Chapter 8: I duke out in an 8-way fight


[David's Pov]

As we walked down from the Big House, Annabeth and Percy argued along the way.

Well, 'argue' may not be the correct word; it was more akin to Annabeth scolding Percy for his…' misbehavior'.

I was against the idea that we should let Thalia on her own─yeah, I barely knew each other, but she had come for me (Well, not exactly 'me', but you get the point) when she didn't even know who I was.

"Percy, you've already got Ares on your bad side. You don't need another immortal enemy."

"I know, it's just so…unfair."

Annabeth didn't answer that. She looked grimmer than ever, and her stormy grey eyes seemed to stir like a typhoon. Which meant I probably won't get an answer to why Percy was on Ares's bad side.

Over at the basketball court, a few of the Hunters were shooting hoops. One of them was arguing with the gruff girl from before at the exploding snowball fight.

Coming up closer, the hunter turned out to be Zoë. She had a firm grip on the basketball like she was going to exchange it for a set of hunting knives any second, and the gruff girl had a legit 3 footed short sword.

"Clarisse!"

Annabeth called out, herring between them to break the fight. 'Clarisse' just sneered at her and didn't lower her arm an inch.

"What do you want, Annie-brain?"

"You have a recruit."

"What?"

Clarisse turned around, surprised. I hated to admit it, but she was intimidating; she looked like a serial killer with her blade, not aided by the fact she had a trace of a permanent sneer on her facial expression. Westover Hall's delinquents were kindergartners compared to her.

She looked me up and down. I didn't know what to do so I waved in the most awkward fashion possible. That only made her snort with a wicked grin which was not at all friendly.

"A newbie, eh?"

Clarisse strode over. She was a lot taller than I initially guessed. I was 5'4, but she was definitely over that mark, reaching maybe 5'6? So she looked down on me upfront.

Percy stepped in between as if to shield me from her, which I appreciated a lot. But Clarisse only sneered at him as well.

"Back off, Jackson. You heard prissy; he is my recruit."

And he did.

He gave me an apologetic, worrisome glance, and I wished I could've said I gave him a reassuring smile. But by the looks of his face, it came out more as an "Oh god, please help me!" than anything else.

"So. You're the one who drove the sun here."

"Yes."

I gripped my lighter in my pocket. That caught her attention.

"What you got there? A switchblade?"

"No."

"Then what?"

I showed her the lighter. Clarisse raised her eyebrow.

"You smoke?"

"No, it's a sword. Here."

I clicked it, and the sword reappeared in my hand. Clarisse became wide-eyed, looking at the pitch-black sword. She knew what this was.

"Where did you get this?"

"It appeared in my hand when I was fighting the Manticore."

"Fight the Manticore…"

Clarisse squinted down at me again. I slightly tighten my grip on the hilt, just in case she suddenly lunged at me for whatever reason. But she suddenly burst out laughing and slapped my back.

I was unceremoniously reminded of my back wound and winced, but Clarisse just roared on with her laughter, slamming down on my back.

"Nice start! No wonder father wanted to pick you out as fast as possible. You've bypassed the initiation ceremony, newbie!"

"Great…"

I groaned out, hoping she would stop hitting soon.

We split after that. Percy and Annabeth went to inform the campers about 'Capture the Flag', whatever that was, while I was dragged along by Clarisse to a cabin with a giant number 5 at the top.

The cabin itself was one of the grubbiest looking ones.

The wall was splashed with blood-red paint, and some of the marks did look like blood. A stuffed wild boar's head was hung over the doorway. Rock music blared from the inside, and as I watched someone was flung out the window, smashing it into pieces. Loud cheering could be heard from the inside.

"Marcus! Get to your feet."

"I was gonna."

The thrown-out kid grumbled and got up. He dusted off shards of glass, ignoring his cuts, and then realized I was also there.

"So, this is the one?"

"Yep."

Marcus looked me up and down and snorted.

"No way. This is a twerp. I could snap him with one arm."

"Not with that arm, I'd say."

"Shut up, twerp."

I pointed out the cuts and he snarled in frustration. He reminded me of Dr. Thorn a lot.

Inside, there were 5 more campers. 4 of them were around a single guy, who had his arm raised like a champion. They were chanting his name, "Sherman! Sherman! Sherman!" and I vaguely deduced he must be at least half-Asian too.

Sherman saw us entering and roared out in laughter. My gods, everyone here had too-loud laughter.

"And here comes the great Marcus! Soarer out of the windows!"

"Go to Tartarus, Sherman!"

"Yeah, yeah."

He waved his hand, and Marcus grumbled some more before sinking onto a bunk bed.

The inside of the cabin was just as messy as the outside. There were several scars on the walls and ceilings as if a lunatic with a sword danced around the room. A boom box was thumping with the rock music, and the place was littered with stray weapons.

Also, there was a line of bunk beds, which could hold up to 15? 16 kids.

Clarisse slapped my back again making me lurch forward to the middle of the group.

"This is the newbie our dear father has all told us to be 'nice' and 'supportive'. Introduce yourself, newbie!"

I looked around. The kids were all gruff and stuffed with muscles, and they had those unkindly leers as they slowly formed a ring around me. I had a feeling this will end badly, but I couldn't be looked down upon them either if they were my bunk-mates.

"Um, my name is David Lee-"

And then total chaos broke loose.

One of the kids yelled out the most bloodcurdling battle cry and ran out, tackling me football style and pinning me to the floor. From there, I felt 3 people slam down on my body, trying to crush my bones.

This was, without a doubt, the worst welcoming I'm ever gotten in my life. Again, Westover Hall was a kindergarten compared to this place. I wanted to scream out in pain, but the pressure was too great, so the only thing I could do was exhale.

I coughed out continuously and looked up to see Clarisse with the evilest grin ever.

"What's the matter, newbie? Thought you fought the Manticore."

"Ha! No way. I bet all he did was cower at the corner!"
"Calling for her mom! 'Mommy! Come help me, I'm scared!'."

That was my breaking point.

I do not care how much you make fun of me, or hurt me. I try my best to hold back because ma used to get worried sick whenever I came home with a bruise or a bloody nose, and the last time I let loose…

…well, things were not pretty. I ended up in Juvenile Hall because of my actions.

But, under no circumstance, will I ever let ma be a part of the joke.

I gritted my teeth and rearranged my arms so I was supporting the lowest squasher. I yelled out for a sudden burst of strength and threw all three on top of me onto a bunk bed.

Then I honestly don't remember what exactly happened. What I do remember was, a lot of punching and kicking happened, swear words in many languages (some in Ancient Greek) were thrown about, and the rock music thumped in my head.

I was also amid the scuffle. I never felt so much energy and violence inside me as I tried my best to maim any living thing in sight. I got beaten up a bunch, but I was sure I beat up as much as well.

It was enjoyable…until the action ended.

We were all lying in a heap. A conch shell sounded from far away, and someone mumbled "We should get up…" but everything hurt too much. Like, everywhere was throbbing as much as my back did from the gun-wound.

No one was left unscathed; even Clarisse had a new bruise on her face. But she sat up with a broad smile, and surprisingly, gave me a hand to help me up. Then I realized all the other campers were smiling as well, looking impressed and fulfilled.

"Welcome to Cabin 5, newbie."

Clarisse said with another slap on my back.

This time, it didn't hurt at all.

[Line Break]

So in the most cliché fashion, I was instantly accepted among the group.

Part of it must've been attributed to the fact, that apart from Clarisse, no one was in a proper shape to even walk, so we had to support each other by putting arms around each other's shoulders and walking in a long line.

As we walked to the 'dining pavilion' for breakfast, my bunkmates laughed about who threw the hardest punch, and who suplexed the other. Surprisingly I also got several comments, to which I couldn't reply very well since my jaw was heavily bruised by a hard knee kick, and I didn't remember what I even did.

Still, I've earned their respects, and I settled for that.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple.

Also, girls emerged from the canoeing lake and woods—straight out of them. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

"Who are those guys?"

"Naiads and Dryads. Some are passible sparring mates. But you mostly use them for running practice."

Campers were also gathering from their cabins. Most of the tables had less than 5, the exception being 5 and 11. We were up to 8, but Cabin 11 had more than 10 campers. I recalled them being the Hermes cabin.

"Why are they so large?"

"Undetermined campers end up there, a bunch of losers."

Marcus explained it to me. He had also warmed up quite a bit after the brawl, though I had a suspicion that he was the one who kneed me in the chin.

"What do you mean by undetermined?"

"The ones who don't know their godly parent. We call them 'undetermined'."

A lurch happened in my stomach. And this time, it was not because of the injuries.

"Why wouldn't they know that? I thought gods claimed their children."

Some other campers snorted as we sat down.

"Yeah, sometimes gods don't care about their offspring."
"But, not Ares; our father has a reputation for having the most 'claimed' kids out of the bunch."
"Henceforth, the reason why being in Cabin 5 is the best!"

They all shouted out in glee. But I didn't feel like joining in.

I didn't have to think far as to why Ares had the most claimed children; as bad of a reputation he had in the Greek Mythologies, he was portrayed as enough of a decent father-even if his methods of showing his love were like killing the rapist of his daughter or something like that.

I took a glance at cabin 11. Some kids were glaring at us, and I deduced longing and envy in their eyes before they looked away in spite.

I couldn't even begin to imagine how lost it would feel to not know your parentage. Well, I technically didn't know my father until yesterday, but not knowing here would be an extra punch to the gut.

Why wouldn't the gods claim their children? All they had to do was make a symbol appear on the kid's head, right? That can't be too much of a problem, can it?

Then my thoughts drifted over to the fact that the Olympians were the only ones with cabins.

"What happens if a minor god or goddess claims their child?"

"They don't have a cabin, so automatic 11."

"That's not right."

Sherman frowned and shrugged in an 'I don't really care' manner.

Before I can ask more, however, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass.

"To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. I hastily followed, fumbling with the glass because my fingers won't work properly.

"To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and barbecues. My bunkmates started to fill up their plates, but before taking a bite, they all stood up from their seats.

I looked around in confusion, only to see that everyone was doing the same. They were all taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire…?

In the middle of everyone, I think I saw a young girl taking a good sniff of the flames, but I quickly lost sight of her.

"What are we doing?"

"Burning offerings for the gods."

That was weird, but I didn't argue too much.

After the meal was over, each cabin split up into different activities. Hephaestus cabin went to the forge, Apollo cabin went to the archery range (there was a sparking rivalry between them and the hunters.), Athena cabin to Art & Crafts, and so on.

We were off to the sword fight arena, and to my delight, Percy joined us halfway.

"Time for your weekly beating, Jackson."

"Funny, I don't think I ever lost to any of you since at the creek."

They all snarled at that. Cabin 5 and Percy didn't go along. Maybe it had to do with Ares being on his bad side.

At the arena, Marcus was assigned by Clarisse to teach me the basics. He was a surprisingly good instructor; I learned basic stabbing and slashing, practicing them on straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

Again, I was surprised that I was doing decently enough. The sword was just the right balance for me, and I barely even dropped a sweat after reducing several dummies into piles of hay.

"Good work, twerp," Marcus said, sounding proud himself. He readied his sword and stood against me.

"Now for thrusts and parries. Don't expect me to be easy on you."

He wasn't lying.

I tried my best to reach him, but he always seemed magically half an inch away, while easily stepping into my guards. I got whacked by the side of the blade every time he spotted an opening. "Move back!" Whack! "Too far. Guard!" Whack! "Too high!" Whack! "Legs!" Whack.

So naturally, after 30 minutes I was back to my bruised and worn-out state. Marcus snickered when I flopped onto my back, covered in sweat, and threw me a square of Ambrosia. It tasted like ma's homemade seed cakes.

Ambrosia and Nectar, which were food and drink of the gods had the power to heal a demigod from their wound. But if we took too much in one go, we would burst into flames.

I'd already taken some with my bunkmates to heal up from our scuffle, so when I was finished with the square, my body felt hot and heaty from the inside.

Then, Clarisse's voice cursed out in ancient Greek from the other side.

"Next time I'll pulverize you, Jackson!"

"Sure."

While Marcus was instructing me, the rest of the cabin had challenged Percy into a one on many duels. And my god, I guess Percy was extremely skilled at sword-fighting because none of them seemed to have won, judging by their grumpy looks. Even Clarisse seemed to have taken an L, as she cursed under her breath a lot as she sat down.

"Marcus! You're up."

"With pleasure."

Marcus cracked his knuckles and did a little spin with his sword as he went up against Percy.

It took about 5 minutes before Marcus's sword was knocked out of his hand with a clear 'clang!'. I had my jaw dropped the entire time; Marcus was already extremely skilled, but Percy almost toyed with him as he did to me!

Marcus retrieved his sword from the ground, cursing in ancient Greek as well.

Then, Clarisse clapped on my shoulder.

"Alright. You're up last newbie!"

"Wait, what?"
"Wait, what?"

Percy and I exclaimed at the same time.


Coming up with the details of Ares cabin's…traditions, or how they'd act was more demanding than I initially thought it would be.

I hope it doesn't look too weird. Also hope Percy is not too OOC...? Gah, this thing is too hard to balance