"What in the name of the Styx is wrong with you people?" Percy exploded, gently placing Nico's head on Alabaster's lap before storming over to the war god. "Do you all have nothing better to do than drag us into your ridiculous family drama?"
Ares chuckled, a dark glint in his eyes. "You've got some nerve, kid. Just like your old man. But I'm not sure you've got the power to back it up like he did."
Poseidon's voice echoed in Percy's head, a warning laced with concern. "He can't challenge you directly unless you challenge him. But don't underestimate him. He's still a god." Percy shook his head, compartmentalizing the fact that he had just heard his father's voice for the first time ever. He had a god to fry and friends to protect.
Ares shrugged, his smirk widening. "I wouldn't mind seeing a little family feud escalate into an all-out war between the big three. Now that would be entertaining. And hey, if things got messy, I've gotten pretty good at framing lately. I could make it look like dear old Hades did the deed."
Percy's frown deepened. "You seem to forget that I'm best friends with the Ghost King. I know Hades had nothing to do with this. Nico wouldn't have interfered with the prophecy either. That was all on you."
Percy's frown deepened as he tried to comprehend Ares' motives. "Why exactly do you want war anyway? I thought you gods manipulated mortals to get your fix of chaos. Less risk of getting caught in the crossfire, right?" He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to Ares' plan, but exhaustion and anger clouded his thoughts.
Ares appeared momentarily baffled, his gaze shifting as if he were receiving instructions from an unseen source. Percy raised an eyebrow, observing the war god's reaction with suspicion. "Yeah, why don't I just…" Ares trailed off, his demeanor suddenly shifting as if he were considering a new course of action.
Percy rolled his eyes, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Typical. You gods never think things through. Always looking for trouble where there doesn't need to be any." He crossed his arms defiantly, daring Ares to respond.
"Fight me," Percy blurted out, stepping defiantly back into the surf. Instantly, a surge of energy coursed through him, invigorating every fiber of his being.
Ares paused, eyeing Percy with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Yeah, right, kid," he scoffed, clearly unimpressed by Percy's bravado.
"Why? Scared you'll lose to a little boy?" Percy shot back, a smirk playing on his lips as he challenged the god of war. He could feel the power of the ocean coursing through his veins, fueling his defiance. What was one arrogant war god compared to the might of the sea?
A small part of his brain nagged at him, reminding him that challenging a god might not be the smartest idea. But Percy was never one to back down from a fight, especially when it involved protecting those he cared about. And let's be real, that part of his brain was barely a whisper compared to the roaring waves of his confidence.
"Perseus." Alexander's voice cut through the tension, drawing Percy's attention to his side where his friend stood, a determined glint in his eyes. "He's got brute force on his side, but that's it. You have a lot more."
Percy clenched his fists, his resolve hardening as he faced off against Ares. "You win, you get to kill me. I win, we leave with the helm and the bolt, and you buzz off," he growled, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the god before him. He'd never forgive Ares for harming his beloved Ghost King, and he was ready to make him pay.
Ares smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye as he drew a shotgun from the holster on his bike. With a flick of his wrist, the weapon transformed into an unnecessarily large sword, the blade gleaming ominously in the sunlight. "Shame, kid. I really was starting to like that attitude," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he prepared to face Percy head-on.
Percy may not have been trained in the art of war like Ares, but he had something even better—a healthy mix of quick wit, stubborn determination, and a splash of arrogance that would make even the gods take notice. As he continued to pirouette around Ares, dodging his clumsy swings and retaliating with bursts of water, Percy couldn't help but revel in the chaos of battle.
With each flick of his wrist and surge of water, Percy felt the rush of adrenaline fueling his every move. He knew he was outmatched in terms of raw power, but he made up for it with his cunning and resourcefulness. It was like watching a master painter at work, turning each wave and ripple into a masterpiece of combat.
Ares, for all his brute strength, was clearly caught off guard by Percy's unorthodox fighting style. The war god's swings became more frantic, more desperate, as Percy continued to dance around him with ease. It was like watching a bull try to catch a nimble matador—it was only a matter of time before Percy landed the final blow.
And when he did, oh, how sweet it would be. Percy smirked as he sent another surge of water crashing into Ares, watching with satisfaction as the god stumbled backwards. It was like playing a game of chess, with Percy two moves ahead at every turn.
Despite the danger and the stakes, Percy couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration coursing through his veins. This was what he was born for—the thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline, the taste of victory. And even if the odds were stacked against him, he refused to back down. After all, he was Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, and he thrived in the face of adversity.
As he continued to dance around Ares, Percy couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swelling within him. He may not have been the strongest or the most experienced, but he was damn well determined to prove that he was more than capable of holding his own in a fight. And with each dodge and parry, he was one step closer to victory.
As Ares staggered away, nursing his wounded knee, Percy couldn't resist a parting shot. "Hey, Ares, next time you feel like picking a fight, maybe try picking on someone your own size. Oh wait, there's no one in Olympus as petty and insecure as you!" Percy's grin was as sharp as Riptide, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. "And by the way, your fashion sense could use some work. Red-tinted sunglasses? Really? What are you trying to hide, your lack of depth perception?" With a final snort of derision, Percy turned away, leaving Ares seething with rage and embarrassment.
As Percy continued his acrobatic water ballet around Ares, the god of war grew increasingly irate, his swings becoming more furious and his movements more erratic. It was like watching a bull in a china shop trying to catch a greased pig—except in this scenario, Percy was the nimble pig and Ares was the clumsy bull.
With each taunting splash of water, Percy could practically see the steam rising from Ares' ears as he struggled to maintain his composure. It was almost too easy, watching the mighty war god flail about like a fish out of water. But Percy wasn't about to let up—not when victory was so tantalizingly close.
Summoning all his strength, Percy conjured a massive wave and rode it towards Ares with all the grace and finesse of a seasoned surfer. As he closed in on the war god, Percy deftly unsheathed Riptide and swung it with all his might, aiming straight for Ares' vulnerable knee.
The impact was like a lightning bolt, sending shockwaves rippling through the water as Ares let out a roar of pain. The ichor that flowed from the wound hissed and steamed as it mixed with the water, a stark reminder of Ares' divine nature.
With the first blood drawn, Percy knew the battle was as good as won. He watched with satisfaction as Ares stumbled backwards, clutching his injured knee in agony. It was a sight to behold—the mighty god of war brought to his knees by a mere mortal.
As Ares limped away, defeated and humiliated, Percy couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph coursing through him. He had faced off against one of the most formidable gods in Olympus and emerged victorious. And if that didn't earn him a little respect in the eyes of the other gods, well, he didn't know what would.
Percy couldn't help but flash a smug grin, relishing the satisfaction that came with besting the god of war. As Ares roared in frustration, Percy stood his ground, undaunted by the fiery display of temper. "A deal's a deal, Ares. Hand over the helm and bolt, and leave," he insisted, his tone dripping with defiance.
Ares' breath came out in furious bursts, his anger practically tangible in the air. "You little-" he began, his voice laced with venom.
But before Ares could finish his threat, Alexander stepped forward, his confidence radiating like a beacon. "You heard him," he interjected, his voice smooth but filled with an unmistakable edge. "You know the rules, father. Hand it over and go find someone else to pick on." Alexander's eyes twinkled mischievously, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Maybe Athena will help you brush up on your combat skills. If you ask nicely."
The sparks in Ares' eyes ignited into a full-blown inferno, but he begrudgingly complied, striding over to his bike and tossing Percy the lightning bolt and helm. Percy caught them deftly, his gaze locked onto Ares', refusing to back down even as a sliver of fear crept into his heart. For a moment, it seemed like Ares might say something more, but instead, he simply scowled and vanished in a burst of flames, leaving nothing behind but a scorch mark in the sand.
As the adrenaline began to fade, Percy couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph coursing through his veins. He had faced down one of the most formidable gods in Olympus and emerged victorious. And if that didn't earn him some serious bragging rights back at camp, then he didn't know what would.
"I can't believe it!" Ethan exclaimed, his expression a mix of elation and nausea, as if he'd just ridden a rollercoaster on a full stomach.
"I can," Alabaster chimed in, his grin aimed squarely at Percy. He shot a brief glare at Alexander, who was conveniently positioned behind Percy's shoulder.
Nico turned to face the three Furies as they landed on the sand nearby, their presence ominous. "I assume you're here to collect the helm?" he asked, his tone a blend of relief and vulnerable, as he hissed in pain. Alabaster had tried his best, but he was no healer.
The Fury at the front of the trio, frowned as she responded. "We are. This is... troubling."
"Tell me about it," Percy sighed, handing over the helm to the Furies with a resigned air. "Will Nico be, okay?" he added, concern creeping into his voice as he watched the other Fury move to attend to the Ghost King, who was surrounded by his loyal ghost guardians.
"He will," the leader of the furies reassured him, her tone firm but reassuring. "Our King and Queen will ensure his recovery," she added, then a hint of disapproval colored her words. "But they won't be pleased with the actions of the God of War."