What if Kronos won...?

CHAPTER 1: ASH AND DUST

Let me tell you a story.

Many, many years ago, there was a boy. A boy who should never have been born, a boy with unfathomable power, a boy fated to save or destroy Western Civilization as we knew it.

A boy named Percy Jackson.

When he was twelve, he fought his way to the underworld, dueled with the god of war, and returned to Zeus the strongest weapon of Olympus - the Master Bolt. All of Olympus watched with held breath - but none more than Artemis. Why? She didn't quite know herself.

At thirteen years of age, Percy sailed the Sea of Monsters, fought creatures only seen in legend, and retrieved the Golden Fleece. The moon shone, glittering over the sea.

Percy was only fourteen when he held the sky up for Artemis. She watched the boy, the boy with determination she had never seen before.

He was fifteen years old when he faced the Titan Lord Kronos and his monstrous army. He journeyed to the labyrinth, navigated its treacherous maze, and thwarted the Titan's plans to rise again.

Yet, no matter the victory, no matter the triumph, fate had other plans.

At sixteen, Percy Jackson led the defence of the bloodiest assault in Olympina history - the Battle of Manhattan. The clash was devastating, the sky blackened by smoke and fire, as demigods and monsters, gods and Titans battled for control of the world. Percy fought with a bravery that became legend, fueled by the Curse of Achilles, but even he could not forestall the inevitable.

In the wake of the battle, as the dust settled and the echoes of war faded, Kronos emerged victorious. The world was reshaped under his iron rule.

Typhon was sent to Tartarus, but not before severely weakening the gods.

The remaining gods were bound by binding oaths, forced to serve the Titans, their power twisted and their spirits broken. Some still fought - Poseidon, for example, remained fighting in the remnants of Pontus' realm - the depths of the sea. Some, like Hestia, like some minor gods, simply went missing.

Most, however, had been forced into servitude to the Titans. The Titans forced binding oaths upon the Olympians, ensuring their obedience through curses and chains.

And so, when Kronos finally returned to claim his empire, the gods were forced to serve as enforcers, their power twisted and their spirits broken.

Percy, the boy who had defied the gods, Titans, and even fate, vanished. Some say he was lost to the world, others that he was taken by the Titans to be broken in their dungeons. But whispers of his return began to stir in the shadows, hinting at a power that could threaten the iron grip of the new regime.

The world had fallen - yet, in the desolate remnants of civilization, there were rumors - whispers of a wandering demigod who still carried a spark of rebellion.

THE IRON HUNT

The world had changed.

Percy saw it in the twisted wreckage of cities, in the ashen skies that no longer promised rain but only storms. The air was thick with the scent of burnt offerings - bitter and pungent, a reminder of the sacrifices made in vain.

The once-glorious monuments of civilization were now crumbling ruins, haunted by the ghosts of those who had fought and fallen. Buildings were crumbling, overrun by nature. And in the distance, looming over the horizon like a dark sentinel, was Mount Olympus, its peak shrouded.

It had been three years since the Battle of Manhattan, three years since Kronos had emerged victorious. Percy had seen the world crumble, had felt the weight of his own failure every time he looked at the twisted remains of what once was. The Titans had reclaimed their thrones, the gods had been broken and bound, and the age of man had all but ended.

Percy kept to the shadows as he moved through the ruins of what had once been Chicago. The city was eerily silent, its streets empty save for the occasional patrol of skeletal warriors or monstrous sentinels. The Titan Kronos had ensured that no corner of the earth was safe for those who defied him. But Percy had grown used to the danger; he had learned to navigate this new world with a quiet, deadly precision.

He wandered through the shards of Chicago, his footsteps grinding through what once made up the heart of a thriving city. Above stretched an oppressive canopy of gray, filled with clouds promising nothing but more storms and despair. What was once a city was now largely a ghost of its former self: a sprawling ruin where nature had begun to reclaim its territory with an eerie determination.

Many formerly grand skyscrapers stood as hollowed shells, their steel bones exposed to the elements, their windows shattered, and overgrown vines crawled up their sides like reaching fingers. Some stood the test of time, but not many. Streets that had once been filled with the ceaseless hum of traffic and pedestrians' laughter fell silent but for far-off, mournful howls of wind. Abandoned cars, their paint faded and rusted off the body, littered the ground; many were overturned or smashed, contributing to a scene of utter desolation.

The air hung thick with mingling decay, of ash and dust, ever there to remind one of the devastation that had ripped through the world. Percy moved with the practiced stealth of someone who had spent years evading danger.

His heart pounded from the underlying tension of a world that had become a battlefield. Every shadow held the potential of a threat; every flicker of movement, a possible ambush. He passed buildings that had once been grand, now crumbling, their faces defaced with graffiti that spoke of a mad world. The remnants of billboards still clung to walls, their colors faded but their messages still legible - a cruel reminder of times when hope was a commodity sold to the highest bidder.

Are you happy? was written in red spray paint on a brick wall. Percy laughed, but there was no joy behind it. He wasn't.

His eyes locked onto the skeletal remains of a Ferris wheel, its rusted metal frame jutting out from a park that had long since fallen into disrepair. The Ferris wheel now stood silent over the ruin that consumed everything it had once celebrated.

He remembered when this city came alive, its energy defining it from any other city, and now it was a mausoleum of what once was. H

His mom had taken him to Chicago once - but she never would again. He blinked the tears away. She'd been gone for years, but it never got easier. Nothing really did.

Percy had been learning to tread this new reality carefully; any corner, any alleyway could become an ambush. In his soul, desolation weighed heavily on him, always there to remind him of the battle lost and the new regime ruling.

Despite the cold that had started to seep through his bones and the exhaustion that seemed to weigh him down, Percy pushed forward. He was in search of something - anything - to give him a lead on the rebels he had heard about or just some light in the darkness. His mind seethed with anger, regret, and a will not to be defeated by what the world had been turned into. He was the prophesied child - but he had let Olympus fall.

His feet took him through the streets, but a tap on the back of his neck - the nagging feeling that the world wasn't actually as people-free as it seemed - kept him on edge. Faintly, muffled, and distorted by the broken cityscape, the sounds of battle drifted through the air - a grim reminder that this struggle was far from over. Probably a monster, he thought.

The comforting weight of Percy's grip over Riptide to his side reminded him of old strengths, battles fought. Still, the sword proved a reminder of his burden, the weight of expectation, and memories of the haunting world that had once been filled with light.

He pushed on, perhaps given momentum by the flicker of hope that somewhere in this desolate wasteland was a chance to turn the tide, to reclaim some semblance of the world that had been lost. The city of Chicago stretched before him, ruinous and desolate, testament to the upheaval of a living world. Amidst devastation, Percy moved with single-minded purpose to find whatever hope or resistance lay hidden in the shadow of the ruins.

He paused at the edge of an alleyway, his senses sharp, attuned to any sign of movement. The mist was now thin and unreliable. The world was raw and exposed, and the monsters that once lurked in the shadows now roamed freely. But they were not his concern - not today. He had other matters to attend to.

In the distance, the faint glow of a campfire flickered from inside a derelict building. Percy's eyes narrowed. He'd heard the rumors - whispers of a small group of rebels hiding in the city, remnants of the demigod camps that had been scattered in the aftermath of Kronos' victory. Most of them had been captured or killed, but some still clung to the hope of resistance, even in the face of certain death. At least, that was what he had heard. What he had hoped.

Hope was a dangerous thing in a world like this.

But Percy had learned that it was also the only thing that kept him moving, kept him from succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume him. He had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fight for - except the slim chance that he could make a difference, even now.

He approached the building cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Riptide, the weapon that had once been a symbol of hope, now felt like a heavy burden - a reminder of the past and the lives that had been lost. But Percy still carried it, still wielded it, because it was all he had left of the boy he used to be.

He remembered the prophecy - the one that had defined his life. Hero's soul cursed blade shall reap.

His sword might as well have been cursed, and it was, wasn't it? Percy scoffed.

The inside of the building was dark and musty, the air thick with dust and decay. Percy moved silently through the shadows, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He could hear voices - soft, tense murmurs - from a room at the end of the hallway. He crept closer, listening.

"...can't stay here much longer. We need to move."

"And go where? Kronos has ordered us to retrieve him. You know the…"

"… sure he's even alive?"

The voices were familiar. Percy felt a pang of recognition, a burst of bitterness and anger. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the doorway.

The room fell silent as the occupants turned to face him. There were three of them - empousai.

The empousai leader's eyes glinted with malevolent delight as she turned to face Percy. "Looks like it's time for a different kind of welcoming party."

Before Percy could react, the leader lunged at him, her claws slashing through the air. He dodged the attack with a swift side-step, his reflexes honed from countless battles. The empousai's claws missed him by inches, and Percy could feel the rush of air as they passed.

He jumped back, drawing Riptide. "No hello? How rude."

She snarled, but Percy took the opportunity to lunge at her and punch her in the gut. The she-demon doubled over.

One of the other empousai, a smaller figure with a cruel grin, attacked from the side, her fangs bared. Percy spun to face her, blocking her advance with Riptide. The blade met her claws with a clang, sparks flying from the impact. Percy pushed her back with a powerful thrust, forcing her to stumble.

The third empousai circled around, her eyes locked onto Percy. He could sense her preparing to strike, her movements serpentine as she glided toward him. Percy kept his attention divided, fighting off the smaller empousai while keeping an eye on the other two.

The leader attacked again, her claws coming down in a vicious arc. Percy barely managed to block the strike, the force of it nearly knocking him off balance. He retaliated with a quick swipe of Riptide, catching her across the shoulder. She hissed in pain but didn't falter.

Percy's eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where the flickering light of the campfire illuminated the shadows. He could hear the sounds of battle growing louder outside - they had company.

The smaller empousai lunged at Percy once more, but this time he was ready. He sidestepped her attack, bringing Riptide up in a swift arc that caught her across the chest. She cried out and staggered back, her form momentarily blurred as she tried to regain her balance.

The third empousai used the distraction to her advantage, darting in with a sharp, whiplike strike aimed at Percy's side. He twisted, the attack grazing his ribs. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus.

The leader, her red eyes burning with fury, charged at Percy again, her claws extended. Percy met her attack head-on, their weapons clashing in a flurry of steel and claws. The empousai leader was relentless, her strikes coming faster and more furiously. Percy struggled to keep up, each blow pushing him further back.

He could feel his strength waning, his movements slowing as exhaustion began to set in. The leader's claws slashed across his arm, drawing blood. Percy gritted his teeth against the pain, determined not to fall.

With a sudden burst of energy, Percy stamped his feet, channeling the more destructive powers of his father - the Earthshaker.

As the empousai stumbled, he took advantage of it, driving Riptide into the leader's side. She roared in pain, stumbling back. Percy took the opportunity to regroup, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he surveyed the battlefield.

The smaller empousai was still recovering from his earlier attack, and the third was circling warily, waiting for a chance to strike. Percy knew he had to end this quickly. He couldn't afford to be caught off guard with Kronos' forces closing in.

With a final, desperate surge, Percy charged at the leader, Riptide flashing in the dim light. The empousai leader met his attack with a snarl, her claws slashing through the air. Their weapons clashed, and for a moment, the room was filled with the sounds of battle - the clash of steel, the hiss of claws, and the cries of something going on outside.

Percy pushed through the exhaustion, his focus narrowed on the leader. With a powerful swing, he drove Riptide into her side, his blade slicing through her defenses. She let out a piercing scream, her form momentarily writhing as the blade found its mark.

The leader fell back, her eyes wide with shock and pain. Percy stood over her, his breath ragged, his body aching. He watched as she fell, slowly crumbling into dust.

The other empousai had retreated, their resolve wavering in the face of their leader's defeat.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the distant sounds of battle. Percy's heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the scene, his mind racing. He had won this fight, but the danger was far from over. Kronos' forces were closing in, and he needed to move quickly.

He turned to the remaining empousai, who were watching him. "If you want to live," he said, his voice cold, "get out of here. Now."

The empousai hesitated, but the fear in their eyes was evident. One by one, they retreated, disappearing into the shadows. Percy watched them go, his mind still reeling from the battle.

As the last of the empousai vanished, Percy took a deep breath, his body trembling with exhaustion. He had fought hard, but he knew this was only the beginning. The world was in chaos, and the fight for freedom was far from over.

He turned toward the doorway, the sounds of battle outside growing louder.

With a final glance at the ruined room, Percy stepped into the night, only to see a slew of dead bodies. They weren't human, he could tell - these were Nereids.

What were river spirits doing in Chicago?

His question was answered as he saw a young woman with auburn hair and silvery eyes holding two hunting knives, slick with ichor. His first thought was hey, she's kinda hot.

His second thought was hold on, I recognise her!

Percy's final thought was she's probably the one who killed the Nereids.

And Percy knew he wasn't lucky enough to be encountering a friendly face in this grim reality.

The young woman's eyes locked onto Percy, and he could see the fierceness in her gaze. The Nereids lay scattered around her, their forms slowly dissolving into the shadows. It was clear she had fought a brutal fight.

"Um, hi?"

She ignored him, electing to start wiped the blood from her blades with a practiced motion, her gaze never leaving Percy. Her presence was commanding, and despite the chaos around them, there was an eerie calmness about her. She seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move.

"Who are you?" Percy demanded, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that was clawing at him. He tightened his grip on Riptide, readying himself for whatever was to come.

The woman's lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile. "You're the one they call Percy Jackson," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I've heard rumors about you. Seems you're quite the troublemaker."

Percy didn't let his guard down. "And you're the one who just killed a bunch of Nereids. Would be a pleasure to know your name."

Her eyes flickered with something akin to amusement. "You ask a lot of questions for someone in a dangerous situation. But I suppose it's fair - curiosity can be a valuable trait."

"Thanks, I think?"

"Although curiosity killed the cat, did it not?"

Percy felt the need to point out the obvious. "You didn't answer my question."

The woman took a step forward, her stance casual but ready. "I'm Artemis," she said, though her tone was not what Percy would have expected. There was no arrogance or formality, just a straightforward declaration.

Percy's eyes widened slightly, his grip on Riptide tightening reflexively. "Artemis?" he repeated, the name hitting him like a punch to the gut. "The Artemis? The one who's supposed to be on Kronos' side?"

She grinned, although there was no mirth behind the smile. "The very same."

If there was one thing that Percy had learnt in his time surviving, it was that the best thing to do when confronted with someone obviously not on your side was run.

"Well it was nice talking to you," he said, backing away slowly. "But if you don't mind, I'll be off."

"Oh no," Artemis said. "I've been hunting you for months. If it wasn't for my powers being weakened, you'll be dead already."

"There's no need to go to all that trouble," Percy kept on backing away. "I appreciate it and all, but there's really no need."

"But there is. I don't really have a choice. Binding oath and all that. And now that Styx is working for the Titan Lord…" she shuddered. "You'll have to die."

Percy threw her his pen. She caught it, frowning. "Is this not your blade? I would rather hunt a willing prey, not a sacrifical lamb."

She was right. It was his sword, but what she didn't know was that it could return to his pocket.

Percy bolted, using her confusion as a distraction, running into an abandoned building and throwing himself up the stairs.

He sprinted up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest as he heard Artemis close behind him. Every instinct screamed at him to keep running, to put as much distance between them as possible, but he knew he was running out of space. The building was a skyscraper of decaying walls and empty rooms, and every turn felt like it might be his last.

When he reached the top floor, he paused, gasping for breath, and surveyed his surroundings. The hallway stretched out before him, lined with old office doors, some hanging off their hinges. Dust coated the floor, and the air felt heavy, like it hadn't been disturbed in years. It was the perfect place for an ambush, but he didn't have time to set one up.

"Think, Percy, think," he muttered to himself, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan. He could hear Artemis's footsteps approaching, steady and deliberate. She wasn't in a hurry; she knew he was trapped.

He considered his options. Running further would only delay the inevitable, and fighting head-on against a goddess, even one weakened, was a risk he wasn't sure he could take. But he didn't have much of a choice. He wasn't about to let himself get captured, or maybe killed, without a fight.

Drawing Riptide, which had returned to his pocket, he took a deep breath and readied himself. The familiar weight of the sword in his hand brought him some comfort, though the situation was far from comforting. His body ached from the earlier battle, exhaustion clawing at him, but he pushed it aside. He needed to focus.

Just as Artemis rounded the corner, Percy made his move. He charged at her, Riptide slashing through the air with all the force he could muster. The fight was fast and brutal. Artemis was quick, her movements precise, and it was all Percy could do to keep up with her. For every strike he landed, she had a counter, and every time he thought he had an opening, she closed it with deadly efficiency.

But Percy wasn't just fighting for survival - he was fighting for his freedom. He knew what it meant if Artemis caught him. He'd be delivered to Kronos, and there was no telling what kind of fate awaited him then. As much as the world had changed, as much as he had changed, Percy wasn't ready to give up yet.

He managed to disarm Artemis with a lucky strike, sending one of her knives clattering to the ground. Breathing heavily, Percy stepped back, keeping Riptide pointed at her. His muscles burned, and he could feel the strain of the fight taking its toll.

"Looks like I've won this round," he said, his voice harsher than he intended. But there was no triumph in his words, only weariness.

"I don't think you have," she said, redoubling her efforts with only one knife.

Percy was outmatched. He knew it, she knew it, the Fates were probably laughing at him, and they sure as Hades knew it.

"Truce?" He tried. When he got no response, he decided to do what he had been doing the entire time: he ran.

As Percy dashed through the narrow hallways of the decrepit building, he could hear Artemis hot on his heels. Every corner he turned, every door he slammed behind him, it felt like she was just a breath away, her presence a shadow.

He felt an arrow whizz past him. Where the hell had she got a bow from?

He pushed himself to keep going. He wasn't going to let her catch him - not after everything he'd been through, not now.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he sprinted upward, the cold night air seeping through broken windows, chilling his sweat-soaked skin. Percy's mind raced as fast as his legs, trying to come up with a plan, any plan, to get out of this alive.

Suddenly, the stairwell ended. He burst out onto the rooftop, and for a brief moment, he was met with the vast expanse of the night sky. The wind whipped at his face, bringing with it the scent of rain, but there was nowhere left to run. The edge of the rooftop loomed ahead, a sheer drop into the darkness below.

Percy skidded to a stop, turning around just as Artemis emerged from the stairwell, her expression as calm and controlled as ever. Her silvery eyes locked onto his, and in that moment, Percy knew there was no escape. Not this time.

"You're cornered, Percy," she said, her voice steady, almost gentle, as she advanced slowly. "There's nowhere left to run."

Percy's grip on Riptide tightened, his knuckles turning white. He glanced over the edge of the building, calculating the drop. It wasn't survivable - not with the injuries he already had, and not with Artemis right behind him.

"Maybe," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, though he could feel the fear clawing at him. "But I'm not going down without a fight."

Artemis sighed, as if disappointed. "You're making this harder than it needs to be. I don't want to kill you, Percy. But I have my orders."

"Orders," Percy scoffed, taking a step back, closer to the edge. "You're just like the rest of them. Following orders, even if it means killing someone who's done nothing but try to save your sorry asses."

Her eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of something - regret, maybe - crossing her face. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it? You gods raised us, gave us life, just to be soldiers and servants. And now you're the same. You're pathetic."

"It isn't that simple," she repeated.

"It never is," Percy muttered. He could feel the edge of the rooftop under his heels, the void behind him beckoning, but he kept his eyes on Artemis. "So what now? You take me to Kronos, and what? He tortures me until I break? Or maybe he just kills me outright. Either way, you know this isn't right."

Artemis hesitated, her gaze flickering between Percy and the rooftop's edge. "This isn't about right or wrong. It's about survival."

"Yeah, well," Percy said, his voice bitter, "I've been surviving just fine on my own."

Before Artemis could respond, Percy did the only thing he could think of - the one thing she wouldn't expect. He stepped back and let himself fall off the edge of the building.

The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted, the ground rushing up to meet him. For a split second, the world seemed to slow, and all Percy could think was that he'd rather die on his own terms than be dragged to Kronos in chains. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

Artemis watched him fall. Percy wouldn't die, she knew. She could hope, of course, but it would be naive to assume that he would perish - that was his greatest asset, after all - his annoying tendency to survive. Like a cockroach, she mused.

Everything had tried to kill him, everything had failed, and now Percy Jackson was just very good at killing everything, and annoyingly adept at not dying.

Artemis grinned. This was the first time since before she had been forced into servitude to Kronos that she felt alive - hunting, as she was born to do. And Percy just might have been her most thrilling prey since the days of Ancient Greece.

The hunt had begun.

That's the chapter over! Chapter's will hopefully get longer, this is gonna be a LONG fic, probably Pertimis.