Annabeth's POV:

The clash of steel and the roar of monsters echoed through the battlefield. Blood stained the ground, but the monsters barely had time to react before they fell. In the center of it all stood Percy. No, radiated Percy. Like a lighthouse in a storm, his presence drew every eye, a force so commanding it seemed impossible to look away. Demigods, Roman and Greek alike, surged forward, their confidence swelling as if his very existence fueled their courage.

He was chaos given form, a hurricane ripping through the monster ranks, yet somehow every move he made was deliberate. Power shimmered around him—not blinding, but warm, golden, a beacon of defiance and hope that seeped into your bones and made you believe anything was possible.

He moved like a dancer, every step deliberate, every swing of his blade a seamless part of an intricate choreography only he could hear. It wasn't raw strength that defined him, though strength he had in abundance—it was his precision, his grace, the way each motion seemed to flow into the next as effortlessly as water finding its path. His agility was mesmerizing, a spectacle that left even the chaos of battle in awe.

Monsters faltered in his presence, their attacks missing not because they were slow, but because the world around Percy seemed to bend to his will. A subtle gust of wind twisted beneath one's feet, toppling it with a cruel inevitability. Another froze mid-lunge, its snarl fading into confusion as time itself seemed to stutter. The moment stretched, the creature caught in a fragment of eternity, while Percy stepped aside with unhurried ease. Time snapped back into place, leaving the monster disoriented and defenseless, Riptide's blazing edge meeting it in a swift, decisive arc.

It was as if the battlefield conspired with him, the very elements responding to his unspoken command, turning the tide in his favor with an elegance that felt both deliberate and divine.

Riptide blazed in his hands, its fiery glow not just a light, but a living force. Not merely fire; the flames were alive, writhing and lashing out like serpents with minds of their own. They struck with uncanny precision, reaching where Percy's blade couldn't, moving as if guided by an unspoken command. Their strikes weren't wild or chaotic—they were deliberate, calculated, each flame curling and striking like a predator that never missed its mark.

These flames didn't simply destroy—they devoured. They consumed everything they touched with a ferocity that went beyond mere fire, feeding on the chaos of the battlefield as if it were their sustenance. Watching them, the truth hit me like a tidal wave: the flames weren't a part of Riptide—they were a part of Percy. They moved with his intent, an extension of his will, his essence made manifest in searing, living emerald light.

Even with all this, Percy was careful. Amidst the storm of battle, he tracked everything—the enemies before him, the allies around him. His focus never wavered.

Then I saw it, and my heart seized with dread. Clarisse had overreached, her spear skimming the Laistrygonian giant's armor without finding purchase. The opening left her exposed, and the giant's axe swung down, its massive shadow engulfing her like a curtain of death.

I wanted to shout, to move, to intervene, but I was frozen—paralyzed by the inevitability of what was about to happen. Time seemed to slow as the axe descended, its blade gleaming with finality.

Then, a fiery streak tore across the battlefield, so bright and sudden it left an afterimage in its wake. Riptide. The blade collided with the axe mid-swing, the impact reverberating like a thunderclap. The giant's weapon halted, trembling under the force, the strike frozen mere inches from Clarisse's neck.

In an instant, flames erupted from Riptide, cascading outward like a living inferno. They engulfed the giant, consuming it whole in a blaze so intense that its roar was cut off, swallowed by the fire. The massive creature crumbled to ash, its presence erased as though it had never existed.

Riptide hovered in the air, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat. Slowly, almost deliberately, it drifted toward Clarisse. The flames had subsided, leaving the sword's emerald light steady and inviting. It floated before her, not demanding, but waiting—as if urging her to take it, to accept the power it offered.

"No," I whispered. "Don't—"

She didn't hesitate. Her fingers closed around the hilt.

I braced for the worst, expecting the divine power to overwhelm her, to consume her completely. But instead, something miraculous happened. Before my eyes, her wounds began to knit together, torn flesh mending with an almost reverent precision. A golden glow radiated from her, soft but powerful, spreading outward like the warmth of the first morning sun. It was so similar to Percy's light that it made my chest ache, a bittersweet reminder of who had shared this gift.

Clarisse's eyes widened as the transformation settled over her. Her gaze swept across the battlefield, sharp and focused, as though she could suddenly see every movement, every possibility. The air around her shifted—time itself bent subtly, unrefined but unmistakable, echoing Percy's power. He had given her a part of himself, a piece of his essence, without hesitation or reserve.

Who does that? Who offers their power, their very soul, in the middle of a fight, knowing the cost, knowing the risk? Only Percy. Reckless, impossible Percy. My chest tightened, and a laugh bubbled up unbidden, caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration, before it was quickly swallowed by the sting of tears.

I closed my eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Desperately, silently, I prayed—to my mother, to Aphrodite, to any god who might be listening. Please, I begged, the words echoing in my mind. Give me the chance to fix this. Fix us.

Clarisse PoV:

Riptide thrummed in my grip, its power surging through me like a tidal wave. My limbs felt charged, my senses sharper than ever. It was intoxicating—stronger even than when my father had blessed me. Was this what he felt, wielding his own divine strength? Deep in my mind, a presence stirred—subtle yet steady. It guided my movements with an imperceptible nudge, whispering words that resonated in the depths of my subconscious: "Don't lose the blade. The power flows through it. Protect them all with it."

My gaze snapped to where Riptide had come from, and I caught sight of Percy, a whirlwind of motion amidst the chaos. His blade was gone, but he didn't seem to need it. His bare fists were more than enough. He struck the largest Cyclops I'd ever seen—and I'd stood toe-to-toe with Polyphemus. This one dwarfed even him, its massive shoulders blotting out the smoke-streaked sky like a living mountain.

Percy darted forward, slipping beneath the Cyclops's first clumsy swipe. The monstrous hand cleaved through empty air, its sheer force shaking the ground and sending debris flying. Percy didn't stop. He flowed like a river, every step precise, every motion purposeful, weaving through the creature's furious swings with an elegance that defied the chaos around him. The Cyclops roared, its single bloodshot eye tracking him, but it was too slow. Percy moved like water—unyielding and inevitable, advancing no matter the obstacles.

The Cyclops's frustration grew, its bellow echoing across the battlefield as it raised a massive fist high above its head. The blow came down with devastating force, shattering the earth where Percy had just stood. Dust and shards of stone billowed into the air, momentarily obscuring him. But as the Cyclops leaned closer, triumphant, Percy surged through the haze, his movements as fluid as a predator closing in on its prey.

He ducked low, driving his shoulder into the Cyclops's knee with a sickening crunch. I winced as the sound of splintering bone filled the air, jagged shards erupting from the Cyclops's leg. The creature howled, staggering as it clutched at its shattered limb, but Percy didn't give it time to recover. In one fluid motion, he leaped upward, seizing a jagged edge of the Cyclops's armor. His grip held firm as he propelled himself higher, scaling the creature like an unyielding tide climbing a cliff.

The Cyclops swatted at him like an insect, its massive hand sweeping dangerously close, but Percy twisted in midair, planting his hands on the creature's thick arm. Using its momentum against it, he vaulted over its shoulder, landing with a bone shard in his hand—a shard that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Before I could register how it had come to him, Percy moved again. The Cyclops turned, rage blazing in its single eye, but Percy was faster. He drove the jagged shard straight into the monster's eye. The Cyclops reared back, its roar splitting the air as emerald flames erupted from the wound, consuming the socket in a flash of green fire.

The monster flailed, its massive arms swinging wildly, but Percy was relentless. With a flick of his wrist, the shard in his hand shifted, transforming into a spear of midnight black, as if it had been forged from the very essence of night. He spun it with breathtaking precision, the weapon drawing in the light around it until it seemed to radiate darkness.

Percy hurled the spear with a force that stole the air from my lungs. It struck true, burying itself deep in the Cyclops's shoulder. The emerald flames erupted again, spreading outward, devouring the monster's flesh and armor like a ravenous tide. The Cyclops screamed, its massive hands clawing futilely at the fire, but the flames only grew fiercer, consuming everything in their path.

Percy landed lightly, his feet barely disturbing the rubble beneath him. His gaze remained fixed on the Cyclops as it fell to its knees, the flames reducing it to ash before it had the chance to hit the ground. The wind carried the ash away, scattering it into the smoke-filled sky.

For a moment, the battlefield stilled. The clash of weapons and cries of battle faded into the background, muted by the silence that followed Percy's victory. Around him, the remaining demigods paused, their eyes drawn to him. It wasn't just admiration; it was something deeper—a recognition of the power and certainty that radiated from him like the calm eye of a storm.

Percy didn't revel in the moment. His face was calm, unreadable, though his eyes held a quiet intensity that seemed to weigh the entire battlefield. He turned, and re-entered the fray.

I tore my gaze away, realizing only then how mesmerized I'd been by the fight. That's when I realized that the world around me seemed to have slowed, each heartbeat stretching into an eternity. I smiled as I engaged the enemies who had been struggling towards me in vain, my reflexes sharpened, instincts amplified beyond anything I'd ever thought a demigod could achieve. A tempest roared within me, surging through every fiber of my being as I charged forward. The first monster fell with a single blow—a casual swat that felt like toppling a stack of cards. Power coursed through me, raw and untamed, as if I could shatter mountains with nothing more than a thought.

Ahead, I saw him—the Roman boy who appeared after Percy's disappearance. Jason, his name surfaced in my mind, though he seemed almost unrecognizable now. He darted through the chaos, a streak of motion barely tethered to the ground. His axe gleamed, a conduit for shimmering beams of starlight. Around him, constellations came to life, dazzling and fierce. A bear-shaped star tore into a drakon, and an archer's fiery silhouette loosed an arrow that struck true. The celestial display was both beautiful and devastating.

Then I saw her—or at least, I thought it was her. A shadow glided through the battlefield, cloaked in the Mist itself. Tendrils of illusion twisted and coiled around her, snapping wolves and clawing hands tearing into the enemy. Glimmering eyes peered from the darkness, and for just a moment, a mischievous smile appeared. The shadow met my gaze and winked before vanishing into the chaos, leaving me questioning whether it had been real.

The tide of monsters surged, but I pressed forward, unstoppable. A giant loomed before me, its roar splitting the air. I silenced it in an instant, sweeping it aside like a bothersome fly. Then I saw him—the elfish son of Hephaestus. He stood wreathed in flame, a defiant figure amid the snarling horde. His fire kept the creatures at bay, but something tugged at my vision, a ripple at the edges of perception. It wasn't sight—not exactly. It was possibility. I saw the choice, crystalline and clear, and the futures branching from it. He would fall if I didn't act. The creature behind him raised its weapon, unseen.

"Change the blade," the voice urged. "Think of a spear and let it loose."

My grip tightened, and I willed Riptide to change. The blade shimmered, reshaping itself into a spear of unassuming bronze. With all my strength, I hurled it. As it flew, green flames erupted along its length, devouring it in an otherworldly blaze. The spear struck true, impaling the beast before it could bring its weapon down. Its death scream echoed, final and terrible.

The boy turned, his expression shifting from shock to exhilaration as he caught the spear mid-air. Flames surged around him, twisting and morphing into an eerie green fire that seemed to devour the very fabric of reality. His laughter rang out, wild and unhinged—a pyromaniac's symphony of chaos. For a fleeting moment, I almost pitied the monsters that stood in his path.

Percy's POV:

The battle was over. Nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds—time whispered the exact number to me, a dutiful servant reporting to its master. The battlefield lay in ruins, a chaotic tapestry of blood, ichor, and ash.

Riptide had passed through at least half a dozen hands during the chaos, its flames an extension of me no matter who wielded it. Now it rested back where it belonged. Reyna approached, the blade held with measured precision, her movements deliberate. She extended it to me, her gaze steady yet searching, as if she were trying to decipher some unspoken truth.

When my fingers brushed hers, there was a spark—not from the blade, but from her. A faint tremor passed through her hand, subtle but unmistakable. Not fear. Something else. Anticipation? Maybe... desire? I locked the thought away, shelving it with the rest of the madness meant for tomorrow. Today still demanded enough of me.

Riptide was smeared with blood—not all of it monstrous. Mortal. A chill prickled at the edges of my mind, and I quickly pushed the thought aside. I didn't want to know what story it carried, not now.

I nodded, a silent thanks, and turned to leave. But something held me back. I hesitated, glanced over my shoulder, then stepped closer. My hand found her shoulder, grounding us both in a moment that felt suspended in time.

"You saved us," I said, my voice low but steady. "You united the gods, brought them to us just in time. You saved my life." My gaze locked with hers, the words weighing heavier with each one spoken. "I've seen the worlds where you failed—seen what happens when you fall—and I wish I could unsee them."

Her expression didn't change, but her eyes betrayed her—a flicker of something unguarded, emotions rushing beneath the surface. I tightened my grip, steadying her and myself. The moment stretched, thick with the unspoken.

This time, I switched to Latin. My voice softened, but the words carried weight.

"Ave praetor, salvatrix Olympi, champion Romana et amica Pegasi Magnifici. Saluto te."

Her breath hitched, barely audible, but I noticed. In that fleeting instant, the battlefield blurred into the background. The blood, the bodies, the ruin—all of it faded away. All that remained was this fragile peace, the tenuous recognition of everything we had fought for, and everything we had lost. Her gaze, unwavering yet uncertain, met mine with an intensity that made my chest ache.

Her cheeks flushed, a faint dusting of pink that softened her sharp features. She adjusted her armor with quick, practiced movements, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. The sweat glistened on her skin, her dark eyes holding mine a moment longer than necessary. She was beautiful—not just in appearance, but in the strength she carried, the unyielding determination that had earned her a place among the greatest heroes of both Rome and Greece.

I stepped back, releasing her shoulder, and the moment broke like a wave receding into the sea. I turned and walked away, the weight of what had just passed settling in my chest like a stone.

I needed to find the Seven, to reach them before their parents did. Soon, the politics would begin—spoils divided, alliances forged, gods made.

I wasn't afraid, not for myself. Fear had become a relic of mortality, something I had long since transcended. Even if the entire council of gods turned against me, even if my father himself abandoned me, there was nothing left to fear. They might kill me, but death held no claim over me.

The primordial sea was my home—my sanctuary. Even Tartarus had no grip on my spirit. I wasn't a mere god, a simple child of Olympus. I was the lord of the primordial sea, the embodiment of change, and by its nature, I was intricately tied to chaos. Tied to her.

My soul was bound twice over, a thread woven with the will of the seas and the unpredictability of change. I was no ordinary Primogenai, no faceless force of nature. I was something new. A god, yes, but something unique. Something uncontainable.

If anyone was foolish enough to try and kill me, they'd learn the truth soon enough. Death couldn't hold me. It would only serve as the crucible from which I would rise again, born anew—a force of nature they could never hope to contain.

Jason PoV:

The battle was over, though the cost had been steep. Most of the casualties had fallen before we arrived—when the Romans had fought alone. The legion had borne the brunt of the losses. Inside the looming walls of their camp, the Greek forces had refused to join the fight, their inaction a shadow over the battlefield. The Greeks who had ventured out to fight stood with us now, weary and silent, forming a tight cluster around the seven of us.

"You left us!" Dakota's voice broke the heavy stillness, raw with fury. "Left us to those monsters!"

Clarisse snorted, her lip curling. "Monsters you brought," she shot back, her tone dripping with derision. "And yet we still risked our lives to save your sorry hides."

Tension thickened like a storm cloud. Several legionaries reached for their weapons, anger smoldering in their eyes. The sharp clang of metal was met with an even sharper voice, cutting through the air like a blade.

"I warned you all about Octavian and this madness," Reyna said, her voice steady despite the weight in her tone. "You didn't listen. And now? They did save us. Without the Greeks, the legion would be shattered." Her words felt like they physically hurt her to say, but her conviction held firm.

The Romans fell silent, their gazes dropping to the ground. Shame and resentment mingled in the air.

Annabeth stepped forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Clarisse. "Take everyone back into camp," she said firmly. "Get the healers out here to tend to the Romans. If anyone tries to stop you, give them the same 'camp introduction' you gave Percy."

Clarisse barked a laugh, the memory clearly amusing her. "Gladly." She motioned to her troops, leading them back through the gates, their presence stilling the unease among the Roman ranks.

I made my way to Percy as the crowd began to disperse. He stood apart, his face etched with an exhaustion that ran deeper than the physical. "What now?" I asked.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the world rested there. "Now comes the shitty part."

I frowned. "Politics?"

He nodded, grimacing. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught me off guard, but I nodded without hesitation. It was insane—I'd barely known him. Sure, we'd spent time together on the ship, but this? This was different. Still, after everything we'd been through, trusting him felt like the only option. It was strange how life-threatening events could forge bonds as strong as any family.

"I'll be su—" Percy began, only to be cut off by a thunderclap that split the sky. He sighed heavily, his expression darkening. "Summoned soon," he finished.

He turned back to me, his tone quiet but firm. "Get everything sorted here. Master your powers. I don't know when we'll see each other again—could be an hour, could be a week. But be ready. I'm sure the old guard are already nervous enough about my ascension. You, Hazel… maybe the others? There'll be questions. And attempts to ensure compliance."

"Compliance," I repeated slowly, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

Percy gave me a curt nod. "We need to stick together. Demigods rise to meet the challenges they face, and we've faced some pretty big ones. The last Giant War left us with a few new minor gods—and even one Olympian. I've got a feeling we're going to blow that record out of the water."

He smiled faintly, a flicker of humor breaking through his exhaustion. Then, without warning, he dissolved into a swirling cloud of darkness, like the void itself had reached out to claim him.

I rubbed my temples, already bracing myself for the absurdity that awaited. Life among the divine wasn't going to be any easier than the battlefield.