Fwhip!

I leaned my body backward, watching the staff my dad swung at my head narrowly pass over me. As soon as I straightened, I had to sidestep and retreat a pace to dodge the overhead strike. It hit the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. I used this dust to partially hide my body, marking his location and swinging my short staff horizontally at his midsection. He blocked it before swinging his staff to the right, forcing me to bring back the other end of my staff to block his incoming strike on the left. I pivoted my body, locking our staffs together in a bout of strength. I was just about as strong as him, young as I was. He often said that was because I was a first-born.

~Flashback~

I was lying in my bed with my dad, Armando, and my grandfather, Enrique, on either side of me. They had just finished telling me the story of Achilles and his mom. "Padre, why don't I have a mommy?" My father shushed me. "Percy, you do have a mom. Just like Achilles' mom, she is a strong divine being. She just isn't allowed to talk to you by the mean Olympians." "But why Padre?" My grandfather stepped in. "Little Fuego, she is always watching. She is watching you right now chico."

I looked around. "But where is she?" My father snorted. "She is watching you Percy, just know that. She can't be around because you are a firstborn." I made a confused face at him. "You are special. You will be more powerful than other demigods because you are the first person born from a specific god. Like Achilles and Orpheus, you will more powerful, stronger and faster than other demigods that have many siblings."

I frowned. "Who is your mother? My grandma?"

My grandfather sighed, almost dreamily. "Ah, mi amor. The beautiful and tame goddess Hebe. A wonderful heart and soul."

I grinned at him. "Can you tell me about grandma?"

He tussled my hair and began talking about his once upon a love story.

~End Flashback~

But even though I could match my father's strength, his skill with the staff was on another level. He had specialized in it, saying that a spear limited your options. I didn't really understand what he meant; I think a spear would finish a fight quicker. But he told me to trust him, and I did. I met his overhead strike, deflecting it towards my right side and down, before preforming a sweeping leg move at him. He stabbed down with his staff, using it as a vault and jumping over my sweep and landing behind me. I turned just a little too slow and his lunge met my ribcage, knocking me back and forcing the breath from my lungs.

I hit the ground and bounced, using my left arm to push myself into a stance just in time to meet his swing. I blocked it, setting my staff vertical and flagstaff kicked him in the stomach, kicking him back a few feet. He grinned, before spinning his bo staff in circles from left to right and then running at me. I got down into a defensive stance, using both hands on the staff to prepare for what was to come. He wailed on me swinging, stabbing, kicking and throwing punches, forcing me to parry and dodge and wait for a mistake.

It took a minute for me playing defense until I noticed a small pattern. I must have kicked him hard on the right side because he never fully extended on his swings from that side. Since he was hurt, I decided to capitalize on that. After parrying a thrust, I grabbed the end of his staff and tugged on it, sending him stumbling slightly towards me. I lunged forward, left knee meeting his right ribcage before shoving the middle of my staff towards his throat. It surprisingly hit, sending him careening backwards gulping for air and on the defensive.

I ran forwards, swinging my staff like a baseball bat. He went to parry, and I switched the direction of my staff, pulling it down and hitting his towards the bottom, dragging it out to the side. I used the small opening to swing the staff into an uppercut, hitting him in the chin and sending him flying into the air.

I walked forward and held the staff against his throat. "Yield Padre?"

He held his hand out and I helped him to his feet. "Getting really crafty with the staff. After mastering the escrima sticks and whooping my ass with them I thought you would take a little longer with the bo staff. It was my strong suit. What did you want to learn next?"

"I was thinking something with range. Bow and arrow?"

My dad rubbed his chin in thought. "I like the ranged idea, but I never really liked the bow and arrow, so I wouldn't be able to teach you much. What else is there?"

I shrugged. "You're the expert demigod, you tell me Dad."

He grinned. "We'll come back to it. Pitch the tents and I'll do some hunting, hopefully those snare traps found something useful."

I watched as he walked away into the secluded forest along the Appalachian Mountains, before sighing and starting to set up camp. Slinging the tarps over low hanging tree branches and staking them into the ground took me a little over 30 minutes. I was about to start setting up the campfire and spit when I heard a loud rumble from the forest. I looked around but nothing came out and I couldn't pinpoint where it came from.

I ran to our packs and took out my dad's big Celestial Bronze bowie knife and my short staff and glanced around the clearing warily. A deep guttural chuckle filled the clearing and two women walked into the clearing. They had serpents spilling from their heads, replacing their hair.

"My, my sister, surely we have found our little demigod treat!" The one on the right said. "I believe we have Stheno." The one on the right replied. Stheno and Euryale, the sisters of Medusa. Gorgons. Gods why couldn't they give me easier monsters like the cyclops and dracaena I was used to. I haven't encountered B tier monsters or higher yet.

The held spears in their hands, one of Celestial Bronze and the other a weird shiny gold I hadn't seen. They began circling me, one taking either side and I was forced to pivot to keep them in my peripherals the whole time. "You lovely ladies sure you want a piece of me? Been told I taste like burnt firewood. You don't want to munch on some charcoal, do you?" One of them sniffed the air.

"You do smell like firewood. Perhaps hickory smoked godling is our favorite." She grinned, almost hungrily. I gave a small gulp. I don't know if I can handle these two on my own. Where was my…

No sooner had the thought entered my head did my dad jumped from the bushes, landing and slamming Stheno into the ground. She gave a surprised grunt before bucking and wildly swinging at my dad. He backed up and threw his hand up, much like a receiver signaling they were wide open for a pass. I launched the knife towards him, end of end, and he caught the hilt and stabbed it down into Stheno's left arm. She wailed in pain and smacked my dad hard across the face, sending him flying.

She pulled the knife out with moan of agony before lunging towards my dad, her spear forgotten. I rushed forwards to defend him, but I was stopped when I felt a rush of air and my instincts told me to duck. I dropped flat to the ground, narrowly avoiding the wide swing Euryale had sent my way. I rolled forwards and popped to my feet, spinning with my staff to block her forehand stab. I deflected it off to the side and we began exchanging blows, blocking and defending one another's strikes before I stabbed my staff down onto her foot, causing her to stumble back. Taking advantage of the moment, I swung my staff at her head as hard as I could, knocking her down. I followed it up by an overhead strike to her temple that knocked her out cold.

I turned to go back to my dad, only to see him locked in death embrace with Stheno, holding their hands to each other's throats, choking each other. But my dad looked worse for wear, several knife wounds along his body and snake bites along his neck and face while Stheno had a few cuts and bruises to her face. My dad was turning purple, as it was kind of hard to out muscle a B-tier monster. They had traded and swapped knife blows. I looked at the discarded knife and ran forwards, scooping it up and stabbing through Stheno's head, sending a shower of golden dust onto my father. He rubbed his throat, gasping for air.

"Thanks for the assist, was having a little trouble there. Vicious monster, she is." I watched as his cuts sealed close and healed in front of my eyes. I had inherited that power from him, but I didn't get the slow aging. He was around 40 and still looked 21 at the most. I threw a thumbs up, pointing behind me. "What about that one?"

He looked over as I helped him to his feet. "Go get your second B tier kill. A night to remember and celebrate." I walked over to Euryale's body, stabbing down with his knife.

Percy failed to notice his father wincing before lifting his shirt at the only wound that didn't close, a stab to his liver, filled with the poisonous blood that had dripped from Stheno's left arm. He winced again and felt the wound, drawing the blood leaking to his eyes. He frowned, and then a moment of realization crossed his face. He looked up at his son, who had just slain the only hope for his survival not a second earlier. Sliding his shirt back down and standing up straight, he walked after Percy to the camp site and began helping set up the campfire.

The whole night went perfectly. I retrieved two rabbits from the snares and traps we laid and my dad skinned and cut them while I set up the rest of the campfire. After I threw the last log in the pit, I summoned a fire ball into my hand, watching as it flickered and waved back at me. I loved the fire; it was always so warm and inviting. I dropped the fireball into the pit and the logs and woods burst into flames, roaring up into the sky. I then sat the spit up and prepped our seasoning for my dad before laying down and resting. While it had been a short fight, it had taken a lot to defend against the monster's blows, she was very strong, and had put power behind each one.

As we laid down to bed, I tucked my arms behind my head to look at the stars. On this camping survival trips Dad took me on, every night I got a story on a new constellation, where my dad taught me lessons about the gods. My first introduction was Orion, and his tragic story. Dad told me heroes often get the worst end of the stick, and their stories were often misconstrued over the generations.

Some of them had been bad people, forced to play a part by fate and prophecy, and some that a god had a grudge against, had been painted to be bad guys when they really were honorable. I didn't think too much into it. I knew the gods weren't any good. They didn't care for mortals or demigods, that much was obvious even from the stories. I like to focus more on the lessons from dad. He always had great advice and seemed so knowledgeable.

"You ready Percy?" my dad said, laying down head-to-head with me. "Yes Padre, what's tonight's story?"

"Tonight, I'll talk to you about a woman scorned. The tale of Medea."

…..

Armando's P.O.V.

I had just wrapped up the story, and looked to see Percy was asleep. Good. I could feel the poison making its way through my system. I didn't have much time. I grabbed some spare pens and paper from our camping packs. I wrote a note, saying how much I loved him and that me and my father believed in him. I told him that everything in my pack was to be used by him, and that he should try out Camp Half-Blood, in Long Island if the monsters' numbers become over whelming. I had faith in my son, and he was only a few months from surpassing me. He would be a great hero, and based on what his mom said, the focus of the Fates.

I know he might hold slight resentment towards me from not telling him about my death beforehand, but I couldn't bear to see him in that condition. To have him watch his father die. He already watched my dad die; I couldn't do it twice. I finished up my note and told him that he would find answers about his mom in Phoenix, Arizona when he turned 11. She was always watching. I could feel her presence even now. I settled down, getting ready for Thanatos to do his thing and felt a light warmth flood over me. My face settled into a gentle smile, and I relaxed. For the first time since Percy came into this world, I was able to relax.

I wasn't at peace knowing that he would be fighting for his life. But I knew that she was watching over him, and he would live a great life. I could die with that. The warmth faded. Everything faded to darkness, nothingness. With just one thought on his mind.

Not much of a Happy Birthday Percy.

And then Armando was no more.