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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 326: A God and Father
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 15:12:30 +0000 UTC[Third Person POV]
Lucian summoned a blade of radiant light into existence, the luminous sword humming with restrained power as he lifted it up beside his eyes, angling the glowing edge directly toward Hermes. The blade pulsed faintly, casting sharp glimmers across his face.
Hermes, by contrast, looked almost casual, though his hands tightened ever so slightly around the staff he carried. Divine energy danced along its length, arcs of silver-white crackling off the weapon and scorching the ground beneath his feet. The oppressive weight of that power made the very air waver and tremble, as though reality itself was bending beneath the pressure of a god’s presence.
Both warriors advanced in perfect synchrony, each taking a single, deliberate step forward before swinging their weapons. But just as their blows were about to connect, a thunderous roar tore through the sky. Lightning split the heavens, blinding in its brilliance, followed by the deafening crash of thunder that rattled the battlefield.
From the heart of that storm, Thalia appeared—an unbridled spark of living electricity. Her arrival was instantaneous, her body shimmering with bolts of wild lightning as she materialized directly between the two combatants.
Lucian’s sword met the steel of her shield in a clash that exploded into a blinding shockwave, a burst of raw light ripping across the field. At the same moment, her spear whipped around in a blur, knocking Hermes’ staff wide and sending a spray of sand and dust scattering into the air.
Her eyes blazed with crackling energy, arcs of lightning snapping along the edges of her irises as she turned that piercing glare onto both men. Her voice rang sharp. “What do you two think you’re doing?”
Lucian’s grip on his weapon tightened, his gaze narrowing. “Don’t stand in my way.” His tone was cold, almost a warning.
Without hesitation, Thalia thrust her shield forward, the sheer force of her swing pushing Lucian back. Before he could regain balance, she followed through with a brutal strike across his face, the rim of her shield connecting with a resounding crack. Lucian staggered, blood smearing his lip as he lifted his head again, fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“Thalia—” he began, his voice low, dangerous, the kind of voice that carried an unspoken threat. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
But Thalia cut him off before he could say more. Her words were stern, edged with disappointment. “You see? The old you wouldn’t have even flinched at that, much less been struck. You’re nowhere near your best, Lucian. You’re in no condition to fight—certainly not gods. Stop this nonsense before you force me to babysit you.”
She turned then, her electric glare shifting to Hermes with equal weight. “And you—why are you here, Lord Hermes? Surely you of all gods would have had the foresight to know what kind of reaction your presence would spark.”
Hermes’ expression twitched, the faintest grimace slipping past his composure. “I came seeking a peaceful discussion with that brat. But he has shown me nothing but disrespect.”
Thalia blinked at him, her face unreadable. Then she scoffed. “Are you serious? This is Lucian we’re talking about. What else did you expect?”
Hermes bristled, his tone sharpening.
“That does not excuse him. He has no respect for the gods whatsoever.” His eyes slid shut, the divine energy flaring around him ebbing slightly as though he was forcing himself back into control.
Thalia shook her head, lowering her spear and shield. “No one’s excusing him. His words are reckless, and yes, he’s wrong. But honestly, it’s foolish of you to expect anything else from him. You should know better by now.”
Lucian scowled, interjecting flatly. “I’m standing right here.”
Hermes let out a sharp exhale, muttering under his breath. “I can see that.” His tone carried a mix of irritation and disappointment.
Thalia didn’t let up, stepping forward once more. “You still haven’t answered me. Why are you here, Lord Hermes? What did you truly hope to accomplish by approaching Lucian?”
For a moment, the god of messengers only sighed, shaking his head as though weighed down by frustration. “Forget it. I see now this was a waste of time.”
Lucian’s lips curled into a mocking smile, his words dripping with venom as he spoke.
“He wants me to forgive and rescue Luke. Isn’t that right, Lord Hermes?” He drew out the title with deliberate scorn.
Hermes’ jaw clenched, his fist tightening at his side. His words came through gritted teeth. “That’s right. I did.”
Then his gaze shifted, his eyes finding Thalia’s. His divine aura seemed to soften, though his expression remained heavy.
“Was he not your best friend? Did you not survive everything together—through danger, through hardship, side by side? Did you not journey together and fight your way to Camp Half-Blood?”
Thalia closed her eyes, her chest rising with a long, weary sigh. For a moment, the storm around her seemed to quiet, the crackle of electricity fading into a low hum. “He… was…” she began softly, her voice cracking under the weight of memory. Slowly, she opened her eyes, their blue depths hardening with resolve as she continued.
“But you speak as if I’m the one who changed overnight, as if I abandoned him without thought. I didn’t. I thought the world of Luke. I wouldn’t even be standing here today if it weren’t for him. I doubt I would’ve survived those first days, that first journey, without his strength by my side. But…” Her voice grew firmer, her expression hardening with each word.
“…that doesn’t mean I am a slave to my gratitude.”
The sharpness in her tone left no room for argument. Sparks of lightning danced across her arms as her conviction took shape, her words carrying the weight of old scars and bitter truths.
“Yes, I believed in him, in some of the things he once said—I won’t deny that. But what I cannot and will not accept is the path he’s chosen. The Luke I knew is gone. What stands in his place is someone I can’t even recognize anymore. He is not the same boy I once fought beside, not the brother-in-arms I trusted.”
Hermes stepped forward, his composure fraying as desperation bled into his tone.
“That is exactly it!” he exclaimed, his voice almost breaking, trembling with urgency. “Luke isn’t being himself. He’s lost—he needs help! He needs someone to remind him of who he used to be, to show him that what he’s doing is wrong.”
His eyes darted between them, wide and frantic, before he pressed a hand firmly over his chest. His next words fell with the weight of a plea. “I would do it myself—gods know I would—but he despises me. He won’t hear my voice. He refuses to see me as anything but a failure of a father. But you…” His gaze locked on Thalia, raw and imploring. “He will listen to you. To the people who once stood beside him, the ones he cared for. All you have to do is be patient with him… please.”
The silence that followed was deafening, filled only by the faint hiss of dissipating lightning and the thrum of divine power ebbing from Hermes’ staff.
Lucian and Thalia stared at him, their weapons lowered. In that moment, they no longer saw the messenger of Olympus—the swift and cunning god who had always seemed untouchably aloof. Instead, they saw a father stripped bare, desperate and inconsolable, begging not for himself but for his son.
And within them, two conflicting fires burned.
They pitied him—for all his power, reduced to nothing more than a grieving man willing to humble himself before mortals for the sake of his child. They pitied the futility of his struggle, the endless ache of watching his son spiral into something monstrous.
But along with pity came rage. Rage at Luke—for dragging his father to this pitiful state, for twisting a mother’s love and a father’s devotion into chains that bound them with grief. Rage for the cruelty of forcing the ones who loved him most to witness his self-destruction, powerless to stop it.
It takes a special kind of cruelty, Lucian thought, to break a father so completely that he must beg others to save him from himself.
Comments
Bryan Vargas
Haven't read ragnorok so can't say
Ugly
Can Lucian transform his shadow soldiers like Sung Suho? It’d be cool if he turned the Susanoo (I refuse to call it Ainz Ooal Gown) into extra arms
XSilentX
If Lucian shows mercy, I will be truly dissapointed
Matt Holmes
Thanks for the chapter
