Percy had long since lost track of how the time spent walking.

That was a lie, it had been exactly six hours, and thirty-four minutes. Not being able to talk to anybody was murder, and with the only interesting geography to look at being rocks he'd devolved to counting the minutes some time ago.

The moments following his re-surface from the lake had been confusing. A lot of noise, a lot of screaming, and a lot of trying to help where he could. It had been a trying task, all things considered. The language barrier had been a problem but had since grown into something beyond that. He'd tried helping out with the healing of a pair of dying half-bloods and it had taken the intervention of the black-haired girl – now sporting a neat little eyepatch – before anyone would let him do anything.

What followed that was nearly an hour of tunneling to dig their way out of the massive cave in that had blocked the entrance to the lake.

He hadn't been quite sure what was happening after that, but he had managed to piece together that the half-bloods were regrouping. Most likely they were heading back to the entrance of whatever base camp was on the outside of the cave. With nothing else to go off of, he'd chosen to follow them, joining in their massive moving caravan out of the depths.

That had apparently been the correct choice, given that the girl who'd lost her eye, who Percy was fairly confident was in charge, had stuck to his side like glue the entire time.

Though maybe that was borne out of suspicion than any sense of camaraderie.

He'd tried passing the time by listening to the strange language being spoken around him. Apparently, it had become common knowledge that he didn't understand what anybody was saying, so nobody had bothered not talking around him. He was fairly certain that it was Asian in origin, but that was about as far as he got. He hadn't been able to travel much, and aside from Ancient Greek, he'd never really had an ear for languages.

It had become painfully obvious though, that he was the target of much of the conversation. On more than one occasion, an individual would approach the eye-patch-wearing, purple-haired girl and talk to her, not bothering to hide their pointed looks in his direction. Nor was he immune to the pointing or inconspicuous looks from the others in the vicinity. He had even watched as a girl near the front of the column had gotten on the shoulders of her larger friend to get a look at him.

He did his best to ignore the attention, and instead spent some time trying to figure out what the hell had happened and where he could have been. He had ruled out the pit, if for no other reason than no demigod would have been stupid enough to try and mount an expedition into the depths.

Ruling that out, he then moved on to the only other option remotely - very remotely - possible. He had been investigating some strange goings on in the Underworld with Nico. Even the son of Hades was fairly unfamiliar with exactly what went on in every corner of the Underworld, and hadn't been too keen on adventuring as deep in as they had gone. Percy's rather far-fetched theory was that he had somehow stumbled into another pantheon's Underworld. He wasn't sure if that was even possible, but it would explain, if nothing else, why the half-bloods here were speaking an Asian language.

But even that far-fetched theory lacked sense. It didn't explain the eclectic mix of weapons and armor. Didn't explain the odd monsters he'd encounter, and it sure as hell didn't explain why Anaklusmos had literally turned to dust in his hands.

The thoughts had begun to give him a headache, and he had begun to feel the familiar creep of panic and anxiety swell up in his chest, and so he'd pushed the thoughts from him mind and had then turned to simply counting the minutes as they marched.

After a couple of hours of fumbling around in the dark, they had approached an absolutely ludicrously sized staircase, seemingly carved out of the very rock of the cavern itself. It must have been as wide as a football field and he couldn't see anything close to resembling a top. The stairs merely ascended it darkness. As they climbed, the oddity of the entire situation began to wear on him, and more than once he stumbled on a step, his mind having tricked him into thinking he was climbing down, rather climbing up.

But finally, after seven hours and fifteen minutes; salvation. A speck of light appeared at the end of the massive staircase. Never in his life had he been so thankful for something so mundane as daylight. But if he had been hoping for answers upon reaching the top of the staircase, he was sorely mistaken, for the revelations on the outside of the cave led only to more confusion.

He was momentarily blinded as he stepped out into the open light as a wave of heat crashed into him. It took him a few moments to adjust to the sudden light, and then a few moments longer for his brain to catch up to what he was seeing. He wasn't' entirely sure what he had been expecting, but the deserts of Arizona certainly hadn't been it. At least, he was fairly sure that's where he was. They had emerged onto a small strip of land on the outside of a small town. The town, which really was only a small collection of maybe a couple dozen small buildings, had been built out of the nearby rock, and several of the buildings looked they were built right into the surrounding rock itself. He wasn't overly aware of the indigenous tribes of the west, but he was pretty sure he remembered seeing structures exactly like these in at least one textbook in high school.

But then he looked away from the town, and his confidence wavered. Not far from the town, maybe only a mile or two away was a massive cliff face. The red rock climbed high, almost so high that Percy lost sight of it in the clouds, but he could just make out the top of the rock, and was almost certain that it didn't rise into a peak, but met more rock in a well sculpted corner. Looking directly upwards, he felt his mouth drop open as he saw nothing but cavernous crag above.

The entire town was built into the cavern, mountain, whatever the hell this place was. This…wasn't Arizona. Hell, he wasn't sure he was even the States any more. Surreptitiously, he reached out with some of his divine power and tried to feel for the nearest large body of water. Almost immediately he felt something. A monstrously large body of somewhere south of him. But…it felt wrong. Unfamiliar and strangely…hollow. He wasn't quite sure how to describe what he was feeling. Like whatever it was he was feeling was missing something. Something important. And as he reached out to feel at the water, he could have sworn that he felt something reach out to him as well. The gentlest of nudges against his psyche. Tentative. Cautious. Like the uncertain hands of a toddler meeting someone for the first time.

He felt someone gently nudge him and glanced down to see the black-haired woman looking at him, an oddly pinched expression on her face. She gestured with her head to follow the crowd of half-bloods marching back towards the city. Percy had been so caught off guard by the what he had been seeing that he hadn't even realized that he had stopped in the middle of the sandy road. Doing his best to shake off his surprise he followed after the rest of the kids, his eyes glued to the ceiling the entire time.

He had never quite been in a town like this one. It was like walking through an Asian interpretation of western America in the nineteenth century. Saloons and ruddy-doored buildings were lined with the thatched bamboo homes of the east. It was a decidedly odd mix that he couldn't exactly wrap his head around. He also noticed that there didn't seem to be anybody there. He was about halfway through the town before he noticed it. But when he did, it became so painfully apparent that it was difficult to think of anything else. The entire town seemed…empty. A small army of demi-humans marching through the middle of town and not even the curious eyes of a child peering out a window.

He didn't like it. He didn't like this place. Didn't like what was going on.

Everything felt wrong.

He could feel his shoulders tensing, and did his best to try and relax. His instincts weren't screaming at him that something bad was about to happen, but he was certainly unnerved.

He and the black-haired woman re-connected with the horde on the other side of town. They were congregating in a large circle near the town's entrance. Over the heads of the kids, Percy could just make out something on the ground. It was difficult to make out, but it looked some a painting or a mural of some kind. At his side, the black-hair girl gently pulled at his elbow, signifying for him to follow her.

Following her lead, they stopped at the edge of the group, their feet just barely touching the outer edge of whatever was painted on the ground. Then, before he had time to really understand what was happening, someone near the center of the circle shouted something, and the entire world seemed to erupt in a phosphorescent white light. He instinctively tried to leap back, but he slammed into an invisible force. He tried to move, to fight, to do much of anything but he couldn't. His movements were completely, and utterly restricted.

A few moments later and the light faded away as did the restriction on his movement. The second he felt the odd pressure on him dissipate, he leapt away from the circle, his borrowed blade materializing in his hand as he glared at the black-haired woman who watched him with mixture of bemusement and bafflement. That reaction alone gave him pause and he slowly re-sheathed the weapon and took in his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed, was that his actions had drawn a crowd. Nearly thirty or so people had stopped what they were doing to stare at him as he drew his weapon. But that realization was very quickly overshadowed by the far greater concern.

This was not New York.

This was not Los Angeles.

And this was most certainly not the United States.

Hell, he wasn't unconvinced that this wasn't the same time period. It was what he felt more than any physical indication. As he looked around, he saw that he was in what might have passed for a simple town square. A large pagoda covering the area in which the other half-bloods were still congregating which was surrounded on all sides by large buildings. Not tall enough to be sky scrapers but also too tall and blocky to be regular housing. It looked old school. Like those old European towns, he'd seen in movies and tv. The kind of hard stone walls and thatched roofs of a pre-industrialized society. It could have been anywhere in western Europe and would not have felt too out of place.

But it was the world itself, that was wrong. So very, very wrong. He didn't know how he could feel it. Didn't understand how or why he just instinctually knew that something was very wrong with this picture, but the world was wrong. The…energy, was off. The stench of divine magic permeated the area, but that too felt foreign and wrong. Altogether different from the kinds of divine aura's he'd felt in his life.

And then there was the sea…it was…hollow. Empty. Like a part of it had gone missing so very long ago and even from where he was he could all but hear it cry out to him in a desperate plea for his presence. For some kind of stabilizing force to bring balance back to what had once been lost. His blood sang for him to answer that call. To bring that balance back. But that didn't make sense. None of this made sense. It was all wrong. So very, very wrong.

Where the hell was he?

Tsubaki was starting to get concerned. Correction, she had been concerned, and now she was closing in on full-blown panic. The seemingly far-too powerful stranger was acting even stranger than before. His reaction to the teleportation circle had been incredibly odd for a man of his apparent strength. How else did one grow so strong besides the dungeon, and nobody traversed the dungeon without utilizing one of the circles at least once. But it was his reaction to the safe zone and the city that was all the more unsettling.

It was evident in the way his back stiffened, the way his head snapped in every direction, his eyes wide and mouth agape. He did not know this place. Did not recognize it. It was all foreign to him. Which made no sense. Absolutely no sense at all. As far as she was aware, the only entrance to the dungeon was through the city, which meant that he would have needed to come in, traverse through several floors including the very safe zone they had just passed through, and be this confused.

Had the man lost his memory? It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. She'd heard of any number of accidents occurring in the dungeon. But…that still didn't make sense. She had never seen the man before. Had never even heard of anyone matching his description. Even the smallest of Familia would have been shouting from the rooftops about him, showing him off at any and every opportunity if they could. Someone strong enough to single-handedly topple the floor boss would never be able to wander the streets unrecognized.

And yet here he was. Plain as day and as real as the pain in her eye, mouth open in awe, terror, and confusion as he took in the sights around him. She sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. She needed to speak to someone, needed to speak to Hephaestus now-

"Tsubaki!" She turned, and relief blossomed in her chest as the familiar red-haired head of their Familia raced towards their group, a number of their fellow Familia members trailing close behind. Behind them, she recognized a few members of the Micah Familia, their arms laden with medicinal herbs and supplies.

"Lady Hephaestus," Tsubaki sighed in relief, a few moments before the taller woman closed the distance. She slid to a stop in front of her, and for a moment looked like she wanted to reach out to Tsubaki before thinking better of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw as the stranger's head seemed to snap to attention at the arrival of the goddess.

"Oh gods…Tsubaki," Lady Hephaestus muttered, her fingers reaching out to caress along the side of Tsubaki's head near her injury. She flinched at the contact, her skin still tender in spite of the potions she'd consumed, and Lady Hephaestus recoiled as though struck.

"It's all right, Lady Hephaestus," Tsubaki tried to reassure. She attempted a smile, but was fairly certain it come across as more of a grimace. This time, she was certain that the stranger had reacted. His entire attention now appeared glued to her goddess. His eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, jaw clenched tightly as he swayed from one foot to the other. Tsubaki did her best to keep him in her periphery, while also as surreptitiously as possible attempting to maneuver herself between him and her goddess.

"It looks worse than it is,"

Lady Hephaestus frowned, "Somehow I doubt that," she muttered but she blessedly didn't pursue the topic. "What happened? The scouts told us something about a collapse?"

Tsubaki nodded, "One of natural bridges on the Fourth Floor collapsed while we were crossing." She flinched, knowing what the reaction would be to what she said next. "We…we fell into the floor boss' room."

Lady Hephaestus' face drained of what little color had remained. She muttered something in the language of the gods, behind her, the stranger tensed, his eyes growing wide.

"But…it wasn't there right?" She stated more than asked, her voice growing a touch more hysterical. "The Freya Familia killed it recently yes? It was still reforming?"

Tsubaki winced, and her Lady looked despondent. It was an unusual, foreign expression. One she had never seen on her Lady's hardened features.

"It…it was there when we fell in," Tsubaki admitted. "It aggro'd as soon as we hit the water. We tried to get out, but the cave in blocked off the exit to the chamber. We tried digging our way out but between the fighting and the injured it was impossible."

"…How many," Lady Hephaestus whispered, her head ducked low and her hair covering her eyes.

"…twelve, my Lady," Tsubaki responded. "Twenty injured. Ten of whom are still on the safe floor – they'd been too injured to move. The rest of us managed to retreat." She glanced behind her, fully acknowledging the strange man for the first time since the start of their conversation.

"It would have been considerably worse…but we had help." She stepped aside and gestured at the man. "We don't know his name," she admitted. "And he speaks in a…peculiar manner. I think he might be from the east, but none of us can understand him." She glanced around her then gestured for her Lady to lean in. Lady Hephaestus did so immediately. Leaning in, Tsubaki whispered as quietly as she could.

"He took on the boss by himself. Killed it by himself." Lady Hephaestus' eye rounded to the size of a saucepan as she glanced over the man. She looked at him quickly, then froze, and looked back up at him. Her face contorting into a frown as she studied him closely. Tsubaki saw her hand move ever so slightly to the handle of the hammer holstered at her side, before quickly composing herself. Nodding, she reached out and gently squeezed Tsubaki by the shoulder.

"I am proud of you," she told Tsubaki. "We will find the time to mourn our fallen later, but for now, please, go get some rest and get your injuries tended to." She glanced up and over Tsubaki's shoulder at the stranger, a frown marring her face. "I will go and thank our new friend…and maybe bridge the communication issue."

Tsubaki's back stiffened. Her every instinct shouting at her to not leave her Lady alone with that man. While he had most certainly come to their aid, and might have been the only reason as many of them had survived like they had…there was far too much mystery to him for Tsubaki to comfortable with. Far too much they didn't know; far too much they didn't understand; far too much that didn't add up.

But, she trusted her head of Familia. Hephaestus was a goddess after all. Even the most powerful of adventurers couldn't take on a god or goddess. And it would be suicidal to do so in the heart of the city. Reluctant but trusting in her Lady, Tsubaki acquiesced and, with a short bow, slowly began wandering off to the collection of healers tending to the wounded.

Hephaestus watched her Captain until she was squarely tucked away in a far corner of the pagoda and was being inspected by one of the healers. As soon as the members of her Familia that hadn't fallen into the chasm had returned and told her what had happened, she began scrambling, calling in favors from anyone she could. Thankfully, Micah could always be counted on to help someone in need.

Sighing, she turned her attention back to the newest problem, her face contorting into a frown as she and the strange man locked gazes. He didn't flinch away, didn't back down. He was not intimidated and at the same time, did not seem aggressive. If anything, he seemed…curious? Confused even.

Well that much she could certainly understand, because if there was one thing the man before was, it was confusing.

He felt…wrong. Different. His energy it was familiar and yet not in a familiar way. All mortals pledged to a god or goddess had a hint of divine energy to them. It was how they "leveled up," after all. The gods quite literally infused their magical energies and life forces into that of their Familia. As such, most mortals had at least a minor hint of divinity to them.

But not this man. He didn't just have a whiff of divinity.

He was drowning in it.

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that she was standing by one of her own kind. Her kin. But she did know better, and she had never seen this man before in her life. Moreover, even though he stank of divine influence, the feel was…wrong. It was divine power to be sure, that kind of strength of aura and energy could only ever be one thing but he felt…wilder. More uncontrolled. Whereas the children of the mortal realm felt like a gentle current, he felt like a rampaging storm. Barely restrained behind the veneer of mortality.

He was wrong. It was the only way to describe it. He was wrong. He didn't belong here. He didn't feel right. He was…off.

But there was something about him that felt familiar. Something about him that felt like they had met somewhere, some time before. It was in the eyes, she decided. His eyes were familiar but for the life of her she could not determine where from.

Her hand unconsciously drifted closer to her hammer. His eyes followed the movement, his expression hardening and his own hand going to the pommel of the sword at his hip. Realizing her mistake, she raised her hands in the air, and cautiously approached.

Even if she didn't know who or what he was he had saved the lives of her children and for that he deserved respect and recognition, not suspicion and scorn.

Steadying herself, she tried to smile and she stepped towards him.

He was torn from his panicked musings by the approach of a massive collection of divine energy. Twisting in the direction of the incoming source, he frowned as he observed the pale-skinned, red-haired woman approach the black-haired girl. Given the deferential way the girl positioned herself, this must have been her superior of some kind.

But he pushed past that and focused on the new arrival. She felt…familiar. But not in a familiar way. It was an odd sensation. He felt as though he knew her, recognized her energy and divine presence and at the same time, he knew for a fact that he had never seen the lady before in his life. Pretty red-heads with eye-patches and dressed like a pirate blacksmith would have stood out to him.

And then he heard it. For a moment, he thought that maybe it had just been his imagination. That it had been something conjured up by his mind in a desperate plea for some sense of normality and familiarity.

"Hephaestus."

He stiffened and tried to listen in. Tried to fight through the garbled mess of unintelligible words but then he heard it again.

"Hephaestus."

He felt his body go rigid. That…that couldn't be a coincidence, could it? He supposed he could chalk it up as nothing to be concerned about. Someone could have simply felt a touch…creative or inspired when naming their kid. But of all the Greek gods and goddesses to name your daughter…Hephaestus? And then there was the energy. That familiar and yet entirely foreign feeling of power emanating from the redhaired woman.

She felt both like home and like an alien all at once.

It was confusing. This was all so confusing. What the hell was happening? Where was he? Who the hell were these people?

And then the black-haired girl was gone and it was just him and the red-haired woman. He met her eye evenly. She studied him as he studied her. He felt uneasy. Disquieted. There was something off about this woman but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. Her hand suddenly drifted to the hammer sheathed at her hip and his eyes narrowed.

Really? Was that how this was going to play out? Okay, well if she wanted to play it like that then he was more than happy to play that game too. As his own hand moved to his waist, the woman seemed to realize what she'd done as her eye went wide and her hand snapped away from her hip. Holding both hands up in a placating gesture, she took a step forward.

She said something in that garbled, confusing language that he didn't understand and he began to feel his frustrations boil over.

"If it didn't work the first dozen times, it's not going to work now," he said in English. The woman stopped, head cocked to one side and her eye narrowed in confusion. "Yeah, didn't think so," he snorted.

He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back to the sky. This was all just becoming too much. Too much confusion. Too much uncertainty. Just too damn much.

"All right, so you clearly don't understand English," he said, before sarcastically saying in Ancient Greek, "Don't suppose you understand this?"

The reaction was immediate, surprising, and deeply concerning.

She inhaled sharply, her eye widening as she took a sudden, sharp step backwards her hand moving once more to the hammer at her hip.

He matched her movement, eyeing her warily as he steadily began to tap into his power. If she wanted a fight then he was more than happy to give her one.

"You speak the language of the Gods…how?" She demanded, pulling the hammer free from its sheathe "Who the hell are you?"

"Language of the-you mean Greek?" He scoffed, "No duh!" His hand wrapped tightly around the pommel of his sword, "I'm Percy…who the hell are you?"

No amount of preparation in the world would have been able to prepare him for what she said next.

"I am Hephaestus, head of the Hephaestus Familia, goddess of Smithing!"

"…What?"