Have you ever stared at death before? Well, I certainly have—many times, in fact. Actually, I beat the ruler of the dead in a fight before, so I've done a bit more than just stare at death before.

Right now, though, I'd say it was probably one of the most terrifying times I've met death. I never was a big fan of the whole meet death as a friend thing Harry Potter had going on, mostly because death and I had a rivalry as old as time at the moment.

I'm not particularly worried about death touching me right now, though. I'm worried about Ingvild. Far above me, a mountain was crashing down, and it did not look to be stopping.

The world slowed—no, it practically stopped. It was as if the entire universe was trapped in a thick, viscous syrup that wouldn't allow for anything to budge an inch. Liquid static ran through my veins, my spine tingling like a bolt of lightning was running through it.

I've had experiences not too dissimilar to this when I had fought before; adrenaline pumped, my heart raced, and everything seemed slow. But things hadn't actually slowed down then, it was just my crazy reaction times picking up the slack for my body.

Now, though? The world was actually, truly frozen. I was stuck with my head staring upwards, my vision held on the still-hanging, motionless mountain that had just been plummeting down to the ground like a meteor.

I tried to move my gaze away from the massive rock, but there was a delay to the movement of my eyes. What should have been an instant flick of my eyes took well over a second to happen.

This was uncanny. It was like I took a dip in cement and decided to try taking a walk through it—no, I'm getting distracted. I need to focus on not dying.

Alright, the Dinosaur Annihilator 9000 is currently crashing down at me with enough force to cause a mass extinction. How do I not get mass extinct-ed?

Hell if I know. What is water supposed to do against several miles worth of rock? I couldn't make any wind strong enough to push that back. I couldn't produce enough water to shove it away.

Could Ingvild be of help?

She was pressed against my back, and it was hard to not be intimately aware of her entire body shoved against me. She's attractive, alright, and certainly not lacking in curves. Sue me, but her body pressing into mine was slightly distracting.

I'm getting off topic. I need to focus on keeping Ingvild alive instead of focusing on how attractive she is.

What can Ingvild do in a fight, exactly? She has water powers, that I am certain of. Can she use them? Probably not, she didn't really show an ability to fight. She is probably untrained—wow, I am feeling an intense feeling of regret for not teaching her. Okay, if we survive, we'll have a whole Karate Kid training sesh.

Wax on, wax off and all of that.

So, Ingvild can't help.

Back to the drawing board: what exactly can I do? I can control water, make storms, cause earthquakes, talk to fish, and control boats. I always know where I am in nautical coordinates and I have a perfect sense of time. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of all things related to the sea and probably time.

Yeah, most of this is useless. How is knowing where I am useful right now? Wow, it is five-thirty at night in New York, that knowledge really is helpful when I'm trying to stop this huge meteor!

No, it was certainly not helpful!

Actually, I probably won't die from this—I'll just be trapped under several thousand tons of rock. Ingvild will be dead, though. The Curse of Achilles is, as the name implies, a curse. It is great at saving me…but it means that I live while seeing friend after friend after friend die.

Maybe I could explore my time powers? I've been a bit iffy about them because they came from Kronos, but Ingvild will die if I can't figure out something.

Ingvild can't die. I won't allow her to.

So, I'm guessing that the reason I can see in super slow motion is because of my time powers. Could I use them to speed up my body? How would I even do that?

The thing is, I already can move pretty fast. I've dodged bullets before and fought Hyperion along with Kronos—who already would speed himself up using his powers—on fairly even footing. Yet I'm not too sure if I could run a couple of miles before this massive rock hits the ground.

Even then, there'd probably be some sort of explosion from something that big hitting the ground. I don't know if Ingvild could survive that.

Is there some way I could talk to her? Maybe she has some super secret ability that could vanish meteors or something. Actually, she is of the sea, right? Just like me?

That was rhetorical, obviously. I could constantly feel her presence, her very soul always reaching out to me to fill my being with sugar, spice, and everything nice. Anyways, the important thing was that she is connected to the sea and I am also connected to the sea.

Wanna know what else is connected to the sea? Fish. And what could I do to fish? Telepathically talk to them. In theory, shouldn't I be able to telepathically talk to Ingvild? Connect her mind to my own?

Well, I'll explore that option in a bit if I can't figure out a way to get out of this on my own.

Kronos had been able to speed himself up while also slowing me down during the few times that I had fought him. I sincerely doubt that I can make Mount Everest drop any slower, so I need to figure out how to speed myself up.

I focused on the odd feeling of electricity that coursed through my spine, my will dominating the uncontrolled energy dancing across my bones.

Time resumed and the silent world cast noise into my ears once more.

Ingvild sucked in a breath of terror from on my back. "Is that—"

Nope, nope, nope! I released my grip on the raging energy vibrating within me, the world immediately freezing once more. So, word to the wise, do not do that.

Okay, take two. This time, I'll focus on keeping the energy in my head instead of…whatever the hell just happened.

Mentally grabbing onto the liquid static dancing through my body, I gently moved the energy into my head. Nothing changed, the world staying at the exact same speed. What if I try spreading out the energy, then?

With a mental tug, I tugged the energy—but it wasn't really an energy. It was actually more of a feeling that I was describing as energy. Anyways, I commanded the feeling of static to spread evenly across my body.

My spine vibrated with electricity and the world sped up, but it didn't go back to normal. It was as if before we were at 0.01 speed and now we are at 0.25 speed. Still slow, but radically faster than before.

From my back, Ingvild was talking in slow motion. "—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

Okay, yeah, she was probably trying to say the word a. Is that a mountain, that's probably what she was going to say…I'm getting distracted.

Running. I need to run.

I moved, the world lurching around me as I began to sprint forward, praying that I could get us away from the massive rock crashing down at us with fury. I definitely did something right because I was having trouble perceiving trees and foliage even with my drastically increased perception of time.

The world whooshed by in a flash, my body automatically reacting and dodging trees, branches, and other stuff that got in my path. In the distance, I could see light, the edge of the falling meteor visible.

We were so close…and then I gasped, my spine tensing up as I lost control of time, the world once more freezing around me. My body lurched forward as I lost my footing, and I was dimly aware of the fact that Ingvild had been flung off of my back and was falling in slow motion in front of my face.

I tried to exert my power back over time, but I couldn't. I felt exhausted, like all the energy in my body had been sapped out violently. I had the stamina of an iphone, and that was before I decided to supercharge my body by speeding myself up.

Trying to control time at the moment was like constantly attempting to activate a lighter with low fuel—click, hiss, sputter. Yet, even a weak lighter could produce a flame if you try hard enough. I focused on the world around me and the static feeling of time in my body.

Tug, tug, tug. With one final lurch, I grasped onto time for a hair-length of a second, my arms stretching out and catching Ingvild in a bridal carry. The energy left me once more, and I was fully confident that I'd be huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf just from my sheer exhaustion…but I couldn't as time, once again, froze.

Time froze as I was still falling, so it was strange to feel my body stay suspended in the air. It almost reminded me of…well, I'd prefer to not think about it. The big difference is that I am frozen while looking at a nice face, so that's a plus.

As I'm currently stuck in the air with no ability to move and no clue as to how I can stop time from speeding my brain up, I guess I'll see if I can mentally talk to Ingvild. I don't have any other options—I'm dead tired. If she has a solution, we're all the better for it.

'Ingvild?' I thought, not completely sure as to how I could connect with her mind; I've telepathically talked to naiads, though, so it should work.

Her eyes seemed to snap into reality, her pupils rapidly looking around. Her gaze met my own, both of our bodies unable to move as we timelessly floated in the air.

'What is…' Ingvild paused her thoughts, confusion coming over her tone. I wasn't too sure how thoughts could have a tone, but she managed it. 'Percy? Why…why can't I move? How did I hear you?'

'I can talk to sea creatures with my mind,' I replied quickly, not wanting to waste time with this. 'You're a sea creature. Badda-bang, we can mentally talk. Okay, so, we are about to die. Any ideas to fix that?'

'About to—huh?' Ingvild still sounded very, very confused. 'I—I don't really know what is going on…'

If I could inhale and exhale in frustration, I would. It wasn't very fair to be annoyed at her, but I'm tired. I am slowly watching Everest Two plummet down at us like a ballistic missile and it is a waste of my non-existent energy to tell her everything.

No, it isn't fair to get mad. Stop it, Percy. Bad. Okay, I'll Sparknotes it. 'Okay, two big giants got into a fight. I ran with you on my back. The giants lobbed mountains. One mountain is going down towards us. I have time powers. Our perception of time is sped up. I sped myself up, but now I am very tired,' I rapidly think, trying to cover everything in as few words as possible. 'Got it all?'

'I do…' Ingvild softly replied. 'So how are you going to get us away, Percy?'

Ooh. Ouch. Very ouchies. She held so much faith in me, and I didn't deserve it. I don't know how to get us away, yet she believed I could do it. No hesitancy, no doubt, but just pure belief in my ability to keep her safe.

I'd cringe if my mouth could move.

'I don't know,' I easily admit. 'I have absolutely zero clue as to how we can get away from a rock the size of a small city. That's why I decided to try speaking…thinking?…to you. Do you have any powers that would be helpful here?'

Ingvild hesitated. 'I—I'm not sure? Nyx never really let me learn how to use them…and I didn't know I had them until I met her. I've heard devils can fly?' She paused, slightly embarrassed. '...but I'm not sure as to how I can use my wings. I can also sing?'

'…sing?' I echoed with some incredulity. 'Yeah, you're a nice singer, but I'm not too sure how that coul—'

'Not like that,' she cut in. I was mildly surprised that she would interrupt me, given how timid she usually is. 'I mean…it isn't just singing. According to Nyx, I could do things to dragons with my singing. Things like hurting them, weakening them, or controlling them.'

She seemed to be incredibly uncomfortable revealing this tidbit of information, and yet, she was revealing it to me. Her trust in me was undeserved, honestly.

On a scale of worthiness and ineptitude, I made for a solid negative bajillion. If being worthy meant you got Thor's hammer, I'd be like the anti-Thor. Mjol-not instead of Mjolnir would be my weapon of choice.

'So can you also make things stronger instead of weaker?' I wondered before quickly backtracking. 'No, it doesn't matter. I'm not a dragon, so it wouldn't change anything.'

The flash of…something…in Ingvild's eyes when I said that made me feel horrible. I couldn't put a word to the emotion, but I knew it well. It was a lovely Trail Mix-esq bundle of feelings such as a sense of worthlessness, sorrow, uselessness, and helplessness.

All the -lessnesses, yes.

'I know…' She practically murmured, and that wasn't possible because she was thinking the words. 'I just…'

'Okay, maybe we are wrong, though?' I tried, not willing to let her stay sad. Better to die happy, after all. 'What if you could also use it on me? I'm not a dragon, but we both are of the sea, right? Maybe there's some kind of crossover?'

Ingvild's eyes shined slightly, and my heart did a happy little flip—and, no, it was not a heart attack. I may gorge on blue treats all too often, but I'm too cool to get sick from it.

'Do you really think it will work?' Ingvild asked softly.

I'd shrug if I could. 'What other choice do we have?' I said, my body dying to grin but unable to. 'Help us, Ingvild-Wan Leviathan, you're our only hope~'

'…huh?' She said, sounding very confused.

A pout would have been heavy on my face if time were moving normally. 'Nothing…'

If we manage to get to the real world, I'm taking her to see Star Wars. I knew some kids back at camp who would have called her reaction blasphemy and waged a holy war over it.

'Just get ready to sing,' I tell her, allowing for the energy in my body to still, the tingle that had been coursing and vibrating through my spine stopping.

I nearly lurched over and collapsed as I hit the ground, exhaustion running through my body like my veins made up the track of a 5k marathon. I steadied myself, barely able to keep myself upright.

Ingvild's eyes shone with worry, and I was dimly aware of the rock hurtling down at us. She opened her mouth…and began to sing. It was beautiful, probably the nicest sound I had ever heard in my life.

But that wasn't all that was nice about it. The sound met my ears and it was almost as if I had shot myself full of meth, cocaine, copious amounts of caffeine, and excess sugar to top it all off.

I felt like how I imagined an addict felt when they finally snorted a line after going days without a hit—full of vibrant, radiant energy.

Once again, static rippled across my spine as my body sped up, my perception of time stretching as my body ripped through the environment. I was barely aware of the fact that I was moving, all of my motions, dodges, and weaves coming purely from instinct and involuntary reactions.

I tore through the bleeding forest at a mile a second, the world warping around me as I did so. Ingvild's hair was fluffy and frizzy from the sheer speed we were moving at, and as I stopped running as the million ton rock floated inches from the ground, I watched the world in the single snapshot before it imploded.

There was a strange beauty to it, a beauty to witnessing a cataclysm from only a dozen or so miles out. The blow back would certainly hit us, but I was half-curious as to what the terrain would look like when all was done.

The sugar high, though, was draining from my body as I stood there, and I knew I had to do something before Ingvild and I were turned into Flat Stanley. The previous lightning in my spine was accompanied with a roaring tug in my gut.

As the world caved in, water exploded from my form, encircling Ingvild and I as consciousness began to leave me. I was praying she could breathe in water, because if she couldn't…well, I'm not too sure what I would do.

My vision left me as the dirt and earth beneath us lurched up, the ball of water we were in suspended in time, disconnected from reality at large. Blackness was all I saw, the world descending into a warped, angry catastrophe.

I gasped, inhaling water as my torso shot up, my body folding at a ninety degree angle. For most people, breathing in water would be pretty bad. I'm not most people.

My body floated in a ball of water that hovered lazily in the air. I expected to wake up on the ground, but it seemed the sphere I made was oddly perseverant.

What wasn't so perseverant was the land outside the water—like some sort of unholy conglomeration of fire, smoke, and destruction, the outside world burned in a swarm of ash. The sky was so dark that it reminded me of the New York skyline whenever the smoke from Canada blew down when they had wildfires.

Wait.

Ingvild. Where was she?

I spun around, not seeing her in the three-sixty degree axis I spun on. Panicking, I exerted my control over the water around me and ordered it to disperse. Gravity took hold of me, the water limply falling as it and I collapsed to the ground.

Oh. I forgot about the z coordinate. Up and down exists, you idiot.

Ingvild landed next to me, a puff of air leaving her as her eyes wildly fluttered open. Her head whipped around before her eyes finally settled on me, a breath of relief leaving her mouth.

I released a similar breath, glad she wasn't, you know, dead. That'd be pretty bad. "You can breathe underwater?" I curiously asked, eyes wandering over her soaked form.

Her already somewhat revealing dress clung to her skin, the soaked cloth just transparent enough that I could make out the white of her ski—no! Bad Percy. We have bigger worries, so no ogling Ingvild.

'But pretty girl', a part of me whined.

'Shut up,' I thought back. I summarily crushed that part of myself with vindictiveness.

The voices shut up. Okay, the voice. Singular. Talking to yourself wasn't that weird, alright?

"I haven't really thought about it," Ingvild weakly said, breathing slightly strained. "But I've always been able to…when I was younger, before…" She paused, flinching. "Anyways, I used to think that everyone could do it."

I snorted, shaking my head in amusement. "I thought the same thing, actually. I never brought it up to anyone because I thought it was normal…it was only when I found out I was a demigod at twelve that I realized, hey, not everyone can breathe underwater!"

Admittedly, it should have been an obvious thing, but I was a stupid kid, alright? Yes, I might be a stupid teen, too, but I was even dumber back then. In the case of the whole breathing underwater thing, though, it was more like I intellectually knew it was weird, but I just ignored it.

Ingvild smiled softly, her lips curved in a smooth expression. "…I guess it was somewhat dumb of us, huh?"

"Eh, maybe if only one of us did it, sure—but how many people can breathe underwater?" I rhetorically asked, knowing the number is low. "Until we meet someone who proves us wrong, we were being normal for thinking that."

"I…like that," she said, laughing quietly before a cough overtook her. And then another. And another. She coughed violently into her sleeve, curling forwards to deal with the force of the motion.

Moving to my knees, I practically rushed over to her, hand reaching out to brace her back. "Are you alright?" I worriedly asked, not sure as to what was wrong.

Ingvild kept coughing, her face scrunched. "The—" She was cut off by another cough, but she worked through it. "—the air…"

The air? Well, I guess it was a bit smoky, but it wasn't too terrible; in terms of air quality, I'd say it was maybe a little worse than South Bronx. Mott Haven was particularly bad, but I'd say Greenpoint is worse.

Wait, she hasn't been to a modern city, has she? "You aren't used to pollution," I conclude, eyes widening. My gut churns as I manipulate the water on the ground to float up and purify, the liquid clinging to Ingvild's face.

"Just breathe in the water, alright?" I tell her, earning a tiny nod from the girl who was still hacking up a lung. "Most modern cities smell like this, but only in the worst parts—besides in India and China, maybe. Apparently they have pretty bad air over there."

Probably because little Timmy—actually, what would be the Chinese version of little Timmy? Xiao Ling, maybe? Can I say that? Anyways, it's because Xiao Ling was forced to make my light up sketchers for a shiny shilling a day that China was so horribly polluted.

Or something. All of those factories can't be good for the air.

Ingvild just closed her eyes, one of her arms reaching out to grasp my shoulder as she took deep, steadying breaths. If she couldn't manage this, how was she going to handle the food? Or what about the water?

The gods only know how much plastic was in the water and food we eat. Yeah, it made my Big Mac taste like cardboard with a twinge of chemical waste, but plastic was still pretty bad, even when it made food taste…totally so good.

"But the ocean is still pretty good in most places," I continued, not wanting to ruin the modern world for Ingvild. "I don't know if it's the same here, but my mom used to always take me to this beach—Montauk."

She cracked one orange eye open, almost as if to say continue. I obliged. "Montauk was always nice to visit. When I was younger, my mom married this horrible dude, Gabe. He was…well, he was a complete piece of shit. Montauk, though, was an escape. Sure, I loved the ocean, but it was more than that."

The way her single opened eye was following me let me know she was listening. I swirled the water gently, letting the polluted smog that kept getting caught in it fall damply onto the ground.

"Every once in a while—as in, when we could afford it—Mom would take us out to Montauk for the weekend," I began, reminiscing. I miss her so much, I can't even put it into words. "Montauk always had a different feel to it than the city did. We'd rent this house for the weekend, and it was nothing like living in an apartment."

Living in an apartment and living in a house are very different—wow, shocker! Alright, alright, I'll explain; in a house, you generally don't need to worry about others. You just have your family there and don't need to bother with those around you.

In an apartment, however, you have to remember that walls are thin and a whole different family is only right through a several inch thick wall. There are other differences, of course, but this was the biggest one.

Houses were just more freeing, I guess.

"I remember playing in the ocean when I was a little kid, the fish greeting me…I used to think I was going crazy because I could hear them," I said, snorting. A tiny smile came across my lips. "And then I'd go hide in the tall grass only a football field's length from the ocean. Mom would try to find me, and we'd make a game out of it…"

Ingvild had both of her eyes open now, and she was looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. She seemed genuinely enthused to listen to me.

I shook my head, a tiny frown on my lips. "But I guess Montauk might not be the same here…" I said, sighing. Good job to kill the mood, Percy. "When we get out of here, I'll take you to it. And if it isn't the same, I'll find somewhere better."

Like a date. The words were left unsaid, but the implication was definitely there. I liked her well enough, so I guess we'll see. Og's words still weighed heavily on my mind.

"Anywa—"

Sca-ca-crack!

My words were cut off by the sound of some kind of monster in the distance; monsters, actually, as I could hear the flapping of several wings beat in the distance.

I clicked my tongue, standing up while my hand still maintained the bubble of water over Ingvild's face. "Think you can hold this up yourself?"

She nodded, and I let go of my control a moment later. The water remained stuck to her face, so I guess she could do it.

"Great. I'll go deal with whatever is coming over. If I die—doubtful—then you have the rights to my corpse!" I cheerfully said, holding back my laugh. It'd take a lot to kill me; I did survive the destruction of the universe, after all.

Ingvild, however, widened her eyes, completely startled. She saw the smile on my face soon after and a pout morphed over her lips. Orange eyes gave me a tiny glare.

I shook my head, laughed, and turned away. Time to go fight some monsters.

Looking towards the direction that I heard the sound of doom and gloom come from, I decided to start marching that way. Yeah, there was a little bit of smoke, ash, and raging fire in that direction, but so what?

That described every direction at this point. Seriously, I am not kidding. The result of the little wrestling match between Og and his other friend—Akan? Anak?—was Malebolge becoming even more hellish.

On a scale from Chicago to Tartarus, I'd give it a solid Portland on the hell-scale. Yeah, everything was smoky, red, fiery, and overall nasty…but my odds of catching a bullet to the dome was probably lower here.

And it really was nasty. The remains of the lobbed mountain were long gone—in its place was a massive crater that burrowed into the ground, molten slag rippling across the surface of the hole. The scent of sulfur was strong, and it really had the whole fire and brimstone vibe going on.

Sca-ca-crack!

My head snapped towards where I heard that noise. I was near the edge of the crater now, and I could faintly make out several flying figures out in the distance. I'd describe them as devils, but that's an insult to devils.

Ingvild is hot…they certainly are not.

With long, bat-like wings, red skin, horns, and curly tails, the monsters in the distance looked an awful lot like bargain-bin demons. The maniacal cackling as they flew really put it all together, the ashen red sky setting the mood.

"Look at how the lands suffer, Barbariccia!" One of the demons cackled as they flew, eyes staring down at the burning grounds. "We couldn't punish them better! See how they scream?"

Who is they? Who is screaming?

"Ciriatto, be silent," one of the demons, presumably Barbariccia, said. "We must find the source of the disturbance, lest there be no souls left to punish."

Punish? So this really is hell, huh? I mean, I had kinda realized that, but it was weird to think that these…demons?…were torturing damned souls for all of eternity.

"Pah, you're too serious, Barbariccia!" Ciriatto jeered loudly, looking towards one of the other devils. "Right, Scarmiglione? Too much time bossing us around and too little time whipping humans has made him too serious!"

Okay, yeah, that was too much for me. "Oi!" I shouted loudly, trying to catch their attention. "I'm a poor sinner down here waiting to get my punishment! My body is positively unwhipped, unscalped, and not-yet boiled!"

The group—which was five strong—slowed for a very brief moment before their trajectory diverted, the herd of demons heading straight towards me.

"Ooh, a fresh human! Farfarello, that one hasn't even been boiled yet!" Ciriatto excitedly said to one of his fellow demons. They all looked the same, so I couldn't distinguish them well. "Wanna do it together! Do ya, do ya!?"

Farfarello grinned brightly, fangs poking from his lips. Farfarello was shorter than the other demons, his face almost like a goblins. "Or we could peel his skin! It's been too long since I got to peel someone's skin off for their first time! Ooh, the way they scream…"

What…in the world is any of this? I like my skin on my body, personally. I wasn't in the habit of switching it out, really. "My skin's never been peeled before, oh how painful must it be? I bet I'd scream my lungs out, that's how painful it'd be!"

"See, see Ciriatto!" Farfarello excitedly said, the group of demons barely a hundred yards away.

Scarmiglione nodded excitedly, grinning at Farfarello and Ciriatto. "Unpeeled! Ripe! We'd be taking his first time, his first peel! Oh, and what about whippings? He hasn't even felt a lash on skinless flesh!"

"I know—!"

Farfarello was cut off by Barbariccia, the bearded demon's voice harsh. "He is lying, you idiots!" Barbariccia said, snapping at his subordinates. The group stopped a dozen or so feet in front of me, the crater smoking and churning under them as lava crackled. "Godling!"

How did everyone know I was a demigod? It was getting annoying. "Yeah?"

"Why are you in Malebolge? You are not a soul, you are alive!" Barbariccia shouted sternly, arms crossed. "Do you wish to be tortured so dearly?"

No, obviously not. All of the other demons besides Barbariccia, however, seemed pretty stupid. Stupid people are easy to deal with.

I clapped my hands, bouncing on my heels. "Oh, it sounds so terrifying!" I said in excited horror, a vibrant energy mimed in my voice. "Being tortured? So terrifying. I mean, having my skin peeled, my flesh flayed, and my wounded form whipped? Only a scary demon could do that~!"

I was mimicking Drew Tanaka whenever she tried to flirt with someone—often me, but Annabeth would oddly snap at her when that happened. So, yeah, I was flirting with some demons by acting like I was excited about getting tortured.

"Ooh!" Ciriatto energetically shouted, eyes wide. "Hear that, Barbariccia? We can torture him! Can I, can I? I'm a scary demon!"

Barbariccia sighed. "Ciriatto, he is messing—"

Unfortunately for Ciriatto, though, he didn't bother to listen to what Barbariccia had to say. The hog-tusked demon zoomed forward, trying to reach at me with his grubby hands. Unknown to Ciriatto, though, was that only Ingvild's grubby hands could touc—what the hell am I saying?

Anyways, Ciriatto tried to reach me, and my hand flung out of my pocket, Riptide shining brightly as it sliced through the air. In one quick swipe, Ciriatto was left without a head. A thud sounded as the demon's corpse hit the ground, another thud sounding as his decapitated head hit the ground soon after and rolled.

"Ciriatto!" Scarmiglione roared, charging forward. His demonic compatriots followed right behind him, but they made a mistake. They tried to fight me.

With casual ease, I moved through the strikes of their razor sharp claws like a river around a rock. I could have let them break their claws on my skin, but there was no need.

Weaving through blows, I flicked Riptide out. One flick of my sword and Scarmiglione fell to the ground, blood dripping out of his chest. With another casual strike, Farfarello collapsed down the crater without a head.

The only demons left were Barbariccia and one demon who wasn't relevant enough to be named, I guess. Leaning back to dodge a swipe by the unknown demon, Riptide sliced out and Mister Unknown was left with his guts spilling out of his chest.

Barbariccia had fear in his eyes, staring at me as he flapped his wings, moving back slightly. He was clearly the smartest of the bunch. Why? Well, he immediately tried getting away. That wasn't happening.

Rushing forward, feet inches from the edge of the crater, my hand wrapped around Barbariccia's foot. Spinning, I swung my body around and smashed the winged monster to the ground. With a pained grunt, Barbariccia bounced, a crack sounding.

Barbariccia tried to move again, but the tip of Riptide left a thin cut against his chest. I was going to try a trick on him that I never tried before.

Crouching, my hand pushed the squirming and thrashing demon to the ground. My palm touched his blood, and it seemed my idea was right. Immediately, Barbariccia froze, unable to move.

So, what'd I do? Well, let me give a little bit of backstory: back when I was Kronos's number one statue, I wanted to die. I very much wanted to die. So, I tried getting a little creative. At first, I tried to make water to, you know, do the deed.

I could make water successfully, but Kronos didn't leave my back open, so that failed. I went back to the drawing board…and tried to control my blood. Unfortunately, it worked. Fortunately, I couldn't break through my veins.

And, unfortunately, I wasn't able to control it in others—it's why Kronos didn't blow up in a bloody mess. Well, that was until now, of course. It seems I needed to be touching an open wound to do it.

If I were still the Percy who didn't lose all of his friends, didn't lose his world, didn't fail everyone…I'd probably be disgusted at the idea of this. But I'm not him—I'm the Percy who has only one purpose, and that purpose is to keep Ingvild safe.

I wanted—no, I yearned to have some peace, but I guess the world is forcing me to take action. Once I get us out of hell, then I can finally rest. Then I can get away from all of this forced responsibility. Until then, though?

I have to find Nimrod, kill him, and get Nyx to send us to Earth. This place isn't safe. I was complacent for barely a day and almost got Ingvild crushed to death because of it. I can relax on Earth, but not here.

So, the best way to find Nimrod? Well, interrogation. "Hello, Barbariccia," I merrily said, sitting next to his still body. "Tell me about Nimrod."

I loosened my control over his body ever so slightly, allowing for the muscles in his face to move. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"Probably," I easily admitted. This guy tortured people, so I didn't feel too bad about it. "But do you want to die easily or painfully?"

The way his face scrunched said a million words.

"Great, we understand each other!" I said, chipper as ever. Barbariccia didn't share my mood. "So, tell me about Nimrod. Who is he? What can he do? Where is he?"

"…Nimrod? Why do you want to know about that blubbering—" Barbariccia froze in pain as I squeezed the blood in his heart. "I meant to say that he is the giant who ordered the construction of the Tower of Babel! He is a raging fool! Insane, wild, and mindless. He fights with a bow and a blade."

"And that's all you know?" I curiously asked, staring into Barbariccia's eyes.

Barbariccia winced. "He's in the Tenth Bolgia, but good luck getting past the other Malebranche, you godling piece of—"

With a small flick of my hand, his heart was crushed. Barbariccia was dead with the rest of his torturous buddies.

Looking down, I noticed some blood on my clothes. Frowning slightly, I willed for it to come off of me; I didn't need to worry Ingvild, after all. Actually, should I even tell her about these…Malebranche demons?

Wouldn't it worry her?

Sighing, I shook my head and stood up. Why did I have to be the one in a position of knowledge? I much preferred when everyone did their damndest to keep every helpful tidbit of information away from me.

Yeah, I'll tell her. I'd want her to tell me, so that's that. I've gotten old, haven't I—actually, I'm seventeen…or a hundred and sixteen, but I'm very certain that ninety-nine of those years were spent unconscious as a statue.

Ingvild was also a hundred and sixteen, interestingly enough. She was only rounding when she said she was asleep for a century. It was actually ninety nine years. I guess it was fate or something that we were both seventeen or one hundred and sixteen.

Not that I like fate. Fate liked to play Russian Roulette with me but every turn was my turn and the gun was only missing one bullet.

I blew air out of my nose in amusement, making my way back towards Ingvild, exhaustion clinging to my bones. It wasn't a very long walk; they say that walking through hell is hard, but I'd say it was actually pretty easy, barely an inconvenience.

It took only five to ten minutes to make it back to Ingvild. She was sleeping in a tiny pool of water. It made me jealous, because I want naptime. Somehow, Ingvild also had the blanket we got from Nyx on her, and it was definitely not wet.

Ingvild was no longer wet—soaked. She was no longer soaked. Oh my gods, I have a dirty mind. It's something about this universe, I swear to the gods.

I was such an innocent kid back then…so normal…okay, yeah, even I know the normal part is bullshit. The rest is still true, though. I'll blame being a teenager. That's it, I'm a normal teenager with normal teenager feelings.

Yeah.

Because normal teenagers usually torture demons in hell. At least the cool ones do, I guess.

Laughing, I shook my head and walked over to Ingvild's tiny puddle. She cracked an eye open as I approached and scooted over to make space in the pool that could barely fit one. I summarily collapsed next to her.

I didn't even have the energy to make the pool bigger.

AN: Sorry I'm late, I got lost on the road of life…actually, no. I was just being lazy. I meant to update this last Thursday.

So, Percy's time powers—they'll be wonky and won't cooperate with him for a while. Mostly, it will be perception enhancement for a while. Only when in severe distress will it cooperate. Besides that, he's still a mix of self-hatred, comedy, depression, arrogance, and obsession. Percy's main goal in this is going to be protecting Ingvild and getting to rest. He wants to rest, but the world is going to work really hard to not let him.

Ingvild's goal? She doesn't really have one yet, but she will have aspirations outside of, you know, just being Percy's love interest. Interestingly enough, if you've read Naruto, I am mentally comparing Ingvild to Itachi and Percy to Kakashi. Do with that as you will. I have interesting ideas for Ingvild, though—she will remain soft spoken the entire time, though. Calm, quiet, slightly awkward is how she will be. Percy will remain absurd, slightly arrogant, and playful.

Also, definitely not doing making Percy a devil. Y'all don't want it and I very much don't want to make him one. I was just mentioning it because it was something to think about as a root to power.

Last thing I forgot to say: The Malebranche aren't the same here as they are in canon. Or, well, they are. But they aren't. You'll see, but just know that powerful demons like that don't die that easily. Think of it like the Hero Reincarnation thing, that's all I'll say.