Shadow_D_Monarch3
patreon
Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 331: The Princess Andromeda (3)
🕑 Added 2025-09-02 13:44:42 +0000 UTC[Third Person POV]
“You seem to know the Black One quite well,” Lucian hissed as he slithered in a slow circle, his grin widening with every word, “I can’t help but wonder… just how well you know him. Your relationship with him intrigues me.”
Luke scoffed loudly, his expression twisting into disgust. “What relationship? There is no relationship between us besides hate.” His voice dripped with venom as he leaned back in his chair. “He appeared out of nowhere with that obsessed little weirdo clinging to his side, acting like he was the chosen one—like he was in charge. As if he knew better than the rest of us.”
Annabeth’s jaw tightened at the insult, her face twitching involuntarily. She knew without a doubt Luke was referring to her, but she kept her disguise firm, refusing to rise to the bait. Thalia, however, had to exhale through her nose to stifle the laugh threatening to burst out at the sheer irony of it all.
“Mmhm,” Annabeth hummed, her voice sly, “but from what I heard, you wouldn’t have survived without him. Wasn’t it because of him that you even made it to camp? From what I’ve been hearing, it was… quite the spectacle.” She slithered casually between the two hairy, bear-like guards who towered on either side of Luke.
Luke’s lips curled, and for a heartbeat, his eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of doubt. Then he forced a scoff. “Oh please. If anything, we were in more danger because of him. Being a child of the Big Three—one of the forbidden ones—he was a beacon for every monster within a hundred miles. In fact…” He leaned forward, his tone hardening, “we would have had it easier if he wasn’t around at all.”
“I have a question,” Thalia cut in suddenly. She was enjoying this, the dangerous game of being undercover, blending in with enemies who had no idea who was standing in front of them. “If you don’t mind answering, that is.”
Luke narrowed his eyes but gestured for her to continue.
“From the whispers floating around,” Thalia said, tilting her head as if in curiosity, “you and the daughter of the Sky God were… close. You knew her even before the Black One came into the picture. So tell me, Luke…” her eyes bored into his, “would you be able to do it? Would you be able to strike her down when the time came?”
Before she could blink, Luke was on his feet. His hand lashed out with inhuman speed, clamping around her throat. He lifted her off the ground slightly, his grip iron and merciless. His eyes glowed faintly, charged with barely restrained power.
“What are you insinuating?” he asked coldly, his voice a growl that vibrated in his chest. His fingers dug harder into her neck as his teeth clenched. “Are you questioning my loyalty to the cause? You have no idea what I’m willing to do… no idea what I’m willing to go through…” His tone cracked into something feral, half-rage, half-desperation.
But then his eyes narrowed. His grip loosened ever so slightly as he studied her more closely. Something about her gaze—those unmistakable, electric blue eyes—sent a jolt through him. He tilted his head, suspicion dawning.
“…Thalia?”
Thalia grinned, letting her disguise melt away like smoke in the wind. Her true form snapped back into place, her eyes sparking with defiance. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered darkly, “my boyfriend can be a bit… overprotective.”
“Blerghhh!!”
Blood exploded from Luke’s mouth, spraying warm and wet across Thalia’s cheek. His grip instantly faltered as shock stole the strength from his limbs.
He staggered, looking down in horror. A black gauntlet jutted through his abdomen, the steel dripping red with his own blood.
Luke’s expression twisted into fury as he turned his head slowly, his teeth grinding together. Behind him, Lucian’s silhouette shimmered as his transformation receded, revealing him in full armor. His helm slid back, unveiling a cruel grin stretched across his face.
“Hello, Luke~” Lucian’s voice was sing-song and venomous all at once. “I heard you were enjoying yourself on your little cruise. And you know me…” He leaned closer, twisting the gauntlet for emphasis before yanking it free, blood splattering across the floor. “…I just can’t let you experience even an ounce of happiness.”
Lucian raised the gauntlet to his mouth and licked the blood from the blackened steel, his tongue dragging across it with relish. His eyes burned crimson.
“Lucian…” Luke snarled through clenched teeth, his whole body trembling with rage as he clutched his bleeding stomach. His voice was guttural, laced with pure hatred.
The twin man-bears, Oreius and Agrius, reacted instantly. Panic shot across their brutish faces as they stumbled into battle stances, spears snapping forward.
Annabeth, however, didn’t even spare them a glance. Calmly, she undid her transformation, her true self reemerging. Her eyes were sharp, commanding.
“Nox. Lucerna.”
Her words were a command, and the air answered.
A burst of devouring darkness and a flare of radiant light erupted simultaneously on either side of the bear twins. Out of the shadows and brilliance, two figures materialized mid-motion, their legs already bent for impact.
They struck as one. Their feet collided with Oreius and Agrius’s jaws, sending the enormous twins tumbling backwards across the deck with bone-rattling force.
When the dust settled, both stood tall behind Annabeth like twin sentinels—Nox with his hands buried lazily in his pockets, and Lucerna with her chin raised proudly toward the heavens.
“Deal with them,” Annabeth ordered, her tone brooking no argument.
“As the Great Mother commands,” they intoned in perfect unison. Without hesitation, they strode forward with purpose.
Annabeth’s voice slipped through the psychic link towards Lucian as she asked. “Do you want me to…? I know he gets stronger with more blood around.”
Lucian smirked, crimson light flickering in his eyes as he stopped licking Luke’s blood from his gauntlet. “Do it. Despair tastes sweeter when someone is fighting with all their might and knows they have no chance at victory.”
The corner of Annabeth’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. Her voice rang out across the deck with commanding sharpness:
“Nebula—send the civilians inside. Aerarius—just the wings.”
The mist stirred as if answering her directly, curling up from the cracks between the deck planks, thickening, shaping. The haze pulsed and converged, forming into shifting silhouettes—men, women, children, faces both familiar and forgotten. Nebula’s illusion spread outward, blanketing the ship in a reality only the civilians could see.
For the enchanted mortals, the skies suddenly blackened. Clouds boiled overhead, spilling sheets of rain while thunder cracked loud enough to rattle their bones. Screams filled the air as they scurried toward the safety of the cabins, fleeing from a storm that did not exist.
In truth, the deck remained dry, starlight untouched by clouds. Only the monsters remained.
At the same time, golden-bronze wings unfurled from Annabeth’s back with a metallic shriek. Each feather trembled violently as though alive, humming with restrained energy. Then, one by one, they ripped free, tearing themselves from her wings in a torrent. Her once-proud wings were left bare, skeletal, stripped raw—while hundreds of razor-feathers hovered in a storm around her, each one glinting with lethal brilliance.
Luke staggered back, clutching his bleeding stomach as the whirling cyclone of feathers filled the air, the storm reflecting in his furious, pain-glazed eyes.
The monsters tried to retaliate.
A pack of Scythian dracaenae hissed, their serpentine lower bodies coiling as they swung curved blades desperately at the incoming storm. Some managed to deflect a feather or two, sparks screaming against bronze—but the sheer volume overwhelmed them. Feathers sliced into their scaled arms, carving through flesh and bone, before driving straight into their skulls with wet, sickening cracks.
The giants roared and hurled cannonballs, massive iron spheres that would have crushed men like ants. But the bronze feathers met them midair, shattering the iron into shards as if it were brittle clay. The storm pressed on, feathers piercing thick hides and muscled chests, sinking into hearts. The giants dropped to their knees, eyes wide in disbelief, before collapsing into pools of blood.
The deck became a slaughterhouse. Rivers of red ran between the wooden planks. Bodies crumpled where they stood, the air stinking of iron and death.
Annabeth, wings bare and proud, lowered her hand. The storm of feathers slowed, hovering like a crown of blades awaiting her next command.
“Now then…” Lucian’s voice purred, rising above the carnage. He spread his arms mockingly, stepping over corpses without a shred of care. His grin widened, cruel and radiant. “You can’t say I didn’t give you a fighting chance. Shall we go ahead and commence round two?”
But before he could strike again, a familiar voice cut in.
“Actually, Lucian…” Thalia cracked her knuckles, lightning crackling faintly between her fingertips, her grin sharp as a blade. “Mind if I take this one? I’ve been meaning to have a little fun myself.”
Lucian turned his head toward her, crimson eyes studying her face in silence. For a moment the deck was filled only with the groans of dying monsters and the hiss of feathers dripping blood onto the floor.
Then Lucian chuckled, low and dangerous. His smirk returned, curling wider than before. “Sure…” He stepped back with a flourish, his gauntlet dripping red. “Just make sure I can hear him scream.”
Comments
Bryan Vargas
I feel like their blood should remain but their bodies turned to dust, I just didn't write about the monsters turning to dust you can just imagine it since you know that's what would happened when you slay a monster
Vrati
Why aren’t the monsters turn to dust? Shouldn’t their bodies and blood gone when hurt by celestial bronze?
Matt Holmes
Thanks for the chapter
