Chapter 11 - the snake nest
After what happened everyone go back to their camp but not everyone had it forgotten Marco and Ethan are not here though The camps burned with tension.
Leyla's voice carried like fire through the hall, her fury striking every demigod in reach. She scolded them with words sharp as spears, her anger not just at their recklessness but at their failure to see what was coming. When she stormed toward the main pavilion to speak with Dionysus, her cloak snapped like a banner in the wind.
But the story did not linger on her.
Far away, under the cracked shadow of the temple of light, Arthur knelt.
His knees pressed into cold marble, his forehead bowed low, hands trembling as if the weight of the world had finally crushed him into prayer.
"Father," he whispered hoarsely. "I am your son. Your champion. And I failed. I should have cleansed the zone sooner, but I hesitated. The blame is mine. Please—help me fix this."
The air shimmered with gold. A familiar warmth bloomed across the temple. And then Apollo's voice came, smooth and infuriatingly casual.
"You again? Gods, Arthur, you're exhausting. Do you know how annoying it is to pull you out of trouble every single time?"
Arthur's voice cracked. "I know. I'm sorry. I know you're always fixing my mistakes, always helping me. But I need you now more than ever."
The silence lingered, heavy as a setting sun. Then Apollo sighed, and though his tone stayed light, there was a weight beneath it.
"You really are hopeless, you know that? Fine. You want the way to the Underworld? You'll need something. A key. A shard."
From the air, light bent strangely. It rippled, fractured—until darkness itself condensed, shaping into a jagged crystal. The shard pulsed with shadow, unnatural against Apollo's radiance.
Arthur reached for it. The moment his fingers brushed the shard, pain tore through him, sharp as knives. He hissed, clutching his hand. "Aw—"
Apollo chuckled. "That, my son, is pure darkness. Crystallized. Naturally, as my demigod, you're sensitive to it. Think of it as poison to your light."
Arthur clenched the shard tighter despite the pain. "And the others?"
"You'll need three in total," Apollo said. His eyes glinted like twin suns, serious now. "One you already hold. The second lies in the lair of the hellhounds then, buried near the nest of Thon—the god of snakes and hunger is the four shard."
Arthur looked up, eyes widening. Apollo wagged a finger.
"Don't fight it. Don't even think about fighting it. You'll die. Just take the shard and run."
Arthur swallowed. "…And the fourth?"
Apollo smirked. "That one's easier. A museum in Greece. Where the statues of Athena stand. Hidden in plain sight."
The shard throbbed in Arthur's palm, cold and sharp, like the promise of the Underworld itself.
And so the path was drawn: three shards of darkness, three keys to open the gates no living should enter
Back to Leyla pov:
Leyla's anger still burned through the air like wildfire long after her words had ended. She stormed toward Dionysus's quarters, her boots snapping against the stone. The camp had been reckless, chaotic—and in her eyes, weak. She could not stand weakness.
Inside the shaded pavilion, Dionysus sat with a goblet of wine, expression bored as if the world itself had never once managed to entertain him.
"You," Leyla hissed.
"Me," Dionysus replied, raising his cup lazily.
"You sit here while everything falls apart. Demigods fight among themselves. Prophecies go unanswered. And now we have—" she stopped herself, grinding her teeth. "You're supposed to be our god. Our protector."
Dionysus gave her a look half amused, half weary. "Child, I am your warden, not your savior. The Olympians play their games. I… keep you from killing each other before they need you. That is all."
Her fists shook. She wanted to scream at him—but the god's words, detached as they were, carried the sting of truth. She turned sharply, cloak flaring, her anger heavy but silent now.
The camp was quieter by nightfall. The scolding, the tension, it had all sunk into silence.
Clarita sat at the edge of the firelight, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the shadows cast against the earth.
Her thoughts circled endlessly.
If I had been stronger… if I had acted sooner… maybe none of this would've happened.
She pressed her face against her knees, fighting tears. It wasn't just guilt—it was fear. Fear of failing again. Fear of losing Ethan.
Their bond had always been a flame—bright, dangerous, alive. But now it flickered, uncertain. She remembered the way he looked at her, the way he trusted her, and it cut her deeper than any blade.
What if I can't protect him? What if I'm the one holding him back?
The night wind stirred, carrying voices of laughter from the other side of camp. It made her feel small, apart.
"Ethan…" she whispered into the dark. "What are we, really? Fighters? Lovers? Or just two broken kids pretending we're whole?"
The fire popped, sparks rising into the sky. Clarita hugged herself tighter, a single tear slipping down her cheeks she doesn't know what she feels anymore though it's not the end she needs action everyone need action
In Elizabeth (Marco sister) pov:
The Hunters had gathered near the edge of the forbidden zone, their silent footsteps and drawn blades a warning.
Elizabeth tightened her grip, listening to their caution. "You can't go," one of them warned, voice low but firm. "It's madness—"
Diana's arrow cut through the air, slicing the warning cleanly. She lowered her bow, eyes calm but resolute.
"Let her go," Diana said softly to Elizabeth. "I am proud of you. You have courage. And… I am surprised others can't see it."
She paused, letting her gaze linger, then continued with deliberate calm.
"Don't let their chains slow you. Others won't allow it—but you can. Now go. I want to come with you, but I can't. Duty binds me."
Elizabeth nodded, swallowing the fear that had nestled in her chest. She stepped forward, her team following. Jack was already at her side, eyes sharp, muscles tense. Clarita's expression wavered between worry and determination.
The shadows ahead grew heavier as the group approached the lair, the faint hiss of serpentine bodies echoing through the air.
The POV shifted—Arthur knelt in the darkness, his hands brushing against the shard of darkness, eyes tight with resolve. When the team approached, he straightened slowly, his voice low but firm.
"Don't come with me," he said. "It's dangerous. I made the mistake. I fix it alone."
Elizabeth stepped forward, determination burning in her eyes. "We're not leaving you. Not when this is about more than one person."
Arthur shook his head. "No. If I fail, I give up my title as a Demigod. I'm supposed to be the candle that lights the path for others. This… this I do alone."
After a long pause, his resolve met their silent determination. He gave a slight nod, allowing them to follow mentally, understanding that each step they took here carried more than just danger—it carried the weight of identity, of responsibility, of legacy.
---
The nest lay ahead. Every sound of the underworld echoed unnaturally—the slither of scales against stone, faint whispers of creatures that should have died centuries ago. The team moved like shadows, careful not to alert the predators.
A hiss, sharp and sudden, cut through the silence. A group of snakes lunged from the darkness, fangs glinting.
Without hesitation, Arthur sprang forward, sword swinging in deadly arcs. One by one, the serpents fell, each strike precise and lethal. His determination radiated like heat, unmatched by anyone else.
Clarita cursed under her breath, watching the carnage. "F#ck me… why should I have to deal with these snakes now? I… I fear snakes!"
Elizabeth placed a steadying hand on hers. "You're our last hope after Arthur. There is no fear. You can't counter it if you let it control you."
Clarita drew a steadying breath, eyes narrowing. She charged, slashing through the serpentine ranks with careful precision. Each movement counted, each strike meant survival.
But just as she began to strategize, a massive shadow moved beneath the ground—a single, enormous serpent, its eyes glinting with intelligence. The beast lunged, earth exploding around it as it struck Arthur with overwhelming force, smashing him to the ground.
Clarita staggered back. "F#ck… me…" Her voice trembled as the reality of the beast hit her.
Elizabeth's eyes widened as she instinctively reached for control over her magic. But as her hands moved, a surge of energy erupted from the ground—unintended. The massive serpent awoke fully, its roar vibrating through the cavern, the nest itself trembling.
Elizabeth froze. The snake—the great devourer, the Peathon—was awake.
The fight had just begun and they can't dodge it The cavern trembled with the Peathon's roar, scales scraping stone, teeth glinting in the dim light. Clarita slashed again and again, but the serpent's hide was near-impervious. With a snap, her sword broke mid-strike. She staggered back, eyes wide with horror.
I'm giving everything… and it's not enough.
Her mind raced. Her gift—her ability to mimic others—could still turn the tide. She focused on Elizabeth, trying to absorb her power. But what she felt was strange, alien. Shadow Zone…
Blindness. Darkness. Disorientation.
A plan formed. Clarita lunged forward, channeling the shadow into the serpent's eyes. Darkness erupted, the beast thrashing as its vision vanished. It roared, a terrifying sound that shook the cavern.
And then—heat. A wave of intense fire slammed into the serpent, searing scales, forcing it backward. Jack.
He stood, chest rising and falling, unflinching. In front of Clarita, a titled Demigod, he might have seemed outmatched—but unlike her, Jack did not overthink. He moved with instinct, striking fearlessly, wind and fire blending in his assault.
A sudden gust slammed against the Peathon. Noah, Atlas's chosen of Hermes, had joined in, sending a powerful shockwave. Clarita's eyes lit up. Perfect.
She mimicked the wind abilities. Blades of air cut through the dark mist surrounding the beast. But when she tried to harness Noah's artifact mimicry…
Her mouth went dry. "Why… why are your abilities… useless?" she asked, incredulous.
Noah's gaze was calm. "I can mimic artifacts. You rarely touch them."
The memory struck her—the reflective shield she had touched before, Athena's shield. A grin flickered across her face.
If I combine that… with my mimicry… maybe I can turn this around.
Clarita adjusted her stance, recalling the precise edges of Athena's shield. She mimicked its reflective surface, bending the Peathon's own attacks back against it. The serpent recoiled, hissing in confusion as wind, shadow, and fire collided in a maelstrom around it.
Jack pressed forward, unrelenting, flames licking at the beast's sides. Elizabeth wove shadows like a net, keeping the Peathon disoriented. Arthur's strikes landed with precision, each blow measured, his focus absolute.
And Clarita… she finally found her rhythm. Mimicry and strategy combined. Each step was deliberate. Each strike, a lesson learned. Each use of her powers, a mirror of her allies' strengths.
For the first time, she felt in control.
We can do this, she thought. Together.
The Peathon's roar shook the cavern once more—but this time, the team was ready with team work and puer determination they killed the paethon after all it was 2 titled Demigod jack and Elizabeth and they fight could ended faster but here is the thing Noah not using any of his power around the group he's in hige guard but keeping friendly expression as a facade not because he's evil because he doesn't trust them that match or probably because he's kinda know only Arthur and Arthur not here he's introverted though
The victory had barely settled.
The Peathon's roar still echoed, but beneath it… something older, darker, and far more terrible stirred. From the depths of the nest—a vast desert of sand and writhing serpents—the ground shuddered. Scales scraped against sand, fangs glinting like blackened steel in the dim light.
The god of hunger and snakes had awakened.
Massive. Colossal. A living continent of muscle and scale, its presence alone warping the air. Not as massive as Lavin, perhaps, but a force that could obliterate nations.
From the edge of the desert, Arthur emerged, eyes blazing. He had reached the limit of his patience and fear, the fury of his helplessness, the sting of seeing allies at risk. He hated the feeling of being powerless. He would not watch anyone die. Not again.
He stepped forward, voice raw, echoing across the desert.
"PRISM!"
A pulse of light burst around him, a prism of pure energy, fracturing across the sand. The manifestation of his power was more than he could control—he had broken his limit. Waves of energy surged outward, sending him reeling, his hand scorching from the strain.
The god of hunger and snakes roared in fury as the prism struck. For the first time, damage registered—not on its scales, but deep within its essence. Though the body remained unmarked, the attack fractured its inner defenses, a crack in the unthinkable.
Arthur gasped, staggering under the backlash. Pain lanced through his hand, but he did not relent.
Then—a gust of wind. Harsh, sudden, slicing through the desert sands. The god flinched, roaring again. Aeouls appeared, figure shimmering like stormlight, aura radiating power that even gods would respect.
"You guys are amazing," Aeouls said, voice calm but tinged with awe. "Not even other gods would dare stand in front of that creature."
He raised his hand, and the shard materialized, spinning slowly through the air before landing into the team's waiting hands.
"Go," he said, eyes piercing the desert haze. "Take the shard. Leave now."
The team nodded, battered but resolute. The shard was theirs. Their survival—and the next step of the prophecy—depended on it.
The god of hunger's roar followed them as they retreated, a terrifying reminder that even victory here was only temporary.