Twenty-five minutes before I somehow went nuclear on an entire fortress, I was still walking through the Oakland hills.
The Hunter camp was behind me now. Far behind. Just me, the darkness, and the distant lights of San Francisco Bay.
My greatsword was strapped across my back—perfectly maintained, sharp as a razor, courtesy of Zoe's meticulous care. The bow Artemis had loaned me felt comfortable in my hand. Twenty arrows in the quiver. Enough, hopefully.
I felt better than I had in days.
Real food. Actual sleep. My sword returned. Armed and ready.
But my mind wouldn't shut up.
The Caucasian Eagle's words kept circling in my head like vultures.
"The hero's scar hides a deeper wound. When titans wake, heroes break."
It had looked at Luke when it said that. Specifically at Luke. His scar—the one from the dragon—glinting in the fading light.
Was that a warning? A prediction? A THREAT?
I had no evidence. None. Just a cryptic message from a giant bird that enjoyed tormenting demigods and eating livers.
That was my entire evidence base.
Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just trying to mess with our heads. Maybe Luke is completely innocent and I'm being paranoid.
Or maybe he's the hero who'll break and you're about to walk into a trap.
I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Focus. Quest. Dragon. Fortress leader.
One thing at a time.
The shore appeared ahead—rocky, cold, San Francisco Bay stretching dark and endless toward Alcatraz.
The prison loomed in the distance. A black silhouette against the night sky. No lights. No movement visible from here.
Just a dead prison on a dead island.
Except I could FEEL them.
Signatures pressing against my senses like static before a storm. Monsters. Definitely monsters. A LOT of monsters.
But how many? Ten? Fifty? A hundred? More?
And the demigods—the ones I'd seen through binoculars, wearing Camp Half-Blood orange, moving through sections that were supposed to be closed. Traitors.
Would they be inside? Would I have to fight them?
Don't think about it. Can't afford to hesitate.
The Hunters had scouted from a distance but couldn't get close without being detected. Artemis had given me what information she could: "There are many. Be careful."
Super helpful.
So basically: walking into a fortress full of unknown enemies, unknown capabilities, guarding a tortured dragon, all led by someone powerful enough to command an army.
"Standard Tuesday," I muttered.
I reached the shoreline and stopped. Looked at the island. Calculating.
Two approaches presented themselves:
Option One: Stealth.
Find a quiet spot on the far side. Slip in through a crack in the defenses. Sneak quietly. Guerrilla tactics. Pick them off one by one. Stay hidden until I reached the dragon.
Smart. Tactical. Professional.
Anyone with common sense would approve.
Option Two: Main entrance.
Row straight to the ferry dock. The most obvious route. Probably heavily guarded. Fight through them head-on.
Stupid. Reckless. Drawing every enemy's attention.
Anyone with common sense would NOT approve.
I looked up at the sky.
Dark. Moonless—Artemis had arranged that, I suspected. Clouds rolling in thick and heavy, blotting out the stars. The kind of darkness that made stealth easy.
Perfect conditions for sneaking.
I looked down at myself.
Golden armor that glowed like a miniature sun when manifested.
Fire powers that lit up the night like a bonfire.
A sword that can blaze bright enough to read by.
I was BUILT to be loud. Built to be SEEN.
"Stealth," I said to the darkness, "requires not glowing like the sun"
And honestly? My track record with stealth was... abysmal.
Last night I'd tried to sneak out of the Hunter camp. Made it maybe fifty feet before Zoe and Naomi caught me. Because apparently I was LITERALLY GLOWING.
Before that? Tried to escape Will's infirmary back at camp. Made it to the door before he caught me.
Stealth. Was. Not. My. Thing.
I looked back at the island. At the main entrance—a ferry dock jutting out into the water. Probably guarded. Definitely the most obvious route.
Then I started laughing.
Because why was I even CONSIDERING stealth?
I looked down at my hands. Felt the fire simmering under my skin. The sun-power that Surya had gifted to Karna, that Karna had passed to me, that burned in my blood like liquid daylight.
I was MADE for this.
Not for shadows and silence.
For FIRE and FURY.
"Stealth is for people who are good at it," I said, grinning now. "I am spectacularly BAD at it."
I rolled my shoulders. Stretched. Felt my power respond—eager, ready, HUNGRY for this.
"But you know what I AM good at?"
I looked along the shoreline. There—partially hidden behind some rocks—an old rowboat. Abandoned, probably stolen by some kids for joyrides, left to rot.
Perfect.
"Making an entrance."
The prophecy echoed in my head:
"Fire must face what breaks apart."
Well.
I was fire.
And whatever was waiting for me in that fortress represented destruction.
Time to see which one burned hotter.
I walked over to the rowboat, testing its weight. Surprisingly solid despite the peeling paint and questionable smell.
"Let's poke a hornet's nest," I said to the night, dragging the boat to the water's edge.
And started rowing toward the main entrance.
Toward whatever waited.
Toward the monsters.
Toward the demigod traitors I'd seen through binoculars.
And toward answers about the eagle's cryptic warning.
The Crossing
Rowing is a lot harder than it looks.
The oars kept SPLASHING. The boat creaked with every stroke. And I was pretty sure I was rowing in circles for the first two minutes.
"Rowing lessons," I muttered, finally getting a rhythm. "Adding that to my training list. Right after 'don't get killed by Titans.'"
Alcatraz grew closer with each pull of the oars. The prison loomed larger, more menacing, more REAL.
I could see the ferry dock now. Old wooden structure, weathered by decades of salt and neglect.
And crawling with monsters.
I stopped rowing about a hundred yards out, letting the boat drift. Squinted through the darkness.
Red eyes. Lots of them. Glowing in the shadows of the dock.
Hellhounds, definitely. Their shapes were unmistakable—massive, hulking, teeth like knives.
Dracaenae too. I could see the snake-tails coiling and uncoiling.
Some empousai lounging against posts, trying to look seductive and just looking bored.
I counted quickly. Lost track around forty.
Forty. At least forty monsters just at the ENTRANCE.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "So that's the welcoming committee."
The rowboat bobbed in the dark water, waves making it rock gently. Rhythmically. Unpredictably.
Time to make an entrance.
I'd decided to go BIG, right? No stealth. Just fire and fury.
So why not start with the biggest, loudest, most DRAMATIC opening I could manage?
I reached for my power. The sun-fire that burned in my blood.
And manifested the Dhanush.
Golden light flared as the divine bow materialized in my hands—NOT the Hunter training bow Artemis had loaned me. THIS was Karna's weapon. The bow of the greatest archer who ever lived.
Six feet of pure golden energy, humming with power, practically VIBRATING with divine authority.
It lit up the night like a beacon.
On the dock, forty pairs of eyes turned toward the golden light.
"INTRUDER!" a dracaena shrieked.
"Well," I said, nocking an arrow of pure light. "At least they KNOW I'm here now."
I drew the string back. Aimed at the largest group of monsters clustered on the dock.
The bow felt incredible. Like it was made for me. Like Karna himself was guiding my aim.
I've got this, I thought. Divine bow. Divine blood. Perfect shot.
Then the boat rocked.
A wave. Just a little wave. Enough to shift my footing by an inch.
I fired.
The arrow of golden light BLAZED across the water—
—and sailed three feet to the LEFT of the monsters.
Complete miss.
The monsters stared at the arrow as it whooshed past them and disappeared into the darkness behind them.
Then they looked back at me.
I stood in my glowing rowboat, divine bow in hand, probably looking like an idiot.
"Did..." one hellhound started. "Did he just MISS?"
"FROM A HUNDRED YARDS?" an empousa cackled. "With a GLOWING BOW?"
"Oh gods," a dracaena wheezed, doubled over laughing. "Oh gods, he MISSED! He manifested some fancy divine weapon and he MISSED!"
The entire dock erupted in laughter.
Mocking, cruel, HUMILIATING laughter.
My face burned. Not with sun-fire. With pure embarrassment.
"I'm a good archer!" I shouted. "The boat rocked! That's—that's not fair—"
"'THE BOAT ROCKED!'" another dracaena mimicked, screeching with laughter. "Oh man, wait until we tell Lord Perses! 'The golden warrior showed up with a DIVINE BOW and MISSED because the water was too CHOPPY!'"
More laughter. They were literally slapping their knees. One empousa was crying with laughter.
I wanted to sink into the boat and disappear.
I'm supposed to be terrifying. I'm supposed to be a threat. And I just whiffed my dramatic entrance because I can't compensate for WAVES.
"Come on, golden boy!" the dracaena called out. "Try again! Maybe you'll hit the OCEAN this time!"
The monsters were too busy laughing to even ready their weapons.
I lowered the bow. Considered manifesting my armor and just rowing away in shame.
Then—
KABOOM.
The Explosion
The sound was APOCALYPTIC.
Not a boom. A DETONATION.
The entire ferry dock—the structure, the monsters, everything—EXPLODED in a ball of GREEN FIRE.
Greek fire.
My arrow—the one that had sailed harmlessly past the monsters—had apparently hit something VERY explosive behind them.
The blast wave hit me like a truck. Knocked me flat on my back in the rowboat. The boat itself flipped, dumping me into the freezing water.
I surfaced, sputtering, ears ringing.
Where the ferry dock had been, there was now just... fire. Green flames spreading across the water. Burning oil. Burning wood. Burning EVERYTHING.
And the monsters?
Gone.
Vaporized.
All forty of them. Just... GONE. Reduced to golden dust that mixed with the smoke and flames.
I treaded water, staring at the destruction.
"I..." I started. "I meant to do that."
I definitely had NOT meant to do that.
But I wasn't going to ADMIT that.
I flipped the rowboat back over, hauled myself in, and started rowing toward the now-destroyed dock.
Toward the fortress.
Toward whatever was waiting inside.
And tried very hard not to think about how I'd just killed forty monsters by MISSING.
Task failed successfully, I thought.
The prison entrance loomed ahead—a gaping hole where the dock used to be, green flames still licking at the edges.
I could hear roaring from inside. Screaming. Confusion.
They knew someone was here.
They just didn't know I'd achieved this by accident.
I grinned despite myself.
"Let them think it was on purpose."
I pulled the rowboat up to the burning wreckage, grabbed my greatsword, and stepped into Alcatraz.
Time to save a dragon.
The Second Explosion
The main entrance stretched ahead into darkness. Smoke billowing out. I could hear movement inside. Monsters regrouping. Shouting. Chaos.
Good.
But then I saw them.
More barrels.
Lining the corridor walls. Stacked in alcoves. DOZENS of them.
All glowing with that faint green shimmer.
Greek fire. EVERYWHERE.
"Are you KIDDING me?" I muttered, staring. "How much Greek fire do they HAVE?!"
I looked at my Dhanush. At the barrels. At the corridor full of monsters trying to organize a defense.
"Well," I said. "Only one way to find out."
I raised the bow. Drew back the string. Another explosive arrow forming.
Inside, I could hear a dracaena sergeant: "Defensive positions! Shield wall! He can't have that many explosive-"
Released.
The fire arrow streaked into the corridor.
Hit the nearest cluster of barrels dead center.
Time seemed to slow.
I saw the sergeant's face. Saw her realize what was about to happen. Saw her mouth form the word "NO--"
BOOM.
The ENTIRE main entrance corridor exploded.
Not just the barrels I hit. ALL of them. Chain reaction. Greek fire detonating in sequence like hellish fireworks.
GREEN FLAMES erupted. The explosion blew OUT through the entrance, forcing me to dive behind cover as stone and metal rained down.
The prison SHOOK. The ground beneath my feet cracked. Somewhere deeper inside, I heard secondary explosions as the blast triggered MORE stored Greek fire.
It was like dominoes made of apocalypse.
When I looked up, the main corridor was just... GONE.
Where there had been a defensible chokepoint with dozens of monsters and strategic positions, there was now a smoking crater and green hellfire burning everywhere.
The walls were GLOWING red-hot. The floor was molten in places. And the Greek fire kept burning. Wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.
"Okay," I said, staring at the destruction. "Okay. THAT one wasn't all me either."
I stood there, brushing off dust and debris.
"Who stores THIS MUCH Greek fire in one place?! That's not tactical, that's just ASKING for--"
Another explosion deeper in the prison. Secondary blast. More stored Greek fire going up.
--yeah. That."
I let the Dhanush fade. Gripped my greatsword instead. More control. More precision.
"Note to self: everything in this prison might explode. Be careful."
Stepped through the burning entrance into what remained of the main corridor.
The heat hit me like a physical wall. Even with my fire resistance, even with my sun-blessed nature, I could FEEL it.
Greek fire burned HOTTER than normal fire. Hotter than fire. It was IMPOSSIBLE fire, made by mortal ingenuity and divine madness.
And it was everywhere.
On the walls. The floor. The ceiling. Burning in pools. Spreading in streams. Creating a literal hellscape.
"Great," I muttered, moving forward through the inferno. "Just great."
At least the smoke would give me cover.
Silver lining?
Through the Inferno
The corridor was hell.
Not metaphorically. LITERALLY hell.
Greek fire burning in sheets along the walls. Smoke so thick I could barely see three feet ahead. Heat intense enough that the air itself shimmered and warped.
I heard them before I saw them.
Monsters. Screaming. Not battle cries. Not roars of aggression.
TERROR.
A hellhound stumbled through the smoke, half its body covered in green flames. It wasn't attacking. It was FLEEING. Running blind, whimpering, trying desperately to escape the fire that wouldn't stop burning.
I let it pass.
What was the point? It was already dead. Just didn't know it yet.
Another monster—dracaena—collapsed in front of me. Greek fire eating through her scales like acid. She looked up at me with desperate, pain-filled eyes.
"Please—
I stepped over her.
Kept moving.
Behind me, she dissolved into golden dust, the Greek fire still burning where she'd been.
"This is insane," I muttered, moving deeper into the smoke. "This is absolutely—
A section of ceiling collapsed behind me with a CRASH. More Greek fire spreading from exposed storage above.
The prison was EATING ITSELF.
Consuming its own structure. Its own defenders. Everything.
And I was walking deeper into it.
"Why am I like this?" I asked the smoke.
No answer. Just more fire. More screams. More death.
I rounded a corner and found fifteen dracaenae huddled together, backs to me, staring at a wall of green flame blocking their path.
I raised my sword—
—and the ceiling collapsed.
A massive section of stone and burning timber came down right on top of them. They didn't even have time to scream.
Just... crushed. Gone. Buried under tons of rubble and Greek fire.
I stopped. Stared at the pile of debris that had been monsters seconds ago.
They hadn't even seen me. Hadn't even known I was there.
Just... wrong place, wrong time.
I kept moving. Using the smoke as cover. Stepping carefully around pools of Greek fire. Avoiding falling debris.
The dragon's screams were getting closer now.
Louder. More desperate. More URGENT.
Because the fire was spreading.
Toward D-Block.
Toward the dragon.
"I'm coming," I muttered, moving faster. "Just hold on. I'm coming."
Part 6: The Main Storage
I was making good progress—relatively speaking—when I heard it.
Voices ahead. Panicked. Arguing.
—can't go that way, it's BURNING—
—every route is burning—
—the main storage is going to—
I rounded a corner and froze.
Ahead, through the smoke: a MASSIVE chamber. Industrial. Organized.
And FILLED with Greek fire barrels.
Not dozens.
FIFTY barrels. Maybe more. Neatly arranged in the center of the chamber. Perfectly organized. Waiting to detonate.
And the fire was spreading toward it.
Green flames crawling along the floor. Up the walls. Getting closer to the barrels with every passing second.
A group of monsters—maybe thirty-five—stood at the chamber entrance, staring in horror.
"We need to MOVE— one started.
"If that goes off, the entire PRISON—
They saw me.
We all froze for a heartbeat.
Then they RAN.
Not at me. Just... ran. Scattered in every direction. Pure survival instinct overriding everything else.
I stood there, staring at the main storage room.
At the fifty barrels.
At the Greek fire spreading toward them.
At what was about to become the biggest explosion I'd ever seen.
"Oh no."
I turned and RAN.
Sprinted back the way I'd come. As fast as I could. Armor manifesting for protection. Fire resistance pushed to its limit.
Behind me, I heard it.
A sound like the world taking a breath.
Then—
BOOM.
The Launch
The explosion was beyond description.
It wasn't just sound. It wasn't just force. It wasn't just fire.
It was ALL OF IT AT ONCE. Amplified by Greek fire to levels that shouldn't be possible.
The shockwave hit me like being struck by a god.
My armor flared—Kavach blazing desperately to protect me—but the sheer FORCE—
I was THROWN.
Not knocked down.
Not knocked back.
LAUNCHED.
Through the air like a missile. Through smoke and fire and—
CRASH.
Through a WALL.
Stone and brick exploded around me. My armor scraped against rubble, golden surface getting scored with deep gouges.
Kept flying.
CRASH.
Second wall. Thicker. Older. Cell block barrier.
The impact drove every bit of air from my lungs. My vision went WHITE with pain. Ribs cracked. Maybe broke.
Again with the ribs? Why does it ALWAYS have to be the ribs?
Still flying.
CRASH.
Third wall. Support structure. Load-bearing.
The collision SHATTERED stone. My armor held—BARELY—but I FELT it. Every bone rattled. Every muscle screamed. Blood filled my mouth.
I hit the ground hard on the other side.
Rolled. Tumbled. Bounced like a ragdoll.
My greatsword flew from my grip, skittering across stone somewhere in the darkness.
Finally stopped.
Face-down. Tasting blood and dust and pain.
Everything hurt.
Everything.
For a long moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't THINK.
Just lay there, wondering if this was how I died the second time.
Then I heard voices.
Close. Right above me.
—explosion came from—
—main storage must have—
—someone went through those WALLS—
Oh. Great.
Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up.
Every movement sent fresh agony through my body. My armor was scratched and scored all over, the golden surface marred with deep gouges and cracks. Blood ran from a dozen cuts—on my arms, my face, my sides.
My ribs SCREAMED when I breathed. Definitely cracked. Maybe broken.
My head was ringing like someone had hit it with a hammer made of explosions.
But I could see.
I was in some kind of gathering area. Large open space. Maybe a former cafeteria or exercise yard. Stone pillars. High ceiling.
And surrounding me in a loose circle—
Five demigods.
I didn't recognize any of them from camp. Their faces were unfamiliar. Or maybe I was just too hurt to place them.
They stood there, weapons ready, staring at me.
I stared back.
Pushed myself to my hands and knees. Had to pause there because my ribs were SCREAMING and my head was spinning.
"Well, well," one of them said—a guy with a spear and a cruel grin. "The golden warrior himself."
I tried to stand. Made it to one knee. Had to stop there because everything was pain.
My greatsword lay ten feet away. Might as well have been ten miles.
"Heard you were causing trouble topside," the spear-guy continued, starting to circle. Like a predator. Like this was FUN for him. "James Wright, son of Ares. Pleasure to wreck you."
"Trouble?" One of two identical girls laughed—musical and mocking. "He destroyed the ENTIRE operation. The dock, the entrance, half the prison..."
"All that damage," her twin continued, voice eerily similar, "and look at him now. On his knees. Bleeding. Pathetic. I'm Andrea, by the way. That's Melody. Daughters of Aphrodite."
I tried to stand again. Made it halfway before my legs gave out. Caught myself on one hand.
Come on. Get up. GET UP.
"What's wrong?" Another guy asked with false concern. Plants were growing around his feet like eager pets. "Feeling a little WEAK? Those explosions take it out of you? Marcus here, son of Demeter."
One more stepped closer. "Maybe the golden boy isn't so golden after all." He smiled coldly. "I am Leo. Unclaimed."
I gritted my teeth. Tasting blood. Pushed harder. Made it to one knee.
My sword. I needed my sword.
Started crawling toward it.
One hand. One knee. Moving like a broken thing.
"Aww, look," James mocked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "He wants his toy."
A vine shot out from the floor. Thick. Green. Strong.
Wrapped around the greatsword's hilt. Dragged it AWAY from me. Across the stone floor with a scraping sound that felt like nails on my soul.
Marcus caught it. Held it up. Grinned.
"Looking for this?"
I stopped crawling. Breathing hard. Blood dripping from my mouth to the stone floor.
Five demigods. All traitors. All working for whoever commanded this fortress.
Me: wounded, bleeding, disarmed, barely able to stand.
Smart play? Surrender. Negotiate. Buy time. Wait for an opening.
But I thought of the dragon. The dragon. Chained. Running out of time as Greek fire spread through the prison.
Thought of camp. Of everyone back there who trusted these people.
And the eagle's words came back. Like a stake of burning dread driven through my chest.
"The hero's scar hides a deeper wound. When titans wake, heroes break."
Luke's scar. Luke's wound.
Please don't let it be true. Please let there be another explanation.
I pushed myself upright. Standing now. Swaying. But STANDING.
"So you're the traitors," I said, voice hoarse from smoke and pain. "Working for... whoever's in charge here."
The words hung in the air.
"Traitors?" James laughed. "Is that what you're calling us?"
"We prefer 'enlightened,'" Andrea said with a smirk.
"Or 'winners,'" Melody added.
Then James grinned. Wide and sharp and KNOWING.
His grin turned absolutely VICIOUS. Like a predator that had cornered wounded prey.
"You want to know who's in charge here?" He leaned on his spear, savoring every word. "Your FRIEND Luke. Your MENTOR Luke. The guy who welcomed you at camp, trained you, acted like he CARED?"
He laughed. Sharp. Cruel. Delighted.
"He PLANNED all of this. The fortress. The dragon. The operation. Everything. He's not just PART of Kronos's army—he's the CHOSEN ONE."
James watched my face. Watched the realization sink in. And SMILED at my pain.
"And the best part? He's been playing you like a FIDDLE since the day you arrived."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Everything stopped.
The pain. The fire. The blood.
No.
So the eagle was telling the truth.
"No," I said quietly. Voice barely a whisper. "No, that's—you're lying—
"Why would we lie?" Marcus stepped forward, vines coiling around his arms like living armor. "Luke recruited us. Trained us. Gave us PURPOSE. Promised us POWER."
"He's Lord Kronos's favorite," Leo said, voice flat and certain.
No.
No no no NO.
I thought of Luke at camp. Training with me. Being kind. Being HELPFUL. Welcoming me when I arrived confused and lost.
Teaching me sword forms. Laughing at my jokes.
All of it. Every moment. Every kindness.
A LIE.
"No," I said again. Stronger this time. "You're lying."
"Or what?" Andrea purred, charm-speak leaking into her words even now. Making them sound reasonable. Seductive. "You'll fight us? Look at you. You can barely STAND. You just got thrown through three WALLS. You're bleeding, your armor's cracked, and you're outnumbered five to one."
She was right.
I was hurt. Badly.
They were fresh. Rested. Coordinated.
Smart play? Run. Escape. Live to fight another day.
But—
The dragon's scream echoed through the prison.
Closer now. More desperate. More TERRIFIED.
The Greek fire was spreading toward D-Block.
And Luke—
Luke had betrayed everyone.
I looked at them. At these five traitors who'd chosen power over loyalty. Who'd chosen Kronos over everything good.
Who stood between me and the dragon.
Between me and stopping whatever the fuck the shattering lord was.
I straightened up despite the pain. Let my armor flare—weak, flickering, damaged, but THERE.
"Five to one," I said, taking a fighting stance even without my sword. Hands up. Ready. "I've faced worse odds."
"When?" James scoffed.
I met his eyes.
"About twenty minutes ago," I said quietly. "When I walked through your army."
Their smiles faltered.
Just a little.
Just enough.
"Now," I continued, channeling what little fire I had left into my hands, "you have two choices."
Golden-red flames flickered around my fists. Weak. But THERE.
"Get out of my way."
Pause.
"Or join the monsters I already burned."
For a moment—just a moment—they hesitated.
Then James laughed. Forced. Nervous. But trying to sound confident.
"Big talk for someone who can barely stand. Someone who just got LAUNCHED like a cannonball."
"Yeah," I agreed, not taking my eyes off him. "Probably."
I took a step forward. Pain shot through my ribs. Through my legs. Through everything.
Ignored it.
"But here's the thing about sons of the sun."
Another step. Closer to my sword. Closer to them.
"We don't know when to QUIT."
The traitors raised their weapons.
I raised my burning hands.
"Last chance," I said. "Walk away. Leave. I'll even let you."
James's grin faded. His knuckles went white on his spear.
"No," he said. "YOU walk away. Or we put you down like the dog you are."
I smiled. Bloody. Exhausted. Absolutely certain of what came next.
"Wrong answer."
And I MOVED.
Five Against One
I moved.
Or tried to.
James's spear caught me in the stomach. Not a thrust—a SWING. Like a baseball bat.
The impact lifted me off my feet. Sent me flying backward. I hit a pillar hard enough to crack stone.
Collapsed. Gasping. Tasting blood.
Get up. GET UP.
I tried.
Made it to my hands and knees before Marcus's vines wrapped around my ankle and YANKED.
Dragged me across the floor. Stone scraping against my armor. My face.
Leo kicked me in the ribs.
CRACK.
The pain was white-hot. Blinding. I curled up involuntarily.
Another kick. Stomach this time.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Just pain.
"Stay DOWN!" Andrea's charm-speak voice, layered with compulsion.
My body obeyed before my mind could fight it. Muscles going slack. Will crumbling under the supernatural command.
"That's better," Melody purred. "Much more manageable."
More vines. Wrapping around me. Squeezing. Thorns cutting through the damaged parts of my armor. Drawing blood.
I tried to summon fire. Tried to burn free.
Nothing. Too exhausted. Too hurt. Too BROKEN.
James stood over me, spear pointed at my throat.
"Not so tough now, are you?"
I couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. The vines were crushing my chest.
Blood running from my nose. My mouth. Cuts all over.
My armor flickered. Struggling to maintain itself. Failing.
This is it. This is where I die.
Failed the dragon. Failed the quest. Failed everyone.
Then I heard footsteps.
Heavy. More than one.
Two figures emerged from the smoke.
Luke Castellan. Backbiter in hand. Scar visible even through the soot and ash covering him.
Ethan Nakamura. Single eye gleaming with malicious joy.
"Luke!" James called out. "Ethan! We got him!"
Luke stopped at the edge of the circle. Stared down at me.
At me pinned to the ground. Wrapped in thorned vines. Bleeding. Helpless.
Something flickered across his face. Then gone. Replaced by cold neutrality.
He stayed back. Silent. Watching.
Ethan stepped forward eagerly.
"Well, well, WELL!" His voice dripped with vindictive glee. "The mighty golden boy! Look at you NOW!"
He circled me slowly, savoring it.
"You know," Ethan said casually, crouching down beside me. His single eye locked on mine. "I was still on the ropes about joining Luke on his mad decision to work for the Titans."
He smiled. Wide and cruel.
"But seeing you on the floor like a bug? Beaten. Broken. PATHETIC?" He laughed. "That's definitely making me lean towards joining their side."
The other traitors laughed.
I didn't look at him.
Couldn't.
I was staring at Luke.
Luke, who stood at the back. Who wouldn't meet my eyes. Whose hand rested on Backbiter like he wanted to draw it but couldn't commit.
"Luke," I whispered. Blood dripping from my mouth.
The laughter stopped.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Luke's jaw tightened. But he said nothing.
"Why?" I asked. Voice barely audible. "Why, Luke?"
Still nothing.
But I saw it—the guilt flash across his face. Quick. Buried fast.
But THERE.
"The gods," Luke said finally, voice flat. "The gods abandoned us. Used us. Discarded us. Kronos offers something better."
"Better?" I coughed. Blood in my mouth. "Torturing? Betraying friends? This is BETTER?"
"You don't understand," Luke said, but his voice wavered slightly.
I tried to push against the vines. Failed. "You trained me! You HELPED me! Was that all a lie?"
"It was NECESSARY," Luke snapped, but the crack in his voice betrayed him.
Ethan stood up, grinning wider. "Oh, this is GOOD. Keep talking, golden boy. Let's see if you can make Luke feel GUILTY before we kill you."
I ignored Ethan. Kept my eyes on Luke.
"The dragon," I said. "Its been tortured . Is that what Kronos's 'better world' looks like?"
Luke's hand tightened on Backbiter.
"That wasn't supposed to— He stopped. Jaw clenched.
"Wasn't supposed to what?" I pressed. "Happen? Last this long? Matter?"
"Enough," Ethan said, blade at my throat. "Luke, if you're not going to kill him, I will."
The Duel
"Wait," I said. Voice hoarse. Struggling to think through the pain.
They paused. Ethan's blade still at my throat.
I looked up at Luke. At the traitors surrounding me. At Ethan's cruel grin.
And something clicked.
"Very good," Ethan mocked. "The golden boy can connect dots."
"Percy's quest," I continued, ignoring him. Focusing on Luke. "The Master Bolt. The Helm of Darkness. That whole thing with Zeus and Hades ready to go to war."
Luke's jaw tightened.
"You did something, didn't you?" I pressed. "Something to Percy. Something to sabotage the quest."
Silence.
Then Ethan couldn't help himself.
He laughed.
Not a small chuckle. A full, genuine LAUGH. Like I'd just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
"Oh gods," Ethan wheezed, doubling over. "Oh GODS. He doesn't KNOW!"
The other traitors started grinning. Wide. Knowing.
"Know what?" I demanded.
"Tell him," Ethan said to Luke, still laughing. "Oh, you HAVE to tell him. This is TOO good."
Luke said nothing. His hand white-knuckled on Backbiter.
"Fine, I'll tell him," James said, grinning viciously. "Luke gave Percy a pair of flying shoes. Told him they were a gift. A helpful present for the quest."
"They were cursed," Andrea purred. "Set to activate once Percy got close enough to Tartarus."
"They would've dragged him straight down into the pit," Melody finished, smiling coldly. "Along with the Master Bolt. Straight to Kronos."
My blood went cold.
"Percy would fall," Marcus added, vines coiling eagerly around his arms. "The bolt would fall. Zeus would blame Hades. War between the gods. Kronos rises in the chaos."
"Brilliant, really," Leo said. "One cursed gift. Entire plan."
I stared at them.
At these traitors who'd just spelled out their scheme like it was FUNNY.
Like condemning Percy to Tartarus was entertainment.
Like starting a war between gods was a GAME.
I stared at Luke.
Luke, who wouldn't meet my eyes. Whose guilt was written across his face even as he tried to hide it.
Luke, who'd sent his friend—his FRIEND—into a death trap.
Something inside me snapped.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just... broke.
"You sent him to die," I said quietly. "Percy. Your friend. The kid who trusted you. You sent him to TARTARUS."
"It was necessary," Luke said, but his voice was hollow.
"NECESSARY?"
The word came out as a roar.
Fire EXPLODED from my body. Not controlled. Not measured. Pure RAGE channeled into solar fury.
Golden-red flames erupted in every direction. The vines holding me DISINTEGRATED. Turned to ash in an instant.
The traitors stumbled back, covering their faces from the heat.
I stood up. Armor blazing. Blood still dripping. Ribs still broken. Body still SCREAMING with pain.
But I was DONE being pinned down.
I wasn't at full power. Wasn't even close. I was injured, exhausted, running on nothing but fury and stubborn refusal to QUIT.
But it was ENOUGH.
Marcus was closest—still holding my greatsword like a trophy.
I rushed him.
Not graceful. Not skilled. Just raw desperation and anger.
Marcus raised the sword to defend himself—
I grabbed the blade with my bare hand. The edge cut into my palm. Didn't care.
YANKED it from his grip.
Fire burst from the contact point, throwing Marcus backward. He hit the wall hard.
I spun. Sword in hand. Blood dripping from my cut palm onto the hilt.
And locked eyes with Luke.
Everyone froze.
The other traitors started to move forward—
"BACK!" Luke's voice cut through the chamber like a whip. "All of you. Stand DOWN."
They hesitated.
"But Luke—" James started.
"I said BACK." Luke drew Backbiter, the blade singing as it left its sheath. "This is between me and him."
The traitors backed away. Reluctantly. Forming a circle around us.
Luke stepped forward. Backbiter held in a perfect guard position. Stance balanced. Ready.
"You want to fight?" he asked quietly. "Fine. Let's fight."
I raised my greatsword. The blade felt heavy. My arms shook from exhaustion and injury.
But I held it steady.
"You sent Percy to die," I said.
"I did what was necessary for the cause," Luke replied, starting to circle.
We moved. Orbiting each other like planets locked in gravity.
Luke's style: Swift. Precise. Flowing. Years of training at camp showing in every movement. Footwork perfect. Blade work masterful. Like water—adapting, shifting, finding openings.
My style: Slower. Heavier. Inevitable. Power driving my form. Each strike calculated. Each block measured. Like a mountain—unstoppable once in motion.
Luke struck first.
Backbiter whipped forward in a lightning thrust aimed at my heart.
I shifted. Let it pass my ribs by inches. Brought my greatsword around in a heavy counter-slash.
Luke flowed under it. Spun. Came at me from the side.
I blocked. The impact jarred my wounded arms. Sent pain shooting through my broken ribs.
Ignored it.
Pushed forward. Heavy overhead strike.
Luke sidestepped. My blade hit stone. Cracked it.
He thrust at my exposed side—
I twisted. Took it on my armor instead of flesh. The blade scraped off golden surface.
Countered. Horizontal slash.
Luke ducked. Rolled. Came up already attacking.
We traded blows. Fast and brutal. No fancy techniques. No showboating.
Just two demigods trying to kill each other with celestial bronze.
Luke was faster. More skilled. Better trained.
But I was STRONGER. And I had something he didn't.
Fire.
I channeled heat into my blade mid-swing. Luke blocked—and hissed as the temperature conducted through Backbiter to his hands.
He jumped back. Shaking out his palms.
"Cheap trick," he said.
"Effective trick," I replied.
He came at me again. Faster now. Trying to end it quickly.
A flurry of strikes. High. Low. Middle. Probing my defenses. Looking for openings.
I blocked. Blocked. Blocked—
His blade found my shoulder. Cut through damaged armor. Drew blood.
I didn't stop.
Swung despite the pain. Despite the wound.
My greatsword caught his side. Shallow but THERE.
First blood on Luke.
He backed up. Hand going to the wound. Looking at the blood on his fingers.
Then at me.
"You have grown," he admitted. "Better than I expected."
"You TRAINED me," I shot back. Breathing hard. "What did you expect?"
"Fair point."
We clashed again. Blades meeting with sharp CLANGS that echoed through the chamber.
Neither of us giving ground. Neither of us backing down.
Luke—swift, precise, flowing like water.
Me—slower, stronger, inevitable like stone.
Two different styles. Two different fighters.
One duel that neither of us could afford to lose.
Broken
We clashed again.
And again.
And AGAIN.
But something was changing.
Luke wasn't slowing down. Wasn't tiring. Wasn't making mistakes.
I was.
My blocks came a fraction slower. My counters a beat too late. My footwork less certain.
Luke's blade found my arm. My leg. My shoulder.
Cuts accumulating. Blood flowing. Each wound burning with exhaustion and pain.
I swung at his head—
He ducked under it easily. Too easily.
Backbiter came up. Caught me across the ribs.
I stumbled back. Gasping.
Too fresh. He's too fresh. And I'm—
Exhausted. Wounded. Running on fumes and stubborn pride.
Luke pressed forward. Not giving me time to recover. Not giving me SPACE.
A flurry of strikes. Each one precise. Each one finding gaps in my defense.
I blocked three.
The fourth cut my thigh.
The fifth scored across my face.
The sixth—
My greatsword barely came up in time. The impact jarred my arms. Sent shockwaves through my broken ribs.
I couldn't keep this up.
Luke KNEW it.
"You're slowing down," he said. Not mocking. Just... observing. "You can't win this."
"Watch me," I gasped.
Swung with everything I had left.
Luke sidestepped. My blade hit nothing but air. The momentum carried me forward. Off-balance.
Backbiter came around.
SLAMMED into my side.
My Kavach flared—golden energy absorbing most of the impact. But even divine armor had limits.
Hit the ground hard. Rolled. Tried to get up.
Luke's blade came down.
I blocked desperately. The force drove me to one knee.
"Stay DOWN," Luke commanded.
I didn't.
Pushed up. Swung wildly.
He blocked it casually. Riposted. His blade found my shoulder.
Blood. More blood. Too much blood.
My armor flickered. Struggling to maintain itself. Damaged. Weakened. FAILING.
Then I heard Luke's voice.
"James. Andrea. Leo. Help me finish this."
Three of the them stepped forward. Weapons ready. Fresh. Undamaged.
Four against one.
"That's not fair—" I started.
James's spear thrust at me. I twisted—
Andrea's dagger came from the side. Sliced across my arm.
I spun to face her—
Leo's fist caught me in the kidney. The blow DROVE the air from my lungs.
I stumbled. Tried to recover.
Luke's blade was already there. Cutting across my back.
My Kavach absorbed it. Barely. The armor flickered dangerously.
Four of them. Attacking from all sides. Coordinated. Relentless.
I couldn't defend against all of them.
James's spear caught my leg. My Kavach flared. Held. But the impact still HURT.
Andrea's charm-speak: "Drop your weapon. You're too tired. Just give UP—"
I resisted. Barely. Divine Adaptation fighting it.
But I was EXHAUSTED.
Leo came in low. Sweep kick.
My legs went out from under me.
Hit the ground. HARD.
Tried to roll. Tried to get up.
Luke's boot caught me in the ribs.
CRACK.
Even through Kavach, I FELT it. Pain exploding through my chest.
James's spear slammed down. I blocked with my sword—
Andrea kicked the blade from my grip.
It skittered across the floor. Out of reach.
NO.
I tried to crawl toward it.
Leo kicked me in the face. My head snapped back. Blood. Broken nose. Vision swimming.
I rolled onto my back. Stared up at them.
At four demigods standing over me. Weapons ready. Victory in their eyes.
My Kavach flickered. Weakening. Failing.
"Your armor's the only reason you're still ALIVE," Luke said quietly, looking down at me. "Do you understand that? Without it, you'd be dead ten times over."
James grinned. "Let's see how much more it can take."
He raised his spear.
Brought it DOWN.
Straight at my chest.
My Kavach FLARED. Golden light exploding outward. Deflecting the strike.
But the armor cracked. Visible fracture lines spreading across the golden surface.
Andrea's dagger came next. Stabbing down at my throat.
Kavach deflected it. Barely.
More cracks.
Leo stomped on my arm. Kavach absorbed it.
More cracks spreading.
Luke raised Backbiter. "This ends now."
Brought it down.
My armor caught it. Held.
But the cracks were EVERYWHERE now. The golden surface spider-webbed with damage. Barely holding together.
They raised their weapons again. All four of them.
Ready to strike as one. Ready to break through. Ready to END this.
I stared up at them.
At Luke's conflicted face.
At the others' eager expressions.
At death coming in four strikes.
And I knew.
I couldn't win this fight with a sword.
Not like this. Not outnumbered. Not exhausted.
But I still had one weapon they'd forgotten about.
One weapon they hadn't seen yet.
One weapon that didn't require me to stand. Or move. Or even GET UP.
I let my armor fade.
And manifested the Dhanush.
No More Mercy
Six feet of pure golden fire. The divine bow of fire.
And I was lying on my back. Beaten. Broken. Blood everywhere.
But I could still AIM.
Luke raised Backbiter high. Ready to bring it down. Ready to finish this.
"Die—" he started.
Too late.
Three arrows self-formed on the string. Pure sun-fire condensed into death.
All at once.
I drew back.
Released.
The arrows SCREAMED across the chamber.
One at Luke's throat.
One at James's chest.
One at Leo's head.
"LUKE!" Ethan's shout.
He DOVE. Crashed into Luke. Knocked him sideways.
The arrow meant for Luke's throat missed by an INCH. Screamed past his head and hit the wall behind him.
BOOM.
The wall exploded. The wall detonating from the impact.
But the other two arrows—
James tried to block with his spear.
The arrow went THROUGH the spear shaft. Shattered it. Kept going.
Punched through his chest. Through his heart. Out his back.
He staggered. Looked down at the burning hole where his heart used to be.
The sun-fire spread through his body like molten veins. His entire chest cavity lit up from within.
He collapsed. Blood gurgling from mouth. Unable to say anyhting. Just Burning.
Leo tried to dodge.
Almost made it.
The arrow caught him in the temple. Punched through his skull. Out the other side.
He dropped instantly. Dead before he hit the ground.
His body hit the floor. The arrow kept going. Slammed into the wall behind him.
BOOM.
Another explosion. More fire. More chaos.
Andrea screamed. Started running.
I was already nocking another arrow. This one just for her.
She looked back. Saw the arrow aimed at her heart.
"NO—"
Released.
The arrow took her between the shoulder blades. Burst through her chest in a spray of blood and fire.
She fell forward. Hit the ground face-first.
The sun-fire spread through her body. Consuming her from within.
All three of them. Burning. Dying. Dead.
And the arrows that had passed through them—James's and Andrea's—hit the back wall.
BOOM. BOOM.
Massive explosions. The entire back section of the chamber erupted in flame.
Stone. Fire. Rubble. CHAOS.
"RETREAT!" Luke shouted, hauling Ethan to his feet. "FALL BACK NOW!"
Melody was already running, tears streaming down her face. Marcus right behind her. Ethan stumbling after them.
They scattered into the smoke. Into the burning wreckage.
Gone.
I lay there on the ground. Dhanush fading from my hands. Four arrows fired.
Three bodies burning in front of me.
Luke's voice echoing from somewhere ahead: "Get to C-Block! Towards the Exit!"
Then silence.
Just me. The fires. The dead.
And the dragon's screams getting LOUDER.
I pushed myself up. Every muscle screaming. Every bone aching. Blood everywhere.
My Kavach was spider-webbed with cracks. Barely holding together.
But I was alive.
The dragon was still screaming.
I let the Dhanush fade completely. Grabbed my greatsword back.
Started moving toward D-Block.
Toward the dragon.
Behind me, James, Leo, and Andrea's bodies finished burning.
Turned to ash.
Gone. Forever.