Perseus - the Dark Destroyer

by Darkgamer08

Broken. Insane. Ruthless. These are the words that describe Percy Jackson now, after the people who were dear to him were ripped away from him. Follow Perseus, as he is sent back to the past to extract revenge on the one that ruined his life. But with a lot more power. This time, the Destroyer will definitely destroy. Dimension jump. Percy x multi. Rewrite to 'The Cursed Hero'.

6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N:

Been a long while eh? I have been trying to get this chapter out for so long, its not even funny anymore. Yet, I find no time better than today to launch this chapter.

A very Merry Christmas to you, your friends and your families. I hope this next year brings all your wishes and aspirations to fulfilment.

Now, I intended to get this chapter out long ago. But a tight schedule, emergencies, health concerns to a person I hold dear, and internships have prevented me from giving as much time to writing as I can. Also, the new GOT fic I have started is also one of the projects I want to keep continuing as of now. Speaking of the new fic, for those who have not yet seen it, I implore you to go and give it a read. It goes by the name 'The Ties that Bind'. Do drop your views in the comments and show it some love. It would mean a lot to me.

Anyway, this chapter is just a small start at my comeback to writing PJO. I have some sick action scenes planned for the future, as well as some interest plots, trust me. If you don't, head over to the previous chapters and read the battle scenes there. I promise to back my words.

Anyway, that's it for this first A/N. More will be explained later on. Without wasting time, lets now get on with it.

Here we go.

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Does truth have a moral?

~Hermes

Previously:

Meanwhile, Hestia was staring around her in wonder, taking in her surroundings, however dull they were. She did not pay any attention to Zeus, or to Demeter's muttering about how this desert was ugly because of the lack of plants.

Finally, the six children of the Titan king reached the base of Mount Ida, and were about to climb it, when they heard the sky rumble loudly. When the six Gods looked up, their enhanced sight helped them see an object shoot out of the sky, free-falling towards the top of Mount Ida with a speed so great that it appeared to be on fire.

"Mother!" Zeus exclaimed with a panicked tone, as the six Gods started to climb the mountain as fast as they could. Fortunately, they reached the top of the mountain before the object reached it, and immediately ran towards the cottage where Rhea was currently in.

Zeus entered the cottage and brought out their mother in bridal style, as she was currently sleeping. The five remaining children of Kronos could see resemblances between them and their mother.

But before they could pay much attention to it, Rhea's eyes snapped open as she saw the object plummeting towards them.

It was almost upon them now. The seven immortals couldn't take their eyes of the object as it finally crashed into a small pond on the top of the mountain, a small distance away from their cottage.

Immediately, the seven immortals rushed towards the object. Reaching the pond, they gasped simultaneously as they saw that the water in the pond had evaporated, and that the pond was now a crater.

In the center of the newly formed crater was the object that had caused this. Or to be more accurate, the body that had caused this.

The seven immortals reached the body, only to find that the body was completely fine, not even a small scratch on it. The person was breathing steadily, if not for taking a deep breath every once in a while.

Messy black hair, the darkest shade of black any of them had ever seen, covered his forehead and eyes, which were currently closed. The person was still asleep!

Before any of them could speak, Rhea immediately turned to Zeus. "Carry him back to the cottage. I don't know why, but I have a feeling he will be important in the future."

That is when they heard the sleeping male mutter, "I'm gonna kill you, Kronos." Before going quiet again.

Grinning viciously now, Rhea spoke again. "Yes. We're definitely taking him with us."

---

NOW:

Kronos' eyes snapped open, his senses overwhelmed by the disorienting sensation of time itself bending and snapping around him. The world had shifted, the raw, primal forces of existence folding and contorting in impossible ways. The memories of his defeat—the searing brilliance of the last battle, the burning agony of losing to a mortal, Perseus Jackson—now seemed like a fading nightmare. But the weight of that failure, the sting of it, faded into nothingness as his awareness sharpened, like a blade slicing through fog.

His breath came in slow, deep inhalations, and he felt the very fabric of time itself stretch around him. The tumultuous maelstrom of his recent downfall receded, replaced with a sharp, biting clarity. No longer was he ensnared in the throes of despair; no longer was he bound by the failures of his past. He had returned. And he had returned stronger than ever. The brash young Kronos, the epitome of cunning and wickedness existed no more. He was now Kronos, the Titan lord of time who knew how it felt to be defeated, twice. A man who knew defeat knew how important it was to win in a war, and this was a war Kronos intended to win at any cost.

Kronos rose from the ground, his massive, weathered form rising with an unsettling grace. The earth beneath him felt familiar—primeval, vast, and unyielding. A deep, resonant hum echoed from the ground, as if the very bones of the world recognized his presence. The air was thick with the weight of ages, a timelessness that clung to everything, heavy with forgotten secrets and long-buried power. This was the past—the time before the first Titanomachy, when Kronos had ruled the heavens and the earth. The air itself seemed to breathe with the memories of that ancient reign. A sense of authority filled him as he felt his limbs stir with newfound vigour, rippling with an ice-cold vitality that surged through his veins like a torrent of pure, untamed power.

He flexed his gnarled fingers, the ancient calluses of millennia pressing against the cool, damp soil. The sharpness of his senses filled him with a savage satisfaction. The weak, faltering body he had once inhabited, ravaged by time and the constraints of war, had been renewed. Every muscle, every sinew, every scrap of his being was now infused with the essence of raw power. His body, once weakened by his defeat, was restored—but not only restored. It was elevated.

Kronos felt no remnants of the weariness of the battle he had fought against the gods. That war was long past. This time, there would be no retreat. This time, his victory would be complete.

As he stood tall, feeling the great weight of the earth beneath his feet, the cold, cruel clarity of his thoughts sharpened even further. His mind seethed with an endless well of hatred—not only for the gods who had usurped him but for the traitors among his own blood. His own siblings and nephews and nieces. The ones who had shared his parents' essence, raised under his rule, and had so eagerly betrayed him. Oceanus, the eldest and the most cowardly. Selene, the conniving bitch. Helios, the tempestuous lord of the sun. His own flesh and blood—how they had turned against him, seduced by the false promises of their new, weak king, Zeus. Betrayal. It was the one wound that still bled within him, a wound that burned hotter than any physical injury. The same betrayal that had led him to the deepest recesses of Tartarus.

His eyes narrowed as he turned his thoughts inward, the darkness of his mind swirling in a vortex of vengeance.

"I will make them suffer," Kronos muttered under his breath, the words a hiss of lethal intent. His voice echoed across the barren landscape, mixing with the winds that whispered secrets from the past. This time, there will be no mercy.

His thoughts then flickered to the first Titanomachy—the great war between the Titans and the Olympians. That war had been one of shifting allegiances and broken promises. His children, his precious children, had warred against him with unthinking zeal, swept away by the false promises of the morality and revenge. They had been weak—so weak—succumbing to the empty allure of power over fear. The gods promised others a new world order, one where the Titans would be silenced forever, and the others had eagerly accepted, as easily as any foolish child.

He remembered how quickly they had fractured, how quickly his reign had fallen apart. Zeus, the self-proclaimed king, the arrogant god who had usurped him. Poseidon, the temperamental fool who had let his passions rule him, following his little brother like a dog. Even Hestia, the gentle and naïve sister, had fought actively against his armies. The Olympians had been born of his own flesh, from his very blood, and yet they had not hesitated to cast him aside. They had abandoned their own creator in favour of these false ideals. So what if he ate them, that didn't mean they should cut him to pieces, should it?

Rhea—Rhea, the woman who had once been at his side, the one who had shared his reign. The bitterness of her betrayal cut deepest. He would make them all pay.

His thoughts swirled back to the moment of his downfall. Perseus Jackson—that insignificant mortal—had been the spark, the final blow. While he was a prideful being, Kronos would admit without hesitation that he had underestimated the boy. He had underestimated the strength of the boy's resolve, and he had paid the price for it. But then again, Perseus Jackson was no ordinary mortal. Were they not bitter enemies, Kronos would've even admitted to having a slight respect for the boy's deeds and strengths. Alas, at the end of the day, Perseus Jackson was a mortal, and while the boy was dead, it was Kronos who survived.

Now, with the full weight of time at his fingertips, Kronos could undo it all. Time was his dominion—he could reshape history, remake it in his image. All that had been lost would be returned to him. He would never again be a prisoner of his past.

He felt a sudden surge of power, a deep, rumbling pulse that seemed to reverberate from the very core of the earth. The land trembled beneath his feet, the mountains groaning as though they too recognized the return of their master. His mother still favoured her strongest son. Kronos smiled, his lips curling into a cruel, twisted grin. The gods, so self-assured in their victory, would soon realize the truth—they had never truly defeated him. He had only allowed them to believe they had.

The moment of reckoning was coming. He could feel it in every fibre of his being.

But Kronos knew that power alone would not be enough. He had learned that lesson the hard way. Betrayal had been his downfall, not his strength. This time, he would not leave anything to chance. He would secure the loyalty of those who had once remained neutral—those who had watched as he fell, content to sit idly by while the gods claimed the heavens. Oceanus. Helios. The other Titans who had hidden in the shadows, unwilling to risk their necks for him. They would learn to bend the knee—if not out of respect, then out of fear.

He would remind them of the price of neutrality. He would make them see that there was only one true ruler—and that was him.

Kronos' eyes narrowed, his thoughts turning cold. He could already hear the whispers of those ancient Titans, their voices as distant and hollow as the forgotten winds. Oceanus would not be so easily swayed. But the others, those who had done nothing but watch, would find it impossible to remain neutral once they saw the power he now wielded. He would hunt them down, bend their wills to his, and show them that only those who stood with him would have a place in the new order.

And once they had been swayed, once the alliances had been formed, the time for vengeance would come. The gods, the betrayers—they would fall.

His mind turned back to the specifics of his plan. He could not act hastily. He had to strike when they least expected it, when their arrogance blinded them to the threat before them. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades—they would be the first to fall. His children. His blood. They would die first, painfully. And then, Rhea—the woman who had once stood by his side, the one who had turned against him. She would be the last. He would make her witness the death of her children, watch as they crumbled beneath his might.

He would wipe them all from existence—body, soul, and memory. Their names would never be spoken again. Their legacy would not even be a whisper on the wind.

Kronos' gaze hardened with cold, merciless resolve.

"I will break them," he said quietly to himself, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate in the very bones of the earth. "I will make them regret the day they ever defied me."

The ground trembled once again as if answering his vow. And as the air thickened with the promise of destruction, Kronos began to move. The time for vengeance was near.

Mount Othyrs

Kronos stood amidst the silence of the ancient world, the weight of eternity pressing upon him. In this moment, he could feel the subtle tremors of time stretching out before him, each moment ripe with possibility. He had learned the art of bending time itself, a power that now pulsed through his very veins. His body, restored and recharged, thrummed with an energy he had not felt in millennia. He had returned, not to simply reclaim what was once his, but to reshape the world itself, to carve his name into the fabric of reality.

But to achieve this, he would need allies. The gods were powerful, yes—but their strengths were fragile. They had yet to secure their dominance over their powers entirely. And that, Kronos thought, would be their undoing. The time was ripe to strike, and the first piece in his grand design was Oceanus—the Titan who had long kept himself aloof from the struggle between the gods and their ancient kin the first time.

Closing his eyes, Kronos let the world fall silent, his presence stretching deep into the fabric of time. He reached for the essence of the waters, calling upon the Titan who had once been the lord of all the seas, the mighty Oceanus. He had watched from afar, unwilling to commit to any side, too distant to intervene. But the winds of change were stirring, and Kronos would make him see the danger of inaction.

Oceanus, Kronos whispered in the depths of his mind, his voice rich with the power of ages. Hear me, brother. Come to me.

The winds stilled, and the vast expanse of the world seemed to hold its breath. The air thickened with a strange pressure, and Kronos felt it—the distant rumble of the oceans, the immense, ever-moving force of the seas. Moments passed, and then the very horizon seemed to bend, as though the world itself were parting for something ancient, something vast. From the ocean's depths, a great shape began to emerge—a form as old as the waters themselves, stretching up from the sea like an immense, living continent.

Oceanus. The Titan who had once ruled the endless currents of the oceans.

The great Titan's form loomed before him, his massive presence more a force of nature than a being, his features inscrutable, his ancient eyes glinting with millennia of knowledge. His voice, when it came, was deep and resonant, like the crashing of waves against jagged cliffs.

"Kronos?" Oceanus' voice echoed in the space between them, soft yet heavy with the weight of his age. Each word was steeped in the calm power of the eternal tides, rolling like waves upon the shore. "Why now, brother? Why summon me after all this time?"

Kronos stood tall, his eyes narrowed, his expression both cold and calculating. The time for pleasantries had long passed.

"I summon you, Oceanus," he said, his voice like the rumble of thunder on a distant horizon, "because I have seen what is coming. The abominations that are my children grow stronger each passing days, and I see how they eye what is rightfully ours. They seek to take our domains, to strip us of our power, to enslave us once more. Do you not see it, brother? They will come for you, as they intent to come for us all."

Oceanus' ancient eyes flickered with a subtle shift—an imperceptible tightening of his vast expression. He regarded Kronos with silent scrutiny, his great form remaining still, rooted in the flow of time. "I have no quarrel with your spawns," he said evenly, his tone tempered with the patience of one who had witnessed countless cycles of creation and destruction. "I have considered many scenarios of their rise and fall, as I have seen my own. They are fleeting, like fire that burns hot and fades to ashes. What they possess now, they will lose again, as all things must. Do you not see it, little brother? The daughters of Ananke wish for change. Your children not being Titans by birth is a sign of fate."

Kronos' lips twisted into a thin, mirthless smile. "Perhaps, but why assume the Fates will for a change in favour of my spawns? I, for one do not intend to give away what is rightfully mine, brother. My throne and title are things I have earned, and damned will I be before I let the disgusting creatures of my making take it away from me. Alas, their fire is not one that burns alone. Their power is growing, Oceanus. It is not merely the gods themselves that I see—it is what they will become once they have conquered everything. You may think them transient, but they will come for your domain. The seas will no longer be the home of the you and your family. They will be nothing more than a tool for the gods' destruction."

A ripple of unease passed through Oceanus, though he remained composed, as ever. His eyes studied Kronos, calculating, probing.

"You speak of power," Oceanus murmured, "and of the threat of the gods. But I have always ruled the seas as I see fit. I do not seek endless war, Kronos. The currents of time, they flow as they must. I have no need to challenge the gods or anyone else."

Kronos' gaze hardened, and he took a step forward, his voice lowering into a soft, insidious hiss. "Peace? You call it peace, but it is nothing more than complacency, Oceanus. You sit idly by, watching as the world shifts, and yet you do nothing. The gods not only aim to steal what is ours; they have warped the very order of things. Do you think they will stop at the heavens, or the earth? The seas are next, old brother. And you will stand by, as you have always done, content in your isolation, until you find your domain gone. I sense the will of the seas in one of my spawn, Oceanus. Be under no such assumptions that you will be left in control of the seas if they prevail, brother. Remember what these hands did to the ruler of this realm. Be sure of the fact that a similar future awaits us if my spawn beat us."

Oceanus hesitated, the weight of Kronos' words settling into the deep spaces of his ancient heart. The Titan shifted, his massive form bending slightly as if the burden of centuries was beginning to take its toll. His voice, when it came, was quieter, yet tinged with something darker, more urgent.

"You overestimate the gods, Kronos. They may rise to power, but they are weak, finite. Their strength is fleeting. It is not like ours. But you… you speak of more than just power. You speak of destruction. Of war. And I have seen what that costs. I remember your wrath, brother. The hunger in your eyes. I remember what it cost us all."

Kronos smiled, a cold, predatory smile that held no warmth. "And what would you have me do, Oceanus? Watch as the gods grow stronger while we wither away? Watch as they come for us, piece by piece, and we remain helpless, prisoners of the time they control? You forget your own power, brother. You are the Titan of the oceans, the master of the seas. And yet you refuse to fight, to establish what was always yours. I do not seek endless war, but neither will I stand idle while our reign is torn asunder."

He took another step forward, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "You will fight, Oceanus. You will join me, or you will watch as your oceans become nothing but a pawn in the gods' game. The choice is yours. I do not wish to cause you harm, brother. I implore you to not force my hand into showing you just why mother deigned me fit to rule."

A long silence stretched between them, the tension heavy in the air like the stillness before a great storm. The ocean itself seemed to hold its breath, and even the winds stilled in anticipation. Kronos could see the fear his words as well as his threat had instilled in his eldest brother's eyes. This made hi let out a crooked half smirk, one that did nothing to reduce the fear Oceanus felt.

Finally, Oceanus spoke, his voice resolute, tempered with the wisdom of the ages. "You are right, Kronos. The gods grow bolder, more ambitious, and I can feel the tide shifting. Perhaps I have been blind. Perhaps I have waited too long."

Kronos' eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction. "Then you will join me, will you not?"

Oceanus bowed his great head, his expression serious but resolute. "I will not be ruled by the gods, Kronos. The seas are mine. And as long as I breathe, they shall remain so."

Kronos smiled, the weight of his victory settling in. "Then we shall strike together. The seas, the skies, and all that was lost to us—it will be ours again."

And with that, the pact was sealed. Oceanus, the Titan of the oceans, had joined the cause. As his brother took to a knee in front of him, Kronos could feel the tide of his power shift in the air as the sea itself seemed to respond to the ancient Titan's allegiance. The time for action had come, and with Oceanus now by his side, nothing would stand in his way.

A few hours later

Kronos' ancient eyes glinted with cold precision, his mind whirring with calculations as he prepared for the next step in his grand design. His once-strong body trembled with the weight of his hatred, yet there was a fire in him now—an unquenchable need for vengeance that burned even hotter than the fires of Helios himself.

He reached into the heavens, sending his will across the sky, invoking the fiery Titan who ruled the sun. Helios, the son of Hyperion and Theia, had long been kept unchecked about where his true allegiance lied. During the first war in his time, Kronos had been so sure about the fact that the sons and daughter of Hyperion could never dream of betraying him, that he had not acted towards securing their loyalties until it was too late. This time, he would not repeat that mistake.

Kronos' voice thundered through the empty sky, his words carrying the weight of eons.

"Helios" Kronos' voice echoed, dripping with authority, "Your king calls upon you. Come to me, nephew. Come and listen."

For a long moment, there was no response. Then, the sky seemed to crack open as a searing light blazed from within, and from the heart of the sun, Helios appeared. His chariot, golden and radiant, descended slowly, the flames of his fiery steeds flickering uncertainly as they neared the earth. He halted just before Kronos, his expression tight with apprehension.

"My King," Helios' voice trembled, his head lowered in fear, his tone uneasy. "I answer your call, though I do so with great trepidation. You have summoned me… after all this time."

Kronos studied him carefully, eyes narrowed. The Titan of the Sun looked as regal as ever, his golden skin glimmering with the heat of his dominion, but there was an unmistakable flicker of fear in his eyes and demeanour. Helios, despite his great power, was still a creature under the yoke of the elder Titans, and that fear of Kronos—a fear ingrained in him for eons—was plain.

"You know why I have summoned you, Helios," Kronos spoke in a voice that carried a chilling certainty. "The gods who once feared me now walk freely, aiming to take what is ours, the very heavens we rule. They aim to steal your light, make you their servant, dragging you to the sky like a mere beast harnessed for their whims. Do you not feel it? The creeping certainty that they will take from you every little bit you have?"

Helios recoiled slightly, his eyes flashing with the discomfort of those words. He spoke hesitantly, his voice still betraying his nervousness, yet the flicker of indignation was there.

"You speak of the gods as if they are already a threat, my king," Helios murmured, his golden eyes flickering anxiously to the ground, his hands tightening on the reins of his chariot. "They have not even approached me, much less taken all from me. I still command the sun, still burn the sky—though yes, it is under your command. I am not without my power. I still have light to give."

"And how long do you think that will last?" Kronos' voice was cold and unyielding, like the void of space itself. "Do you believe the gods will allow you to keep your fire forever? Do you think they will let you burn freely, when they can strip your domain from you just as they have done to the others? The sun, Helios, will be theirs for as long as you allow it. They will twist you into a tool, a slave, like the rest of us. And when they are done with you, they will burn you out, your light a mere flicker in their distant memory."

Helios' gaze faltered, uncertainty clouding his normally unwavering composure. His pride, once unshakable, seemed to waver as Kronos' words sliced through him. His fingers trembled slightly on his chariot's reins, and his voice came out in a quieter, more tentative tone.

"My king… I have given much for the Titans. The sun, the very fire I carry, I burn not for myself but for them. They need me to shine, they need me to rise. Not once have I asked you for anything, your grace. But on this matter, I beg you to let my sister, brother and I keep our neutrality." His voice trailed off, the fear creeping into his words now.

Kronos' eyes glinted with a mixture of disdain and something deeper—something more sinister. "What has become of you, Helios?" he repeated slowly, stepping closer, his voice lowering to a velvet-soft whisper, his words like iron-laced poison. "If we lose, what becomes of you when the gods turn their gaze elsewhere? When they tire of your light? They will strip you of your flames and cast you aside. They already aim to take the heavens, the earth, the seas. Your time is coming, nephew. You will be nothing but a puppet, a shadow of what you once were."

Helios flinched, a tremor running through his frame as Kronos' words struck home. The Titan was silent for a long while, torn between fear of Kronos and his own ingrained neutrality towards the incoming war. The sun above him flickered in uncertain patterns, the flames sputtering like a candle caught in the wind.

"And what would you have me do, my king?" Helios asked after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper, full of uncertainty. "What is it you would ask of me?"

Kronos stepped forward, his presence overwhelming. He placed a cold, heavy hand on Helios' shoulder, a mocking gesture of fatherly affection, though no warmth resided within it. "Join me, Helios. You need not burn for their whims anytime soon. Join me, and we will ensure you keep the sun for eternity. Together, we will burn brighter than they ever could have imagined. You will no longer be a mere tool to be wielded; you will be free. You will be more than the gods can ever allow you to be."

Helios' chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his eyes darting across the ground as if searching for some shred of certainty in his turbulent heart. There was fear there—deep, primal fear—but there was also a flicker of something else. Something dangerous. Perhaps hope. Perhaps ambition.

"I... I will consider it, my king," Helios replied, his voice thick with apprehension, the words tasting foreign on his tongue. "I fear this war as much as I have always feared you. But if what you say is true... if they will turn on me... perhaps it is time to turn the flame of my chariot elsewhere."

Kronos smiled, his expression dark and knowing. "Good. Think carefully, Helios. The gods will never show you the respect you deserve. They will take what you have, then abandon you. Together, we will scorch the heavens with the light of a new dawn, and when the sun burns brightest, it will be under my command. They will fall, and we will rise higher than we ever have. Moreover, should you fail to abide, nephew. Perses did seem interested in finding a new wife for himself. Selene would make a good match, eh?" Kronos smirked menacingly, making Helios' face lose all colour.

Helios nodded slowly, the weight of Kronos' words settling deep within him. He had made his choice. There was no way he would let his sister suffer the fate of being married to a disgusting Titan like Perses. Tales of the cruelty of the Titan of doom were whispered of during meetings everywhere.

"Then I shall join you, my king," Helios murmured, though his voice still trembled with fear. "And I will burn brighter than I ever have before."

Kronos' smile stretched wider, his cold satisfaction filling him with a dark anticipation. "Good. Together, we will remake the heavens. And the gods will burn."

As Helios flashed away, Kronos slowly made his way to the Throne room, before striding towards his throne. Glancing at the chair for a few moments longer than necessary, he finally took his seat, sighing at the feel of his seat of power finally reconnecting with him.

The pieces were falling into place. Oceanus. Helios. Soon, all of the Titans who had once stood idle, their allegiance to Kronos a distant memory, would rally to his side. The reluctant ones, the neutral ones—those who had remained silent during the first war in his lifetime. They would finally see reason, or his rage. The power that had once made Kronos the supreme ruler of the cosmos was still within him, and now, it burned with an intensity he had not felt in millennia. His power was rising once again, and the gods, his children, and Rhea—all would tremble beneath the weight of his vengeance.

Kronos' mind was a storm, filled with bitter rage and cold, calculated purpose. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades. His blood. His very creation. They had betrayed him. They had turned against their father, overthrown him, and cast him down into Tartarus. And what had they done since then? They had rewritten history. They had rewritten his history. They had removed him from the very fabric of existence.

But Kronos knew better. The gods might have thought they had erased him, but the truth was far more terrifying. He was time. Time never forgets. It was his to control, to manipulate. The gods believed they were untouchable, that they had ascended above him, but they were nothing more than fleeting illusions in the face of true power. The power of the very fabric of creation. They had forgotten their place.

And now, Kronos would remind them.

He had seen their arrogance in the years since his fall. They thought their victory was final, that they had rid the world of the Titans for good. But the gods had miscalculated. They had been careless. They had believed themselves superior, above the very things that once ruled the cosmos. They had forgotten that the Titans were not gone—they had simply been waiting, watching. And Kronos had learned from his past mistakes. He would not fail again.

His thoughts turned inward as his mind raced with the meticulousness of his plan. The gods were weak. They had or would have no true power beyond their realms, no true connection to the fabric of existence like Kronos did.

Rhea, his wife, had once stood at his side, but now she had betrayed him. She had chosen the gods. She had turned against her own blood. The wound she had dealt him would never heal. He had trusted her, shared his power with her, and she had abandoned him, siding with the very creatures he had created. The gods had made her weak. Her weakness would be her undoing.

Kronos' thoughts darkened as he turned to the three Titans who stood before him. Menoetius, Krios and Nyxos. They were the ones who had not wavered, who had stayed loyal to him when others had turned their backs. They were the ones who would help him execute his vision. This time, there would be no hesitation. There would be no retreat. The gods would fall, and their reign would end in fire and blood.

"Menoetius," Kronos' voice echoed, deep and rumbling. The Titan of violent rage stepped forward, his eyes burning with the promise of chaos. "Krios. Nyxos." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three. "You know what must be done."

The air crackled with energy. The Titans knew what was at stake. Unlike some, the three Titans had full knowledge of what failure in carrying out their king's orders could bring upon them. Kronos' rage was a thing of legend and terror. The task allotted to them had to be carried out successfully. They could not hesitate now.

Menoetius was the first to speak, his voice thick with anger. "I will bring them to you, my king," he snarled. His eyes burned with the fire of violence. "Zeus, Poseidon, Hades… They will beg for mercy. I will make them suffer. They will rue the day they thought they could defy you."

Kronos allowed himself a thin smile, his eyes dark and full of promise. "It's not just suffering I want, Menoetius. I want them to experience the finality of their defiance. I want them to fade. I want them to understand that no matter how strong they are, no matter how high they rise, they are nothing compared to the power of time. And they will never rise again."

Menoetius' lips curled into a savage grin. "It will be done, my lord. I will make sure of it. I will tear them apart, piece by piece, until they can no longer remember who they once were."

Kronos nodded, the weight of his plan settling over him like a cloak of darkness. "Remember this: when they are gone, there will be no trace of them. Their supposed legacy, their existence, will be wiped from the fabric of time. And you will be the ones to help me make it happen."

Krios, the Titan of the constellation, stepped forward next. His demeanor was calm, controlled. He was not driven by the fury of Menoetius. No, Krios was a thinker. A planner. He was not one for impulsive rage. But his loyalty to Kronos was absolute, and he had long seen the weakness of the gods. He had waited for this moment as long as any of them.

"We will need to strike when they are most vulnerable," Krios said, his voice low and deliberate. "The gods seemed powerful, but they are also inexperienced. They will not expect us to return so quickly, so forcefully. They will believe they have all the time in the world to stop us, but that is their greatest mistake. Their downfall will be their underestimation of us."

Kronos studied Krios with approval. The Titan of constellations understood the nature of beings. He understood how to exploit their weaknesses. "Yes, Krios. They will underestimate our might. That will be their undoing. But we must not waste any time. We will strike swiftly and decisively. There will be no hesitation. No room for failure."

Krios nodded. "They will fall. And they will know the true cost of defying you."

Finally, Nyxos, the silent Titan of the waters, spoke. His gaze was sharp, and his movements were precise. He had always been the quiet one, the one who operated in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed. But Kronos knew the value of such silence. It was a silence that spoke of immense power. Nyxos's loyalty was unshakable, and his skill with a bident unmatched. He was the shadow that would strike when the gods believed they were safe.

Nyxos's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of certainty. "I bid your leave to go do what must be done. The gods will be trapped if the three of us attack now, and their efforts to escape will be futile."

Kronos met Nyxos's gaze and nodded. "You will close the noose around them. You will make sure they have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide."

The three Titans stood before him, their eyes filled with resolve. There was no fear in their hearts. There was only the certainty that the gods had overstepped, and that they would be brought low.

Kronos turned his gaze outward, toward the horizon. The gods would be coming for him. But they would not find him. They would find the end of their existence. They would be brought to their knees, bound and broken, and then… erased. The very essence of their being would be wiped from time itself. They would never rise again.

Kronos' eyes narrowed, the coldness in his gaze turning to ice. Rhea would pay. She would learn the price of her weakness. And he would make sure she never existed again.

"Krios," Kronos said, his voice laced with deadly intent. "The girls, do with them what you will. They remain of no consequence to me. Bring me Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades' heads on stakes. But Rhea, you shall not touch a hair on her head. Bring her to me unharmed. My traitorous wife is mine to punish. Understand?"

Krios bowed his head. "It will be done, brother. I will bring them to you. Alive. Bound. And they will regret ever defying you." Kronos could also see the glint in Menoetius' eyes when he spoke about his three daughters, not that it mattered. His three daughters could throw themselves into the pit of Chaos and it would bother him not.

With a dismissive wave of their king's hand, the three titans took to a knee before they vanished, their mission clear. The gods would be destroyed. No mercy. No escape.

Kronos sat alone, the cold winds of time swirling around him. His vengeance was at hand, and nothing would stop him. He would rewrite history, and this time, the gods would never rise again.

---

Mount Ida

After Percy's crash

The air on Mount Ida was heavy with anticipation, the sun dipping low behind the towering peaks. Zeus stood at the forefront, his heart a maelstrom of emotion. For him, this was not just the moment of reunion—it was a moment of revelation, a chance to bring his siblings back to the mother they had never known. He had been raised by Rhea, nursed by her love, but for his brothers and sisters, she was a distant, almost mythical figure, a spectre of memory they had only heard of in fragmented whispers.

Zeus stepped forward, his heart pounding, leading the way for Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Poseidon, and Hades. His eyes, filled with the weight of their shared history, scanned the land before him, seeking the woman who had been his anchor in the dark, his protector before he'd taken on the mantle of their saviour.

Rhea stood before them, waiting in the soft glow of twilight. Her figure, bathed in the fading light, radiated an aura of serenity, but there was a tremble in the air—an undercurrent of emotions long suppressed, now stirring. Her gaze, filled with a mixture of joy and sorrow, fixed on Zeus as he approached. She had known him since he was a babe, a symbol of hope in the midst of her husband's cruelty, but now he was no longer the child she had once cradled. He was the future of the realm, the one who had returned to rescue his siblings.

Zeus's voice broke the silence. "Mother..." he breathed, his chest tightening. There was no need for explanation; she knew him as surely as he knew her. He stepped forward, the years between them dissolving in an instant. With a raw, almost desperate intensity, Zeus reached out and embraced Rhea. "I've brought them home."

Rhea, overwhelmed with emotion, clung to him, her arms trembling as she held him tightly, as though he might slip away. "Zeus," she whispered, her voice soft with the weight of love and relief, "My son, my beloved son. You've returned."

But the moment of their reunion was brief. The other five children, who had never known the touch of their mother, remained frozen behind Zeus, watching the scene unfold with wide, uncertain eyes. The years of their imprisonment in Kronos's belly had severed the bond between them and Rhea, leaving only stories and legends, faint memories of what could have been.

Hera, always composed but now visibly shaken, stepped forward first. She had heard the tales of Rhea's beauty, her wisdom, and her kindness, but seeing her now, standing before them in the flesh, was an overwhelming revelation. Hera had long believed that her strength and courage had been born from her own will—but now, as she faced the woman who had given her life, something inside her cracked open.

"Mother…" Hera's voice wavered as she spoke, the word foreign on her lips. "I… I don't know how to be in your presence. How to feel anything here. We were stolen from you, and now…" She faltered, a strange mix of anger and longing flooding her chest. "What are we to do?"

Rhea's eyes softened as she turned toward Hera, the familiar ache of a mother's love radiating through her. She stepped toward her daughter, gently cupping Hera's face with trembling hands. "My sweet Hera," she said softly, "You are mine. No matter the years we've lost, no matter the pain you've endured. You belong to me. You are all my children—always."

Hera's breath caught in her throat, and for the first time, her pride—her great armour—seemed to slip away. She closed her eyes, allowing Rhea to hold her, letting the weight of her mother's love wash over her like a healing tide. She had never known such tenderness, not even in her own heart.

Behind her, Hestia moved, her steps slow and hesitant, as if unsure of her place in this newfound world. She had always been the quiet one, the most vulnerable of the siblings, and the sight of her mother made her tremble with both wonder and fear. She had never thought she would see her face, never imagined that the stories of their mother's love were true.

"Mother," Hestia said, her voice fragile, barely above a whisper. "Long have I awaited this moment. And yet, now that it finally is here, I… I don't even know what to say."

Rhea's heart ached for her, for her eldest daughter who had suffered the most in the belly of her husband. She opened her arms, inviting Hestia into the sanctuary of her embrace. "You don't have to say anything, my love," Rhea murmured as she enfolded Hestia against her chest, her hands smoothing the young goddess's hair. "You are here now. That is all that matters."

Hestia, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of the love she had never known, let herself collapse into her mother's arms. Her tears fell freely, soft sobs escaping her lips. "I thought… I thought I would never feel your hug," she whispered through her sobs. "But now… now I know where I'm meant to be."

Rhea held her tighter, as if holding all the broken pieces of her daughter's heart and slowly mending them. "You've always belonged with me," she whispered.

Demeter, who had long been distracted by the plants and lands around her, stood a few paces behind.

"I am Demeter," she said, her voice steady but filled with quiet grief. "I've kept the hope alive, as best I could. But I've never known you, never known what it meant to have a mother." She reached out, hesitantly, as though afraid to disturb the fragile moment. "I don't know what to do with all this feeling."

Rhea looked at Demeter with such love that it made the earth itself seem still. She reached for her daughter, pulling Demeter into her arms with a strength borne of centuries of longing. "Demeter, my precious child," she whispered. "You have kept the hope alive for me. You have carried me in your heart all this time. And now, you don't have to carry on alone anymore."

Poseidon, who had been watching quietly, his eyes filled with something more like curiosity than emotion, stepped forward, his usual bravado and boast muted in the face of such raw vulnerability. He had always believed himself self-sufficient, content to go on without the weight of maternal love. But now, before this woman who had birthed him, something in him shifted.

"Mother," he said, his voice gruff but quiet. "I never thought about you. Not in the way my siblings have. But now… now that I see you…" He paused, struggling with the unfamiliar tenderness he felt. "Now that I see you, I know I've missed something."

Rhea's smile was soft, knowing. She stepped forward and placed her hand on Poseidon's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It is never too late, my son. You are here, and that is all that matters. You belong to me, always."

Finally, Hades, the most reserved and distant of them all, stood at the farthest edge of the gathering. His posture was rigid, his face unreadable, but his eyes—dark and sharp—betrayed the conflict within. He had never known love just as the others. He had been forged in the shadows, and shadows were where he had always remained.

"I am Hades," he said, his voice low and edged with something close to reluctance. He took a step closer, his gaze flickering between Rhea and the others. "It is good to finally see you, mother." He said as softly as he could, which came out as barely a whisper.

Rhea, understanding him as no one else could, stepped forward to him, her hands reaching out, gentle but firm. "Hades," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with a deep knowing. "You are my son. The darkness you carry has no power here. You are home now."

In that moment, all five children— Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Poseidon, and Hades—stood before the mother they had never known. And in Rhea's embrace, the shadows of their past fell away, replaced by the warmth of a love that had never died, but had only waited to be reunited.

The fire in the hearth crackled with uneasy vitality, casting restless shadows on the walls as the stranger stirred on the makeshift bed. His breath hitched, the first sign of life in a body that had appeared almost lifeless since his arrival. The tension in the room, already taut, tightened further as his eyes opened—stormy green depths that gleamed with something otherworldly.

A ripple of uncertainty passed through Rhea's children. Their whispered speculations ceased as one, their gazes fixed on the figure now struggling to rise. The man's movements were deliberate, his muscles tensing against a weight unseen, but he faltered and sank back with a groan.

"Do not overexert yourself," Rhea intoned, her voice calm but distant. She rose from her seat by the fire, moving with the unhurried grace of a queen accustomed to eternity. "You are safe within these walls—for now."

Percy blinked, his gaze darting between the strangers surrounding him. Each of their faces bore a striking beauty that was simultaneously human and divine, their features lit with an ethereal glow. His brow furrowed, confusion clouding his expression as he rasped, "Where am I?"

Rhea stepped closer, her golden robes pooling around her like sunlight over stone. "This is Mount Ida, sacred cradle of beginnings," she replied, folding her hands before her. "I am Rhea. These," she gestured to the six figures watching him with varying degrees of wariness, "are my children."

Percy's gaze swept over the assembled figures. They were beautiful, imposing, and unyielding. The tallest among them, Hades, stood with his hand resting on a spear kept in the corner, his expression hard as granite. To his left, a heavenly woman who could only be Hera, gazed at him with sharp eyes that glinted with open suspicion, while Hestia, younger and softer, regarded Percy with quiet curiosity. Seeing his favourite goddess made Percy's lips twitched ever so slightly.

He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself against the whirlwind of sensations and fragmented memories swirling in his mind. "I—" His voice cracked, his throat raw as though he had been screaming for eons. "I don't remember..." He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose as flashes of the void and the searing light came unbidden to him.

Hera's lips curled into a faint sneer. "Convenient," she said, stepping closer. "You fall from the heavens, an uninvited guest to this sacred place, and now you claim amnesia?"

Percy's green eyes flashed with a warning light, the sharp edge of his will rising to the surface. "I don't claim anything," he shot back, forcing himself upright despite the protest of his muscles. "I remember bits and pieces, but my memory is hazy, probably because of the stupid portal and the fall."

Hera opened her mouth to retort, but Rhea silenced her with a raised hand. The Mother of Gods studied Percy intently, her gaze as piercing as the light of a full sun. "You speak of a portal, and then a fall that not even a Titan like me could go through unharmed. And yet," she said slowly, "there is something about you that does not align with what you appear to be. You are not a mortal—this I know. Nor are you a god. What, then, are you?"

Percy's jaw clenched, his silence stretching as the weight of her question settled over the room. He could feel their eyes on him, probing, demanding answers he did not have.

"I don't know," he admitted at last, his voice heavy with frustration. "Something happened to me... I don't know what. All I remember is darkness—then falling." For now, keeping his domains and story to himself was the smartest course of action. At least until he gained enough control over his powers to back is words. The last thing he needed was for Rhea and the first-generation Olympians to think him a fake, or worse, one of Kronos' men.

Hestia stepped forward, her brown hair catching the firelight. Her voice was soft, but it carried an undercurrent of certainty. "Mother, perhaps he is lost, a wanderer seeking his path. It would not be the first time a soul has come to Mount Ida for answers, if what Zeus told us is true."

"Or he is a danger," Hades interrupted, his tone grim. His hand tightened on the shaft of his spear as he addressed Rhea. "You sense it, do you not? His presence—what he carries—is not ordinary. It stirs the very air."

Percy frowned, his fingers curling into the blanket beneath him. "I didn't ask to be here," he said, his tone steady but firm. "If you want me gone, say so. I'll find my own way." Not that he believed his words. His fate was tied with the beings in this room, whether he liked it or not. Moreover, he had a score to settle with the lord of time.

Rhea tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as if searching for cracks in his words. "A defiant answer," she mused. "Yet there is truth in your voice. You are not entirely unworthy of trust." She glanced at her children. "But trust is not given lightly here, especially not to those who arrive unbidden."

Percy met her gaze, his posture rigid despite the ache in his body. "I'm not asking for your trust," he replied evenly. "But I'm not your enemy, either."

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the snap of the fire. Rhea studied him for a moment longer before turning to Zeus. "Ask the Curetes to Double the watch around the perimeter," she commanded. "If this one brings danger to our sanctuary, we must be prepared."

Zeus inclined his head, his expression hardening further. "As you wish."

Hera, still bristling with suspicion, glared at Percy before following her brother out of the room. Hestia lingered for a moment, her gaze thoughtful, before retreating with Poseidon and Demeter as well. Percy saw the way Poseidon gazed at him in a contemplating way. That was something he would have to deal with soon, an inner feeling told him.

Left alone with Percy, Rhea's expression softened slightly, though her tone remained cautious. "Rest for now. If the fates have sent you here, your purpose will reveal itself soon enough." She hesitated, her golden gaze sweeping over him once more. "And if it does not... we shall determine your worth another way."

"Perseus" Percy spoke softly. Rhea stared at him for a few moments, before nodding her head and exited the room. Percy leaned back against the headboard, his mind whirling with questions. Yet for now, he was too drained to do more than nod. The fire crackled, its warmth doing little to soothe the cold coil of unease within him.

With a jolt, Percy again woke up, this time to sounds that he had become well accustomed to in the past few days in his previous life. The sounds of men in battle. The clashing of things, blasting of walls and such sounded as familiar to him as the sound of a guitar to a guitarist. Shooting out of the bed he was at the door in a few moments, before stepping out and almost crashing into a frantically running Hestia. Grabbing his hand, Hestia wordlessly dragged him to another room, which Percy surmised was the main room of the cottage. There, he could see Rhea and her six children worriedly staring out of the window at the surroundings. Moving to them, Percy got his first good look at the courtyards of Mount Ida. The view he got was one he could have survived without seeing.

The courtyard, once a tranquil sanctuary, now echoed with the brutal sounds of warfare. The clash of bronze against bronze rang out like thunder, punctuated by the anguished cries of the Curetes as they desperately fought against the Titans' unstoppable onslaught. These warriors, who had been honed through centuries of divine service and discipline, faltered and broke, their once-solid ranks scattered by the might of three colossal figures—Nyxos, Menoetius, and Krios—who seemed to embody the raw power of the primordial world itself.

Nyxos moved like the tides, a living testament to his lineage as the son of Oceanus. His presence was an overwhelming force, as fluid and unpredictable as the seas. Every step he took left the earth beneath him slick with dark, brackish water, and his long bident, carved from black coral, lashed out with the force of a crashing wave. Curetes floundered in his wake, their weapons slipping from their hands as the ground beneath them became an unrelenting, shifting flood. His deep blue skin shimmered faintly in the firelight, while his murky green eyes gleamed with malicious amusement, his laughter rising like the roar of a distant storm. Every motion seemed to bend the world to his will, and those foolish enough to meet his gaze found themselves trapped in an unspoken terror. The storm within the Titan was not merely physical—it was primal, a terror born from the deepest trenches of the ocean, capable of sweeping everything away in a moment.

To his right, Menoetius was the embodiment of violence, rage, and reckless destruction. He towered above the battlefield, his massive frame clad in bronze armour that pulsed with an inner fire. With each swing of his spiked mace, he reduced shields, armour, and bodies alike to mangled ruins. His laughter rang out across the battlefield, cruel and filled with delight, as if the very act of destruction was a source of his pleasure. "Is this all the famed guardians of Mount Ida can muster?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chaos. "You crumble like sand before the fury of a true Titan!"

The air seemed to warp and bend around Menoetius, suffused with an aura of seething destruction. The ground trembled beneath his every step, as if the earth itself could not bear his presence. The Curetes, despite their formidable skill and training, were nothing before him—reduced to little more than dust in his wake. Their armour shattered, their resolve broken, as the very soil beneath them quaked at his approach. He was the very embodiment of the earth's untamed fury, and the warriors who stood before him were nothing more than fragile mortals in comparison.

Meanwhile, Krios stood apart from his nephews, his presence as cold and sharp as the night sky he had once ruled. As the Titan of constellations and the South, Krios emanated an aura of celestial cold, a being whose very nature was tied to the stars themselves. His black cloak glimmered with tiny pinpricks of light, resembling the void between stars, an endless tapestry of cosmic darkness. In his hand, he wielded a staff tipped with a blade of obsidian, cutting through the ranks of Curetes as though they were made of air. His movements were deliberate, each step measured with the precision of a celestial being who saw everything in the universe as insignificant compared to his own grand design. He seemed to glide rather than walk, every motion imbued with an otherworldly grace, as if the very fabric of the cosmos bent to his will.

Krios's dark eyes, as deep and infinite as the void between stars, scanned the battlefield with cold, detached disdain. His presence seemed to draw the warmth from the air, and the temperature dropped around him, becoming sharp and biting. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and measured, devoid of emotion yet filled with an undeniable authority. "Let this serve as a reminder," he said, his words reverberating across the battlefield like a death knell, "that no sanctuary, not even this hallowed ground, can stand against the will of Titans." His words were like the silence before a storm, a chilling proclamation of doom. And as they echoed over the battlefield, it was clear to all who heard them: resistance was futile. The Curetes fought bravely, desperately, but they were no match for the Titans. The world they fought for was crumbling beneath the weight of these ancient beings.

From the safety of the nearby cottage, Percy watched in horror as a sense of déjà vu entered his mind. It seemed just like how without him, the demigods stood no chance against Titans in a fight, it was similar with the Curetes. His fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding as the brutal scene unfolded before him. The Curetes—over five hundred strong—were being cut down like wheat before a scythe. Their once-proud phalanxes had dissolved into chaos, and their disciplined ranks could not withstand the Titans' relentless assault. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen warriors, their blood staining the earth in a grim testament to the battle's brutal violence. Percy could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him—he was witnessing the destruction of people who could be useful in the future. The Curetes were dying, their defence of Mount Ida slipping away, and he was doing nothing to stop it.

"We must do something," Percy muttered, his voice barely more than a growl of frustration. His eyes never left the battlefield, his gaze fixed on the warriors falling before the Titans. He could feel the storm of anger and helplessness building within him. His heart burned with the need to act. "They're going to kill everyone."

Rhea's golden eyes, always so serene and calm, remained fixed on the battle, her expression unreadable. The years of experience and wisdom she carried as the queen of the Titans were evident in her demeanour. Yet, even she could not hide the subtle heaviness in her gaze, a quiet sorrow that spoke volumes about the dire nature of the conflict. She understood the true power of the Titans. "These are not foes to be faced lightly," she said, her voice soft, but the firmness in it betrayed her resolve. "You see the power they wield. Nyxos commands the seas themselves, Menoetius wields the unrestrained rage of existence, and Krios..." Her gaze shifted, her eyes sharpening, as though focusing on something far beyond the battlefield. "Krios's mastery over the void is enough to unmake this place entirely. No, this is not a fight we should undertake. For now, retreat is our only option."

Percy's frustration boiled over, and he snapped, his voice raw with anger. "So we just stand here and let them destroy everything? Is that what you're saying? You wish to run away from this?" He took a step forward, his body tense, his fists clenched at his sides. The idea of standing idly by while the Curetes were slaughtered filled him with a sense of dread. He couldn't fathom it. He couldn't accept it. These Titans were destroying everything good and true, and there was no time to hesitate.

Rhea turned to him, her expression hardening into something steely, a rare edge in her normally serene demeanour. "Do you even know what you are, Perseus?" she asked, her voice carrying a weight of wisdom that Percy wasn't sure he was ready for. "What power lies dormant within you?" Her gaze fixed on him, and for the first time, Percy felt the full weight of her scrutiny—like a child standing before an ancient force, something much greater than himself. "If you rush into this battle without understanding who you are and what power you truly possess, you will not only fail—but doom those you wish to protect."

Percy met her gaze, his stormy eyes burning with defiance. He didn't care about the powers that lay dormant within him or the warnings about rushing into battle. What mattered, to him, was that people were dying—dying because no one could stop the Titans, no one could stop the destruction. He wasn't going to stand idly by while it happened. "I don't care what I am," he said, his voice firm, resolute. "What I know is that people are dying, and I'm not going to watch it happen." His tone was final, unyielding. He had already made up his mind. The Titans could be ancient, they could be powerful, but he wasn't about to let them kill everyone without a fight. He had slayed Titans worse than the ones present anyway. "I have a score to settle with the Titans anyway" he spoke before turning away.

Rhea opened her mouth to speak, but Percy was already turning away. His determination burned brighter than ever, his heart hammering in his chest. Glancing around the room, he let out a small sigh. There were no swords here. He would have to make do with a spear. Locking eyes with Hades, he raised his hand. Understanding the request, Hades nodded and handed over the spear which he had been holding. Grabbing a celestial bronze steel from the corner of the room, Percy fastened its straps to his left arm. It seemed he would be going Spartan fighting today. Without another word, he stepped out, into the fray.

The heat of battle hit him immediately. The air was thick with the smell of blood and sweat, mingling with the acrid stench of burning wood. The ground beneath him was slick with water and mud, the aftermath of Nyxos's tidal surges. Percy's boots squelched with every step as he advanced, his pulse pounding in his ears. The clashing of weapons, the shouts of warriors, the cries of battle—it was a symphony of chaos that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt exposed without Riptide at his side, his hand twitching instinctively for the sword that was no longer there. But there was no time to think about what he lacked. There was only time to act.

Nyxos was the first to notice him. The Titan of the seas turned, his bident dripping with dark water. His murky green eyes locked onto Percy's, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. A spark of recognition flickered in Nyxos' gaze, as if something ancient and untamed stirred within Percy. "What is this?" Nyxos murmured, his voice deep and resonant, like the pull of an undertow. "A mortal dares approach the son of a Titan?"

Slipping into his Commander persona, Perseus stared back at the Titan, not deigning him with a reply. This seemed to infuriate the Titan, though he managed to hide it well.

Menoetius's cruel grin split his fire-scorched face as he turned toward him. "Not just any mortal," Menoetius rumbled. "This one carries something... different." He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "Do you feel it, brothers? The storm in his blood?"

Krios, ever the observer, stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowing as they scanned Percy. "Interesting," he said, his tone detached. "A fragment of power, raw and untamed. But power alone does not make one a threat."

Percy tightened his grip over his spear, his breath coming hard and fast. The storm within him began to stir, rising in response to the Titans' oppressive presence. The air around him grew heavy with moisture, a faint mist curling around his feet. He didn't know what he was doing, but his instincts took over. He drew on the storm within, letting it rise until it filled his veins with electric energy. For a brief moment, he felt the overwhelming presence of the winds and water, the unrestrained fury of the sky, and the pulse of the earth all surge through him, filling him with an unfamiliar power. His body crackled with the raw energy of the storm.

"Leave," he said, his voice steady despite the storm coursing through him. His words were not a plea; they were a command. "Now."

Menoetius roared with laughter, the ground trembling beneath his feet. "Leave? Little whelp, you do not command Titans!" His voice was filled with cruel amusement, as though the very idea of Percy daring to oppose him was laughable.

Nyxos tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Curious," he said, his voice laced with intrigue. "But curiosity alone will not save you."

Krios raised his staff, his dark eyes glittering like distant stars. "Then let us see what this mortal-turned-pretender is capable of," he said, his tone calm and detached, as if watching an experiment unfold.

The Titans advanced, their power pressing against Percy like an overwhelming tide. The very earth seemed to shudder beneath their immense weight. But Percy stood his ground. The storm within him had awakened, and he was ready to fight. The question now was whether his power would be enough.

Judging his opponents, Percy could see that Menoetius would be the easiest opponent in a fight for him. The Titan's short temper and wild movements would prove to be a downfall against Perseus. So, it would be prudent for Percy to take him out first and foremost. While he would still be outnumbered as he would then have to face Krios and Nyxos too, killing or incapacitating Menoetius would give him more equal odds at emerging victorious. If he had been wielding riptide, Percy was absolutely sure he could take on Menoetius and Nyxos easily. Alas, his trusty sword was no more. While he was an excellent spear wielder, his skills in this weapon were nowhere near what his swordsmanship was at. Then again, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Taking on three Titans, one of them being an elder Titan, with nothing but a spear and a shield. Annabeth would've beaten him to a pulp if she saw this. The thought of his love brought immense pain to him, which further fuelled his rage at the Titans. Using this rage, Perseus charged into battle for what would be the last time…..for Menoetius.

The Titan had surely not expected the foolish man to charge at him head on, hence he barely managed to block the first strike of Percy's spear.

Meanwhile, Krios and Nyxos decided they wouldn't lower themselves to fighting someone three versus one, and thus stayed back, not wanting to miss Menoetius killing the impudent man painfully.

In a span of about half a minute, it became clear that while being a warrior of repute, Menoetius was no match for his opponent when it came to skills. Perseus almost toyed with the Titan, making small, yet no less painful cuts on the various exposed parts of the Titan's body. All the while, Menoetius had been unable to land a single hit on his opponent.

Percy could feel that his body was a bit rusty. He was not yet at hundred percent, and using a spear. Yet, it seemed to be more than enough to outmaneuvere Menoetius. He could see how his strikes were making the Titan angry beyond control. Pretty soon, the Titan would get reckless enough to lose all sense and start attacking Percy wildly. But Percy had to ensure that the two other Titans did not think they needed to step in until it was too late. With a spear, Percy knew he would be sorely outmatched against three Titans at the same time.

Just as he had predicted, Menoetius let out a loud roar before charging at him wildly. Percy saw his opening from miles away, before grinning savagely. The bloodthirst of battle that he had experienced during his battles with Hyperion, Iapetus, Perses and Atlas, returned in the form of a rush of excitement in his veins.

Sidestepping the swing of Menoetius' mace, Percy used as much strength as he could to ram his shield into the Titan's helm. If he were still a mortal, this blow would have at most given the Titan a minor headache or bump to the head. Unfortunately for Menoetius, Percy was not a mortal anymore. The force behind the blow caused the Titan's head to recoil backwards so fast that Percy thought it would decapacitate him. Alas, it was not to be. But the blow did cause the Titan's nose to break beyond repair, while also disorienting him severely.

Before the other two Titans had time to act, Percy used Menoetius' disoriented state to his advantage. Getting inside the Titan's guard, Percy's left hand went up to the Titan's head. He pulled the Titan's head down, while simultaneously using his right hand to bring the spear up in a stabbing motion. As a result, the spear pierced through the Titan's neck just under his chin, before going right through his head and emerging out of the top of his skull, effectively skewering the Titan's head onto the spear.

With unearthly strength, Percy pulled the spear towards him. What happened next would be something that would haunt Rhea and her children for centuries ahead. Whatever light remained in the Titan's eyes after being skewered by the spear, was put out as the front half of his face was forcefully ripped apart by the spear lodged in his mouth. What remained of the once prideful Titan's flesh was a pitiful display of ichor, flesh and ripped skin.

Menoetius, the Titan of rage and bloodlust, one of Kronos' most trusted generals, stood as nothing but a faceless body in front of the harbinger of Destruction. With a spartan kick from Perseus' foot, the Titans body was thrown backwards, where it landed amongst the countless bodies of the Curetes that had fallen to his hands. The mighty Titan who had thought himself invincible mere moments ago, now lay amongst the bodies of the fallen, doomed to be one of them.

Around them, both the Curetes and the two other Titans stared in varying degrees of shock. They had just seen a Titan be taken out as if he was nothing more than a mortal warrior. Add to it the fact that the man who had killed the Titan was standing in a relaxed pose, not even breathing deeply, was an insult the two Titans could not take lightly.

The next moment, Percy caught a beam of energy being launched in his direction by Nyxos. It was only thanks to his battle honed reflexes that Percy was able to jump out of the way. While the beam wouldn't have left lasting damage, it would definitely limit his movements for the next few hours, which was something he couldn't afford right now.

With a glance at the two Titans, Percy saw the decision in their eyes before they charged at him together, determined to avenge their fallen kin. Letting his war lust control him, Percy growled wildly before moving to intercept the two powerful beings.

Inside the cabin

If someone said Rhea had seen some brutality in her lifetime, it would be a huge understatement. Her husband was one of the most brutal beings in existence, rivalled only by her brother Hyperion, her nephew Atlas and her other nephew Perses. But other than when her husband had chopped up their father with his scythe, Rhea could say with utmost confidence that what she had just noticed was the most brutal thing she had ever seen. At first, she had been doubtful at how Perseus could take on the Titans outside and emerge victorious. Mixed in it was some fear and some worry for the well being of her children and herself. But the moment she had seen Perseus not just outclass, but also outpace Menoetius, Rhea felt a hope she had not felt for quite some time.

Suffice to say that when Perseus had skewered her grandnephew Menoetius through the head with his spear and then ripped his face apart, Rhea felt the contents of her lunch reach up to her throat, begging to be let out. But the youngest female daughter of Gaia, and the ex-queen of Kronos (for she did not consider the beast her husband anymore), was ever composed, as she stopped herself from vomiting at the sight she had witnessed. Though it seemed that her children were not as lucky or as composed as her.

Rhea saw as all three of her daughters turned to their sides before throwing up the contents of their stomachs. While her sons managed to control their stomachs, they did look a bit queasy at the display of gore and violence in front of them. Moving towards her daughters, Rhea took the first chance of being a mother to them and soothed them with pats on the backs and words of comfort. Even in the dire situation around them, Rhea felt a burst of glee at being reminded of the fact that she now had all of her children with her.

This chain of thoughts was short lived as she heard a shuffling around her. Turning back, she saw Zeus strapping a shield to his arm. Without wasting a moment, Rhea walked to her youngest son and grabbed his hands in hers. "Zeus, you stupid child. What are you thinking?" She asked him in a voice tinged with the anger and desperation she felt.

"There are still two of them left mother. I have seen firsthand what Krios is capable of, mother. The man needs our help if he wants to stand a chance against the two Titans." Zeus tried to act brave, but Rhea could see that the thought of facing Krios scared her son more than he wanted to admit.

"I know what my brother is capable of, son. Believe me, as much as you have trained, you are not a match for an elder Titan yet, not unless you learn to control your powers as a deity. I have just got back all of my children, my child. I plead you to not make me witness losing one of them so soon." Rhea almost sobbed as she tightened her grip on her son's hands.

She could see it pained Zeus to leave their guest to face the two Titans alone. The sense of honour and justice instilled into him by her and the Curetes made it hard for Zeus to not do what was the righteous thing to do. But on this matter, nothing would change Rhea's stance. She was not about to lose her son to this battle. She couldn't bear to witness it. While she felt ashamed at the fact that she had condemned her guest to what was most certainly his death by not providing him aid, she would make that choice a million more times if it meant she could keep her children safe.

Finally, after a few moments of staring at each other, which felt like eons to Rhea, Zeus' shoulders slumped and he gave her a defeated nod. Letting out a small sigh, he let go of the shield in his hand and gave her a small smile of reassurance.

The relief Rhea felt over this was short lived, as a loud bang from outside forced their attention to the window which provided them a view of the battle going on outside. What they saw left them speechless and open-mouthed, as the entire mountain shook right to its core.

Outside

The moment Percy's spear met Krios' battle staff, he knew that this was going to be a very tough battle. While Krios was not as strong as Hyperion or Iapetus, this was a Krios whose powers had not been limited and rusty from years spent in Tartarus. This was Krios at the peak of his powers, and as of now, Percy was outmatched. Add to it Nyxos, Percy knew that a single mistake in this battle could be enough to lose him the battle, or worse yet, his head.

What made it even worse was that he knew he no longer carried Achilles' curse, meaning his body was vulnerable to any and all strikes that could and would be made against it. So, he would have to be even more careful in this battle. The only thing that gave him relief was that his skills in battle itself were superior to both the Titans. Thus, he was able to deflect the powerful blows in a way that did not send shockwaves down his hands and body.

Pretty soon, the three extremely powerful male deities were locked in a battle of ages. Krios used his staff and quick thinking to launch calculated, precise and yet extremely powerful blows at Perseus, while Nyxos used his control over water and his bident to perfectly compliment his uncle's attacks. Any beings with lesser skill and powers than Perseus would have long since been defeated, or would have multiple holes in their body.

As Perseus deflected a blow from Nyxos' bident with his spear before pushing him back with his shield, he was a moment to slow in countering Krios' attack, which resulted in the obsidian blade at the end of the Titan's weapon grazing across Percy's shoulder, making the demigod turned deity hiss out in pain and take a step back.

The Titans though did not seem to be in the mood to let him get away easily, as both Nyxos and Krios tried to capitalize on this advantage by advancing on their enemy. The next bout of blows went on for more than ten minutes, before Nyxos managed to catch Percy by surprise when instead of sidestepping the upward slash of percy's shield, he instead stepped into its path and made a slash of his own with his bident.

The result of this was that while Percy's shield rammed into the Titan's chest, making him double over and spit out a mouthful of ichor, the Titan's bident managed to make a huge cut across Percy's sparcely protected chest drawing ichor out of the wound. Letting out a small grunt of pain, Percy took another step back and gauged his situation. While individually he was well superior to the two Titans, there was indeed strength in numbers. He had to do something to ensure the Titans were separated for a few moments, and then he needed to make quick work of Nyxos so that he could stand a chance at winning against the elder Titan. But how could he do this, considering he had yet to get a single moment of advantage in this battle?

Yet again, the Titans charged at him in a rush, making Percy shake away his thoughts and move in to face his foes. This time though, he felt something different. Nyxos was using the water to aid him in the battle, and while the water did not actively hurt Percy, it did not heal him or replenish him like it used to either. Another thing he would have to check upon later. Surprisingly though, he felt a different connection around him when he let his senses wander around him. He could feel the pull of something dark, something powerful calling to him. He could feel the shadows around him, the way they seemed to defy the light, rebel against it, threaten to confuse it.

While Percy was not yet sure what this feeling was, he did have an idea to try and use it. Just like he had done with water in his previous world, Percy reached within himself at the core of his body. Searching for the feeling he had felt a few moments ago, he latched onto it and started to pull onto it. That was when he felt it, the tug in his gut much like the one he used to feel when he had called onto the water to aid him in battles and quests.

Percy pulled onto the source of this feeling till he could bear the pain behind it no more. Then, with a primal roar of rage and power, Percy's green eyes turned into a shade of black darker than the night itself. From around the three figures, shadows darker than the darkest nights, shot forward and swirled around Percy's body like waves of the sea. The temperature around them lowered drastically, before a humongous hand made of shadows and darkness shot forward from the swirling waves of darkness. The hand of darkness reached Krios and wrapped itself around him.

The Titan of constellations let out a roar of pain and fear, before using his Titanly power to try and break free from the hand. It did have the desired effect, as the hand made of shadows did dissipate, freeing the Titan. But before the Titan could even register his freedom, the shadows again surrounded him, before grabbing the Titan and lifting him into the air. All this time, Nyxos stared between the shadow hand, his uncle, and the dark eyes of his foe with his own eyes wide in awe and terror. The battle had long since been forgotten by him, as he could see how the shadow hand had not been deterred in the slightest by the full might of an elder Titan.

With barely a wave of Percy's own hand, the shadow hand rose even higher, before plummeting to the ground with the Titan still enclosed within. The force with which Krios hit the Earth was enough to cause a blast around them, shaking the entire mountain to its core. Not satisfied at just the one hit, Percy willed the shadows to rise again, before throwing the Titan with beyond-divine level strength straight into a huge rock a mile away from them. On contact, Percy could see the rock burst open into millions of smaller fragments due to the force of the impact.

Percy could feel his body rapidly tiring as he exerted his newly acquired domain of darkness to a high extent. While he knew this was nothing close to what his domain actually was capable of, for some reason, Percy did not feel the easy control over it as he had had over water. The shadows, while abiding by his requests, seemed to refuse to bow to him. They seemed to be resisting his command over them to a certain extent, which the Destroyer found a bit odd. Yet another thing he would have to ponder upon later.

With a will of his mind, he relinquished his control over the shadow hand, letting the shadows dissipate back into their surroundings, before slumping a bit and taking a few deep breaths. The incredible feat of power he had just shown had left him more than a little winded. But alas his work was not done yet. Turning to Nyxos, Percy again raised his spear and shield and charged at the clearly nervous Titan.

Nyxos was many things, but a delusional afool, he was not. After having seen the display of unfathomable power shown by his foe, he knew that a one-on-one fight against him would spell nothing but death for the son of Oceanus. Even though his opponent was tired and weaker due to the cuts they had inflicted on him, Nyxos was still sure that he would not stand a chance against the being who had killed one of his allies and severely injured, if not killed his uncle. Yet, he was not given a chance to reflect on his situation and plan on his further course of action, as his foe charged at him, spear raised.

Percy had let his adrenaline take control now, as he pushed past the exertion he felt on his body, aiming to make quick work of the remaining Titan. It proved that even as tired as he was, he was more than powerful and skilled enough to absolutely outclass the son of Oceanus. Within a few moments, he had inflicted numerous slashes and stabs upon the Titan's body. He could have kept toying with the Titan for a few more minutes, if it weren't for his mind to almost order him to finish of the Titan swiftly and give it some much needed rest and recovery time.

Heeding the words of his body, Percy dodged an incoming spear of water, before deflecting the bident as it came near his waist. The next few moments proved to be the last few for the Titan of the seas, as Percy used his spear to stab straight into the part of the Titan's chest that was exposed under the chest plate, and then dragged the spear out of his chest and again stabbing him in a different place. With speed that could rival the fastest gods, Percy repeated this action of stabbing the Titan and ripping the spear out, making a complete mess of the Titan's insides, even as the Titan let out pathetic screams of pain and agony.

It was only when he saw the light leave the Titan's eye that Percy finally ceased his movements and pulled out his spear. He could feel the ichor that had sprayed out in him and now covered his entire body, mixed with the ichor from Menoetius' body that had sprayed onto him when he had ripped off the Titan's face. Used to being covered in the ichor of his enemies, Percy paid it little mind and instead used a kick to drop the Titan's body on the ground. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the Titan's bident, after all, there was no reason to let such a weapon go to waste, was there?

Now, there was only one thing left to do. Slowly, the Destroyer trudged towards the huge crater that had been created where Krios had landed after incinerating the boulder with the impact. Taking out Krios right here would be a huge boon to them in the further war, as it would cost the Titans one of their most capable warriors and strategists.

Reaching the crater, Percy swatted away the dust that still lingered in the air around the area. Getting a closer look at the site, Percy was actually surprised to see what had become of the once prideful and pristine Titan of the South. What lay in the pit was a broken and mangled body of Krios. Covered in his own ichor, Krios was missing his entire left leg, while his right arm was mangled beyond repair. The Titan's face was wounded in various places, with his nose and mouth continuously leaking out ichor. Had it not been a situation of battle and survival, Percy was sure that even he would have felt pity for the Titan.

At this point, even death would've been a mercy for Krios. Making his way towards the fallen Titan's body, Percy raised his spear to finish the fight for true. But before he could bring his spear down, Krios let out a loud cough before speaking.

"You..you puny insect. You dare…." Here he took a moment to cough up some ichor and then took a shuddering breath before continuing. "dare stand up against us? Enjoy this victory while it lasts, insect. Next time…I assure you won't."

Having heard enough, Percy brought down his spear. But before the spear could make contact with Krios' body, the Titan glowed brightly before he teleported himself out of the place.

Letting out a growl at this, Percy stabbed his spear into the ground as hard as he could. He had been stupid yet again. He had the golden opportunity to finish the Titan where he was laying, but he had stopped to hear the Titan's last words. The chance of listening to a Titan beg for mercy was too tempting for Percy to act immediately, and so had stayed his weapon. This had allowed the Titan to get away.

Letting the matter go for now, Percy gave out a small sigh as the bloodlust and adrenaline rush finally faded away, making him feel the tiredness, soreness and injuries that his body had suffered during the fight. While not fatal, the blood loss he had suffered was nothing to scoff at. He needed to get it tended to as soon as he could. Slowly trudging towards the cottage, Percy could see Rhea and her six children moving towards him as quick as possible. Before he could reach them though, Percy felt his knees buckle as he collapsed onto his knees, managing to stay upright only due to the spear he held.

Before he could fall to the ground completely, he felt a soft pair of hands envelop him into a familiar warm hug. Looking up, he saw through his blurry vision the warmest brown eyes and softest brown hair he had ever seen. With a smile now gracing his ichor covered face, Perseus finally lost himself to the realm of unconsciousness.

The first battle in this new war had just commenced, and The Destroyer had marked his presence in this new world with a bang.

---

A/N:

16k words.

So, how was it? I hope it was good enough.

Do comment your views and opinions.

New chapter, new fight scene. I hope this one compares to the previous fight scenes I've written. We have now introduced the main characters in this story, at least, most of them. We also finally got a preview into Kronos' mind and what changes will occur in this new timeline and world.

Now, I do have a chronological order planned for both the plot and the pairings. Nor Percy, nor the girls will be developing feelings overnight, as I find it rather cringe. Yet, it will also not be a dragged-out romance. I just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Next chapter, we will deal with the reactions of both the Titans and the Gods to this fight. We will also introduce another important character for the story, one that will tip the scales in one side of the war very heavily. I can't wait to bring it in front of you as soon as I can.

Final girls in the pairing now:

Hestia

Hera

Nyx

Calypso

Zoe

(Revealed later)

As always, I am open to suggestions and requests.

Do favourite and follow.

Ok then.

Thank you

Until Next time

Peace out

Darkgamer08