Trials of Justice

by HoJ Roxas

"Emiya Coffee shop, how can I help you?" "Hello mortal, there's a new task for you." "I'm seeing my kid today, reschedule it." "Percy's on a quest right now." "Me speaku nolu Engulishu, wlongu numbelu, solly." "I'm literally a deity. And I will have Hestia contact her." "Hmm. Do it, no balls. It's not spring." "Hestia said she's coming to see you." "...I'll be there in a moment."

5. First Trial: Curses of the Departed (2)

Special thanks to Worldbringer of Joseun for his help cowriting this chapter.

Disclaimer: We don't own Percy Jackson or TYPE-Moon content.

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Camp Half-Blood:

Life in camp Halfblood had its fair share of surprises, as Percy quickly discovered in the first few days among his fellow campers. Training was brutal—Chiron's hellish regiment teetered between sadistic and ingenious. Obstacle courses swarmed with hazards from all directions, repeated duels and combat exercises, and being occasionally dragged to the Hephaestus kids' forge to see some of their cool gear, Percy could honestly say one thing.

His ADHD-addled preteen brain was having an all-time blast. The adrenaline rush, the thrill of practicing with his peers, and understanding the lessons better without the need of his pops's Greek revision sessions was simply euphoric. Percy never had so much fun running through the gauntlet of challenges each day brought, even if he didn't succeed in a lot of them.

EMIYA must never know how close he was to getting a bad haircut by way of the blade traps in the climbing wall.

Still, the young demigod could proudly say he didn't lose to any of his peers, and even some of the seniors too…at least the ones who weren't monstrously strong like Luke. He and Annabeth gave him the toughest time in the arena, but Percy knew he'd catch up given time. Thanks to them, he was also able to adapt rather quickly and make friends with a lot of kids his age, getting to know them and sharing stories about weird monster encounters and mist incidents they encountered before coming here.

Now here he was, walking among his new cousins, breathing in the fresh air, and most importantly, ducking under the mace aiming for his head. Percy lunged at his attacker, grabbing the weapon's shaft mid swing and knocking the Ares demigod out with a pommel to the face. He looked at the chaos around him as the intense fighting drowned his thoughts with screams, shouts and war cries.

Just a game of capture of the flag, Luke said. You'll learn a lot from it, Annabeth said. They were right, in a way. This was definitely a capture the flag match, and he was certainly learning many things from it as well.
Like throwing maces at enemies, as he demonstrated with precision with a great heave. He winced as the Ares boy went down like a pile of bricks, knocked out cold as his helmet was sent flying by the impact. That one's definitely going to need some ambrosia after this. Percy didn't dwell on it much, raising his shield as an incoming arrow ricocheted off to hit an unfortunate demigod. The archer clicked his teeth and tried to fire another arrow, only to receive a pommel to the back of his head courtesy of Luke. The son of Hermes gave him a thumbs up, acting casual even as he left swaths of fallen bodies and groaning cousins in his wake.

Luke moved with a grace bordering on art, the unassuming sword in his hands singing a single tune as it met the onslaught of challengers. One after another they came, fueled with a rage which only grew with each missed swing and each comrade struck down. He blitzed through the battlefield with blinding speed, from one position to the next, with a sharp gaze and a rogue smile.

A bulky demigod charged at him, swinging a sword with a valiant warcry. Luke didn't flinch at the blade, taking a step back as it slashed a foot away from his nose. Another strike, a downward slash, comes right after. Faster, stronger, enough to leave a mark in the earth. Only, it too couldn't reach the senior camper who stepped to the side. The Ares child felt his veins bulging at the humiliating display, but his weapon wouldn't budge from its resting place in the ground. A mere fleeting instant of carelessness, one which brought the harsh flat of a blade slamming against the big demigod's chin with enough strength to knock teeth and spit across the forest ground.

It was all Luke needed, a singular blow to take down a trusted squad leader of Clarisse, a camper who took down many of their team members. Before the demigod's unconscious form even touched the ground, the son of Hermes was already moving to the next enemy.

Percy felt mesmerised, catching sight of his friend in between bouts with incoming enemies. Their cousins were quick to anger, a weakness diminishing their finesse and technique, reduced as they were by bewildered frustration. Compared to their crushing blows and fearless charge, the Hermes demigod was an image of composure and focus, a dazzling display of martial prowess carefully honed and tempered throughout the years. It reminded Percy of his pops, even if it was unfair to compare Luke to EMIYA.

His pops was efficient, calculative, nimble, a demonstration of terrifying martial prowess no other could replicate. Percy's demigod senses could never mistake it for anything else, nor could he resist admiring it even as he received blow after blow during their sparring sessions. Compared to that, Luke's was a faithful, if limited, replication of a sacred act, lacking the unreachable perfection of the genuine article yet so beautiful in its remarkable efficiency.

His comrades were as enthralled by the unique display as he was, their leader's courage and fearless charge breathing a new wind in them. In no time, the third skirmish of this game ended as prisoners were escorted away while their main squad rested. Percy could feel the bruises under his breastplate and vambraces, wiping off his sweat with a sigh. He gave a passing glance to his sword, frowning at the small chips along its form before quickly scouring the place for a less damaged one.

"Hey, buddy." Luke said, crouching next to him as he washed his face. He yawned, lips quirking into a satisfied smile as he brushed his hair back. "How are you holding out?" He asked, lightly stretching his body.

"Fine, I guess." Percy shrugged, watching the other side of the creek cautiously while he drank from it. He felt much better, the water soothing his thirst and fatigue. It was a euphoric sensation, empowering even, like he could take on anyone in the world…maybe except his godfather. He tried, multiple times, and only ended up on cleaning duty for the mess he made in the process. "I still don't think it's a good idea to give the Ares bullies real weapons, though."

"I hear you. I don't even know how Chiron can manage these games without serious injuries." Luke chuckled, giving his junior a playful pat on the back. He gave a cursory glance to their teammates, his eyes narrowing when he took note of their diminished state.

Despite taking out the brunt of Clarisse's forces, her men didn't go down without at least taking an adversary or two with them. What was a force of two dozen was reduced to eight members, most of which were fatigued to a noticeable extent. He couldn't wait for the wounded to rejoin them, as a number of them would need to watch the prisoners. Staying at the border like this would end with their group overrun, and he wasn't arrogant enough to willingly give Clarisse more ground.

Despite the circumstances, the son of Hermes grinned. "I've got a job for you, Percy." He said, pulling the boy closer while the others had their meals.

Percy frowned, staring intently at his senior's mischievous smirk. "No." He said.

"I didn't even say anything." Luke spoke, his smile widening.

"Your ideas end badly for me. Every time." Percy replied, annoyed and unamused by Luke's chuckle. While he was happy to fight and spend time with Luke, there was no denying his friend's penchant for making plans that somehow ended with everyone but him getting caught. Percy still remembered how he was stuck with extra homework along with Thalia and Annabeth while Luke enjoyed the cookies they earned following his ideas. There were also a few times he somehow roped them into pranking Emiya, and then conveniently needing to do homework when it was time to clean the aftermath.

Honestly, it only made Percy realize Luke learned from the mistakes of people who took his advice…and he was not falling for it again.

"Don't be like that, little guy." Luke said, unbothered by the frigid reaction as he playfully nudged Percy.

"I'm not little! and it's still no." Percy refused once more, giving Luke a scathing glare as the waters of the creek bubbled near them. Ripples spread through the clear stream, traveling all across the creek waters as Percy's fists clenched tightly. It wasn't his fault his body's still so small, he already had enough teasing about it from the coffee shop ladies! They even pinched his cheeks like he was some baby! 'I'll get bigger sooner or later. Bigger than pops, I just need more time, that's all!' He thought, huffing a breath as he crossed his arms.

Luke didn't seem to mind his refusal, humming as he observed the angry preteen. He circled around the boy, pondering over his failed attempts for just a few seconds before he sighed. "I see. My bad, Percy. I guess I'll go look for someone else who can win the match for us." He spoke despondently, turning his back to Percy with a shrug of disappointment and ever so slowly walked away. He glanced at the young demigod from the corner of his eye, noticing the way he tensed and twitched at his words. Good. He was interested, but isn't quite over being called little. A small push is in order. "Here I was telling everybody how important you'd be to this operation. A shame, I wanted to entrust it to someone I trust with all my heart to win us this." He added, shoulders slumping.

"Wait." Percy spoke, grabbing Luke's arm before he left. He had a smug look on his face, rubbing his nose as he held his head high. "Since it's you, I don't mind taking on a challenge." He said, wiggling his brows at the senior.

'Hook, line and sinker.' Luke fought back the smirk, pulling Percy close as he began to whisper the plan. He observed his junior, amused by the confidence on display. Percy needed more experience in any case, and combat skills weren't a top priority in his training.

On the other hand, Percy was pumped to win this battle for the team. He could already imagine the looks he'd get from Luke, Annabeth and the others once he brings the enemy flag back single-handedly.

He had a good feeling about this…at least, up until he found himself neck deep in Ares demigods. Several times.

The idea Luke pitched sounded good in theory; he'd cause a commotion with his team inside Clarisse's territory, get their attention while Percy snuck behind their lines to snatch the flag. Percy thought it was a solid plan, until he realized three very important pieces of information he ignored up until now.

One, Clarisse had a lot of demigods on her team. A lot. The fighting made him assume they took out the bulk of her forces, an assumption he regretted when he got ambushed by two of her squads.

Two, they somehow knew where he was within minutes of separating from the main squad. He tried hiding in the trees, bushes, even stole the armor of one of the enemies. None of his attempts worked.

Three, Luke was the one who planned all of this.

In spite of the problems, Percy pressed on with a stubbornness even his pops had trouble dealing with. He alternated between charging in, beating as many people as he could before retreating back to the creek for a break. It took him half a dozen attempts at their defenses, but eventually he managed to find the flag.

It was in a small glade, raised just low enough to be somewhat hidden between the trees without disqualifying the team. A lot of boulders sprawled around the lush area, too small to use as cover. He stayed behind one of the trees, surveilling the area for any signs of prisoners or traps. Percy felt uneasy and anxious, the lack of resistance he faced on the way too big, too lax. He couldn't shake off the feeling he was cornered, walking in an alley with the walls closing in on him.

His body tensed up when he caught sight of the lone figure guarding the flag, leisurely sitting on a log not far from it. A dark-haired boy around Luke's age, his armor engraved with several sigils Percy couldn't make sense of and a quiver hanging on his back. Percy saw a bow and a shortsword beside him, the lone young man twirling an ornate dagger in his hand, all alone.

'Alright, it looks like he's all alone. All I need to do is close in before he can sho-' Percy's thoughts came to a sudden stop as his body froze up. Any plans he had dissipated like smoke as his mind snapped into fight or flight, pushing himself firmly against the harsh bark of the tree. His heart raced, hammering against his ribs as he slowly turned to stare at the demigod…

…and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw the senior stare back. Green eyes gazed at the young boy unblinkingly, watching his every move with meticulous precision.

His gaze didn't have the rabid malice of the monsters, nor did it ooze the same anger-fueled hostility Clarisse and her teammates possessed. It was unsettlingly cold, observing him less like a human, and more like a problem to solve. He felt his throat dry up the more he stared at him, feeling more exposed with each passing moment.

"Come out." He said, his voice stoic and heavy. He stopped toying with his dagger, switching to a reverse grip as Percy carefully stepped into the open. The jarring silence stretched on and on, neither demigod moving from their place…however, while one remained seated calmly, the other held his blade in shaky hands.

It was a struggle to commit to a charge, Percy's instincts screaming at him to run away as it warred against the teachings his godfather carved into his body. He knew beyond any doubt, he would be shot the moment he turned his back to this demigod. It would be game over, but charging in felt equally hopeless. He was stuck, hesitation bubbling over into frustration as his grip squeezed tighter on his weapon.

The older camper remained unperturbed, his eyes narrowing as he cast a glance to the empty grassfield to his right. "You too, Annabeth." He spoke, clothes billowing as a violent gale of wind blew across the glade.

The shockwave pushed Percy back, the boy tumbling and rolling as he slammed into a tree. He pushed through the pain racing through his back, rising to his feet to see Annabeth standing in front of him. "Annabeth? You're here?" He asked, rushing to stand beside her.

"Keep your eyes forward." Annabeth replied, her eyes focused on their lone foe as her cap floated into his grasp. She clicked her teeth as he threw the accessory over the flagpole before he turned back to them. Percy never saw Annabeth look so grim before, the sight of her narrowed eyes fueling his concern.

"Who is that guy?" He asked, matching his friend's slow stride as they closed the distance step by step. The demigod watched their advance calmly, strapping his sword to his waist and picking up his bow.

"Mikhail Anderson. Unclaimed. Senior camper." Annabeth whispered, throwing him a scathing glare. "You seriously didn't read my report before the game?!" She almost shouted, her face twisting in a mix of anger and exasperation fearsome enough to frighten the young boy.

"The what now?" Percy said, confused and unaware of what she was talking about. It took him a few moments to recall the brief time the team spent reading through a pile of papers Annabeth gave them just before the match, the same papers he'd slept on until Chiron called them.

Mistakes were made.

A gust of wind interrupted Percy's thoughts, his body instinctively spinning to slash at the presence behind him. Sparks flew as his blade ground against the older demigod's dagger, Percy flinching under the intense stare.

Mikhail did not speak, his free hand trapping Percy's sword arm in a vice grip before roughly pulling him into Annabeth's way. The young boy's face twisted in pain as his friend's spear slammed into his back, the violent thrust driving the air from his lungs. The older demigod mercilessly drove his dagger's hilt against his hand, his sword falling from his grip. Three strikes followed in a blink, a vicious jab turning the world blurry before his head was roughly pulled into a knee which bloodied his nose, leading to the finishing hook against his chin. The world shifted between dark spots and blurry visions, and it took Percy a solid few minutes to understand he was laid flat on the ground.

With a groan, he pushed himself up and wiped the blood dripping from his nose. He tried to shake off the nausea, rising on unsteady feet to see Annabeth fighting the stoic demigod. The two fighters were almost a blur, Annabeth's spear swinging and thrusting to keep Mikhail away while the latter kept pressuring her away from the flag.

Percy picked up his sword once more, deciding to dash for the flag while the guard was busy. His ears still rang from the punches he received, but he noticed the sudden stop in the fighters' violent clashes. A familiar dagger stabbed into the ground in front of him, drawing a hiss from Percy. Whatever relief he might've felt believing Mikhail missed was quickly snuffed out when he saw the weapon glowing.

"Get down, Percy!" Annabeth shouted at him, a hint of panic quickly cut off by a grunt of pain.

'A little late for that, don't ya think!' Percy screamed internally, diving to the ground away from the dagger before a small explosion disturbed the peaceful glade. His body rolled and turned across the grounds like a ragdoll until he slammed into a tree trunk. He groaned, coughing as he brushed off the dirt on his face. His eyes widened at the small crater, briefly reconsidering the many decisions in his life that led him to this current state before turning to see how Annabeth was doing.

Well, at least she didn't get blasted with an explosive dagger.

The girl switched on the offensive the moment Mikhail threw his dagger, depriving him of any chance to switch to his sword. The young man remained silent all the same, dodging her thrusts without pause until he was pushed against the flagpole. Now she got him, she thought as she swung her spear with all her might. Her blow was well-calculated and meticulously prepared, one Mikhail couldn't dodge lest it destroy the pole…but something still troubled her deeply.

Her opponent wasn't panicking. He was sweating a bit, his eyes more focused now, but still firmly composed. When she saw the sudden twitch of his finger, it was too late. She expected something to strike her from a blind spot, another trap she didn't account for, only to hear a loud clash of steel behind her and a grunt from Percy.

"Don't stop! I've got your back!" He shouted, wincing as his shield intercepted Mikhail's dagger. The weapon had flown out of the crater, intent on Annabeth before he blocked it with his shield. Even now as he pinned it down with his foot, the weapon shook violently under his boot.

Annabeth smirked, putting more force into her thrust. This was it! He was surprised, his hidden ace failed! He couldn't possibly–

"Surrender." Mikhail spoke softly, a smile on his face as he smacked the tip away with his vambrace. He closed in instantly, wind coalescing in front of his palm before he slammed it into her right side. A piercing howl echoed across the entire glade, a shockwave traveling through Annabeth's body.

She did not scream, all breath was forced out of her body as strength left her limbs. No amount of willpower made a difference as she lay on the grass, gritting her teeth as agony pulsed from her liver, unable to muster any defiance as her spear fell beside her. She felt Mikhail's appraising stare upon her, carefully watching her for any tricks she might've prepared in situations like this. After all, she was still a child of Athena.

It would've been very cool if she had one…unfortunately, now wasn't the case. Annabeth could only lay on her back, face twisted in pain and slowly shook her head. The agony of her injury hurt less than the fact her opponent didn't even flinch throughout the entire ordeal, as if all her careful planning was just a game.

Mikhail hummed, kicking up the girl's spear as his gaze turned to Percy. The moment their eyes met, Percy's body froze once more. For the second time in this short exchange, the young boy felt his enemy's glare strip him down to his soul. His presence grew intimidating, armed with his teammate's own weapon as he casually sat on a boulder. His apprehension must've shown on his face, for the suffocating pressure of the older demigod's presence grew gentler, allowing him to release a breath Percy didn't realize he was holding.

"You're tougher than I thought. A good swordsman with a decent head on your shoulders, too. Teach trained you well." Mikhail said, a small tug of his lips forming into a charming smile. He appeared relaxed with Annabeth's spear resting on his lap, but Percy couldn't muster the confidence to attempt a sneak attack. Rather, the aura coming off of Mikhail made him certain he'd be beaten again before he even reached the demigod.

However, it didn't make his comment any less bizarre. "You could tell that from knocking me down a few times?" Percy asked, sword and shield at the ready for any surprise. He wouldn't let the same trick work on him twice, keeping a solid foot on the knife under his boot.

"Well, the fact you're still standing means you're durable enough. The rest I learned from watching you fight your way here." Mikhail replied, a hint of amusement shining in his eyes watching Percy try to wrack his head around his words.

"...You were following me?" Percy asked, confused. He was the guardian of the flag, so he couldn't have been able to move so quickly between the skirmishes unscathed the entire time. Something wasn't adding up.

"I didn't. A companion of mine did." Mikhail answered, turning to his right with a deadpan look. "You should show yourself, Lykaios." He spoke, the air shimmering around him like a mirage.

Percy blinked, rubbing his eyes as a creature emerged out of nowhere. A green glow slowly came into view, solidifying into the shape of a majestic wolf nuzzling affectionately against the demigod. It turned his way, golden pupils stared at him, and Percy had the sudden urge to take the fastest way home. He was ready for fists, weapons, getting shot by arrows, but getting stared at like a piece of meat by a magical invisible wolf was where he drew the line!

"Don't worry, Lykaios doesn't bite…much." Mikhail said, gently rubbing the wolf's head. Percy didn't feel any reassurance, especially when Lykaois growled and bared her fangs at him. "She's been watching you ever since you separated from Luke." He added with the smallest hint of a smirk on his face.

"...So that's how your team kept finding me?" Percy asked, taking a few steps back. He had no idea how fast the she-wolf was, and a part of him would rather not find out at all. What he needed was an opportunity, a chance to hopefully get Annabeth and run away.

"You didn't know? It's not like this is secret knowledge." Mikhail replied, frowning as he turned to the groaning Annabeth. "That's weird. You're usually more thorough about these things, Annabeth." He said, earning a frustrated groan in return.

"Wait, this was already known? Why didn't anyone ever tell me?!" Percy said, confused. His gaze turned to Annabeth as well, only to wince at the withering glare he received.

"...The…report….moron." The daughter of Athena snarled, struggling through the pain racing through her body. She deeply wanted to get up and beat some sense into Percy over and over again, until he carved today's blunder in his stone slab for a brain. It will be a good stress reliever after this frustrating show.

Percy shivered, his mouth drying up under the predatory eyes of both Annabeth and Lykaois. Frankly, he didn't know which was worse, and it unsettled him to a degree where he entertained the thought of leaving Annabeth. One thing he learned since meeting the trio of demigods years ago was that an angry Annabeth was worse than the monsters.

Yet here he was, about to risk getting bitten to bits for her. The things he did for the people he cared about…

"Alright. I think I have a clearer picture now." Mikhail said, no longer as casual as before. A pressure bore down on Percy, the sudden shift in his demeanor making the two juniors gulp. The senior camper's green orbs flared with ferocity matching the wolf next to him as he steadily rose. "Since this is our first bout, I'll let you in on a little detail about me, Percy." He quipped, snapping his fingers as the world around them began to shift and twist, like static clearing up or a veil tearing off. His eyes stung as he tried to understand the brief flash of kaleidoscopic lights hitting his senses, but whatever grievance he was about to voice died in his throat as he took in the drastically different scenery he was in.

The previously serene glade was riddled with craters and deep gashes in the earth, groaning bodies of campers who weren't there previously tied to the ground by vines. There must've been dozens of them, sprawled out around the banner and its singular guardian. It was as if bombs had blown up in this place, with only the immediate proximity of the flagpole remaining spotless. Percy gave a closer look at the demigods around him, recognizing them as the vanguard teams who were supposed to be exploring Clarisse's territory.

Then his eyes went back to Mikhail, noting the dirt and bloodstains covering his armor as well as the sweat on his face. His body shivered for a second, alarm bells ringing in his mind in a way not unlike his worst nightmares. A part of him realized this senior wasn't going to pull any punches, and that the earlier show was clearly a restrained sample of what he was capable of. The gap between them was never so palpable as it was now, every victim laying around them only driving the fact deeper.

"Give up." Mikhail spoke, his voice frigid and unflinching. Despite his slightly rundown state, the demigod remained focused and tempered. There were no openings to exploit, the earlier little skirmish already proving the likely result of any confrontations up close and personal. There was no escape either, since he probably had what he could only describe as an elaborate network of invisible snitches in this forest.

In short, he was well and truly bamboozled. Percy was no stranger to such feelings, they were old friends, really. Between his dad's intensive training and auntie Eudora's occasional weird mood swings, Percy could say with some pride that he was in more tough spots than most kids his age…it's how he got his endurance, after all. However, that very same experience warned him his current predicament would end just the same, with him on the ground nursing wounds and dealing with bruises for a few days.

Would it deter him in any way, though?

"In your dreams, buddy!" Percy replied, remaining defiant with blazing determination across his face. He stretched his arms and switched to a more defensive stance, unfazed by the bloodchilling glare he received from the older camper. It didn't matter how hopeless resistance might have been, but Percy Jackson wasn't going down without a fight.

The two stood in silence, Mikhail's eyes observing the young boy meticulously as he slowly readied his bow. Lykaois snarled at Percy, the soft breeze turning into a strong air current as it began prowling around him slowly. "Well said, little guy." The older demigod's stoic face brightened, flashing his irritated junior an approving smile before abruptly turning around to stare at the trees behind him.

The vines released their hold on the imprisoned demigods, their momentary confusion dispelled immediately as the eldest among them took aim at the trees. "Aethon." He said, flames bursting to life and taking the shape of a majestic eagle on his shoulder. "Spread the word." Mikhail spoke, the magnificent spirit's intelligent eyes met the demigod's own for a second before it flew off in blinding speed.

Percy squinted, following Mikhail's line of sight and taking note of the unnatural shapes moving behind the cover of the trees and bushes. His nose twitched when he caught a familiar scent, a scent of filth and decay. One he learned by heart over many unfortunate encounters in his youth. He moved to his adversary's side, sword at the ready just as the light of monstrous eyes revealed itself.

'Oh, crap bask-'

"Monsters! To arms!" The senior shouted, his thundering cry snapping his fellow demigods into action as they hurriedly joined the two.

Monsters burst from the forest in the dozens, a mixture of cyclopes and hellhounds rampaging towards them. Their excitement was disturbing, and the hunger in their eyes even more so. Percy could feel his skin crawl at the bloodlust oozing from the horde, his grip tightening as he readied for the moment of impact. It was his first time fighting such a large force of monsters, without his godfather's supervision. He felt nervous, the stakes rising too fast and too high without warning hampering his focus.

Then, Mikhail released the first arrow. Arrows, Percy corrected as he watched five of the approaching hellhounds get blown to bits almost simultaneously. He glanced at his senior, watching as wind gathered at the tip of his fingertips and coating the projectile. Each arrow released was accompanied by a crack of air displacement, crossing the distance quicker than a blink before blowing holes through the monsters unfortunate enough to stand in its way.

By the time the horde reached them, twenty of their kind already dissolved into Mist particles. Then the hard part began in earnest, swords clashing against claws as demigods fought for their lives against these unexpected invaders. Percy blazed through the chaos with ferocity, his blade stabbing through a hellhound's skull as it pounced on him. He grunted, pushing the monster's dissolving corpse off of him and hurriedly moving to the next target.

His muscles ached, and his head was still pounding from Mikhail's earlier strike. Percy shook off the fatigue, adrenaline taking over in this life and death situation as his sword sliced through a cyclops' ankles. The camper fighting the monster took advantage of the opening, stabbing the monster's neck before Percy finished it off by stabbing it in the heart.

The two demigods nodded, before they moved on to the next target. Time seemed to move at a snail's pace now, each strike eating away at his stamina more than before. Percy hissed as claws bit into his arm, the sight of the gashes making his heart speed up. He stepped back before the hound could bite his neck, throwing a wild punch and feeling the beast's lower jaw give out.

His breathing was a mess, and he couldn't manage to stabilize it. It was kinda hard to do so with three big gashes across his upper arm, especially when they keep throbbing painfully. His eyes widened when he smelled the putrid stench coming behind him, cursing his lapse of judgement as he raised his sword to block the club swung towards his head. His desperation wasn't enough to react to the sneak attack in time, the world moving slowly as the weapon got closer and closer.

Until a green blur cannoned into the cyclops, his body bending and twisting in unnatural angles as Mikhail's wolf ripped its head off with a single pull. Percy watched the large spirit's brutal handiwork, wincing at the sight of multiple broken bones protruding from his attacker's disappearing form.

"Thanks." Percy said, giving the wolf a sheepish smile. The sight of the familiar made him look around for its master, an easy task considering their senior was in the thick of the enemy forces.

Mikhail was a blur amid the monsters, moving with swiftness and lethal brutality beyond what he showed during their brief spar. A knife in one hand, and a sword in another, the demigod ripped through his opponents with ease bordering on leisure. He stood among three hellhounds and two cyclops, poised as he observed them while they circled around him.

He ignored the hound behind him as it lunged, dashing ahead as water slammed the pouncing monster into the ground. Percy's mouth hung open, watching the sight of a tiger made of water standing on top of the hellhound, its head crushed beneath its paw. The spirit snarled, its presence cowing the other two hounds away from Mikhail as he charged the cyclops.

The first swung his axe, intent on bisecting the demigod only for the camper to jump over it. Momentum carried the young man forward, his knife finding purchase in his foe's singular eye before he pushed deeper until he pierced the cyclops's brain. The monster turned still, but the demigod abandoned his weapon and jumped away from its brethren's attack. A jagged, rusty blade cut through the monster's neck, barely tickling Mikhail's breastplate.

The demigod landed on the ground, raising his head as the cyclops towered over him. The monster swung his sword once more, an overhead slash with all his might behind it. Mikhail sidestepped the attack at the last moment, his blade glinting menacingly as it cut both of the cyclops arms. The cyclops roared in pain, lashing out with its maw in an attempt to bring Mikhail down with them.

Its cry was abruptly silenced by steel sending its head flying. The entire display was flawlessly executed within a few seconds, dismantling all enemies before methodically moving to the next one.

"You look pretty roughed up, Percy." Someone said, a hand rubbing Percy's head without warning.

The demigod tensed, looking up to the camper beside him to see Luke grinning at him. "Luke? When did you get here?" Percy asked, taking in Luke's disheveled state. His armor and clothes were wet and covered in dirt, a small dent visible on the right side of his breastplate. He didn't appear to be injured, his sword showing some wear and tear from abuse.

"Sorry I got here late. I was busy dealing with a minotaur on the way." Luke replied, scratching his cheek as he chuckled. His joviality disappeared when he saw Percy's injured arm, his brows furrowing as he turned to the water tiger accompanying Mikhail. "Hey, Thalassion! I need you to drench this kid!" He shouted, the predator turning their way with a cyclops desperately flailing as it bit down on its neck. The tiger squeezed, a spike in water pressure crushing the monster's neck with ease before it turned into a blur.

Percy gasped as the large creature rammed into him, its aquatic body passing through the demigod. He coughed and spat all the water in his mouth, reminding himself not to leave his mouth open next time. Still, the discomfort was quickly replaced with strength rapidly surging through every fiber of his body. His wounds quickly closed up, his fatigue washed away in a blink as power flooded his muscles.

Percy cracked his neck, letting out a deep breath as he took in his renewed vigor.

"Looks like you're ready to get back in there." Luke quipped, slapping the young boy's shoulder as he readied himself. The campers were still steady, the reinforcements he led showing up at last to support their brethren. "Let's go, Perc." He said, eyes immediately focused on the biggest among the cyclops. Quicker than a blink, Luke was gone, reappearing behind one of them with his sword drenched in the creature's blood.

Percy jumped into the fray once more, his senses fully tuned to the battle. The young demigod felt the world around him turn into blur as he cut down one monster after another, watching as their bones and muscles gave out with little to no resistance. As soon as he cut one down, others popped up to take the fallen's place. But the rush didn't fade, their movement so slow and predictable to his trained eyes.

His sword was plenty enough for them, and the few lucky enough to make it past it wished they didn't. One such monster was the cyclops who charged at him even after he lost his arm, meeting his end as his chest caved in from a singular punch which sent him flying.

It was all so easy, disturbingly so. Desperation gave way to excitement for the smallest moment, Percy's heart pumping faster as he drifted deeper into the heart of their foes…until reality kicked in once again. Suddenly, the weight of his sword turned heavier, his speed slowing down until it became a shadow of his momentary enhancement.

Leaving him faced with the last remnants of the attackers, a trio of hellhounds pouncing at him without hesitation. Percy grit his teeth, not backing away from the monsters as he readied his shield. The hounds were split in half before they reached him, two figures landing beside the young boy.

"Never rush out on your own." Mikhail spoke, his low voice snapping Percy to attention. The disapproval on his face was chilling, his stony gaze accompanied making the young camper shiver as the wolf and the tiger brushed past him. "It's how you get hurt, or worse." He added, the heat in his eyes cowing his junior further.

"You don't need to be too hard on him, Mikhail." Luke spoke, slinging his arm over his peer's shoulders despite the side glance he received. The son of Hermes was unaffected by the combined stares of the demigod and his companions, giving a carefree grin. "It's his first time fighting so many monsters at once, so he was bound to make mistakes. Besides, we can't really complain about his work." He added, whimsically gesturing to the disappearing bodies Percy unknowingly left in his rush of power. The other campers were staring at him, some confused by the sudden burst of might while others offering unabashed approval.

"It's our job to make sure juniors don't risk their lives unnecessarily." Mikhail replied, shrugging off Luke's arm as he stepped closer to Percy. The older demigod crossed his arms, silently staring at him.

Percy recognized that gaze, much as he wished he didn't. He got it many times after wandering off on his own in the aquarium, or worse, drenching the entire bathroom in water. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen." He said, lightly kicking the pebble at his feet to sate his restlessness.

"Good. Let's wrap this up and go report to Chiron." Mikhail nodded, patting Percy's head before walking past him to check on the other demigods. Percy watched the senior camper's figure as he began sorting through the wounded, yelping as the tiger affectionately rubbed against him.

"He's a cool guy, isn't he?" Luke quipped, rubbing the spirit's watery form. The creature instantly took to the attention with glee, bubbles climbing across its neck as it purred. "Who's a good boy~? It's you, yes it's you, Thalassion~." His senior, head counselor of the Hermes Cabin, and one of the leading figures of this place, cooed while caressing the dangerous predator without a care in the world.

"I guess…" Percy grumbled, feeling ticklish as Thalassion nudged against his hand. He could feel its touch empowering him, the ferocious tiger eager for his touch.

"He just wanted to teach you a lesson. It was for your own good." Luke said, reading his junior like an open book. "Mikhail may not look like it when he's serious, but he's the second most dependable guy out here." He added, his attention switching to Chiron's figure as he trotted from the bushes to take care of the resting campers.

The two demigods joined the centaur, and he welcomed them with a warm, proud smile. "I am relieved to see everyone safe. You've fought splendidly, all of you." He said, patting the two's shoulders.

"I've got another piece of good news, too." Luke spoke with a mischievous smirk, gesturing to the empty flagpole. The sound of fireworks echoed on the other side of the forest, drawing indignant groans from the demigods on Clarisse's team and a chuckle from Mikhail.

Using the confusion after the battle to steal the flag and make a run for it. Clever. He should've been more careful with a daughter of Athena for an enemy, especially after Luke showed up. The senior shook his head, helping his juniors as they waited for the healers. "Go forth and hunt." He ordered the spirits, their forms vanishing instantly as they began scouring the campgrounds and its perimeter for any stragglers.

Always expect at least one monster to have made it out of the chaos. Mikhail wasn't about to allow any stragglers, not when they managed to get inside their home.

Chiron approved of the demigod's foresight, a serene smile appearing on his face at the sight of his students' excellent judgement. He could recognize the almost instinctual risk-assessment drilled into their brains by many an ambush the centaur and his assistant instructor sprung on them. Already he could see Luke forming teams from the demigods still able to fight, readying them for a perimeter check. The son of Hermes had even sent Clarisse and her warriors to scour the rest of the camp for any enemies outside the forest, ensuring someone would look after the other campers.

'Looks like we'll need to increase the difficulty a few notches next time.' Chiron mused, his reassuring presence oozing a nefarious aura the campers instantly noticed. The campers distanced themselves from Chiron almost instantly, some hugging each other for comfort. They felt the ominous promise shining within their activities director's eyes, the weight of his expectant gaze already ensuring most would not sleep comfortably tonight.

Great, their perception and attention to detail has also improved. Chiron already had mental notes of the various ways he'd sharpen their senses even further, and it coincidentally meant going a bit old school.

His smile widened at the recollection of the bygone days when he beat Achilles into shape, his fingers fidgeting in search of a bow to use on these young sprouts, ripe for further temperance. However, his joy was short-lived, cut down by a chorus of gasps as the centaur's eyes widened at his newest charge…

…or rather, the shining trident above his head.

Chiron felt his happiness vanish without a trace, killed, buried in a ditch, then dug out only to be murdered again.

"Guys? Is this thing supposed to be on top of my head?" Percy asked, frowning at the looks he received from his peers, even more so when they started bowing. He noticed Luke's silence, the older demigod's smile replaced with a sigh. Unlike the others present, he didn't seem surprised by the phenomena, but rather unsure how to explain it to Percy.

The young demigod didn't like the chilling coldness in his eyes, though. Whatever Luke's innermost thoughts about this, they were far from good. He couldn't remember Luke looking so grim, so serious before, ever. The intensity with which he stared at the trident made some campers step back, fear and discomfort turning their faces pale.

"So…is this thing going to stay above my head all day? It's hella distracting." He asked, thanking Chiron for his quick reaction as he beckoned him to follow while the rest cleaned the place up. Luke silently accompanied them, and the centaur didn't seem to mind. The awkward silence stretched on, the three of them walking out of the forest and heading towards the cabins…only, Percy noticed they weren't going to the Hermes cabin.

"Uhh, Chiron? I'm pretty sure the Hermes cabin's that way." The boy said, gesturing in the same direction the helpful sign leading to the Hermes cabin pointed to.

"I'm well aware, Percy." Chiron replied, offering a smile eerily close to consolation rather than the usual reassurance. "You won't be living there anymore." He added, guiding them to one of the bigger cabins the boy had seen on the tour his friends took him on.

"Why would…" Percy trailed off, his thoughts grinding to a halt when he noticed the trident carved into the smooth marble of the great cabin's entrance. Annabeth had explained how claiming worked, but he didn't pay much attention to it because he was busy trying to beat Luke in Duel Monsters.

He knew it was important—but his honor was at stake! Percy had never been hit by a monster with 100 Attack before, and he sure as hell wasn't about to let that slide! That was personal.

'Focus.' Percy reminded himself, shaking off the distracting thoughts before he lost the point. He watched the centaur open the door, stared long and hard at the imposing statue welcoming them inside. Percy's smile faded, the earlier euphoria of victory and the confusion of this entire walk fading away, replaced with disinterest. He slowly took his hands out of his pockets, walking up to the bearded, expressionless man holding a trident under the watchful eyes of Chiron and Luke.

"Poseidon, the Earthshaker, Stormbringer, and god of the seas, has claimed you. You are his son." Chiron spoke, his eyes worriedly following Percy as he paced in front of the statue. Centuries spent dealing with hyperactive problem children warned him of danger, his arms twitching when the newly claimed demigod began circling his father's statue. "You will be living in this cabin from now on." The centaur hurriedly continued, trying to suppress the growing anxiety until Percy finally turned to them again.

Maybe he was just overreact–

"I don't know, Chiron. Pops wouldn't be caught dead looking this bad." Percy Jackson spoke, gesturing to the statue with unabashed, blasphemous levels of disrespect that would've probably had lesser men struck down with impunity. The young demigod smirked, seeing the centaur's paling face and his senior's barely restrained laughter. "Seriously, a beard that messy? Pops? I've seen him cosplay as Santa before, and the fake beard was somehow better than whatever this is."

"Mind your words, Percy. You don't wish to anger the gods." Chiron snapped back, his heightened senses reacting to the minute vibration he sensed deep in the earth. "Your father–"

"–Is the assistant instructor of this camp, Emiya." Percy spoke, staring back at the centaur with unflinching certainty. There was no bite in his voice, no chaotic indignation or disbelief. Whatever curiosity his gaze initially held when he watched the statue was snuffed out at Chiron's words, replaced with simmering anger. "That's who my dad is, maybe someone should've sent him a memo. If anybody here thinks a third-rate lightshow and a dusty cabin is going to change that, they should get checked for brain wor–"

Before Percy could finish, Luke's hand firmly covered his mouth. The earlier amusement was replaced with worry, as even he wasn't expecting the little guy to start unloading so recklessly right after Chiron spoke the god's name. "Woah there, tough guy. Let's just calm down before saying things we might regret." He spoke, hoping to every benevolent being out there willing to listen that the sea god couldn't understand the muffled gibberish Percy continued to spout.

Luke almost pitied the teacher of heroes, standing there in shock of what the little menace's insolent tantrum could've brought. He wasn't sure if the fact Percy left someone of Chiron's fortitude speechless was a blessing or a disaster, and he wasn't about to risk finding out. "Give me a minute, I'll calm him down and bring him to you afterwards." He said, picking Percy up and hurriedly running away before Chiron even answered.

The centaur stood there, frozen at the sheer audacity he witnessed. For a long moment, he wondered what just happened, the sudden reaction outside of any of his expectations.

In the end, Chiron wisely opted to go have a drink. At least that way, he could die enjoying something delightful if Poseidon decided to smite them.

---

Sonoran Desert:

Emiya was alone, facing a giant monster amalgamation of the dead in a ghost town. Multiple patches of flesh were missing across his body, including a bit over half his face. Heat raced across his body as his circuits pumped more and more magical energy, and to make matters worse, the judge assigned to him was spectating with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

Just another Wednesday morning.

"I did not miss these days." Emiya said as he drew back the bowstring, his mind seamlessly settling into the cold clarity that defeated the chaos of the flying debris and blinding dust clouds. Ego was discarded, and the archer's hawkish eyes saw through the result of each arrow the moment he fired.

There was no prediction, but a cold certainty of unerring clairvoyance.

It became quickly apparent that the monster had no intention of waiting on him.

Might have been the giant falling towards him, an avalanche of dead bodies swallowing the barrage of arrows. The mass of meat twisted and pulsed as it was pierced and ruptured by the rain of steel, a chain of explosions sending gore and blood all over the block.

Dodging an amalgamation of misshapen teeth and fangs, Emiya released another arrow and jumped back diagonally. The monster jerked to the side, his arrow missing the intact human skeleton at the top…but that wasn't its goal anyways.

What it did do, was let Emiya have a bit of space to dodge into, a spot without the abomination burying him.

Emiya shot once more. A lot closer this time, less room for the thing to evade-

No, another miss.

A large muscular arm, a cyclops's arm if Emiya had to guess, popped up between the arrow and the intact body.

The arrow burrowed through the arm without stopping. But the intact body smacked the slowed arrow out of the air in a blink.

Interesting. Assuming it hadn't been holding back, Emiya now had a grasp of the speed of the monster. Its main body was slower than the corpses it commanded, but still faster than what a normal human could reach.

But he had been motionless for too long.

The corpses of the abomination near to him swelled up like an overgrown pus bubble. Emiya didn't wait to see what would be coming out.

He bolted, running through a suburban yard. Hop the fence. Duck head below fence line.

Boom.

Spin around, face foe.

Jump back, a green corrosive gas was rotting the fence. Emiya did not want to see what it would do to him, even if he hadn't spent a lengthy amount of time decomposing in a town of the dead.

Out of the gas a large arm swung, a garbage truck sized moving vehicle of destruction uncaring of everything between it and him. The disintegrating fence had about as much chance as a lemming in free fall.

Charitable comparison to his own odds of survival aside, Emiya had to hurry and decide how to react. He wasn't fast enough to run away. It was too tall for him to jump over the arm. Dropping prone to the ground sounded too much like a trap. Running closer to either the main body or the arm would just get him splatted like a bug on the windshield.

Emiya ran to the house, the arm gaining on him. Emiya didn't have any confidence in the house protecting him.

But there was a porch with a railing. And the roof was slanted upwards from the first floor above the door up to the second floor's walls.

Emiya leaped onto the railing. The wood protested, splintering under his weight, but Emiya had already jumped up to the roof. A few steps on the shingles and Emiya jumped again, spinning around so that his feet impacted and left craters on the wall.

Now he could see the top of the arm. It, like the rest of the monster, was composed of human, monster, and animal body parts, mostly arms making up a single giant arm.

It was a lot closer than when he started running. But now he was above the halfway point.

Emiya leaped, feet kicking the building materials into the room it was supposed to shelter. He arched his body, mostly bygone memories of high jumps in school reminding of proper jumping form. But with a twist.

Emiya didn't intend to leave himself looking at the sky instead of his foe.

But his jump alone wasn't enough. He was about to hit the peak of the jump and his descent would clip the edge of the arm, leading to it tearing out more of his flesh for no gain.

Wait, wait, wait for the right moment-now!

Emiya drew his hands back above his head like he was preparing to slam his arms down. A single large sword, almost the same height as Emiya himself flashed into his hands.

Emiya felt his fall start as he suddenly gained a few dozen pounds of metal.

But a few dozen pounds of metal made for a nice hammer.

Emiya swung like a lumberjack. The abomination's arm was his firewood.

The almost blunt, heavy sword smashed through the first layer of arms composing the single large one, bulldozed through the second, crashed through the third and got stuck with half of the blade length inside the abomination.

Emiya let go as the recoil launched him into the air again, clearing the arm entirely. He curled up, readying himself for rolling as he impacted the ground.

Gravity and the ground crashed into him like a pair of jealous exes, fully intent on beating him half to death so he wouldn't go out and get himself killed. Fortunately, Emiya had lots of experience with that and managed to negotiate it down into a roll that got him to his feet just as he reached the sidewalk.

He turned around, bow and arrow materializing as he aimed for another shot at the intact body-

-which was no longer at the 'head' of the abomination.

Well, if he wanted a form of proof that the oddity was the weak point, this would be it. You didn't hide something if it wasn't important or valuable.

His eyes darted across the prone monstrosity. Where was it?

His head spun from side to side, his eyes looking for any hint of the intact body. Had it detached from the body? Was it sneaking up on him?

But he couldn't keep the bow drawn forever. It would wear on him, tire him out. And since he had a giant to fight, he was already expecting to be exhausted at the end of this fight.

If he couldn't shoot the target, he would have to pick a different one. Preferably one that could draw out the weak point again.

Emiya eyed the gigantic body. He could see the appendage made of undead arms had smashed through the entire house and was breaking through neighboring houses. A meter long arrow would barely even be able to penetrate into the center of a giant. A splinter at best.

But this wasn't the first time Emiya had faced something significantly taller. Usually he pulled out an enchanted arrow, going through the most convenient options until whatever he was fighting died permanently. But he already had an arrow drawn and he didn't want to waste an enchanted arrow on a probing strike.

Fortunately, there was an easy solution.

With a quick effort, Emiya projected a smoldering rag soaked with oil. It hung from the arrowhead and a bag of combustibles was tied onto the arrow.

He aimed towards the head, where the abomination had once been standing out from the forehead. He loosed and projected a second arrow, this one enhanced by magical energy, drawing back and readying to fire again.

If the main body came out in response to the fire arrow, then he'll be ready. If it didn't, then he'd shoot again. This time at one of the gigantic compound eyes made of uncountable smaller eyes taken from every corpse.

The first arrow landed. The second was already drawn.

The giant's mouth opened. It screamed.

Emiya staggered, feeling his exposed teeth vibrate. The sound impacted him, causing his whole body to shake.

This was louder than standing in front of a loudspeaker in a public park during a rock concert. It was so loud, he felt like the giant was trying to shake and rupture his internals with its scream.

It sounded like a riot, Emiya thought through the scream. Like thousands of lungs united in screaming a single note while chaos, death, mobs, and fire swept through the streets of a city.

He snapped his eyes shut for a second.

In the darkness, he focused. In the pounding scream, he concentrated. In the stench of death, he collected and honed himself.

The body's eyes snapped open.

No sign of the intact body among the giant's many parts. The incendiary arrow had left a tiny scorch mark Emiya's reinforced eyes could faintly discern from the ever throbbing and contorting "normal" skin.

He was the nocked arrow. He was the drawn bow. He was the muscles and body that held them in place. He was the eye that the arrow will land in.

All were as one, devoid of subjective analysis. The fingers released. The bow whipped. The arrow flew. The eye blinked close.

The arrow flew precisely. The thrashing and screaming of the giant of corpses could not deter his arrow. The Hero of the Bow foresaw the result of his shot long before it landed. No matter how many obstacles stood between him and his target, how miniscule the chances to hit were, his attacks would strike true so long as they weren't zero.

The eyelids opened. Between eyelashes as thick as tug-of-war ropes the arrow sailed.

The giant had no chance to even see the arrow before it arrived at the destination-

-and punched deep into the liquid parts of the eye, penetrating past what Emiya could see.

The arrow didn't penetrate the brain, if there even was one. With inhuman clarity and a quick count, Emiya knew exactly how far the arrow had penetrated, popping two-hundred-and-ninety-eight eyes like overgrown cysts inside the giant's compound one and damaging countless more with the impact shock.

But the fire had been put out by the liquid inside the eyes, guttering out as fast as it had started. Too much water and not enough oxygen.

The third arrow was much stronger. If the target would not come out into the open, then Emiya would have to force it out. Burn down the body until there was nowhere left to hide.

He hoped it didn't have a magical fire extinguisher equivalent. Because Dyrnwyn was not easy to trace as an arrow, sucking out a sizable fraction of his magical energy reserves, leaving him in a worse position to face any other nasty surprises the abomination could have, like if it had a super fast small form instead of a large one.

You never know what amalgamations could do next. Their unpredictability was their greatest danger.

But Emiya had good hopes that it would at least burn down the giant form of the abomination. Even if it wasn't its only form, bringing down a few hundred weight classes was preferable than risking instant death from the smallest hit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emiya spotted the arm swinging back at him. And this time, all the houses around were flattened rubble, nothing he could use as a springboard.

He swung around, the arrow now pointed at the shoulder. Closer to the center, where the fires of the English sword could spread further in all directions rather than from top down.

Time was survival now.

Emiya loosed before it finished swinging.

Once the follow-through was complete, he bolted.

He couldn't outrun the arm. But standing still would not help.

Feet pounded the dirt, then the cement. The giant arm was still chasing him.

He could feel the heat of the fire, the magical flames burning the giant like it was a massive funeral pyre, spreading like a wildfire in dry California.

Not that it helped him with the current crisis. It just meant that the arm that would hit him would be on fire and give him 3rd degree burns as it crushed his organs and broke his bones.

No cover could save him, blocking was impossible, running only prolonged, nothing to use as a springboard, no convenient hole in the ground…

There was a grate at the edge of the street.

Emiya didn't even think to hesitate.

A sword noted for breaking shields appeared in hand. An overhead two-handed swing with all his strength impacted the grate.

It dented deeply, warping the grate into being smaller than the hole in the street meant for it. Emiya could hear the whoosh of the air and the crackle of fire getting closer by the second.

He fought the rebound on the sword, muscles straining to bring the recoiling sword back down on the grate again, this time aiming not to break, but to knock the cover into the air and out of his way.

The blow struck the opposite side of the grate. The metal covering broke through the concrete, its deformed structure twisting and turning in the air.

Emiya let go of the sword, letting it go into the air alongside the storm drain. He dove, heart pumping, inhaling desperately for air through his mouth.

His legs were already retracting, his arms crossing to become a cover for his head.

Sploosh.

For an abandoned town, it sure had good water infrastructure especially after all the maintenance workers were dead, Emiya mused before discarding the thought as he tried to curled up to cram as much of his large body into a hole meant for water run-off and anything else that got stuck in here and decomposed into rot.

Yes, he was ignoring what he was feeling. Because whatever he was feeling now was better than feeling the rumbling of the ground as the giant's arm swept closer-

Emiya projected a large shield with a sword propping the thing up and towards the impending arm. A flimsy cover, unable to block. But he didn't need it to block, he just needed a little more space between him and the impact. If the shield could act like a speed bump and knock the arm even a few inches above him, that was a few inches between life and death.

The rumbling of the ground was loud. He could feel everything shake. He could hear the hiss and sizzle of long-dead flesh being consumed by holy flames. His eyes could only see darkness as the road and his own body blocked out the light.

The sword propping up the shield shattered like cheap steel. The shield slammed into his bum, slamming his arms and head into the sewer walls. His lungs shot out all the air inside like it was a swallowed cannon ball.

He saw stars.

He did not see Thanatos, which meant that his plan worked.

Emiya didn't have time to let his head ring. He didn't have time to worry about the blood trickling down his scalp. He didn't have time to worry about the scratches and gashes now lining his arms.

Emiya used his arms to push himself out of the grate, and climbed unsteadily back to his feet.

The arm was burning up even as it continued to move. The shoulder was half gone and fire had spread past the throat and onto the other shoulder. Struggle was meaningless, the abomination's very nature fueling the sword's flames more than any amount of accelerant would ever be capable of.

The giant was wailing, a child's mammoth scream as a counterpoint to Emiya's own head ringing as it burned up.

At this rate, Emiya reckoned the arm would be ashes before it could swing around for a third try.

Now, time to move onto the next part.

Finishing this trial.

---

It hurts. It hurts so much.

She just wanted it to stop, but the pain only got worse. No matter how much she struggled, the fire kept eating at her. It burned her skin, curling it up like paper, and every nerve screamed. Her blood felt like it was boiling, rushing through her veins like fire.

But she didn't die. She didn't black out. She just kept hurting.

It hurts. It hurts. Pleasemakeitstop.

She wanted to run. She wanted to wake up.

She wanted to see her dad again.

The blue-eyed mister in orange said he'd help her. But then he poked her with something sharp and everything went dark. She remembered his smile—too wide, too wrong. It made her shiver as she tried to crawl away.

Makeitstop. Please. Please

She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was lonely.

She wanted food, water, a friend—someone, anyone. At first, it didn't matter. But the longer she sat curled up in the dark, the more scared she became. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She was just…alone.

Pleaseanyonehelpme.

She searched, crawling, reaching. She screamed and shouted until her throat burned. She curled up, shaking, calling for her dad, hoping he managed to avoid the scary one-eyed monster. She called for her mom, even though she had never met her—just stories, just words. Dad always said she was beautiful. That she loved her.

Dadmompleasedontleavemealone.

The flames crept closer, their heat searing her skin, pain flaring in every inch of her body. She thrashed about in the dark, the restraints which had bound her for so long finally snapping, swallowed by the fire.

But freedom didn't come without pain. Something inside her tore loose—ripping through her limbs and torso, shredding muscle and skin. The agony was unbearable, but she couldn't stop. She clawed forward, dragging herself through the suffocating darkness, away from the fires chasing after her.

The darkness scared her, but not as much as the flames. So she crawled, and crawled, and crawled…until she finally reached the light.

Her retinae burned as color and brightness assaulted her eyes after what felt like a lifetime within the sunless prison. Wind brushed against her scorched skin as gravity took hold, and she hit the ground with a wet splash.

The pain returned, sharp and relentless. Her stomach churned as something wet spilled from her mouth. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the light, and when they did she saw him—a lone man, loosing arrows at a scary monster. It reminded her of the stories her dad used to tell, of heroes beating monsters and saving people.

She lay there, motionless in a puddle, watching as the giant monster was consumed by fire and dissipated into a shower of golden particles. It was a beautiful sight, like nothing she had ever seen before.

But when she looked around past the fading embers, past the ruins and the empty streets, all she saw was a ravaged town. No familiar faces. No one waiting for her.

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to return to.

That was when she realized—she had been lied to. The mean man in orange had tricked her.

Footsteps echoed nearby. She turned her head and saw the man who had beaten the monster walking toward. He looked hurt. And when he got close enough, she noticed something else—he looked sad.

In his hand, he held a sword like ones from her picture books, the ones she used to read with her dad. But this one was real. And it was on fire.

Her heart nearly stopped as he loomed over her, raising the blade. She wanted to run, to move, to do anything. But her body wouldn't listen.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. She felt wronged, hurt, abandoned and powerless to do anything about it. The emotions swelled inside her, too much to hold in, too much to bear.

And so, the child…wept.

---

Emiya's swing froze mid-air, his eyes locking onto the pitiful remnants of the monster's core—curled up, trembling, and sobbing. A girl's body, barely humanoid, clung to life. She was young, a few years shy of Percy's age judging by her stature. Blood leaked from her wounds, though "blood" felt like the wrong word for the tainted filth seeping from her broken form.

Whatever dark, oily sludge spilled from her body made his senses recoil in disgust. The stench of rot and decay hung thick in the air, and where the vile fluid touched the ground, it ate away at the earth itself.

Looking at her made one's skin crawl—an eerie sensation of maggots burrowing into flesh enough to make the Kindly One behind the hero visibly shudder. But for Emiya, the sensation was far more intimate. An illusory pain gnawed at his mind, whispering of his own flesh being devoured, piece by piece, with every sickly tremor of the cursed thing before him.

This wasn't just a dying child. It was a desperate act.

Not from her but from the parasite clinging to her chest.

The true core pulsed erratically as Emiya stepped forward, its host sobbing while the flames along his sword burned hotter. It was a parasitic force, latching onto its vessel with everything it had, refusing to let her die. By all rights, the girl should've died the moment she fell from the abomination's body. She should've died many times over from the amount of tainted blood she lost over the course of this momentary silence.

But she couldn't.

Not while that thing was functional.

Dyrnwyn hummed, its flames crackling with fury, scorching away the blackened blood with every flicker. The Wrought-Iron Hero moved without hesitation, driving his sword through the bloated core. Fire erupted, consuming the wretched sight.

Magaera watched in solemn silence, expecting agonized, pitiful wails in the girl's final moments. She expected desperate cries, pleas for mercy, anything to mark the end of its life.

But there were none.

The flames burned with a ferocity beyond mortal reckoning, searing the earth and melting the rebar and poles near them into puddles of molten metal.

For a moment, Magaera thought the mortal had vaporized both the curse and the child in an instant—a final mercy to spare her from further torment.

But then, before her very eyes, the girl stood within the blaze and looked at her hands.

"It…doesn't hurt." Her voice was small and fragile, cracking as she moved her arms. She watched as her flesh crumbed away, turning to ash like the brittle husk of something long rotten. Yet, there was no pain.

"And it never will again." Emiya's voice was steady, his eyes reflecting the golden glow of the flames. Even standing so close to the sword's holy fire, he felt only a gentle warmth tickling his skin.

The frail figure lifted her head, tilting it slightly. "Really?" she asked. The flames began to recede, revealing a pair of mismatched eyes—one dark, one light— staring up at him with anxious hope. The revenant of a corpse was gone, leaving only a small girl in a tattered brown dress.

"Yes." Emiya answered, his eyes narrowed at the sight of the black veins across the girl's neck. His gaze flickered to the ruins around them, relaxing when he confirmed the cursed boundary field had been broken. The first trial was over. It had been a rough one, costing him more than a little blood and skin, but nothing a visit to his coffee shop wouldn't fix.

Only…there was a problem.

When he turned back to the girl, she was still there.

Emiya frowned, glancing at Magaera, who seemed just as perplexed.

"Is today Thanatos's day off?" he muttered. "Or did he start outsourcing his job to a Chinese immortal?"

"She lacks a proper burial, you fool." Magaera replied, shaking her head as she saw his exposed teeth grit. "Not to mention her soul was tainted. Charon wouldn't ferry her even if you paid him." She added, her tone softening as she saw the girl looking between the two of them. The fury doubted the young demigod understood the implications of her current predicament, and she could only offer pity for what awaited her at the coast of the Styx…if she even managed to get there.

Emiya took a deep breath, keeping the words he wanted to say in his head where he was less liable to get struck down because of them. Frustration grew within his heart, the decimated landscape bringing back a familiar sensation of helplessness, only made worse by the fact he couldn't save the only thing left of this place. He thought the flames would've been enough to purify the child, to bring about some closure knowing he at least saved someo–

"Don't be sad, mister." The child spoke, a small ethereal hand grabbing hold of his bloodied one. She looked at him, the worry in her eyes clear as day as she tried to wipe the filth off of him. "It will be alright." She added, speaking the words with a certainty only a naive child could have. It's what her dad always said when she was sad.

Emiya watched the gesture, unwilling to accept the outcome. Looking at the last remnant of this place, knowing what leaving her here would entail, only made him more determined to do whatever it took to make sure at least one soul would have peace.

He promised Rin he would do his best.

He gently took her hands and turned to the Fury. "Take us to the underworld. I wish to speak to your Queen." He said, his stubborn gaze yielding no ground on the matter.

Magaera stared at the two of them, idly considering taking a dip at the Lethe after this. "...I'm never going to make it for my spa appointment." She muttered, resignation making her shoulders slump in defeat. At the very least if the mortal died in the underworld, it would save her the trouble of looking for his sorry soul.

---

The Underworld

The realm of the dead was just as dreary and dark as it was the last time he'd been here. Standing at the shores all the departed reached, steel-tipped boots grinding against the soft purple sand as the Wrought-Iron Hero guided the distraught souls behind Magaera. His blood dripped onto the sand, the only sound within this silent beach as other souls roamed aimlessly around them.

The little girl's hold tightened as a nameless spirit loomed closer, only to scurry off under Emiya's hawkish gaze. The fury didn't seem to mind, stealing glances at him until they reached a vacant portion of the shore. He felt thankful to whoever was responsible for this sudden shift in demeanor in the insufferable woman, allowing him some peace and quiet to endure his injuries without constant annoying comments grating on his nerves.

The fury stopped, turning back to him before she bowed. Emiya's eyes narrowed, expecting a last cheeky insult before she'd take him to her masters–

–He froze up, a soft, dainty hand cradling his flayed cheek. Instinct urged him to strike at the presence right beside him, to retaliate at the sudden intrusion of his personal space and make some distance. Emiya took a deep breath, muscles coiling as he strained against his body's impulses. A soft scent, a perfect mixture of carnations and forget-me-nots slowly soothing his senses as he slowly turned to gaze upon the entity that snuck up on him.

An exceptional figure, standing with a clarity that defeated the chilling gloom of the underworld stood before him. A lavish greek dress hugged her feminine figure, the mesmerizing starlight shining within the impossibly smooth black cloth complimenting the beautiful amethyst necklace she wore. Her dark hair cascaded across her back in waves, a few smooth locks teasing his exposed flesh with a touch as it fluttered in the breeze.

Emiya couldn't see the face behind the veil, but he doubted it would make a difference. Divine Spirits weren't bound by a singular appearance, but their aura and the way they affected the world around them remained the same. Having met her before, he was easily able to recognize Persephone.

The veiled goddess remained silent as she softly caressed the Wrought-Iron Hero's face. Emiya felt the little demigod tug at him, his eyes widening as he felt his lost flesh and outfit restored in a matter of seconds. He looked to the Queen of the Underworld, feeling the tenderness in his body disappearing as she retracted her hand.

"Magaera." Persephone spoke, her voice sweeter than anything the human world could have. She looked between the stoic mortal and the spirit holding onto him, the unmistakable traces of the monstrosity tainting her form.

"My Queen. The mortal has proved himself without question. He had eliminated the monster with his own means as you demanded." Magaera answered, the reverence in her tone proving to be a stark contrast to the insolent bratty one she had tormented Emiya with for days. It was nice to see she had the dignity to give an honest and positive review, even if the hint of flattery felt strange. "As the overseer, I judge his performance to have been exemplary, and his accomplishment beyond reasonable doubt." She added, her solemn face making Emiya question whether the air down here had a special effect on the hellion.

Persephone did not respond, her head tilting to gaze upon the spirit hiding behind the mortal's leg. She leaned down, meeting the shy gaze and watching as the spirit hurriedly hid behind Emiya once again. "Do not be afraid, little one. I mean you no harm." She spoke gently, her voice tugging at one's heartstrings.

The little girl hesitated at first, fidgeting behind Emiya before she slowly peeked at the lady. Her red eyes stared at the veil with curiosity, innocent wonder glinting at the sight of the marvelous light dancing across Persephone's dress. The goddess of the underworld didn't mind the glances she poorly stole at the edges of the veil, hoping to get a look at her face.

Rather, she surprisingly decided to indulge it.

The dark garment dissipated into motes of golden light to reveal a pale face of breathtaking beauty. Amethyst eyes glowed gently within the dreary landscape, the gentleness within captivating, especially so when paired up with the way her lips softly quirked into a welcoming smile.

"Perfect…" The nameless child whispered, only realizing she let her thought slip after the fact. It was obvious to the three adults she was embarrassed by the act, standing as she was in silence as she stared at the ground. Persephone beamed at the child's adorable reaction, her soft chuckle only making her fidget some more.

"I brought her here, seeing as the god of death was incapable of it. The curse used to create the monster has latched onto her spirit." Emiya spoke, deciding to shift the attention back to him before the spirit jumped into the styx out of embarrassment. He felt his fingers twitch when the goddess turned to him, unable to discern why her gaze softened. "I ask you to show her mercy…to purify and allow her soul to cross the river. I'm willing to perform any other task in return." He added, already anticipating some request he'd need to accept in exchange. It mattered little if he had to slay another monster or retrieve some random item, so long as the demigod's soul was saved.

Persephone met his gaze with a thoughtful hum, a hint of mischief gracing the charming smile on her face. "Then what if I ask you to give up on these labors?" She asked, brushing back a few strands of hair as she stepped closer.

Emiya's jaws clenched, not expecting such a question. He hesitated, unable to give an immediate answer. The silence was an answer of itself, and Emiya was certain the goddess in front of him saw through his stoic mask with paltry ease.

Persephone sighed, before she stepped closer to the child. She gently tilted the girl's face up, her delicate brows furrowing as the taint within her spirit writhed desperately against her divine sense. Feeble resistance, unfit to even consider as an inconvenience for someone such as herself and within her domain. The child's eyes snapped shut, gripping Emiya's hand tightly when the beautiful lady got closer.

Persephone leaned down, planting a chaste kiss on the spirit's forehead as divinity pulsed in their surroundings.

The power of the underworld surged within the cursed spirit, purifying it of the taint using it as an anchor with surgical precision no mortal means could mimic. The parasitic malevolence spilled from the child's form in blackened tar, dissipating to nothing as it was crushed by the very world around it. Her body became more discernible, bright eyes blinking as she touched her forehead, feeling the lingering warmth of Persephone's lips.

"It…doesn't hurt anymore." She said, lips quivering as the sweetness of release threatened to overwhelm her.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now give me your hand, little one." Persephone spoke, reaching out to her. "It's time to send you to where you need to be." She added, beckoning her warmly.

The demigod grew saddened, the joyous smile and happiness in her eyes drowned in reluctance as she looked up to Emiya. She hesitated to let go, gaze shifting between the two adults worriedly.

"You should go with her." Emiya spoke, kneeling down to meet the child's stare. A bitterness grew in his heart, tearing at him despite the knowledge of her overall happy ending as but a victim to the tragedy. "She'll take you to a happy place, where you won't be hurt anymore." He comforted her, even if his own words reminded him of his own failure. It was simple for him to accept, another life he couldn't save no matter what he did, lost in a horrific way for the sole crime of being born.

He wasn't naive, far from it. The child's existence, however tragic, remained just a drop in the ocean of innumerable people he failed to save. The fact she had a happy ending at all should've made it even easier to move past this.

It shouldn't hurt him. It couldn't–

Emiya's body stiffened, his eyes widening at the spirit's sudden embrace. The gesture was unnecessary, and he doubted it would amount to much. The girl would hopefully pass on in peace to the Elysium Fields and forget all about this cruel period of her existence in time. He indulged the gesture, willing to offer her what little he could to make up for his inability to save her life.

"Thank you, Mister."

Her words almost cracked his mask, drawing a sigh from the guardian. She gave his shoulder a few gentle pats, the impulse of a child who tried to comfort him. The girl thanked him, the one who couldn't do anything but put down the monster she was turned into, over and over again, each repetition twisting the knife in his heart.

An unseen force guided his arms, making him reciprocate the hug. The Wrought-Iron Hero saw the Queen of the Underworld beaming at them, at him, retracting her power and watching them patiently. She didn't pay his disapproval any heed, brushing off his gaze with unabashed satisfaction.

The girl released her hold, taking a few steps back and rubbing her eyes. "Will I…ever see you again?" She asked him, twiddling her fingers as she met his gaze.

"...Perhaps." Emiya replied, deciding not to ruin the girl's hopes at the finish line. The notion he'd find himself in those verdant fields after his death was alien to him, a fantasy he wouldn't even entertain. It wasn't his goal regardless, so long as he could save others and see them happy.

The spirit pouted at his answer, shaking her head as she reached out to him with her pinky. "Pinky promise!" She spoke, stubbornly seeking the only reassurance she could trust. Her father told her good people don't break promises, and the mister was a kind person. As long as they pinky promise, she knew he would definitely come see her again!

Emiya sighed, brow twitching when he caught the smug looks on Persephone and Magarea's faces. This was just for her peace of mind, he reasoned. The demigod child would forget about him by the time he died and got here, and as long as she was happy he was willing to offer anything he was able to give.

"I promise."

The Wrought-Iron Hero placed his pinky against the spirit's, feeling some weight lifted off his burdened heart at the sight of her joyous grin. All he ever needed was this; all the battles, the pain, and the scars were worth it for even one smile. For a moment, he allowed a genuine smile as the girl began to dissipate. A final gratitude he could offer, for granting him this priceless reward. For being happy, even if it was at the very end.

He watched as the gentle sphere of light floated to the Queen of the Underworld, its light soft and warm to behold. An innocent soul, beautiful in spite of the terrible scars across its form.

"Go, little one. You are free." Persephone caressed the light gently, before she blew on it softly. The light sailed across the river, flying towards its final resting place and leaving motes of sparkling light along the way. It was an unusual sight within the underworld, offering a small reprieve from the constant dread and grim reality of this realm.

"Are you sure you wish to continue?" Persephone asked, the previous mischief gone but the gentle smile remaining. Under the soft light the spirit left behind, the Queen looked even more amazing, like brilliant stardust washing away the bleakness of her Kingdom. "Accomplishing this first labor was a glorious achievement, but it left you on the brink of death. I healed you, but others may not have such considerations." She urged him to reconsider, her regal figure betraying a hint of concern as the fury behind her began to fidget.

Emiya could see her point. Olympians were hardly ever fair, especially when it came to challenges they bring to the table. Sometimes, all it took was ending up on the bad side of any one of them for pettiness to take hold and make the labor infinitely more lethal and difficult. Even with Astraea's help, and Hades backing her, it meant little to the other Olympians.

Some are more liable to go out of their way to spite the lord of the underworld. It was not like Hades was amicable or popular with the rest of his family, barring Hestia bless her lovely soul. Emiya still wondered how she managed to stand above the whole family's third-rate drama and be everyone's favorite.

However, Emiya already knew all of that. His undertaking wasn't a decision made on a whim, nor for want of glory or attention, but a mission he had been planning for years. There was no turning back the moment he stepped inside Hades's palace to make this pact.

This was the only way…

Persephone could see the certainty in the mortal hero's gaze, her smile diminishing into a thin line as her brows furrowed. "So it can't be helped…" She trailed off, visibly disappointed by his choice. Her disapproval aside, the sudden shift of her gaze alarmed the hero, especially when the earlier mischief quickly returned with a vengeance.

"Your first trial has been completed. An impressive feat." A solemn voice spoke behind him, much sterner and colder than the lovely tunes of Persephone. The underworld shuddered, its foggy landscape clearing up around them as the perpetual dreariness retreated. The stranger's power struck at the guardian's back in waves, the unmistakable divinity filling his nose with the scent of earth and minerals.

Emiya slowly turned around, acceptance taking hold as he found himself face to face with Hades. The King of this realm appeared as regal and stoic as he was the last time the two met, burning purple eyes staring deep into the hero's own and betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. For a moment, Emiya entertained the notion the couple were intentionally playing a prank on him with this double spook act. It felt too practiced, too perfectly timed to be a coincidence, especially when it came to these two in particular. They weren't even trying to hide the affection in their eyes as they stared at each other, with him awkwardly in between.

It's always nice to be at the but end of an old married couple's pranks. Heart attacks were just the best he could've asked for, wasn't it.

Emiya sighed, giving Hades a slight nod before taking a few steps back. "You flatter me too much." He spoke, a tad more insolent than he would've liked…though that would still place him a few degrees above the line where most people would get evaporated. Thankfully, neither of them decided to reduce him to ashes so he must have done something right. He also had zero interest in seeing how long their good graces would last before his bad habit kicked in again. "If you'd excuse me, I have to return to my godson. He gets cranky when I leave him for a few days." He spoke, already calculating the amount of food and trips to seaworld he'd have to appease the brat with to make up for his absence.

Patience and diligence should be rew–

"Then I suppose it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you the child of Poseidon has been here a few moments ago." Persephone replied, watching with fascination as the mortal's casual countenance shifted between shock and frustration. "It has been a few weeks since you left for the quest. The monster's barrier must've warped your sense of time. Much has happened since then, including the start of a quest the boy was assigned to a while ago, journeying here in his search for Zeus's Master Bolt." She added almost innocently, giggling as the guardian calmly and maturely facepalmed.

"You can't be serious…" Emiya trailed off, thoroughly wiping out any notion of giving Percy anything but homework, assignments, and no Monster Duel cards for the next few years.

"She is quite serious." Hades interjected, uncaring for the hawkish stare he received from the mortal as he stood by his wife's side. "The child made a difficult journey, given the monsters he faced. Medusa and Chimeras tend to be lethal for a lot of aspiring heroes. You should be proud." He added, watching with intrigue as Emiya's mood continued to plummet with each snippet they graciously shared.

You know what? No seaworld either, not even an aquarium. He will personally eliminate all the games Percy stashed in his room and across the shop once he got back. He will also need to have a long discussion with Chrion, to set some things straight. He could always test how many Hruntings it would take to catch a centaur in full gallop, maybe give the trainer a bit of a workout every now and then.

"To think he'd even venture here and decide to take on Ares right after getting out. It seems he has your courage." Persephone chimed in once more, taking over after her husband to hammer the final nail in the coffin for any gift Percy Jackson could've received in the foreseeable future. The couple stared at him, playing with his emotions like a couple of cats who found a mouse they can torment for their amusement rather than consider as food.

Emiya couldn't fault them for it. Despite the amusement they garnered from watching him screaming internally, he could tell their words lacked malice. He should've taken his bad luck extending to Percy related incidents into account before he left, instead of relying on adults being more sensible than to send a new camper on a dangerous quest across the country.

Emiya took a deep breath, masterfully casting aside any disruptive emotions as he focused on the task at hand. His godson was currently out there, picking a fight with an Olympian. A notion he didn't think he'd contemplate so soon after Percy's official entry to camp Half-Blood and the greater mystical side of the world. The Wrought-Iron Hero tried not to think about the irony of such a thing either.

Goddammit, Percy.

---

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