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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 318: Symbol of Strength
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 12:53:27 +0000 UTC[Third Person POV]
“It also means Percy’s your big brother, since his father is also Poseidon,” Lucian said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leaned toward Tyson slightly, his hand half-covering his mouth like he was letting him in on a secret.
“Seriously?!” Tyson shouted, his whole face lighting up like a child on their birthday. A massive grin stretched across his features as his one large eye grew wide with wonder and joy.
He spun around to face Percy and yelled, “Percy! Is it true?! Are you really my brother?!”
Percy flinched slightly under the weight of Tyson’s sudden enthusiasm. He could feel dozens of eyes shifting toward him, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks beginning to redden.
“I mean…” Percy muttered, half-heartedly. “We do have the same father… so I guess that technically makes us brothers.”
“YIPEEE!!” Tyson let out a squeal of uncontainable happiness as he launched himself at Percy, wrapping his massive arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. Percy let out a grunt, his arms flailing for a moment.
Lucian chuckled at the sight—Percy, completely mortified, trapped in the clutches of his overly excited Cyclops half-brother, while Tyson bounced up and down like an overgrown child.
Annabeth quickly glided toward Lucian, her face tense with worry. Her eyes scanned him over from head to toe.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice full of concern as she took in his pale skin and weary stance.
“Who, me?” Lucian replied, attempting a grin. “I'm the picture of perfect health—blergh—” A violent spray of blood erupted from his mouth, staining his chin and dripping down his armor.
Annabeth's eyes widened in horror, and tears welled up as she reached toward him. “I really hate seeing you like this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please tell me you have a plan. Please tell me you weren’t just being reckless out there.”
Lucian gave a tired sigh and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I do have a plan. Just... not one I can explain right now. I’ll tell you later. But for now, we still have work to do.”
“Lucian! What the hell are you planning to do with these weird-ass fucking monsters? Why aren’t you killing them?!” Clarisse’s voice rang out sharply, her tone aggressive. She was being blocked by a line of Lucian’s shadow soldiers, who stood between her and a group of unfamiliar, grotesque creatures.
“What even are these things?” Charles, the son of Hephaestus, asked, panting as he approached with a massive war hammer slung across his back. His face was smeared with grime and blood, his arms nicked and cut from the earlier battle. He looked shaken, but he was still standing strong.
Lucian turned to them, his expression hard but honest. “These aren’t just monsters. They were people once. People like us. Luke did this to them. He twisted them and turned them into these things. I think… I hope… I might be able to cure them.”
The demigods collectively stared in stunned silence.
“What?!”
“You’re kidding…”
“These are actually people?!”
“I think I’m going to throw up…”
“Luke’s officially lost his mind.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Thalia asked, stepping up beside Charles, her voice laced with skepticism. “Can they even be cured?”
“Not to sound insensitive,” Markus added, his brow furrowed with concern as he glanced at Lucian’s bleeding mouth and pale features, “but are you sure this is the time to worry about them? You look like you’re about to collapse. Why don't you focus on yourself first?”
“You're all asking too many questions at once,” Lucian sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “One thing at a time, please.”
A soft, calming warmth spread through the air as Hestia appeared beside him, her presence soothing like a hearth on a winter night. She looked around at the group with a subtle frown of reproach.
“What Lucian needs right now is rest, not a barrage of questions,” she said gently but firmly.
Lucian gave a small shake of his head and let out another exhausted breath. “I’m afraid I can’t rest either. Not yet. There’s still too much to do.”
“What? But Lucian—” several voices began to protest in unison, but Lucian raised a hand and stepped forward, commanding the attention of everyone present—demigods and wounded warriors alike.
“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly. “I know what all of you just went through. It was brutal. It was traumatizing. And I know you need time to breathe, to grieve. But we don’t have that luxury right now. We need to gather the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters. We need to count the dead. We need to honor them. And then… we need to rebuild. We cannot let this place fall apart.”
Thalia and Annabeth exchanged glances. They sighed, their expressions softening as they watched him.
Despite everything—his terrifying power, his earlier action, and his brutality, Lucian had long since earned something no one could deny.
Respect.
And in that moment, even if they were still terrified of him, they were willing to follow him
“Apollo Cabin,” Lucian called out, his voice steady despite the weariness clinging to his bones. He pointed directly toward their cabin head, his tone brooking no argument. “I need you to start tending to the wounded. Prioritize the ones in critical condition—anyone who needs immediate medical attention gets it first. Work quickly, but carefully.”
The head of the Apollo Cabin gave a sharp nod and immediately began issuing instructions to their siblings.
“Hephaestus and Athena Cabins,” Lucian continued, turning toward the others, “I want you both to survey the damage done to the camp structures. Start taking notes—what can be salvaged, what has to be rebuilt from scratch, what supplies we’ll need. I want a full report by nightfall.”
The cabin heads exchanged a quick glance, nodded, and split off to begin the assessment with grim efficiency.
“Nico, Bianca—take the Dionysus twins with you and begin preparing the funeral rites. The fallen need to be honored. They fought bravely, and they deserve a proper farewell.”
Nico’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded. Bianca placed a gentle hand on her brother’s shoulder before they turned to gather the necessary materials.
Lucian’s tone shifted again, now sharp and commanding. “Ares Cabin—you’ll be on perimeter duty. Surround the camp and keep your weapons ready. This might be the perfect opportunity for another wave of monsters to strike, we can't let our guard down just because a battle has been won.”
The Ares Cabin roared in response, banging weapons together as they quickly formed up and began marching out to the outer edges of the camp.
“As for the rest of you,” Lucian said, sweeping his gaze across the demigods still gathered, some looking lost, others anxious, a few steeling themselves with resolve, “your job is simple: help clean up the battlefield. Gather remains—monster and otherwise. Burn what needs burning. Salvage what you can. I know it’s unpleasant. I know it’s hard. But every one of us has a part to play.”
His voice grew firmer, louder. “We will recover from this. It’s not a question of if—only when. And the sooner we start, the sooner we heal.”
There was a heavy silence, followed by quiet nods of agreement and the shuffling of feet as campers began moving into action.
“Ughhh… I really don’t want to touch any of the dead,” one of the Aphrodite Cabin members whispered to their sibling, looking faint and queasy. “That’s so gross. And the monster guts? Gods, no thank you.”
Lucian turned his head, having caught the words even among the growing noise. His expression didn’t harden, but his voice carried clear authority as he addressed them.
“Then don’t,” he said plainly. “Instead, gather the younger children—the ones who aren’t fighters. They’re probably terrified, confused. Stay with them. Reassure them. Help them understand that the danger has passed. Let them feel safe again.”
The Aphrodite camper blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded, grateful for the task. “Now that, I can do,” they murmured, placing a hand over their heart and moving to gather the frightened younger campers.
Hestia, who had remained quiet as the demigods dispersed, stood at the edge of the clearing watching Lucian’s back. The warm light from her hearth flickered faintly in the air around her as her soft gaze followed the boy.
Even with blood on his face and barely enough strength to stay upright, Lucian’s presence hadn’t wavered. His voice had not cracked. His shoulders had not dropped. In this moment, he was more than just another demigod—he was a symbol. A rallying point. A pillar of strength while everyone else was still trying to piece themselves back together.
A small, proud smile tugged at her lips.
‘Hades… I know you must be incredibly proud of that boy. I know I am,’ Hestia thought, closing her eyes covertly.
Comments
Matt Holmes
Thanks for the chapter
Alexander Pearce
Damn badass
