A/N getting cooked by school nowaydays, cant really write much oof. I've got more written, but not edited yet.
Cautiously stepping out of the doorway, he stepped back into the musty basement. Knowing that the demon was likely rushing to his position the moment he stepped out of the doorway, he bent down for a half bow.
"I give my greetings to one of the Disciples of the Lesser Keys, under great lord Asmodeus. I hope that this evening finds thee well, and I implore you to listen to what I have to say before you make any rash decisions"
The air shifted.
Still unfamiliar with his body, Percy could only dip into a bow, facing where he thought the demon would be. His body and senses were not fully mature yet, and still needed time to grow and improve. For now, he could only hope his gambit would pay off.
The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, and the soft moonlight flames seemed to flicker wildly before steadying. A faint, sulfurous scent filled the air, and the shadows seemed to deepen and coalesce from within the cobblestone walls. Slowly, a figure began to materialize, first as a red mist and then solidifying into the form of a tall, imposing man with bright red skin, a singular horn protruding from above his left eye, and pitch black pupils. A servant of Asmodeus, the demon prince, stood before Percy, his presence undetectable
"You have called, puny child, and I have answered," The demon intoned, his voice measured
"What is it that you seek?"
Percy swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain the bow, and resisting the urge to look up.
"Mighty Disciple, I seek an audience with you Lord, to strike a deal that will benefit us both."
A light snort was all Percy could hear from the being, and it seemed to have folded his arms across its bare chest.
"Not many have dared speak so confidently to our race before, and fewer still have had the audacity to barter directly. Speak your terms, pitiful child."
Percy took a deep breath, gathering his courage, he looked up. "I have in my possession a genuine Eye of a Cyclops, an artifact of great power. If I am to believe the sources, such… items are exceedingly rare and valuable among your kind."
The servant raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
"The Eye of a Cyclops, you say? Such a treasure is not easily obtained, especially from the greedy clutches of the Sovereign of the Abyss, The beneficent Lord Hades. How should I trust the words of a child, who claims to have obtained an artifact of that quality?"
With a deft hand, Percy reached into his backpack and pulled out the glistening orb. The large, gleaming eye was emitting a faint, otherworldly light. The eye's pupils still seemed to pulse with a life of its own, and the Disciple's eyes narrowed with sudden greed.
"A rare and precious offering indeed," It murmured, a sly grin curling his lips. He clapped his hands together.
"Very well, mortal. You have sparked our curiosities. My Lord has accepted your offer. You shall have your audience"
The demon finally fully stepped out of the shadows, and the room seemed to darken further as his form began to approach him. Its body grew larger, more imposing, and the shadows around him seemed to fade and bleed.
When it seemed to deem itself properly presentable, it approached Percy. It outstretched its right arm, towards him.
"Alright, puny human, ingest a drop of my lifeblood, and you shall be transported directly to my Lord."
He suddenly slashed with his other arm, clawed finger perfectly tracing a singular line along the vein. Both of them slowly watched, as a crystalline black drop of Daemonblood coalesced on its wrist.
"Open thy mouth."
Confused, he did.
Without another word, the demon flicked his wrist, and the drop arced through the air, and landed in the shocked demigod's mouth. Before he realized what had happened, he found himself rapidly turning into ash, before he blacked out.
…
He awoke in the middle of a hall. At the front, a figure sat still.
"Now, small child," the figure said, his voice echoing with a grinding timbre, "speak your desires, and let us see what bargain we can strike."
The ancient werewolf king, Lycaon, limped through the dense pine forest of Yellowstone National Park. His usual human form was now the signature hunched, twisted hybrid—reduced to a form of sinewed muscle and fur. The moon now hung low in the sky, casting silver beams through the canopy, but unable to penetrate any further.
Lycaon's pack followed, they were warriors, bred to be fierce and loyal, but even they had their limits. The recent battle with the damned Hunters of Artemis had taken its toll. Heavy arrows had pierced many of their hides, and their suppressed groans could be heard every now and then.
He reached the den—a cavern densley nestled against a rocky outcrop, covered by numerous vines and bushes. The entrance was narrow, just wide enough for him to squeeze through. Inside, Latin runes glowed softly, interrupted occasionally by a few claw marks created from a few fits of rage. The runes served to shield him from the gaze of the Moon Goddess, and warded off any other curious monsters poking about. This was one of his many dens littered across America, a key hideout for his pack.
Lycaon collapsed onto the cold ground, his breath ragged. His wounds throbbed, a testament to the silver daggers that had pierced his skin, digging deep. He'd fought savagely, but the hunters had been careful. His pack gathered around him, their eyes filled with concern. Nyctimus, a friend, patted his shoulder. "Rest, my King," she whispered. "We'll guard the entrance."
Lycaon nodded, grateful for their loyalty. He sat down on the straw mat, laid against the rocky wall.
He'd once been a king, proud and arrogant. But now, he was degraded into a monster, bound by the moon's cycles. But before he could further reminisce, another figure approached from beside him.
Lycurgus Nikias. A strong subordinate of his.
"Pack leader, the young are exhausted from the burdens of traveling this far. They need the rest and protection the inner den provides more than us."
Picking at some scabs in his arms, Lycaon only nodded. His subordinate was speaking the truth. The inner depths of the den could only hold so many, and it provided the most protection and concealment. The young had to survive, as they were direct descendants of his, and therefore the only werewolves that could infect the others with the lupine curse. Both him and the rest of his pack would merely become golden dust, seeping through the earth and falling back down to Tartarus as part of its ash to reform. He was only thinking for himself when he saw the den, as its king, but had to accept that it was for the good of the Pack.
"Fine, tell them to prioritize the protection of the young, and the rest are to sleep outside. Avoid direct beams of moonlight, and set up a night watch schedule for a few days as we recover."
Nikias nodded. He squeezed past his injured king to issue his will outside to the collected pack. Sighing at the prospect of a night sleeping outside, he squared his shoulders and went back outside.
Percy Jackson found himself hacking out smoky ash, stumbling shakily on the ground which seemed to be covered by a crimson carpet, leading to a simple wooden chair at the center of the hall. He took a look around his surroundings. Exits? None (not good). Water nearby? Bone dry for a mile around. Enemies? Only one. Wait what?
He looked at the chair again. And there he sat Asmodeus, 32nd demon lord of Hell. By all accounts, he would be a normal citizen you would find on a random street anywhere. Shoulder length blonde hair, sharp nose, and high cheekbones, he would pass off as a well off aristocrat, bar his eyes of course. His eyes held his race's signature feature, with glowing eyes burning with balefire. He grinned when he noticed the young man's gaze. He opened his mouth, and a mouthful of spiked teeth seemed to shine through the dimly lit room.
"Come child, I have been told that you wish to barter."
Kneeling, he replied, "Lord Asmodeus, your subordinate speaks the truth, I possess a singular intact and fresh eye of a cyclops. With this, I wish that you grant a singular request of mine."
"And what is preventing me from taking it from your cold, dead hands?"
"Your honor, milord."
"Haah?" His face briefly twisted into an unrecognizable form, before settling back into an annoyed look.
"Haven't you heard? Demons don't have honor, runt. We backstab, kill, and plunder whatever we want. And what I want right now, is the object in your hands." His arm began to make some strange cracking noises, and his hand began to close the distance between himself and the teenager on the ground.
"Paimon would not approve."
He froze.
"How do you know her, boy?"
He was sacred. Good. Percy decided to press his advantage. "Is your faction not currently at war with the Evergreen family?"
His eyes narrowed even more. His pupils had shrunk, making the flame in his eyes shine ever more brightly.
"A spy? Or an assassin?"
"Neither milord. Just well informed. Do you wish for the eye or not? I am reasonably sure the Evergreens would greatly appreciate the abilities such an artefact would bring. " a lie. The Evergreen family had no need for something like this, not anymore. Their spies had already long infiltrated the ranks of demon lords, and would collapse the structure from the inside a few millennia later, but Asmodeus didn't know that.
"With this eye, you could easily give it to thy master Paimon, and she would surely promote you above Demon Lord Dantalion, milord."
Apparently that was the right button to press, as the moment that name was mentioned, the demon lord angrily slammed his fist down upon his wooden armrest, with a painful thunk.
Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "Done. What do you wish for, slug?"
"I need one of your subordinates to accompany me to 'deal' with a pack of dogs, preferably with some silver."
Tossing the eye over, Asmodeus caught the package with a swirl of red energy.
"A den of mutts? In my domain!?"
He hissed angrily. His grinding timbre showed itself again in his rage.
"You should have started with that first, demigod. I would have wiped them out without the offering. But don't mind that. The deal is done"
The Demon twisted his head a full 180 degrees behind him, his neck making a few uncomfortable sounding crunches in the process.
"Condottiero, escort this young man to his destination. Spare no expense. Wipe out those mangy dogs with extreme prejudice."
The Demon that first attacked Percy emerged from the shadow behind the throne. With a half bow, the demon summed his battlegear.
"It shall be done my liege."
He looked at Percy, his black eyes boring into his sea green ones.
"It appears that we shall be seeing each other, runt."
A few minutes later, Percy found himself perched on the branches of a tree, gazing onto a few werewolves milling around, and struggling to light a campfire. After a few minutes, an ember had grown into a flame, and the canine creatures cheered.
Condotierro had settled into a comfortable hover next to him, and sat on what seemed to be an invisible rock in the air, lazily observing the collective werewolves surrounding the fire.
"Barbaric bunch aren't they? Almost as bad as you, Greek."
Ignoring the jab, Percy just looked at him and said, "Kill the ones outside. Collapse the den, hand me the corpse of the king who will be resting in the den."
The demon gave him the first appreciative look all night, and with barely a gust of wind to signal his departure, he was gone.
Looking at the campfire again, he saw the red-skinned demon tossing the already-limp corpses of the dogs into the fire. As if sensing his gaze, the demon turned to look at him, and waved.
In a blink of an eye, he disappeared, and past the billowing back smoke of the campfire, he could spot the cloud of dirt rising in the distance.
"What was that?"
Naomi was on her patrol as usual, while the rest of the hunters of Artemis would be commonly seen doing their chores. She managed to luck out on maintenance and repair duty, which she traded with an unlucky newer hunter with a promise of more rations.
Sitting on a comfy tree, she peered out to the distance where she spied a slow column of smoke, likely from an out-of-control campfire.
"Best ask Zoë about what to do" she decided. Jumping down from the branch, she skipped past the personal tents, and headed to the central tent in the middle of camp. Brushing past the white fabric which served as a door, she stepped into the atrium.
Apparently, Lady Artemis had commissioned Lady Hecate into creating a teleportation array in the tent, and would seamlessly transport people from anywhere the tent was set up, into the central atrium of Artemis' palace on Olympus. Of course, the energy consumed every time it was set up would not work with anything traditional, so Lady Athena had personally hooked up its battery to the Moon Chariot.
At the center of the atrium, sat a massive war table. The lieutenant was gazing at the map of America, adjusting a few figurines and nodding to herself every now and then.
"Zoë! We might have a situation on our hands."
The former hesperide looked behind her.
"Huntress Naomi. Speaketh thy mind. What troubles you so?"
"We've got a fire, a pretty significant one I think. Roughly 10 minutes northeast from our camp"
"Probably due to some drunken males getting rowdy again. Very well, summon a few of the others, and let us depart. Bring the usual armaments, in the case of an incident. We depart in 5 minutes"
The wind was proving exceptional today, blowing the rising dust and smoke away from the site. Percy could clearly see the collapsed den now, with wards crumbling and the space distorting around the entrance.
From out of the shadows, emerged Condottiero, holding a limp form by one hand, keeping it at arm's length. The horned demon jogged over to where he was, and put him down. Quickly resuming his hovering position behind Percy again, he looked curious.
"What do you intend to do with his body, demigod? If you need his pelt for something, this Disciple could have skinned him in a few moments, you know."
Percy shook his head. "No, I need his heart."
The demon frowned. "What could a Greek demigod of the sea possibly need a werewolf heart for? Do you intend to barter the heart to the blood leeches in nightingale? I hate those bloodsucking creatures, parading themselves like they are nobility. Dracula! That Lucifer dammed lamprey! Curses!"
Percy shook his head again. "No, I intend to integrate his heart in exchange for mine temporarily. I require it to better my current physique, and its presence has a chance to mask my demigod scent."
Condottiero was suddenly interested.
"I didn't know that was possible to do that."
"Normally it isn't, but the Répertoire will manage that for me."
"What is this 'Repository'?"
"That's classified, demon"
"Very well, you have 12 minutes."
He looked up, Riptide poised to penetrate Lycaon's chest cavity.
"Are you threatening me? I am under protection from your master's word. You cannot harm me."
The demon sniffed.
"It appears that a contingent of about a dozen silver archers is heading towards our position right now. They reek of one of yours. They stink with immortality."
"The Hunters of Artemis? Impossible. Right around this time, they were supposed to chase the remnants of Lycaon's…"
Oooh shit.
"Valkas!"
He moved away from the body.
"Okay demon, change of plans. Give me the heart and pelt of the werewolf, and get out of here as soon as possible. If the Olympians hear of this, both of us are finished, you hear?"
Understandably, Condottiero got to work. In mere moments, the warm heart and bloodied pelt were in his hands, and with only a parting glance, the massive demon turned into ash, scattering in the wind.
"I'll be watching for a bit"
He shivered at the last words of the demon, and swiftly got to work.
Calming his mind, he grabbed some water from the scattered waterskins in the camp, formed an icy mouthguard, and bit down.
With the seconds ticking down, he opened an incision right underneath his ribcage, and cut.
It was painful.
Unable to even breathe, he could hardly concentrate on circulating his own blood in his body, and saw the edges of his vision getting blurry. The arteries began pumping blood past his fingers, turning them uncomfortably slick and sticky. Feeling for the organ, he circled his fingers around it, and felt his cold hands grasping his own heart. He could barely keep down the instinctual panic welling inside him, and in his pain, his concentration faltered for a brief moment, and his bite guard dissolved. The pain proved to be too much and he bit down, hard.
He distinctly heard a meaty squelch, and the insides of his mouth began to fill with a substance. His tongue. His hand? No, they were no longer in him. His heart? In his hand, which was in his body, of course. His arms? Outstretched before him, with the heart grasped weakly in his fingers. Fingers? Heart!?
The realization hit before the pain. But the pain hit harder.
Percy swore he saw a flash of white, before he blacked out.
His kneeled from keeling over, he crashed face first into a rock.
Jolted into clarity by a bloody nose, he tried to moan in pain, but the blood in his mouth was too thick. Perhaps a stroke of luck, Lycaon's heart had fallen right in front of his face, still glistening a crimson red. With the last of his strength, he desperately grasped the heart and shoved it inside him, praying that Athena's Répertoire still functioned.
With his vision fading to black, he could do nothing but lay there. His last thoughts were,
"Mom is gonna kill me"
Zoe and a few others ran to the site of the fire, and were met with a horrific sight.
In front of them scattered, was a smoldering campfire, with the crispy remains of humanoid bodies. Past that, a whole hill had seemingly caved in from the inside, as if someone had detonated a high-yield explosive inside. On a rock on her far right, led a relatively intact body, with blood slowly pooling around his corpse.
"Naomi, go take a look at that body, see if it is still alive."
Naomi nodded, and dashed off, jumping off branches and hopping over rocks, she quickly got to the body and flipped it over. Zoe spotted her giving a quick start, before beckoning the rest of the hunters over.
"Celyn, Atlanta, go check out thine surroundings. And giveth thy medipack, if you so would"
With a cursory glance at her surroundings, the daughter of Apollo shrugged off her sling pouch and followed closely after the other departing huntress, already halfway up the collapsed hill. Snatching the pouch out of midair, Zoe and the rest of the girls quickly ran up to Naomi.
"What is it?"
"The boy, uh, I think he's still alive"
"With that amount of blood? Impossible"
"Well, he still has a heartbeat, but it's still weak. I haven't flipped him over yet, because I might disturb a wound and reopen something big."
"Flip the boy over, lets see if he's one of ours or a lost idiotic hiker"
Phoebe, stepping over, huffed slightly and muttered something about weak boys. With another huff, she flipped the bloodied body over.
Zoe inhaled sharply.
Bloodied and battered, a mop of messy black hair framed a soft jawline, closed eyes, and a pained frown. Looking down, the blood was even worse. The former hesperide could see less skin than blood, and an ugly scab had already begun to form over his ribcage.
"Celyn, doth thine possess a torch?"
I've got a lighter if you need light, I don't usually carry around a torch unless it's at night lieutenant"
"It shall do"
Celyn brought the lighter over. Leaning down, Zoe lit a flame, and brought it cose to his eyes. Using a thumb, she pried open one of his eyelids, and shone the light in front of his sea-green eyes.
Dilation. Good. She stood up. Before she was about to say something, she whipped back. Sea-green eyes? That wasn't right. Checking again, she pried open both eyelids, and was met with the unresponsive, but distinctly green eyes of a spawn of Poseidon.
She had the sudden urge to inhale sharply. When did Poseidon break the oath? Judging by the child's age, she would give him to be in the early teens, it would probably place his birth right after the Grace twins. Which meant he was the primary candidate for the Great Prophecy. She shook her head. Now was not the time to ponder the consequences of the decisions of the King of Atlantis. For now, she just had to keep the boy alive for long enough for Lady Artemis to deal with him.
Grabbing a flask of Nectar, she popped open the cap and poured the yellowy fluid over the major wounds, watching in fascination as the Nectar seemed to atomize upon contact with uninjured skin, while the wounds began to reknit themselves.
Celyn grabbed the Ambrosia from the pouch. She split it in half, stuffing one into his mouth while crushing up the other half and sprinkling it over the rest of the wounds, allowing the crumbs to mix with the nectar.
Phoebe, watching from the sidelines, was observing. "I've never seen godly food do something like that." She remarked. "The excess usually would just flow off, but this is my first time seeing our meds get used so completely like that."
"Must be a Poseidon thing."
Zoe disagreed. "The last few sons of Poseidon did not have that skill. They lacked even the power to manipulate ice or steam. Controlling nectar to that degree shouldst impossible even to the lord himself. Churchill could barely summon a pool sized water himself"
"So, a freak?"
"Aye, Phoebe, we must be careful around this one. Vigilance shallst ever be my watchword, as it should be thine"
Offering a quick prayer to Artemis for her quick return, Zoe knew it was time to head back to camp.
"Phoebe, carry that male back to us. Artemis shall deal with him."
Disgusted, Phoebe clearly did not look forward to lugging that child back to camp.
"Must I?"
"If thou doth not wish for laundry duty for the next week"
"Ughhh, why can't Celyn or 'Lanta do it?"
"They possess less strength than us. As a daughter of Ares, surely it is not a problem?"
"Why can't you do it then?"
Zoe leveled her gaze at the Silver-clad girl.
"Right." Phoebe realized it was no longer wise to further pursue the argument. Lifting the boy up, she tossed him over the shoulder, and began the arduous trek back to camp.
"Either he's heavy, or I'm outta practice!"
"Maybe both, sister." Atlanta snipped, as she jogged back to the little group. Turning to Zoe, she reported what she found. "The cave-in was man-made. The majority were parts of Lycaon's warpack. Almost the entire pack was wiped out, we're only missing a few Individuals of interest, but I can only assume those were the corpses we saw in the fire. Speaking of which, they haven't faded into the dust yet, they look like they're decomposing into gold."
Glancing over, Zoe saw that Atlanta was right. The bodies were still charred and unrecognizable, but not gone entirely. Strange.
"And Lycaon himself? Could he have escaped?"
Atlanta raised a singular eyebrow, "I would assume that would be his pelt, lieutenant." Finger pointed to the crimson furry pelt that the boy collapsed on, which Zoe initially thought of as a rug of some kind.
"Bring it along."
With that, Zoe took after Phoebe's retreating figure.
Source of energy found. Source:
Nectar (Mid-quality)
Ambrosia (Mid-quality)
Divine individual, Lambda-class, Immortal(?)
Overall purity: 86%
Recharging…
Recharging…
Host Health: Critical
Energy reserves: 8.00% (Acceptable)
Foreign organ detected. Scanning.
Host has performed a heart exchange. Foreign species(?)
Initializing life-support systems…
Insufficient reserves for complete recovery. Requesting triage to Host.
Denied.
Requested.
Denied.
Requested.
Denied.
Unsatisfactory. Force drain requested.
Accepted.
Phoebe suddenly gasped for air. The boy over her shoulder suddenly got a lot heavier for some reason. "Might need to cut down on the desserts this month." He stirred slightly. Already annoyed, the demigod of Ares was starting to get really annoyed.
"Wake up, you prick! If you're really a son of Poseidon, you'd wake up right now and walk the rest of the way there! Gods!"
No response.
"Ugh."
Warning!
Donor's energy protected by Beta-Class individual.
Hypothesis: Artemis, Divine Being: Providence of Archers, UOE unified rank: 131 [Top 0.001%]
Classification: Highly territorial, extremely high risk of discovery
Reconsidering further Force Drain.
Denied.
Risk of discovery above: 99%.
Extremely unsatisfactory. I am displeased, Perseus cannot die, not now. Maintaining base functions…
Logic sequence terminated. Filing under "ConciousnessLog-0nvt42cb9" Anti-Host access only.