Chapter One

Percy thought he had already come to terms with how unlivable the Pit was during the trek to the Doors, but in the… weeks? He was unsure… since he had made it there and then been forced to flee, he had really experienced Tartarus in all its glory, with no hope of escape.

He remembered it like it was yesterday…

As he pushed Annabeth in, he saw her eyes widen. "No! You can't! Never again! You promised!"

Percy closed his eyes for a moment, unable to bear the betrayal clearly conveyed in her gray eyes. "You can see as well as I can. It's taking all Damasen and Iapetus have to hold him back. I can hold here with my powers… and Riptide… and at least one of us will escape to see the day again." He opened his eyes, and met with hers one last time. "When I fell down here, my only goal was to get you out. I only wish I could join you."

She tried to reach a hand towards him, "What am I going to do without you? How can we stop her? How can I…" she trailed off, her voice raw with emotion.

Percy steeled himself, clenching his left hand into a fist. "You can do it without me, Wise Girl… you'll find a way. Be happy up there. I love you, and always will."

He saw her mouth open, trying to convince him to stop, but he reached out and pressed his hand down on the button. The last ticket out of the Pit, and he had punched it for her.

Surprisingly, the enormous horde of monsters had most of their attention drawn to the duel between the Primordial and Gaea's sons, and after the longest twelve minutes of his life he had managed to slip away, the doors vanishing into thin air. He had to cut down a few monsters who had got the wrong idea, but escaped Tartarus's attention during the fight.

The temptation to join the fight was strong, but he had felt the power. It surpassed by a factor of 10 what he felt in the Olympian Throne Room during the meetings, and by more than that the gravity of fighting Kronos.

Besides, the real fight was on the surface. If there was any way to get back up, he was going to find it. There was no way he'd be able to scale the cliffs—it had taken an age just to fall down here, and he doubted there would be any food or water if he tried to climb out.

He could try to follow one of the rivers to their headwaters, but when he was 12 the entrance from the Underworld to Tartarus had looked rather vertical, and to be frank Percy didn't like his chances swimming in any of those rivers. That left only one option where he had a chance in Hades of achieving anything…

He had made a long, treacherous journey across the Pit. It was impossible to know how long exactly it had taken him. Days? Weeks? Something like that. He had only just barely managed to make his way through the hellish landscape.

Nyx's Palace. The longest of long shots. With no Doors of Death, and no other feasible way out of the Pit, it was the best chance he was going to get.

The Acheron, River of Pain, flowed between him and the entrance to the palace. As he was preparing to jump it, he felt a presence appear behind him.

Deep and rumbling, he heard a voice boom, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." The power carried on the voice was palpable, similar to Tartarus, but yet so different. Darker, yet less demanding.

Percy turned. "What other option do I have? I want out of this pit. The Doors are gone, and climbing out isn't possible." It was only then that he took in the sight before him—a hulking figure, as tall as Tartarus, clad entirely in shadows which billowed like clouds.
"You did not earn any favors with my wife with your recent stunt around here, child, and while mortals typically have to look to go insane… she might make an exception for you." Percy made to open his mouth, but the figure clearly had more to say. "I am Erebus, Primordial of the Darkness. And there is no way out of this Pit for mortals."

"No way out…?" Percy's voice tapered off.

"No. Not for mortals. Even in death, a mortal soul can not escape the Pit. Thanatos's Doors being chained were the only ticket out in many eons. Before that, the most recent disturbance that would have permitted mortals an escape was Ouranos tossing his children down here." The dark figure sighed. "In a way, I feel bad for you, demigod."
Despair overtook him, and he fell to his knees. Before, he had hoped that, while he might not find a way out in his life, he would at least see his friends… family… Annabeth… his mother… again in Elysium. It was hopeless. Nothing remained, and soon there would be nothing of him.

"There is but one option I can offer you. When the world was young, and us Primordials still young and naive, my brother and I shaped another world far from here. The people there named it… Remnant."
Another world…? "And what does this 'Remnant' have to do with me?"
"Well, child, it is a world in… turmoil. I believe that a mortal such as yourself may find more purpose there than rotting in this Pit. While it is a one way ticket… Tartarus's armor is populated by the souls unfortunate enough to have fallen into the pit."

Ah. That put things in perspective. There would be no escaping unless another colossal divine war broke out, which seemed unlikely, and should he die down here…

"I'll do it." His decisions already meant he couldn't actually do anything more on Earth, and if this Remnant was in turmoil he might be able to help. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could find friends. A family. Something. Anything. He glanced down to his feet, then back up to the primordial "... and thank you, Lord Erebus."

The primordial nodded, his voice deep and rumbling. "I'm weaving the magics to deposit you in as we speak. You'll start with a rudimentary knowledge of the world, and… not false memories, but should someone ask about your childhood you'll have an answer."

Percy put his hand in the pocket of his tattered shorts, curling his hand around Riptide, perhaps for the last time."Will I be bringing anything with me?"

The Primordial again nodded. "The magical nature of that pen in your pocket makes it possible for me to transfer it as well. Your clothes… are not able to go with you. They will be replaced on arrival, with what I could not say." Percy nodded. Riptide was far more important than his clothes, which frankly hardly qualified as clothes at this point regardless.

The Primordial glanced at him once more, and snapped his fingers. The ground disappeared from under him, and before he could comprehend what was happening he was sucked through a portal and gone.

As he disappeared, the Pit itself trembled with anger, and the shadows of Erebus dispersed, having foiled the vengeance of Tartarus.

The first thing he noticed was the bed underneath him. Stiff, as if he was laying on a mixture of carpet and a proper bed, but still better than anywhere he had laid down in weeks.

The second was a dull throbbing in the back of his head, as if he was forgetting—he curled up on his side as the memories came rushing back. The Pit, freeing Annabeth, Erebus, and… here. He was told this world was Remnant…

Percy opened his eyes for the first time, and noticed that his bed was not the only bed in the room. He was in a sort of dormitory setup, not unlike his cabin back at Camp. Unlike his cabin, however, all of the beds were full in this room, the continual sound of snoring enough to cover the noise of any small movement he made.

Before he could act on anything he saw, however, the call to sleep beckoned, and when he blinked he went out like a light.

He tried to reach out, move, control his body, anything, but nothing responded to him. Looking down, Percy saw his body… his translucent body.

He felt his body turn around of its own accord, and his eyes landed on a screen of sorts, displaying what appeared to be memories of a life lived by someone else, sped up to play hundreds of times faster than the events they portrayed. Erebus had been right; he wouldn't have direct memories, but he would be able to give a good enough explanation of his 'life' on Remnant if anyone asked.

To be honest, he had been transported into a rather dull life of a domestic servant. It appeared that he served some rich noble, and many days had been spent on simple household tasks. Things like sweeping, mopping, cleaning up after people richer and more powerful than him, and recently setting tables and serving meals.

It could be worse, he supposed. He could have been on the streets, or forced to work other jobs. Frankly, being a servant of nobility this rich seemed to ensure he only had to actually work hard for about 6 hours of the day.

He saw the screen shift off to his left, and a new one appeared in front of him. This one contained what appeared to be basic educational facts about Remnant. Some people had Semblances, which were special and unique abilities, only usable if they unlocked their Aura, a projection of the soul which also acted as a barrier and blocked attacks, at least until you took too many and it broke. Something like a weaker Curse of Achilles.

There were also creatures called Grimm, which were shadowy monsters with varying amounts of bone-like plating. They appeared somewhat similar to the monsters of Tartarus, although he only got a very basic amount of information about them before moving on.

There were four kingdoms: Atlas, on a continent by itself in the cold North, Mistral, which was centered on the continent of Anima (he was currently in the capital, also called Mistral), Vale, which occupied the eastern, temperate end of the central continent of Sanus, and Vacuo, which was on the western, arid end of Sanus.

Instead of oil, most of modern Remnant seemed to be powered by something called Dust, which was more useful than oil, able to be used in almost every way imaginable—ice dust, water dust, fire dust, lightning dust, the list was truly endless. There were Faunus, people who had one animal feature, and could see in the dark; and the myth of the two Brother Gods who had created the world—this one, he supposed, was true.

As this impromptu education came to a close, he felt a connection being severed—as if he was in the Styx, with the cord attached to his back, and it had been cut. His dream consciousness slowly faded, and he felt himself fade back into a true sleep.

The next morning he woke up at the crack of dawn. There were people moving all over the dormitory, and a steady trickle of occupants leaving. His subconscious had seemingly processed the memories overnight, because without a second thought he jumped out of the bed he occupied and reached under it into a drawer, pulling out some plain-looking clothes.

Before he exited the dormitory, he looked around. The beds were clad in dark green sheets, and were twin sized, pushed up against the wall up and down the room; it was shaped more like a corridor than anything, with doors on either end. The walls were painted dark gray, with the siding being black. All in all, the room was rather drab, but also calming. The colors, he vaguely recalled, were those of the minor noble house he served—The Arvernians.

He followed some others out of the room, entering a communal bathroom and preparing for the day. Once he changed his clothes and cleaned up properly (a minor miracle, all things considered), he set off, letting his subconscious and partial memories guide him as he worked.

Working a regular-ish job with no risk of dying painfully was a change of pace, and for the next few days he settled into a routine of quietly going along with his tasks as directed. He got to know some of his coworkers—who was loud and joked around, those quieter and more reserved, who was ambitious, and how his superiors, especially, preferred loyal servants content in their positions.

As far as he knew, this was probably one of the most secure jobs in the kingdom. What little he knew of Mistral suggested lives below him, further down the top from the veritable mansion he lived and worked in at the top, were much tougher.

Percy spent some of the free time he got away from his coworkers, whether on breaks or laying awake in bed, quietly grieving his past life. Annabeth, his mom, Grover, Nico, Chiron, all of his friends and family, never to be seen again. It wasn't enough to properly… let go of his past, but it was what he could manage, and he owed it to them and himself to honor their memory. For each of those few days, he wiped the tears off before he fell asleep.

Still, it was a decent gig. He had some time to himself, security, and could slowly try to plan out his next move. While he took some enjoyment in the simple work, he itched for something more. For adventure. He hadn't sat in one place since he was 12, and if there were monsters to kill, who better to be on the battlefield?

A/N: Posting this to get things rolling. Posting once per week on Tuesdays—Chapter 2 coming out in a week! I also don't rule out any extra posts if my backup of chapters gets enormous. Let me know your thoughts!

Also, I'm part of a discord server called the Emerald Library. Join code is /ELibrary, feel free to come on by and say hello!

-KoP