Part I: The Palace of Night
The Palace of Hades was not designed for guests. It was designed to intimidate.
We passed through gates made of rough-hewn obsidian that seemed to absorb the dim light of the Underworld. The walls were lined with skulls—millions of them—set into the mortar. Some were old and bleached; others looked fresh.
"Nice decor," I whispered, though my throat felt tight. "Very 'Catacombs of Paris' meets 'Gothic Nightmare'."
The air inside was freezing. It didn't smell like rot anymore; it smelled like preservation. Like formaldehyde and cold stone.
We entered the Throne Room.
It was vast, the ceiling lost in shadows. Four rivers flowed into the room, emptying into a dark lake behind the throne.
And on the throne sat Hades.
He was at least ten feet tall, draped in robes of black silk woven with the faces of terrified souls. His skin was albino white, his hair jet black. He radiated a power that was different from Ares or Zeus. Zeus felt like a bomb waiting to go off. Hades felt like gravity—crushing, inevitable, and silent.
"You have nerve," Hades said. His voice sounded like dirt falling onto a coffin lid. "Coming here. Into my house."
"Lord Hades," Percy stepped forward, his voice trembling. "We came to retrieve... to talk."
"Talk?" Hades laughed. The sound made the skeletons guarding the room rattle. "You came to taunt me. You, the spawn of my brothers."
He pointed a pale finger at Percy, then at me.
"Poseidon's mistake. And Zeus's arrogance. You come here accusing me of theft? When you are the ones who stole from me?"
"We didn't steal anything!" Annabeth argued. "We're here to find the Master Bolt!"
"The Bolt is a distraction!" Hades roared. The room shook. Dust fell from the ceiling. "I do not care about Zeus's toy! I want my Helm!"
"Your Helm?" Grover squeaked.
"The Helm of Darkness!" Hades shouted. "Stolen! Days ago! By a demigod! And now you show up, reeking of ozone and the sea. Do not play innocent."
Part II: The Heavy Bag
The pressure in the room spiked. My shoulders ached.
And suddenly, my backpack—the blue one Ares had given Percy, which I had grabbed by mistake during a switch, or maybe Ares switched them magically—felt like it contained a neutron star.
I knew. I knew it was there.
"Valerius," Hades' eyes narrowed. They were pools of black fire. "You seem burdened."
I looked at Percy. "Plot twist," I muttered.
I swung the backpack off my shoulder. I unzipped it.
A blinding white light spilled out, illuminating the dark throne room like a flare.
Inside lay a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, crackling with contained storms. The Master Bolt.
"Zeus's weapon!" Hades hissed. "You did steal it!"
"No," I said, ziping the bag back up to cut the glare. "We were framed. Ares. He used us as mules to bring it to you."
"Ares?" Hades scoffed. "He is a brute, not a strategist."
"Someone is using him too," Percy realized. "Kronos. The dreams... the pit..."
"Enough!" Hades stood up. He grew taller, his form shifting into something demonic. "I will have the truth. And I will have my Helm. Or I will open the earth and swallow you whole!"
Skeleton warriors began to rise from the floor. Not the slow, shambling kind. These were Spartan Hoplites, wearing bronze armor and holding spears. Behind them, British Redcoats with bayonets. Behind them, U.S. Marines with combat knives.
The Dead of every war. An army.
Part III: The Pearl Math
"We have to go!" Annabeth yelled. "Now!"
"The Pearls!" Percy shouted. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the three milky spheres.
He froze.
He looked at the pearls. He looked at us.
"Three," Percy whispered. "There are four of us."
"I'll stay," Percy said immediately. "I'm the leader. You guys go."
"Don't be an idiot," Annabeth grabbed his arm. "If you stay, the quest fails. You have to return the Bolt."
"I'll stay," Grover bleated. "I'm a Satyr. I'm replaceable."
"No one is replaceable!" Percy yelled.
The skeleton army was closing in. Spears lowered. Bayonets fixed.
I looked at the army. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.
My heart started to race. Not with fear. With rhythm.
This is it, I thought. The ultimate bottleneck. The Last Stand.
I grabbed the backpack with the Bolt and shoved it into Percy's chest.
"Take it," I ordered.
"Val, what are you doing?" Percy asked.
"I'm fixing the math," I said. I unslung my hammer, Mjolnir-Lite. I rolled my neck. Crack.
"Valerius, you can't fight Hades!" Annabeth screamed.
"I'm not fighting Hades," I grinned, the static beginning to arc off my skin, turning my eyes into glowing blue stars. "I'm fighting his trash."
I shoved them backward.
"Smash the pearls!" I roared. "Go to Santa Monica! Return the Bolt! I'll catch up!"
"But—"
"GO!"
Percy looked at me. He saw the resolve. He saw that I wanted this.
"You survive," Percy commanded. "That's an order."
"I'm the son of Zeus," I said, turning my back to them to face the tide of bones. "I don't die in the dark."
Percy smashed the pearls.
Three pillars of white light erupted, encasing Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. They shot upward, blasting through the ceiling of the cavern, vanishing toward the surface.
I was alone.
Part IV: The Meat Grinder
The silence returned for a split second.
Hades sat on his throne, looking unimpressed.
"One boy," Hades sneered. "Against the Legions of the Dead?"
"I'm not just a boy," I said, gripping the hammer with both hands. The leather grip creaked. "I'm the storm."
The first wave hit me.
Five Spartan skeletons lunged with spears.
I didn't block. I swung.
I spun the hammer in a low arc. It connected with the lead skeleton's knees.
CRUNCH.
The sound was wet and brittle. The femurs shattered into powder. The skeleton collapsed. I used the momentum to bring the hammer up, smashing the chin of the second Spartan. His skull exploded like a dropped lightbulb.
Bone shards sprayed the air like confetti.
"Come on!" I roared.
A Redcoat lunged with a bayonet. I caught the rifle barrel with my left hand, ignoring the rust. I yanked him forward and headbutted him. My dense skull against his rotten one. He crumbled into dust.
I was a whirlwind of violence.
My hammer was a blur of bronze. Every hit was a kill shot. I wasn't fighting with finesse anymore; I was fighting with industrial efficiency.
Smash. Left flank. Crush. Right flank. Backhand. Behind me.
Ribcages imploded. Spines snapped. Helmets caved in.
But there were too many.
A Roman legionnaire managed to slash my leg with a gladius. A line of hot pain seared my thigh.
"Argh!"
I stumbled.
"Get him!" the dead whispered. "Flesh! Warm flesh!"
They piled on. I felt cold, bony hands grabbing my arms, my neck, my legs. The weight was crushing. They were burying me in death.
"NO!" I screamed.
I stopped holding back. I tapped into the battery. The core of my divine blood.
"BLAST!"
I slammed the hammer into the obsidian floor.
I released every ounce of static charge I had built up.
BOOM.
A dome of blue lightning exploded outward from my body. It wasn't a spark; it was a supernova.
The shockwave vaporized the skeletons touching me. It turned their bones to ash instantly. The blast radius expanded, throwing the next fifty skeletons backward like ragdolls, their armor fusing together from the heat.
The smell of ozone was choking.
I stood in the center of a scorched circle, breathing hard. Smoke rose from my skin. My clothes were singed.
Hades actually leaned forward on his throne. He looked... interested.
"Impressive," Hades admitted. "For a battery."
Part V: The Exit Run
I couldn't win this. I knew that. Hades was immortal. His army was infinite. I had just used my ultimate move, and I was already tired.
Objective update: Survive.
I looked at the exit. The massive bronze doors were blocked by a fresh wave of U.S. Civil War soldiers.
I looked at the walls. Rough stone.
I looked at the ceiling. High up, where the pearls had blasted through, there was a hole. But it was miles up.
No. I needed a distraction.
I looked at the Lake. The dark water behind the throne.
Physics, I thought. If you can't beat them, change the map.
I turned and sprinted—not toward the exit, but toward the Throne.
"Insolence!" Hades rose, a ball of black fire forming in his hand.
"Sorry, Uncle!" I yelled.
I didn't attack Hades. I attacked the pillar supporting the cavern roof directly above the lake.
It was a stalagmite the width of a redwood tree.
I leaped. I channeled the last of my strength into the hammer.
"TIMBER!"
I struck the stone column.
CRAAAACK.
The sound was deafening. A spiderweb of fractures shot up the stone.
Gravity took over.
A massive chunk of the cavern roof—tons of rock—detached and fell.
It didn't hit Hades (he vanished in a puff of shadow). It hit the Lake.
SPLASH.
The displacement caused a tsunami of black water. A thirty-foot wave of the River Styx surged outward, crashing into the throne room.
"Swim time!" I yelled.
The water hit the skeleton army. Skeletons can't swim. They were swept away, their armor dragging them down into the depths.
I grabbed a floating piece of the shattered column—a makeshift raft.
The current was violent. It swept me out of the throne room, through the flooded hallways, and toward the lower caverns.
I held on for dear life as I was flushed out of the Palace like a spider down a drain.
Part VI: The Ferryjack
I washed up on the rocky shore near the ferry crossing. I was soaked, bleeding, and exhausted.
Charon was there, trying to push his boat off the dock before the floodwaters rose higher.
"You!" Charon shouted, seeing me drag myself onto the mud. "You ruined the carpet! You flooded the lobby!"
I stood up. I was dripping with Styx water. I looked like a demon.
I walked over to him. I raised my hammer.
"I need a ride," I rasped.
Charon looked at the hammer. He looked at the destruction behind me.
"The waiting list is..." Charon started.
I slammed the hammer onto the dock, splintering the wood.
"...cancelled," Charon finished quickly. "Get in."
I collapsed into the boat.
"Top floor," I wheezed. "And step on it."
As the boat drifted across the dark water, away from the chaos I had caused, I looked back at the burning, flooded palace.
I had fought a literal army. I had destroyed a throne room. I had survived the God of the Dead.
I closed my eyes, a bloody grin spreading across my face.
Top that, Percy.