Planning to thwart a scheme that you didn't have any info on was hard. You needed expert knowledge of the building you were protecting, experience with battle tactics at fighting the invisible enemy, lots of patience, exquisite efficiency, and outstanding knowledge of where to put minimal troops to save manpower.

I didn't have any of those abilities. Considering I was an ADHD son of Poseidon, I could barely stay still while hiding from the enemy, but staying still for hours while talking about mind-numbing ploys?

Forget it.

I tried. I really did. But in the end, I was still sent to a bedroom, basically grounding me. One might've been unhappy about it, but I was ecstatic; I hadn't gotten any sleep last night, and I took this opportunity to recharge my batteries.

When I woke up seven hours later (nightmare free, thankfully), everything had been figured out. The castle had been split up into zones and starting exactly an hour after sunrise, every soldier would patrol a specified region. Until then, the palace would be locked down. Every sector had a higher-up supervising, who would contact Chaos if they found any soldiers of Void.

Even though Chaos had millions of soldiers, they weren't robots; they still had to eat, sleep, and entertain themselves. Since we didn't know when the plan was going down, only a specified twenty-four hours, this meant that Omega had to make shifts of eight hours each, severely reducing manpower. He had done this out of concern for his soldiers but reminded them to stay vigilant and carry a weapon at all times while making sure to alert a general if there was a breach through the defenses.

The reduction of manpower forced Omega and Chaos to station most of the soldiers at the entryways, with the others guarding corridors—who would not only catch intruders that had slipped past the first line of defense, but guard dozens of rooms at one time, in case the Void soldiers tried to go through the windows. Plus, the off-duty soldiers would give some resistance throughout the inner unguarded sections. Omega, Rosaline, and Jessica would control two sectors each, guarding the most vulnerable spots if there was an all-out attack—like the northern, southern, eastern, and western gates. I wasn't stationed anywhere, so I could wander wherever I pleased.

I decided to spend the rest of my day relaxing, which was warrior code for training. When I reached the gym/arena, it was crowded with hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of soldiers who had the same idea as me.

Thankfully, the gym was enchanted to have infinite space—otherwise being jostled by sweaty bodies every second would've been a problem.

While I was exploring the arena, looking for something to do, I heard a voice yell, "Percy! To your right!"

I looked right. Rosaline was waving to me, in the middle of a giant sparring ring. On the outside of the ring were many of the primordials, many sporting ripped clothing, making it obvious they had sparred with Rosaline.

I walked over towards them. "You want to spar?" she asked me.

"And almost kill myself again?" I asked. "Hard pass."

"C'mon," Rosaline whined like a little kid who didn't get a toy they wanted. "I just want a good spar, but these idiots,"—she pointed towards the primordials who looked offended—"just keep on giving up!"

"I can't fight better than a primordial!"

"You beat me single-handedly," Gaea said supportively.

"See? Even they want to see you fight!" Rosaline exclaimed.

I wavered for a few seconds, then relented. "Fine," I groaned, stepping into the huge circle that marked the arena. "But if I die, I'm going to haunt you for eternity."

"I'll give you cookies every day," Rosaline replied.

"They better be blue." I uncapped Riptide, and Rosaline followed suit, unsheathing a sword. "How do you want to do this?"

"No powers. You could probably beat me in a second."

"Highly unlikely," I muttered but obeyed.

Then, without warning, she was in front of me, swinging the sword at my neck. I blocked, and the battle started. She was a blur, attacking my head one moment then my lower body, while also using her other limbs to her advantage. I was forced on the defensive; the only reason I was still alive was because of my demigod instincts that drove my body.

We parried, swung, sliced, and stabbed. We even kicked and punched. This was the hardest battle I had ever fought, but fortunately, we were at a draw: I couldn't get on the offensive, while she couldn't penetrate my defense.

It seemed as though we fought for eternity, but then I slipped up. My hair was wet with sweat, my heart was beating as fast as a dozen drums, and I was panting like a dog. In a millisecond, Rosaline's sword went from stabbing at my head to slashing at my chest. I was too slow, and it seemed as though I watched in slow motion as Rosaline opened up a deep cut on my stomach.

But that's when I saw my opening as well. The problem with any melee weapon was that when one got an opening on the enemy and wounded them, they left themselves open for a moment. Unfortunately, that didn't apply to Rosaline; she was too quick, and by the time one would get their weapon an inch from her body she would have already blocked it and disengaged.

So, I didn't do that.

There was also one thing that was closer to my body; her weapon that just gave me a severe wound. So before my nerves gave my brain the signal that I was hurt, I twisted my wrist and disarmed her faster than a blink of the eye.

Rosaline didn't give up, though. She had the instincts of a predator and attempted to catch her sword before it touched the ground. She would've succeeded if I hadn't kicked the sword away, then attempted to stab her.

She jumped back, giving me room to breathe. Then I, unfortunately, began to feel the side effects of a severe wound, which included—but was not limited to—extreme pain, blood, not being able to focus, and extremely limited range of motion.

Yay.

Wincing, I knew I had to end the battle quickly or surrender. The former wouldn't happen, since I had gotten the sense that now Rosaline would be the one ending the battle, not me. And the latter . . . just forget it.

But even as things looked untoward, I had an idea. From experience, I had learned that it was almost impossible to tell if one was pretending to be more injured than they actually were.

So I dropped to one knee, let go of Riptide, and put on a face of pain—which I was not faking. In this position, I looked vulnerable and defenseless. To make someone yield, you would have to threaten them with a fatal strike—and all fatal strikes would leave your guard open with how I was kneeling.

Rosaline knew that. She edged closer inch by inch, ready to spring away if I made any sudden movements. When she got an arms distance away from me, she asked, "This is a trap, right?"

I smiled at her. "What makes you say that?"

"With you, it's always a trap."

I merely shrugged, trying to miff a reaction out of her. "I guess it's a draw then."

Rosaline narrowed her eyes at me. "Either you're a good actor or you're really hurt. Why don't you surrender?"

"The first one," I said quickly, making it seem as though I was desperate to have a draw. "I still have some fight in me." To contradict my statement further, I placed a hand on my stomach—only to feel no wound. In retrospect, it hadn't been throbbing for a little while, but I had just thought my body was doing its best to numb the pain. I looked down in shock—unfortunately lowering my guard. "What the—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence. In a moment, Rosaline was in front of me, holding her retrieved sword at my throat, and kicked Riptide away from me. She smirked at me. "Yield?"

"I don't know what you did—or if you even did it," I said. "But there's one flaw in your plan."

She looked at me incredulously. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say? The one holding the sword to your throat?"

Now, this scenario was one situation almost no warrior knew how to control. Many soldiers thought war was only fighting—that one could only get distracted by feints and the surrounding scenery. Or, even worse—dirt in the eyes. But one key factor—almost as important in war as fighting—were words. There were an innumerable amount of ways you could trick your opponent by literally just talking to them. You could make them mad, sad, annoyed, dubious, or greedy—anything that would divert them from their goal of killing you. Shouts and battle cries could cut down on morale, and animal sounds could be messages—or startle enemy soldiers.

Exactly why Rosaline subconsciously loosened her grip on her sword to hold it more comfortably, and not threateningly. When one asks a question, it was a natural human instinct to seek for an answer, especially if it was your question which needed answering.

And that's when I made my move. I was no longer injured, so I simply disarmed her and grabbed her sword.

But Rosaline was an exceptional fighter, and she recovered quickly, disarming me in the process of me disarming her, making the sword go flying out of the circle and nearly hit Aether, the primordial of light, who, in response, yelped in alarm.

There was a pause where Rosaline and I just looked at each other. Finally, she said enthusiastically, "I've always wanted to have a brawl!"

She charged at me, being as adept with her fists as she was with her sword. Once again, I was forced on the defensive. Somehow, after a few minutes, I ended up in a chokehold with Rosaline squeezing as hard as she could. It felt as though my windpipe was going to be crushed like a piece of paper. My vision started dimming, and I desperately hit her in the stomach, connecting my elbow to her solar plexus.

She was caught by surprise, and in pain she loosened her vise grip on my neck, allowing precious oxygen back to my brain. Before she could start squeezing again, I judo flipped her over my back. She hit the ground with a painful thud and laid there, beat.

I flopped down next to her, breathing heavily. My limbs felt like noodles, and the adrenaline from the fight slowly started to dissipate, allowing me to feel that my full body was sore.

"Let's call it a draw," Rosaline said tiredly, her eyes closed. I hummed in agreement, not having the energy to talk. She then raised her voice and shouted to Aether, "How long were we fighting for?"

"Five hours, forty-seven minutes, and thirty-one seconds," he shouted back.

Rosaline gave him a thumbs-up in thanks, then shifted her attention back to me. "That was the best fight I've ever had in a long time."

I had recovered enough to talk. "You weren't giving your best the first time, weren't you?"

Her lips made a sheepish smile. "Maaaybe. But now I was."

"Sure you were," I groaned. "Did you heal me?"

"Probably one of the primordials. I'm not sure."

But later I would find out that they hadn't done it. I had done it subconsciously, with the help of particles of water in the air.

But I wasn't worrying about it then and there. My body was beginning to shut down from fatigue. Just before my vision blacked out completely, I muttered out, "Good night."

But if I knew what was going to happen tomorrow, I probably would've tried to recover and train some more.