[Third Person Pov]
Percy and Blackjack arrived back at the main area of camp just as the last remnants of the large-scale illusion began to fade. Sebastian had already settled back into his place beside Artemis, who had finally woken from her short reprieve and was now watching the gathering demigods with quiet interest.
The air was filled with loud, frustrated voices.
"This is bullshit!"
"Okay, how is any of this fair?!"
"I barely even did anything!!"
Percy blinked in confusion as the majority of the participating demigods were forcibly ejected from the illusion the moment they "died." One by one they reappeared in the clearing, some still clutching at phantom wounds, others simply looking dazed and irritated.
Blackjack decided to hover nearby in a carefully nonchalant manner, drifting a little closer to Sebastian while pretending to be interested in the general chaos. Percy, meanwhile, made his way over to Annabeth and Thalia.
"What's happening?" he asked, taking in the widespread frustration.
Thalia stood with her arms crossed, softly chuckling. "One word."
"Markus," Annabeth finished for her, a light, knowing grin tugging at her lips. "The competition is already over. He just started taking everyone out in one continuous sweep—killing ten to fifteen people at a time without stopping."
"Here, see for yourselves," Annabeth said. She raised her hands, and the Mist obeyed her command, weaving itself into a clear viewing window that floated in the air before them. It was almost like watching a recording of everything that had happened inside the illusion.
The scene opened onto an enormous forest. Contestants stood scattered at equal distances from one another, each having spawned randomly among the trees.
The moment the trial began, Markus spread his dark wings and shot straight into the sky. He flew above the canopy, gaining a full aerial view of the entire battlefield in seconds.
"Isn't it kinda cheating that he's the only one who can fly?" Percy questioned, frowning. It really didn't seem fair.
"It's part of Markus's skill set," Thalia explained. "The wings are a part of him—they're not some external weapon." She paused, remembering what she had just witnessed, then added with a reluctant nod, "I mean… to be fair, the way he uses them is pretty cool."
In the viewing, Markus hovered high above the forest. He brought his fingertips together, concentrating. His wings fluttered once, then began to collect a fine black dust across their feathers. When he started flapping them in rapid, powerful strokes, the dark particles rained down across the treetops and spread outward like a silent plague.
"He's spreading diseases," Annabeth explained, a small smile of professional appreciation spreading across her face as she recognized Lucian's training at work. "Basically weakening everyone at once by getting them sick."
Below, the first effects began to show. Coughs echoed through the trees. Markus summoned a pair of curved sickles into his hands, then closed his eyes and listened. The instant he heard a cough, he tucked his wings tightly against his back and plummeted like a falcon.
A son of Athena was leaning against a tree, one hand pressed to his chest as he coughed. He heard sudden movement and turned—just in time to lock eyes with Markus flying sideways at blinding speed. That was the last thing he saw before his head separated cleanly from his neck. His body dissolved into a cloud of smoke.
Markus continued weaving through the dense canopy with practiced efficiency, Lucian's rigorous training showing in every tight, precise turn. He kept the sickles moving in fluid arcs, eyes and ears sharp. The moment another cough reached him, he flung one sickle spinning around a corner. It sliced cleanly through someone's neck and returned to his waiting hand, the blade already smeared with blood.
Most contestants never even saw how they died. Some only heard the soft flutter of wings. Others glimpsed nothing more than a fleeting shadow. A few simply gave up outright once they started bleeding from their eyes, nose, and mouth, collapsing from fever and internal hemorrhaging.
In another part of the forest, a son of Ares and a daughter of Apollo were locked in combat despite their growing weakness. The daughter of Apollo tried to manipulate light to blind her opponent, but Markus dove from above and extinguished her light source mid-cast, plunging them both into sudden darkness. When the light returned a second later, his wings had already pierced straight through both of their bodies. They broke apart into smoke almost simultaneously.
Percy watched the viewing in silence, equal parts impressed and slightly unsettled by how efficiently Markus was dismantling the entire field.
Markus rose from his crouch and exhaled sharply—only to be suddenly pierced through the shoulders and back by a volley of silver arrows. He grunted in pain, wings flaring protectively as he grabbed the shafts and yanked them free one by one.
Darkness flared violently around his hands. Annoyance twisted into genuine anger. He gritted his teeth, eyes flashing, and roared,
"ENOUGH!!"
He slammed his fist into the forest floor. A wave of pure rot and decay erupted outward from the point of impact. Grass and roots withered and crumbled into black dust within seconds. The trees themselves aged at a visible rate, bark cracking and splitting until entire trunks shattered and collapsed under their own weight.
From the shadows, several Daughters of Artemis emerged. Most wore protective face masks, but even then many were already affected by the lingering disease. Arrows were nocked and drawn in perfect unison—
But Markus took a single step forward.
An aura of pure death exploded out of him, heavy and oppressive. It pressed down on the Hunters like a physical weight, making their hands tremble and their aim falter. Cold sweat broke out across every forehead.
"You should be scared," Markus sneered, casually crossing his sickles so the blades rang against each other with a sharp, ominous note. "No one is free from the fear of death. Not even immortals. In fact… I believe they're the ones who hold the most fear of all. After all, they have the most to lose."
With every deliberate step he took, another Hunter dropped. Their eyes rolled back, bodies dissolving into smoke as the crushing aura overwhelmed them.
A few still managed to fire. Markus simply tilted his head out of the way or shattered the arrows mid-flight with a precise swing of his weapons. In the end only two remained standing side by side: Phoebe and Naomi.
Phoebe bit down hard on her lip, then stabbed a silver dagger into her own thigh to force the trembling from her limbs. Naomi took a cautious step back, already nocking another arrow. The two girls launched a coordinated assault.
Markus deflected their attacks with fluid, almost bored movements of his sickles. Naomi charged in with her dagger while Phoebe provided covering fire, their teamwork graceful and well-practiced.
Then Markus suddenly tossed both sickles high into the air.
Both girls' eyes instinctively followed the weapons. In that split-second distraction he closed the distance on Naomi and drove an elbow into her solar plexus with enough force that her body was violently ejected from the illusion—counting as a death.
Phoebe lunged forward immediately, aiming her dagger straight at his throat. Markus casually leaned just far enough out of the way, caught both returning sickles in opposite hands, and brought one blade in a lethal arc toward her neck—
"Stop! You both qualify—there's no need!" Annabeth's voice rang out boldly across the clearing.
Markus halted with the edge of his sickle less than an inch from Phoebe's forehead. The two stood close, breathing hard.
"You're lucky," he said quietly. "It seems your goddess does favor you after all."
The viewing mist began to fade.
Percy stared at the dissipating images in surprise, then turned to Annabeth. "Just what kind of monster did Lucian help create this time?"
"The deadly kind," Thalia answered with a wide, almost proud grin.
"So the other three accompanying us are Markus, Phoebe, and Naomi?" Percy asked, wanting confirmation.
"No," Annabeth corrected. "If it had only been those three, the fight would've ended the moment they were the last ones left. There were four remaining survivors: Markus, Phoebe, Naomi… and Grover."
"Grover?!" Percy exclaimed in disbelief.
Annabeth started laughing as she explained. "The second the round began, he dug himself a hole and stayed buried underground the entire time until he automatically qualified."
Percy snickered. Part of him was surprised; another part thought that sounded exactly like something Grover would do.
The last of the illusion surrounding the square dissolved. Naomi walked out looking thoroughly disheartened. Phoebe looked annoyed and irritated. Grover, on the other hand, looked deeply relieved.
"That really works!!" he cried, dropping to his knees and kissing the ground in thanks.
Markus strolled out last, hands casually tucked into his pockets. The sickles melted back into the dark tattoos across his shoulders. He came to a stop when he noticed every pair of eyes in the clearing fixed on him with wary intensity. Then their expressions shifted—eyes widening in pure disbelief.
Confused, he glanced toward Annabeth, Thalia, and Percy. All three wore matching looks of shock.
"What?" he asked casually.
One by one, the demigods around him began to kneel.
Even Chiron stepped forward from the edge of the crowd and lowered himself to one knee along with the others.
Markus froze.
"Am I being pranked?" he asked, suddenly unsure.
Annabeth silently motioned upward. Markus tilted his head back—and saw a black, inverted torch burning steadily above him.
Chiron's voice rang out clear and powerful across the entire camp:
"Reaper of Souls, Lieutenant of Hades, Guide of the Recently Departed—hail Markus Gallagher, son of the God of Peaceful Death!!"
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