I am back, I am back. Hello everybody, I've been on a good break, and now I'm ready to write again and go full steam ahead. Sigurd's story, and then Book Five, no stopping. I'm so excited to write again and I can't wait for you guys to check it out! I've really got some awesome stuff planned ahead!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters (except the OC's) Percy Jackson & The Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or Trials of Apollo. All of that belongs to Rick Riordan.

2. Healer Of The Underground Temple

Day Sixty Three - Entry Sixty Three

This is taking longer than I thought. Mexico is not a small country.

Through all of my life, I've been able to see inside people's minds, find obscure locations within an instant, yet with these camps...everything is vague, and much more difficult. Just like it was with Camp Half Blood, I had to do a little digging.

A little digging includes sleeping in the sand for weeks on end, spying on places that turn out to be completely normal, getting in skirmishes with the local police...

Well, skirmish is a kind word. I rather "convinced" them to leave it alone, and erase the memory of me from their minds.

But I think I've actually found it this time.

A small town in the Northern Region, around the Sonora Desert. I don't even know the name of it, but I know there is a strong energy nearby.

Nearby. Not the exact location.

I tried speaking to some of the locals to see if they know anything, but after getting some strange looks, and even having a few run away from me, I just sit in silence and observe now. I look into every person's mind and see if they have any information regarding the supernatural.

None so far.

But still, that energy. It has to be here.

Sigurd stared at his journal for a good five minutes blankly to kill time.

Kill time? For what? It's not like one of the Mayan gods will plummet from the sky and offer himself to Sigurd. He had to put in the work.

He has. For three months now, he's been slumming the country like a mongrel, sleeping in swaths of cacti, the streets of Mexico City, and riding on the backs of cattle trailers.

Not exactly common feelings for Camp Asgard's golden boy. Though he was born in horrible conditions, with his mother dying in front of him in the freezing snow, with monsters surrounding his infant form; after that, he was pretty much raised like a prince by Hannes. Being the Son of Odin, he was destined for greatness, and everyone treated him like it. Even as a small boy, most would look at him with reverence, or fear.

Hannes was the only one that treated him normally. He treated him like a son.

Then of course came Arya, who didn't care one bit about his status. She would play with him like a boy, push him around teasingly, even joke with him whenever he embarassed himself. It annoyed Sigurd at the time, but he grew to love the banter.

He trained and trained. The pressure was overwhelming, especially when it came time to prove himself against the beast Fenrir.

Fenrir. His first real battle. The first time where he felt like he would die, and no one would come to help him.

Closing his eyes, he remembers the snow's chill on his face, the goosebumps on his arms, the way his hair annoyingly got in his eyes.

Sigurd had cleared about two hundred paces into the deep forest, footprints all in the snow behind him.

The thick snow covered the trees and the ground, about a foot and a half deep. He'd lived in these conditions since he was a baby, so the teeth chattering, and the shivering was from everything else but the temperature.

It was from everything he'd heard in the past year. The buildup to this moment. Prove yourself as the Son of the All Father. Kill the wolf.

The sound of a tree snapping in the distance broke his trance. Sigurd raised his small head and flinched at the noise. That wasn't some mere limb, that was a full-grown tree that had split.

The wind picked up in speed, in its wake, Sigurd heard a low rumble of a growl. Like the sound of rolling thunder, it shook every part of the ground beneath his feet.

Sigurd gripped his sword with both hands now, trying desperately to find Fenrir's location. If it even was Fenrir. Sigurd could use his world sight ability to find out, but right now he didn't trust his own speed against Loki's spawn. He may not be able to deactivate the ability in time to defend against an attack.

So for now, he'll just have to assume that it's Fenrir. And even if it's not, it's something big and dangerous.

Now the noise is all around him. The shaking of the ground is constant, the growls come in all directions, and he feels an incredible presence moving at hypersonic speed.

He sees his breath in front of him. Three puffs of breath in one second, his breathing is so quick and shaky. Sigurd closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying his best to cram the years of training so far in the span of a moment. Thousands of techniques all coming back to him at once.

The air splits from a horrible, ear-piercing sound. It's a mix between a roar and a howl, it's not long and drawn out, it's quick and terrifying. A yelp to let Sigurd know "I'm here. And you're about to die."

The ground shakes once more, and it's beside him this time, even closer than before.

Sigurd snaps his head up to see a giant, long, black figure flying through the air, cloaked in some kind of sick, wispy green light. He can't even make out if it looks like a wolf, but he knows that it's arm, paw, or whatever is outstretched, and it's trying to kill him.

Sigurd brings his sword up beside his head as fast as he can manage. He feels the pressure of ten thousand bulls against his arm and his legs fall out from underneath him. It happens in the span of milliseconds. Sigurd doesn't even know he's flying through the air until he feels a sharp pain in his ribs. He's smashed into the middle of a tree.

Gravity peels Sigurd off the tree and he splats on the snow, planking and coughing up blood. Somehow, he kept a grip on his sword.

Fenrir, either out of mercy, or curiosity, didn't double up and pounce right away. Sigurd met the wolf's eyes, and he immediately wanted to look away.

He got a good view of the monster now. It was at least twenty feet long, as tall as an elephant, and no doubt weighing several tons. His fur was a thick black, oddly very dry despite the snow.

But Sigurd spent little time paying attention to that, he paid more attention to the weapons Fenrir possessed. His mind, firstly. Sigurd quickly broke through the wolf's mental defense, and saw that he was no ordinary monster. He had an intelligent mind, far beyond a normal creature, and even beyond some demigods Sigurd knew. It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if it started speaking next.

Fenrir's claws were long and thick, like shark's teeth, and his actual teeth were numerous, shaped like knife points. Even the slightest scratch could be fatal.

Sigurd wasted no time in thinking any further. If he did, he'd get too nervous, and Fenrir was smart enough to take advantage of that. Time to find out how good the wolf's defense is.

Sigurd placed his hand beside him and locked on to several of the surrounding trees, using his teleknesis to lift them straight from the ground, ripping the roots and all.

About a dozen remained suspended in the air for just a second, practically weightless to the demigod. Sigurd thrust his hand forward and the trees went flying, all of them coming together in mid air.

Fenrir dove forward and threw his head like a wild bull, smashing right through Sigurd's attack and turning the trees into splinters.

Sigurd's entire body tensed and prepared for the oncoming onslaught.

When the next strike hit, he opened his eyes and left the memory.

This was nothing like that. He knew what was coming. Now, he has no idea.

But he's changed so much since then. He's faced many challenges, he's fortified his mind, and learned to be patient. Hell, anyone else after three months of nothing on the first camp would give up.

But he won't.

Everyone passing him gives him the side eye, with a slight curl of the lip. Sigurd knows exactly what they're thinking, even without reading their minds. "Who the hell is that? Why's he dressed like that?"

Sigurd couldn't bring himself to dress like a mortal. He just...didn't want to, plain and simple. In fact, it might be to his advantage to keep his cloak on, despite the blistering heat. The temperature didn't bother Sigurd, but he hoped that it would look weird enough to perhaps attract the attention of a Mayan demigod. Maybe pique their interest and have them approach first. After all, that would be easier.

But alas, nothing. Just weird looks.

Sigurd lifted his chin to the sky and squinted briefly at the blazing sun overhead. Not a single cloud in the sky.

Okay, maybe the temperature isn't ideal. After all, he's used to the cold. But at least he hasn't dropped a bead of sweat yet.

In the time Sigurd gained zero leads, he did a good bit of thinking, and more studying on the pantheons. Who the main god was of each, the myths, the heroes, the culture, even the languages. He already spoke several, even at a young age, but ancient translation happens to be more different from the modern than you would think.

He figured he should figure out where they sit power wise as well. After all, he is recruiting an army here. It helps to know how strong your soldiers are.

In first place; The Christian Pantheon.

This is a no brainer for Sigurd. While they may not have many powerful figures like other pantheons, they have one omnipotent figure. Unlimited power, without boundaries. Then there are beings like the Archangels, other angels, and demons even. They also have a lot of followers, and in most pantheons, that's a huge source of power. But the problem is, how would you find a warrior there? Would someone like that even fight, considering the rules involved. Besides, they don't have demigods, they most likely have believers that are mortals. And Sigurd isn't sure if they would even have abilities. But he needs to keep it in the back of his mind, because it wouldn't be hard at all to find them, Christians are all over the world.

Second place, and close behind; The Hindu Pantheon. A lot of powerful figures, with unique abilities from what Sigurd's read. They have demigods, and they would be easily located in India.

Now after that, he puts the Greek and the Shinto Pantheon at a tie. No explanation needed, just based on the reading, they have similar powers and origins. Not to mention both have a Big Three.

Then it gets a bit hazy, because it's hard to place the rest in a particular order. But you've got the Mayans, the Egyptians, the Chinese, the Norse, the Aztecs, the Slavic, so on and so forth. Needs further review.

The Son of Odin sat on the side of a small street square in what looked like a lawn chair, surrounded by markets and stands. The people were milling about like cattle, going through the motions and sweating bullets.

But Sigurd sat up a little in his seat when he felt something odd in his radar, coming straight ahead about a thousand feet. He focused forward and let his eyesight sink through the patch, he entered a different plane and, in his head, he could clearly see the flat board that was the street, and then the little pieces that were the people. The guy that had caught his attention was emitting a white glow, indicating that he wasn't like the others. He had some power in him.

Sigurd got up and slowly approached the man. As he got closer, he could make out some of his features. He appeared average height, a bit shorter than Sigurd, with a strong build and light brown skin. If Sigurd didn't have his world sight ability, he wouldn't have really been able to tell the man was a demigod. Or well, someone different, at the least, maybe not a demigod. He wore the same clothes as everybody else; cargo shorts, work shoes, a white tee with a striped short sleeve button up. Brown and white? Interesting.

He also had on a gardener hat. Or at least, that's what Sigurd discerned it as. It looked soft, with a wide, droopy brim to act as a sun shield. If this man really was a demigod, Sigurd doubted the hat was meant to protect him from the heat. It was a disguise to hide his face. The whole thing was. Sigurd would bet his entire house that all of this getup was not what he normally wore.

In a matter of seconds, Sigurd came up with the theory that the man was coming out of his Camp to get supplies. He wondered how well off the Camp was. Was it suffering? Perhaps it's the area. Back home at Camp Asgard, warriors hunted for food. Everyone was basically on a carnivore diet, because it's quite hard to grow crops in the snow. Whatever vegetables they get comes from Frey like once a month.

Or maybe...it was a rogue? Maybe he didn't even belong to a Camp. Maybe there wasn't even a camp at all? Sigurd doubted that, but it certainly was a possibility, considering Sigurd still couldn't find the trace of a camp anywhere. This was his first lead since he'd started.

So you bet like hell he was going to find out who this guy was. Even if he got into a fight.

Sigurd walked slowly down the market, up to the man's right side. About three stands over, he shifted slightly to hide behind a large stand of weird looking fruits. As discreet as someone can be wearing what he was wearing, with the hair color he has, he peeked around the corner and essentially spied on the man as he looked through supplies he wanted. In the time Sigurd spent contemplating his questions and walking, he'd already gathered several bags of items. The man was quick, and Sigurd's theory that he was trying to get in and out back to Camp became truer by the moment.

The man lifted his chin for a moment and took a deep breath. At the opening, Sigurd caught his eyes, and they were looking straight ahead, but Sigurd already knew the man had spotted him. He lifted his chin to look in his peripheral.

Shit.

Really, he couldn't be mad. He kind of wanted to be caught. If Sigurd was being honest, these past months have been frustrating, and for him to finally see someone, and get a lead...he itched for some kind of interaction. For something.

The man turned swiftly after grabbing his last bag and walked down the market, opposite of Sigurd.

The son of Odin began to follow him for about half a mile, no curves, no turns, just a straight shot forward, with several of the locals giving both of them odd looks.

Now the man definitely knew something was up. Good.

Sigurd had to think about what to do next. Should he wait until the man confronted him? Should he make the first move?

No, the first option is better. What if the man has backup? No, no, if he did then he would've seen them with his sight.

Unless they can become undetectable...

It's moments like these where Sigurd hates not having a pre-made plan or knowing what he's getting into. He knows next to nothing about the real substance of the Mayan pantheon. Because you can only gain a true perspective if you've been involved with it. Reading about it will only get you so far. That won't help Sigurd with how fast, strong, or numerous these demigods are.

In the middle of his little panic, the man decided to bolt. He dropped the bags and took off to the right alleyway, quickly creating distance between himself and Sigurd.

The sudden sprint caught Sigurd by surprise. He grimaced and began to run after the man, nearly plowing through several of the marketers as he went.

The man had passed two openings in the alley, just as Sigurd was entering it. He should've already known this was a setup, and yes, in fact, the guy had backup all over the place.

As soon as the thought came to Sigurd, he ducked at just the right time, barely avoiding two blades that came out of the darkness on both sides. There was a moment that Sigurd's knees slid on the ground and he was able to look up at the swords. The tips had barely crossed paths, meaning that whoever stabbed at him, meant to pierce his neck and cut his head off.

Sigurd brough his knee up first and stood straight, turning around quickly and drawing his own cutlass from the strap on his back, pulling it out of his cloak like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

It only took half a second for Sigurd to gauge the men coming out of the darkness. Two large, stocky warriors dressed in similar clothing to the guy he was following. One of them had a lance pointed at Sigurd, and the other held a two-handed sword, short and thick, shaped almost like a leaf at the end.

They hadn't been on his sight. Were they able to hide their power? Or did they simply get there that fast?

The man that Sigurd initially followed came out from the other end of the alley, stopping about fifteen feet behind Sigurd.

"Espanol?" The man asked, chuckling.

"Si"

So this was the game they were playing. Sigurd was willing. By the time he was ten, he'd already learned sixteen languages, Spanish being one of the first ones. He could speak fluently.

In English, it was, "A man with red hair? You definitely aren't from the area, my friend. Where you from?"

"Far away."

He clicked his tongue, "A foreigner with red hair, a big ass cloak, a long sword, and a massive amount of ch'ulel. This day's turned very interesting."

Sigurd remembered reading the word Ch'ulel. It's what the Mayans referred to as energy. What the Norse refer to as a Spirit, seidhr, aura, or power. Whatever you want to call it.

So he was a demigod. Or something like that.

Sigurd lowered his sword and raised his free hand, inciting a flinch from the two men. As gently as he could, he said, "Listen, I know I'm a stranger, but I mean you no harm. I just want to talk." He turned his head and called over his shoulder, "To you, specifically. I'm guessing you're the leader."

"Leader? No idea what you're talking about, man. But I do know that you've been sitting around here for months, spying and sitting around, disturbing the locals."

"I was looking for you, and now I've finally made contact. You have to understand that I need this."

"Need what?"

Sigurd sighed, "If we could talk about this in private, preferably inside a building, I'd tell you."

"Nah, whatever you gotta say, you can say anywhere, or not at all." He tucked his lips together and let out an ear-splitting whistle, "Get him, boys!"

Immediately, Sigurd's eyes shot up to the rooftops. Up there, he spotted two more individuals, this time two women, holding long rifles already aimed towards his head.

Twin cracks sounded in the wind, and the bullets were already at his head by the time he saw them. Whoa, these weren't regular bullets.

First of all, they were faster than regular bullets, and were coated in small coils of lightning. Just before Sigurd could feel what that tasted like on his skin, he reached out with his telekinesis and locked on to the metal spheres. As soon as he felt them, he stopped them in their tracks. They stood still in front of him for a second, suspended in the air, before he dropped them.

They plopped on the ground, and the two men in front of Sigurd reared their heads back.

Getting over their shock, the two women up top dropped their guns and pulled out a knife each, jumping down and aiming right for Sigurd's shoulders.

At the same time, the two men lunged forward with their weapons. Sigurd was surrounded on all sides in trouble, he had to act fast.

So he did the exact same thing again. He reached out and locked on to them, using a good chunk of his power to catch them. They were actually very fast and agile, far more than a human could be.

All four stopped in their place completely, not able to even twitch. Then Sigurd easily broke into their minds, opening the gates of their mental defense and squeezing his way right in. He'd had years of practice, and mind control was one of his deadliest techniques. Only beings with the very best and fortified minds had a chance of keeping him out.

Once he emptied their brains, he was able to move them how he wanted, like puppets.

Sigurd stepped past them and turned to stare at the leader. Without even moving his hands, he made the four walk slowly to the man, with their weapons pointed out. Their faces expressionless, zombies with dead eyes.

This shocked the man, "What the hell..."

"Really," Sigurd said, "Let's not escalate this, let's talk."

The man didn't respond for a moment, and just glared at Sigurd. So the Son of Odin decided to keep this as peaceful as possible, he probably shouldn't have the man's warriors attack him, so he threw his arms out, and the four demigods/whatever they are, flew into the brick walls, creating human sized holes in each spot.

As soon as he did that, just enough dust popped up to block Sigurd's vision of the man, and the man took his shot to attack. His head poked through the dust in the next second and cupped his mouth with his hands. Sigurd had about half a moment to raise his eyebrow and wonder what the hell he was doing.

Then the man blew out all the air he had in his lungs, and then some. It felt like Sigurd was being pelted with ten tornadoes. The wind around him shook the ground and the buildings, rattling windows and kicking up dirt all the way into the sky.

Sigurd had to plant his sword into the ground as hard as he could to keep himself stable. Otherwise, he imagined he would turn into a human corkscrew.

As quickly as the air came, it left, and the man was right in front of Sigurd, with his hand curled into a fist, his body pivoted and ready to plant a powerful cross right in Sigurd's cheek.

The man was fast enough to easily create afterimages and keep Sigurd on his toes. The man's hand even flashed a light brown color, a glow that surrounded his hand like a glove, from his wrist to his knuckles. It was his spirit, or aura, coming out...

Well then, that complicates things. If he can control his aura, then this is a different fight now. Although Sigurd never wanted it to be a fight in the first place.

Sigurd tried to bring his forearm up, but the man's fist was already an inch away. When that inch closed, he felt a horrible force on his cheek, and pain flared up to the top of his head, all the way down to his neck, like someone had tried to pop it and did it the wrong way, leaving it sore.

Sigurd's feet left the ground and he flew through the air, about a few feet above the ground. He may have flown a mile or ten, but he ended up way outside the market square and found himself into the desert, crashing on his back and tumbling like a smooth ball.

Somehow, by the grace of Odin, he managed to hold onto his cutlass. Sigurd groaned and came up to one knee, averting his blurry gaze from the ground to the dunes in front of him. Was he...hallucinating?

If he wasn't, then he saw the man floating about fifty feet in the air, with sand particles surrounding him at hypersonic speed, like his own personal hurricane. He wasn't levitating, he was using the wind to keep himself afloat, kind of like how Matt did it.

What was this guy? Wind manipulation? Strength to rival Sigurd's own?

To be honest, even though the situation wasn't ideal, Sigurd was a bit glad that this had happened. He'd grown impatient, and now that something was finally happening, and he got confirmation that yes, there are demigods here, he was pretty ecstatic.

If only he could figure out how to calm this guy down. He didn't want to hurt him, but to be honest, Sigurd's not so sure he's going to have to worry about that. This man was strong, so it may take a little extra effort to calm him down.

The man shouted from his position, and he manipulated his spirit to make it boom across the distance, as if he was yelling in Sigurd's ear.

"I'll give you a chance to walk away, man! Leave and we'll stop fighting!"

"Let me talk and we'll stop fighting!" Sigurd retorted.

A silence.

"Say what you gotta say! I'll give you ten seconds!"

"Ten seconds?" Sigurd whispered to himself, "Alright, I can do that."

He stood straight and shouted as much as he could in one breath. "I know you're a demigod from the Mayan pantheon! I'm Sigurd, the Son of Odin, from the Norse pantheon! I'm here to talk to you about allying our camps to defeat a universal threat!"

Sigurd breathed in what he'd lost. Well, that was actually the sum of what was going on here. He was surprised he could fit so much into one sentence.

About five seconds of nothing, when the man shouted back. "Not interested! Now walk away, Son of Odin!"

Sigurd reared his head back. What?! He wasn't even interested in hearing more? At the mention of everything Sigurd just said, he had to admit, he couldn't imagine any normal person that wouldn't at least be somewhat intrigued by it. If he had to guess, this man had no idea the other pantheons existed, so Sigurd announcing himself as a real Son of Odin should've been enough.

Guess this guy's a professional skeptic. Or he just considered Sigurd a liar.

Either way, Sigurd didn't plan on walking away whatsoever. He was going to get his point across, all of it. Then and only then, when he's said everything, if the man refuses, then he'll gladly turn away and move on. But he won't walk away prematurely.

"I'm not walking away until you hear the whole story!"

"Too bad!"

Not from the clear blue sky did lightning gather and strike, it came from the man. Blue surrounded his form and came in a straight line towards his head.

Sigurd's eyes widened. Lightning too?! Is this the jack of all trades or something? Sigurd didn't question it, from here on out, he would just assume the man could do nearly anything and expect that. He lifted his sword just in time to block the strike and contain it with his telekinesis around his sword.

With a shove to the sky Sigurd redirected the lightning back to where it should've come from, releasing a crack of thunder.

The man didn't let that deter him. He took the sand that spun around him and sent it hailing at Sigurd like a volley of arrows. Each sand particle no doubt able to pierce through Sigurd's skin at the speed their going.

Sigurd bent his knees and launched off the sand, kicking up a shockwave behind him and diving a football field's distance to the side.

He managed to dodge the bullets of sand and catch himself on his new footing. Quickly after, he decided to kick it up a notch. This might be risky, and a bit much, but at this point, he wasn't even sure what would be too much. This man might take this next attack head on and destroy it with his finger.

But Sigurd decided to go with it anyway.

Closing his eyes, he used his world sight to the extreme. He broadened his horizon all the way up to the sky, then past the atmosphere, and into the space surrounding the Earth. Once he was able to lock on to the void, he shot his telekinetic sense up there with it, and caught the biggest meteor he could.

His senses wrapped around the giant rock, like a green blanket. Sigurd strained his arm and made a pulling motion. The weight behind it was moderate, Sigurd could pull the moon down if he really wanted to, but that would be extreme. Well, this is kind of extreme, but that's on a different level.

The meteor came down slowly with Sigurd's arm, and peeked it's face out of the atmosphere, taking up about half of the foreseeable sky. From here, it looked like an equal sized planet, and it was only getting bigger and bigger, streams of white clouds parting on both sides like skidding water. The sound it made was like a layer of bombs that went off every second, indicating clearly that it was breaking the sound barrier.

Then Sigurd strengthened his bond and urged it to go faster. Faster and faster, it came, and by the time the man figured out what he was doing, he looked up to see the meteor coming headfirst at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

As soon as he cursed, it crashed into him. Like a city being dropped from the air, it crashed against him and made a loud BOOM! A thin shockwave ring burst out and hit Sigurd instantaneously, pushing him back on his heels.

The meteor dropped another ten feet, and Sigurd expected it to keep pushing until it cratered the ground. He gambled on the man being able to hold it up and push it back, or destroy it either way. But it doesn't look like that's going to happen. Well, at least their far away from the market square to not have to worry about it.

But Sigurd ate his own words. He noticed a blue light strobing inside the meteor, and cracks becoming visible, even from his position. Within a few seconds, the meteor was blown up, with a lightning strike coming out of the top center and arcing towards the sky. Then the rest came with it, the rock crumbled to boulders and crashed into the sand like pebbles in a lake.

Sigurd was impressed. So he was able to destroy it. Good. His confidence in this pantheon was growing every second this fight lasted.

Sigurd jumped forward and passed by all the distance between he and the man. He found him standing in the middle where the bottom of the crater once was, staring up challengingly.

The boulders continued to fall around them like rain, and Sigurd decided to use a different technique. He let go of his sword and used his telekinesis again to dull the end of the sword, bending the very tip to make it blunt, not sharp. That way if it managed to hit him, it would only knock him out.

He sent his sword flying around like a rocket, it zipped around at light speed in the air. If the man could react to this speed, then he was truly no pushover. It was like the last piece of Sigurd's assessment.

After the sword darted in a few circles, Sigurd made it dive at the crook of the man's neck, the pressure point.

And then the man made Sigurd smile, when he reacted to it. He brought up his hand as if he was going to catch the sword in his palm, but instead he manipulated his spirit to form a brown forcefield.

The sword smashed into it and bounced off, ricocheting and spinning around in the air. Sigurd caught it back in a rebound and kept it still. Maybe if he tried to talk again...

Sigurd walked up to face the man, who still had his hand up, and forcefield whirring next to his head. In all of the ruckus, his clothes had been slightly ripped, and his hat had blown away, never to be seen again. No cuts, and no broken bones. Again, impressive.

"You got all kinds of tricks, eh Red Hair?"

He said that one in English, with a smooth, Casanova accent.

Now that his hat was off, and Sigurd had gotten closer, he could clearly see his features.

The man was ruggedly handsome, like Sigurd himself. He had a tough gaze, with brown eyes and black hair, medium length and smooth, a fade on the side and parting to the left, a few rogue, long strands flowing over his forehead. Above his mouth sat a thin line of hair, and under his bottom lip sat a patch of the same hair. Sigurd thought he belonged on the cover of some book rather than lead a Camp. The man was rather boyish, and more dreamy than intimidating. He had no scars, no burns, hell not even a birthmark. Sigurd could hardly believe it, and was beginning to wonder; where's this guy's tuxedo? What about his performing cane?

But Sigurd had seen his power, and it wasn't lost on him that the man purposefully punched him that hard towards the desert to get the fight away from the mortals. He seemed to be respectable.

Besides, Matt was the same way. He had a very impressive body frame, and intimidating size, but he was only a teenager. He looked like one of those high school heartthrobs in American movies. It was hard to take him seriously when Sigurd first laid eyes upon him, but when he learned his values, and his strength, he felt different.

"Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Yeah," The man said, "When you showed up and decided to spy on us, we sure did. Now you wanna keep going? Or you had enough?"

"I've had enough." Sigurd says, "But I'm not leaving until you hear me out."

The man started to retort, but Sigurd cut him off, exasperated. "Come on, you know it's gotta mean a hell of a lot to me if I summon a meteor from the sky, right? After that, you can at least give me a few minutes."

The man thought about, then nodded, giving a breathy laugh.

"Heh, can't deny that. That shit was pretty crazy."

"So you'll hear me?"

The man bit his lip and nodded slowly, "Fine. I'll give you a few minutes. Make it quick."

Sigurd breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. First, what's your name?"

"That has nothing to do with-" He started, but caught himself, breathing out loudly through his nose in annoyance. "-Diego...Cielo."

Diego Cielo.

"Cielo?" Sigurd identified the word, "Sky...so that means you're the son of...Itzamna?"

Itzamna is the Mayan god of the sky, and the main god of the pantheon. Also the most powerful. It would make sense if he was Diego's father.

Diego nodded, "That's right." He lifted his head slightly and looked mildly impressed. "You know a little about us, then?"

"A little, yes." Sigurd said, "I hope to know more."

"Keep talking."

Sigurd planned on speaking again, but an outside force interrupted him.

The sand exploded from beside Diego and a giant figure burst from the ground. Sigurd couldn't make it out, but he knew that he saw something black with orange streaks, shaped like a triangle.

Through the ground shaking and Sigurd's flinch of surprise, he thought the figure mixed itself with half of Diego's body and pushed him to the side. But upon closer inspection, whatever it was, was biting Diego.

Sigurd thought quick enough to lock on to the figure's head and push to the side, forcing its mouth off the Mayan demigod and stumble back.

But then, in front of him, the sand exploded once again and an equal figure poked its head out to come at Sigurd, just the same way.

Sigurd jumped back a step and dodged its wide bite. Whatever it was, if this thing was its head, it was as big as a large house. When its mouth widened, he quickly gripped his cutlass and stabbed upward, catching it on the roof of it's mouth.

The creature made a loud hissing sound and backed away to lick it's own wound. With both of them in a far view, Sigurd saw that the two creatures were some kind of...reptiles. Giant, black reptiles with an orange line going down their backs. They looked a lot like Gila monsters, if Gila monsters took radioactive growth hormones.

Sigurd took his chance to look over at Diego and check for wounds. He expected a huge bite mark on his arm or something, but no, it was much worse.

Sigurd's eyes widened, "Odin's beard..."

He darted over to Diego and was there in an instant, kneeling next to him. The sight was horrible. Diego hadn't just been bit; he'd been chomped nearly in two.

Diego's body was cut off in a C-shape. His arm and part of his torso had been bitten off by the monster's sharp teeth, and left a gaping hole in its wake, with red blood falling on the sand in a continuous stream.

Sigurd froze in place. What the hell? He didn't specialize in healing, so he really didn't have much of an idea on what to do.

"Diego, just hold on. I'll figure something out." He tried to keep his voice calm, but really, it started hitting him that he really couldn't let Diego die. For obvious reasons, that would be an innocent life gone, on his hands. And second, he'd lose any potential of allying himself with the Mayan Camp.

But Diego surprised Sigurd with complete nonchalance, looking up at him with a light smile on his face. "What are ya scared for? Heh, it's nothing, man. Just a little scratch."

"A...what?!"

Sigurd couldn't believe it. Diego showed no signs of pain at all, even though almost half his body had been chomped away. Could he not feel pain?

"Here, step back and watch. I'll show you something cool."

Sigurd these days, could rarely be taken by surprise. But what happened next really shocked him. Diego strained his face and a brown glow flashed across his body, igniting his bones to regrow and his skin to regenerate completely.

It grew back fairly quickly, like a reverse time lapse, until his bones were full, his muscle tissue regrew, and his skin wrapped around it to make an arm.

He completely regrew a limb, in a few seconds. No artifact, no magic. It was natural regeneration. Quite impressive.

Diego stood up, and dusted himself off like nothing had even happened, a smirk plastered to his mouth. "Ever seen that before, Odin Jr?"

"Is there anything you can't do?" Sigurd breathed out.

"Can't pull down a meteor." His head darted towards the two giant reptiles when they let out dual screeches, "Hey uh, you wanna do that again?"

"We don't need that. We can blast them away with one shot."

"You're right."

Both Sigurd and Diego got in fighting stances and took different approaches in killing the monsters. Sigurd had no idea what they were really, if they were even Mayan, but they were something. Something angry and dangerous, so they needed to be put down.

Diego started first, because his attack was faster. He snapped his fingers and lightning danced around his hand. With one swift movement, he made a simple pointing motion and the electricity grew to be a giant pillar, moving beyond light speed to meet the monster in the nose. It tore through its thick skin like a needle and split it in half. Immediately, blood spewed out and it peeled to the side, split in two.

It made Sigurd assess Diego's strengths and weaknesses for a moment. He was clever, fast, strong, and had a wide array of abilities. The regeneration seemed to be his trump card, at least for defense. If he could regrow limbs, then he could regrow just about anything. Maybe not his head, or maybe. He wasn't sure, and didn't really want to test that.

However, a weakness might be his durability. The ratio between that and his attack potency seemed to be like night and day, which might be why he uses forcefields to block attacks; so he can make up for his lack of tough skin. The fact that he can destroy the monster that chomped his arm off with one shot says it all to Sigurd.

Unless he allowed that to happen? To show off his ability to Sigurd? No, he doubted it. The monster took both of them by surprise. It was most likely a case of just letting your guard down.

The monster screeched and smashed its scaly foot on the sand, shaking the ground. Sigurd realized that he still had his own to deal with, he'd better stop taking inventory in his head. He took a different approach. Rather than destroy the monster from the outside, he decided to go inward.

He placed his own aura inside the thing's body and spread it, from its chest all the way to its head and its tail, surrounding it in green aura. The way the technique worked, required a good bit of spirit, or aura manipulation mastery. He had to take out a piece of his own, transfer it, and then place it in another's body.

Once inside, you expand...until they pop.

His fist closed up quickly and tight. Like he'd pressed a button, the Gila monster thing popped in a blood balloon. It didn't start from a specific place, it just burst open, guts, blood and bones flew all over the place, pelting the sand and coming towards Sigurd in a disgusting blob. He managed to place a telekinetic wall around him and it acted as a personal dome, blocking out the bodily debris.

Sigurd held the dome and looked around in a three sixty, just making sure that no other fun surprise was going to pop out and try to bite him. He might actually get angry if he's interrupted again.

He gave it ten seconds, and then dropped it, the sound of desert ambience returning once again. Well, that and some more clumps of reptile organ falling from the sky.

"Diego?" He called.

Diego was still next to him, and had his head cocked, "What did you say you're name was again?"

"I didn't say. But it's Sigurd."

He squinted a little and nodded, as if deciding something. "Well Sigurd, I still don't trust you. But we did just kill two monsters together, so I guess I can hear you out."

Sigurd felt excitement in his chest, but was careful not to show it. He started to nod and offer a place to speak, but Diego beat him to the punch.

"Couple of things, though. One, we aren't going back to my Camp. I barely trust you enough to be standing here, so that's a no-no. We'll just stay here and I'll let you talk. Two, when you're done, you'll respect my decision. Whether I still want nothing to do with your little thing, or not, doesn't matter. You go by that."

Sigurd thought that was reasonable enough. He didn't expect to be invited back to their camp, yet at least. And Sigurd planned to walk away if Diego still decided to refuse his offer. But Sigurd highly doubted he would, after hearing all he had to say.

At Sigurd's silence, Diego leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, "Tu Comprende, Red Hair?"

"I understand." He gestured back towards the market square, "Will your soldiers try to attack me again?"

"Nah. Even if they do, I'll wave em off."

Sigurd nodded, "Okay then, are you ready?"

"I guess. Quit wasting time and start talking."

Sigurd pursed his lips, "I say that because what I'm about to tell you, is a lot. A lot of information that will change your view of things. I know because it happened to me several months ago."

Diego was getting impatient. "Start. Talking."

Sigurd had rehearsed this several times, so he knew exactly what to say, and where to start from.

"What do you know about the other pantheons?"

That didn't even throw him off. He answered quickly, "Well, before today I figured they existed at some point, but died off over time."

Sigurd wanted to ask why he thought the Mayans were the last of the "dying race" then, but he held that back. Wasn't important. "So you know about the Greeks, or the Norse, for example?"

"I know a little. You said you were the Son of Odin, right? That's the big dog over there, cut his own eye out to gain knowledge or something, and the big dog for the Greeks is Zeus. Likes to sleep around a lot and controls the sky."

"Yes. So you're open to the idea that these pantheons, not just the Greeks and the Norse, but the Egyptians, the Shinto, and others, are real?"

Diego considered it, "Well, I guess. I mean, I kind of have to accept now, don't I? I mean, I've never met a half blood from another pantheon, but you're living proof that they're real, cause you're clearly not Mayan."

"How can you be so sure?"

Diego chuckled, "Both of us can go stand side by side in a mirror, and you'll have your answer."

Fair enough, Sigurd thought, then moved on. "Okay, if you're open to it, then I'll go ahead and tell you that yes, they are real. All of these pantheons are real, and coexist with each other, on this planet, at the same time. Now, some are more powerful than the other, and have more numbers. They...aren't as dead, if that makes sense."

"More prominence, more power. Got it."

"Exactly, so you can imagine how powerful the Christians must be, then."

"Yeah."

"I found out the existence of other pantheons a few months ago. It's a long story, but I'll keep it brief. I detected a very powerful force near my own Camp, Camp Asgard, and identified the creature to be far more potentially powerful than any I'd ever faced. Now, don't confuse potential power with actual power. This being had been weakened, and wasn't in it's prime, but I could tell that it was ancient, and had at onetime, more power. I later found out this being was Ouranos, a Greek Primordial god of the sky."

Diego was listening intently, and Sigurd took that as a good sign. Maybe he was getting interested.

"Anyway, I did some research, and decided to look for more signs of Greek power. I ended up finding it all over the place in the United States. Specifically, the state of New York, at a place called Camp Half Blood. It's like mine and yours, only for Greek demigods. A place for them to live and train. I got in contact with their most powerful warrior, a teenager named Matt Beckett. We eventually set up a meeting in which, his team would travel to my camp, and we would lead an invasion on Ouranos."

Diego held up a hand, "So I'm guessing this Ouranos guy is bad, right?"

"Very bad. Matt Beckett and his camp had already been fighting him a year prior to our meeting. He's a vile, yet intelligent god that wants to burn the world to the ground, and he'll do anything he can to succeed."

Diego nodded slowly, "Got it. Keep going."

"So they came to my camp, and we led the invasion. It...didn't turn out so well. We suffered numerous casualties, Ouranos ended up possessing his own son, killing Matt's father in his son's body, and nearly killing Matt as well. Oh, and he escaped, so all of it was pointless."

At that, Diego wildly flung his hand in the air, "Hold on, hold on. That's a lot to take in, man. This Primordial has a son? Like a god?"

"No, he's half human. A Demi-Primordial."

Diego shook his head, "You lost me there, Red Hair. Primordials don't have kids with mortals."

"This one does. He wanted to create his own personal killing machine. Thus, this boy was born, and he was able to possess him, and use his body as a vessel."

"Why? He didn't have a body of his own?"

"Not at the time. He was a mere spirit. Ouranos had been killed millennia ago by his own sons, mind you. He was the Underworld, reforming."

Diego was clearly overwhelmed. He had his eyes closed and his face scrunched up, trying to process. "And you said he killed a god? Like killed permanently? How's that possible? Gods don't die unless you stop believing in them."

"Well, the Greeks are different. They have a material, a diamond-like material imbedded with Chaotic energy, that is fatal to immortals. It can kill them and send their soul to the Underworld forever. They can't reform."

Diego looked unconvinced. Sigurd had to admit, it was a bit hard to believe. He tried to remember the information about it from Matt's memories.

"It...strips them of their immortal soul. Kills it, you could say, and renders them almost in a mortal state."

Diego still looked confused, but nodded. "Alright...so why are you here in my turf then? What's this got to do with me and my people?"

"Ouranos is still out there. Another battle is coming, and he'll be even stronger next time, with stronger forces under his command. I'm attempting to ally all of the Pantheon camps together, to form our own army, to combat against him. We already have the Greeks, the Romans, possibly the Egyptians, and us Norse folk. Now I'm trying to branch out and assemble as many people as I can."

"That list seems good enough to me. You don't need my camp or the others."

Sigurd shook his head, "It's still not enough, Diego. I promise it's not. This Primordial is dangerous, and very smart. He grows in power by the day, and his key ability...is influence. He can seduce nearly anyone to his side."

Diego struggled with it for several moments, thinking hard about it. "Can you show me visual proof?"

"I could. But then you could just argue that they're illusions. I don't want to waste time."

Diego gave a little laugh, "You read my freaking mind, eh?"

"No, just guessed. I know how leaders think." Sigurd let his hands go up for a moment, then plop back down at his side. "You're just going to have to take my word for it."

"That's a lot to ask."

"I know."

Diego stood there for several seconds, maybe even minutes, and let the gears turn in his head. Sigurd wasn't lying when he said he didn't read his mind, he hadn't. He knew how someone like Diego thought. He knew that he wanted to protect his people, not listen or trust strangers, especially powerful strangers. It made perfect sense.

But Sigurd prayed that he would believe him. He had to. If he failed on his first attempt...well, that wouldn't exactly be uplifting.

Finally, Diego looked Sigurd in his good eye, "Man, what you say...sounds pretty crazy. Really crazy actually. But to be honest, that's why I'm inclined to believe it. Heh, everything is so specific and unreal...that I can't believe you would be able to make it up."

Sigurd wasn't sure whether to be satisfied or not. He cocked his head, "So..."

Diego smiled and gestured for Sigurd to come closer, "Follow me, man. I want to show you something."

After Sigurd walked over, Diego had taken off.

At incredible speed, just running through the desert. Sigurd almost lost sight of him before he quickly ran to catch up.

After a couple of minutes, darting through the vast sand plain, Diego stopped abruptly, and Sigurd just managed to stop his own sprint too.

They let the sand fall to the ground, from where they'd uprooted it, and then Diego spoke.

"Sorry bout that, just wanted to see if you could keep up with me. And you can. Hell, you're probably faster."

"You took off without word...to race?" Sigurd couldn't believe it. This guy was more playful and immature than he thought.

But Diego gave a mischievous smirk, "Well partly. But I also wanted to show you this."

Diego lifted his hand and let wisps of brown light dance off of him. He snapped his fingers, and immediately, the ground reacted.

It shook like another Gila monster was about to pop out, the sand sifted to the side like something was coming up out of the ground, something wide and square in frame.

Wait, something was coming up.

And it was coming up slowly. As it did, the ground only shook harder. Whatever kind of building it was, it was huge, and it was very tall. It took several minutes for it to rise up and creak to a stop. Once it did, all of the excess sand drifted off like an hourglass.

The building was like an ancient temple, it was square in shape, taller than it was wide, and it seemed to be made of orange adobe brick. Was this...

"Welcome to my camp." Diego said, with his arms outspread proudly, "Our happy home."

"Underground?" Sigurd asked, "That's smart."

"Keeps us hidden from monsters, angry gods, angry mortals. You name it, nearly nothing can find us."

"Angry mortals?"

Diego groaned, "Ah, local police think we're some kind of cult or something. It's nothing crazy, just annoying."

Sigurd figured he shouldn't press on that. He instead registered that Diego had actually brought him to his Camp. His Camp. Did this mean he was growing to trust him?

"You're showing me your Camp? I thought you didn't trust me."

Diego laughed, "Well, I still don't. But you know...I guess we can talk more about this little allying thing...inside, if you want."

Sigurd actually broke a smile, and didn't say anything. He let Diego lead the way, and he followed close behind, already thinking of what to say next.

(000)