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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 325: Beach-side Visitor
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 16:15:50 +0000 UTC[Third Person PoV]
The next morning, Annabeth stepped out of her cabin with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t gotten much rest—her golden hair was slightly messy, and there were faint, dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night working on her latest magical project. Stretching her arms overhead, she spotted movement near Poseidon’s cabin and to her surprise, it was Lucian, casually walking away.
“Hey, Lucian! Catch!” Annabeth suddenly called out, her voice carrying across the distance. Without a second thought, she tossed the glowing core she had been holding toward him.
“Huh?” Lucian turned his head just in time for the golden-silver sphere to smack him squarely in the forehead. His eyes widened, and with a startled grunt, he toppled backward, landing flat on his back.
Annabeth gasped, immediately covering her mouth with both hands. “Ho-ho-ho… Lucian, I’m so sorry!” she stammered, her laughter spilling out between her words despite the guilty look on her face. “I thought you would catch that!”
Lucian groaned, rubbing his forehead with a wince as he pushed himself back up. “First of all… Ow!” he muttered, giving her a look of exaggerated betrayal.
Suppressing another laugh, Annabeth bent down and picked up the core that had rolled to the side. “I really am sorry,” she said again, though her grin betrayed her. “I swear I thought you’d catch it. Anyway…” she tilted her head, eyeing him curiously, “what were you doing coming out of Poseidon’s cabin?”
Lucian dusted himself off, shaking his head. “I was checking to see if Percy really snuck out last night. Sure enough, he did. Took Clarisse and Tyson with him too.”
Annabeth frowned, crossing her arms. “That was incredibly stupid of him…”
“Actually, no,” Lucian said, surprising her with his tone. “It was clever—smarter than I expected. He needed a boat, but instead of asking Chiron, he went to the dryads. He knew how much they cared for Grover and used their sympathy to convince them. With their magic, manipulating wood, they built a sturdy ship in just a few hours.” His eyes glimmered with approval. “I’ve got to hand it to him, his problem-solving was… impressive.”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Dryads? What do they know about shipbuilding?”
“They don’t,” Lucian replied with a smirk. “But Tyson and the water nymphs… well, let’s just say they handled the rest.” He didn’t need to explain further—Annabeth understood.
“Ahh… right.” She nodded slowly, though concern lingered in her stormy gray eyes. “So, care to fill me in on the rest? Why exactly does Percy need a ship?”
With a sigh, Lucian walked over to the steps of his cabin and sat down. He gestured for her to join him as he explained everything: the locator spell, the Sea of Monsters, and the quest that now lay before them. Annabeth listened carefully, her sharp mind piecing it together like a puzzle.
When he finally paused, Lucian’s gaze drifted back to the glowing sphere in her hands. “What about you?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Judging by the bump forming on my forehead, I’d say you’re finished building the Ward-Core—or Ward-Heart. Whichever sounds cooler.”
Annabeth smirked faintly and handed it back to him. “Yeah, here you go.”
Lucian turned the sphere over in his hands, admiring its intricate glow. The gold and silver runes shimmered faintly as if alive with energy. “Elemental resistance… physical and magical defenses… reflective counters, jinx and curse, dome layering, even repair functions.” He whistled softly. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Damn, how many enchantments did you stack on this thing?”
Annabeth arched a brow, looking both tired and annoyed. “Seriously? I spent all day yesterday enchanting that—nearly drowned myself in regeneration potions just to keep going—and all you can say is ‘not bad’?”
Lucian smirked and patted her head teasingly. “Alright, alright. Honestly, they’re pretty good for someone at your skill level. Not as good as mine, of course, but still impressive.”
Annabeth gave him a flat, unimpressed look.
Lucian laughed and held up his hands. “I’m kidding. This is actually really impressive work. Come on—let’s bury it so we can get moving.”
Reluctantly satisfied, Annabeth nodded, and together they walked toward the very center of camp. She extended her hand, and the ground beneath them responded. The dirt began to twist and spiral like a whirlpool, sand and mud circling downward. Lucian dropped the core inside, and it spun around the vortex before sinking into the earth, disappearing into the epicenter.
Annabeth crossed her arms and spoke the activation word in ancient Greek, her voice firm and commanding. The ground pulsed once, faintly glowing before settling again. Several campers nearby—particularly Hecate’s children—paused, their heads turning as they sensed the sudden magical disturbance. Murmurs spread across the field, but Annabeth and Lucian ignored them.
“Just pack up and bring Thalia with you,” Lucian instructed, his tone calm but firm. “I’ll be waiting at the beach.”
Annabeth nodded and turned back toward her cabin, already planning their next move. Lucian, meanwhile, walked steadily toward the shoreline.
When he reached the sand, he stopped and simply stood there. The salty breeze brushed against his skin as the sunlight warmed his face. He closed his eyes, letting the crash of waves fill his ears, the tang of saltwater in the air surrounding him. After all he didn't need to he a son of Poseidon to admire the sea.
Slowly, Lucian opened his eyes, his red irises catching the sunlight as he exhaled a long breath. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“And here I was just wondering whether you were going to show up or not.”
“You were expecting me?” came a voice behind him.
Lucian didn’t turn—he didn’t need to. The sound of measured footsteps on sand reached his ears, each step carrying a weight of divine presence. A man with short, messy brown hair walked into view. In his hand, he held a polished staff crowned with two coiling serpents.
Lucian finally tilted his head, smirking knowingly. “Eh, I figured after the ass beating I gave Luke in your place, you’d want to get into contact with me one way or another.”
The newcomer’s lips twitched with irritation, though he kept his voice level. “You mean when you tortured him in front of the entire camp.” His tone was sharp, but restrained.
Lucian’s grin widened. “Ahhh~ I still get such a rush of dopamine whenever I remember the sound of his screams.” He shuddered theatrically, wrapping his arms around himself as though embracing the memory.
Hermes’ frown deepened, his grip tightening around his staff. “You do realize that’s my son you’re talking about. Have some respect…” His eyes flickered with disappointment and discomfort. ‘Why are all of Hades’ children so damn weird?’
“Respect?” Lucian suddenly burst into laughter, his voice booming across the shoreline. “Hahahaha! Are you worthy of it?” He finally turned his full gaze on Hermes, a challenge blazing in his crimson eyes.
Hermes’ expression darkened. “What?” His voice dropped, carrying a dangerous undertone. “I am considered one of the more patient Olympians, boy. But even gods have limits, and one thing I do not tolerate is disrespect.”
Lucian’s smirk fell, replaced by a hard glare. “You aren’t the only one with limited patience,” he said coldly. “You speak of respect, yet you come here expecting me to honor you as if you’ve earned it. But you haven’t. Luke destroyed whatever shred of respect I had for you. As you said—he’s your son. And look at him. Look at what he’s become. You failed him, Hermes. Miserably. He’s your responsibility, your shame, your disgrace. And you dare demand respect from me, when you couldn’t even earn it from your own child?”
Hermes’ jaw clenched, golden sparks flickering at the corners of his eyes. The serpents on his staff hissed softly, as if feeding off his growing wrath. “Lucian… I understand that Hades is your father, and perhaps that gives you a sense of security. But do not fool yourself. He cannot protect you from the wrath of an Olympian god.” His words cut like thunder, divine power weighing down on the air around them. He normally wasn't one to give threats but Lucian really had a special skill of getting under people's skin.
Lucian didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, his voice rising, fiery with conviction. “Do you think I fear your wrath? Do you think I run to my father for protection?” His gauntlet tightened into a fist as his aura began to flare, unsettling the sand at his feet. “It is not I who needs protection from you. It is you who needs protection from me! For my wrath is one that can make even gods tremble in fear!”
The sea behind him roared as if echoing his words, waves crashing harder against the shore. His crimson eyes burned with a dangerous light. “In my eyes, you are just as guilty as Luke. He is your disgrace to bear, his sins are your sin to shoulder. And his sins…” Lucian’s lip curled. “Are many.”
Hermes’ control finally slipped. His eyes flared golden, bolts of divine energy sparking around him. With a single motion, he raised his staff and leveled it at Lucian. His voice thundered with Olympian authority, reverberating through the earth itself.
“You are a weak child. You are nothing but a dying corpse wearing mortal flesh! What gives you the right to measure the sins of a god!? Know your place! You are insignificant! I could strike you down where you stand with the flick of a finger.”
The air crackled with raw power, sand whipping up into a frenzy around them.
Lucian’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. For a moment he closed his eyes, drawing in a long, steadying breath. His voice was calm, almost casual. “Tell me, Hermes… do you know what time it is?”
Hermes blinked, momentarily thrown off. His brows furrowed. “What?”
Lucian slowly raised his finger toward the sky. As he did, he opened his crimson irises shifted, glowing a dim gold, and his entire demeanor shifted—serene, detached, terrifyingly certain. His skin began to change, pale tones darkened, intricate red markings made themselves present, dark veins crawling along his body like a living curse. His armor dissolved into shadow and dust, leaving his bare chest and torso exposed, covered in sigils that pulsed faintly with red light. The only thing that remained was the metal gauntlet, gleaming in the sunlight.
His lips curled into a confident smirk as his voice deepened. “It is high noon.”
From behind him, wings of radiant golden light burst forth, unfurling with a thunderous clap. They spread wide, their brilliance drowning the beach in an overwhelming glow.
“You say I am weak… and Who decided that?” Lucian’s voice boomed with arrogant finality. “You say I'm a dying corpse wearing mortal flesh… and Who decided that?”
He stepped forward, each movement making the sand quake, his wings casting a holy shadow over Hermes himself.
“I am the demigod that stands at the pinnacle of all that is divine,” he declared, his tone sharp as judgment. His gaze bore into Hermes like fire. “You want to know what gives me the right to determine your sins?” He lifted his chin, pointing once more to the blazing sun above them.
“The answer is simple…” His golden eyes narrowed, his wings flaring to their full span. “All you have to do is look up.”
Comments
firerock laser
Agreed
Ugly
If you want to copy Escanor, use my favorite quote: “Apologize to me, for being born into the same world as I”
Rogue_Eagle99
Considering all that Luke’s done here (more then the books) I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone hates Hermes for asking people to show Luke mercy
