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Chapter 45: No Way OutPain had become a familiar companion.
Percy didn't know how long he had been down in Tartarus—days, weeks, maybe longer. His body was broken, his mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion, but he still had one thing the Titans hadn't been able to take from him.
His will.
They thought they had beaten him. That the chains, the fire, the whispers would break him. But Percy Jackson wasn't a stranger to suffering. He had survived Tartarus before. He had fought monsters, gods, and Titans. And now, he was going to escape.
Or he was going to die trying.
The Escape
Percy had spent hours—maybe days—studying the cavern he was held in. Every crack in the obsidian walls, every flicker of the torches that lined the perimeter, every weak point in his restraints. He was chained to a jagged pillar, wrists locked in celestial bronze shackles that burned against his skin. His legs had long since given out, leaving him suspended in the air, barely clinging to consciousness.
But tonight, he had a plan.
The Titans had gotten comfortable, thinking he was too weak to fight back. They were wrong.
When the torches burned low and the distant howls of monsters echoed through the cavern, Percy moved. He shifted his weight, wincing as pain lanced up his arms. His fingers, raw and bloodied, worked at the bolt in the shackle—a piece of celestial bronze that had been hammered into place but had loosened slightly from weeks of struggling.
The seconds dragged by, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Sweat and blood mixed on his hands as he twisted the bolt, gritting his teeth as it finally gave a satisfying click.
The shackle snapped open.
Percy dropped to the ground, barely catching himself on trembling arms. His legs buckled, but he forced himself up. He wasn't done yet.
The cavern was eerily silent as he limped forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had to move fast.
His battered body screamed in protest with every step, but he pressed on. His only chance was getting out before the Titans realized what had happened. If he could just—
A presence loomed behind him.
Cold dread washed over him.
A massive hand clamped around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground.
"Did you really think you could escape?"
The voice was smooth, cruel, filled with amusement. Percy struggled, but his strength was nothing compared to the being holding him.
Hyperion.
The Titan's golden eyes glowed with fury as he tightened his grip. "I was hoping you'd try something foolish," he mused. "I was beginning to think you'd lost that pathetic mortal defiance."
Percy gasped, clawing at Hyperion's wrist, but the Titan was unmoving. His vision blurred as oxygen slipped away.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Hyperion threw him.
Percy's body slammed into the cavern wall. Bones cracked. His skull rang like a bell as he crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. The coppery taste filled his mouth, and for a second, darkness threatened to pull him under.
But the Titans weren't done with him yet.
The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down his spine. More figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes glinting with sadistic glee.
Krios. Iapetus. And worst of all—Kronos himself.
Percy tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him sprawling again. He wheezed as pain exploded through his side. At least one rib was broken.
"How disappointing," Kronos murmured, stepping closer. "I thought you would have learned by now, Perseus."
Percy spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "Yeah, well… I've never been a great student."
Kronos's expression darkened. "Then let this be your final lesson."
The Titans descended upon him.
The Beating
The first blow shattered his nose.
The second broke three ribs.
Percy barely had time to register the pain before another fist crashed into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. He gagged, blood spilling from his lips as he collapsed onto his side.
But they weren't done.
A booted foot slammed down on his wrist, crushing it into the ground. A sickening snap echoed through the cavern. Percy clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might break.
Hyperion crouched beside him, gripping his broken wrist and twisting it sharply. Percy screamed.
"Not so defiant now, are you?" Hyperion taunted.
Percy gasped, his vision swimming. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His body was shutting down, drowning in pain.
Krios stepped forward next. The Titan of Constellations grinned as he summoned a blade of pure starlight. "I think it's time we leave him with a few reminders."
The blade slashed across Percy's chest.
He jerked violently as fire erupted in his nerves. Blood poured from the fresh wound, soaking the ground beneath him.
Then another slash. And another.
They weren't trying to kill him.
They were carving into him.
Marking him.
"Artemis won't even recognize you when we're done," Krios sneered, dragging the blade along Percy's forearm, splitting the flesh open to the bone.
Percy could do nothing but gasp and convulse as the pain consumed him. His body felt like it was being flayed alive, his skin a canvas for their cruelty.
He wanted to fight back. He wanted to scream defiance in their faces. But all that came out were strangled, broken sounds.
His vision darkened. His limbs trembled.
And finally, mercifully—unconsciousness claimed him.
The Aftermath
Percy awoke in darkness.
Everything hurt.
His body was a ruined mess—cuts, bruises, broken bones, fresh burns seared into his skin. He could barely move.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the Titans laughing.
Mocking him.
But as Percy lay there, staring up at the endless void of Tartarus, something stirred deep within him.
A flicker of rage.
A spark of defiance.
They thought they had won. They thought they had broken him.
But they were wrong.
Because as long as he was still breathing—he wasn't beaten.
And one day, he would make them pay.