time, and this time I landed on my feet without falling on my back. I regained my footing to run forward again, but before I could Ares stepped out of bounds.

"That's all for today." He tipped down his sunglass. Instead of two fireballs, there was a pair of humane eyes. With a small wrinkle of a smile around it.

"Good job, son."

I was speechless for a moment. I was out of breath, sure, and my body was slowly starting to ache in complaining about the extreme actions that I took a moment prior, but the biggest surprise to me was that…

…that last 'Good job', was genuine.

Ares chuckled as I turned away, furiously blinking my eyes.

"Got some sweat in your eyes, eh?"

"Shut up." I sniveled.

For once, Ares was passionate.

He waited from afar until I stopped crying.

Full transparency, I wasn't sure if putting a whole chapter of training would be a good idea.

I contemplated for days if I could somehow shorten the original draft into less than...say, 2000 words and put in the meeting Aphrodite into one chapter.

But after numerous attempts, I decided it was impossible to do so while setting up what I had to set up. So here we are.

Again, I'll let you decide on the father-son dynamic(?) of Ares and David. Those things I'd rather leave to interpretation than explain what I aimed for.

Instead, let's talk about the newly set rule...or to be exact, the new ability that's unlocked.

I hope the newfound 'ability' David acquired didn't feel too overpowered or out of place of his godly parentage, especially since most of you guys(or girls, or that technical rainbow in between) point out this OC not being some overlord as a positive factor.

I found it hilarious and sad that a child of Ares's demigod 'power' is being good at fighting and nothing else when anyone can get good at fighting with practice. It wasn't like any Ares kid was treated with some care apart from Clarisse, and even she got to show off her combat skills only once in the entire series. Which is one reason why I established this ability, and I have another set in mind that would be explained in the very next chapter.

The other reason is that the 'final boss' of this arc(of the Titan's Curse as a whole) is very much out of a rookie demigod's league, so I'm trying to build up to that fight the best I could. For those who are concerned, don't worry; these abilities will be nothing more than an aid in our main character's fights, and it won't guarantee any wins for him.

Alright, I think that's enough ranting for a chapter.

I hope you enjoyed reading, I'll see you next Chapter!

Ta ta~

Oh right, before I go, I want to ask a question: in T-rated fanfic, how much swearing can you use?

I have been strictly avoiding them until now, but I just want to know to be safe.