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Son of Hades (Percy Jackson) Chapter 209: Battle in the Camp (1)
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 17:28:42 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
Lucian stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, his fist clenched tightly as fury radiated from every fiber of his being. His body began to shimmer, his skin gradually shifting into a darker shade. “Thalia,” he growled, voice laced with power, “I leave it to you to put out the fire. Annabeth, Markus—you're with me.”
As he spoke, Lucian's hair began to rise with the energy crackling around him. His complexion darkened unnaturally, turning a beautiful tan, while his once-black hair drained of all color, turned an ethereal white.
He grabbed the collar of his shirt and tore it from his body with one swift motion. Crimson tattoos bled across his skin . The very air around him grew heavy.
His eyes snapped open—no longer red, but pure molten gold. His entire body radiated an otherworldly light, a fusion of scarlet and shimmering gold that danced across his form. “Aim to incapacitate. They may look like monsters now… but somewhere inside, they’re still human. There’s still a chance we can bring them back into the light.” he ordered, his tone and cadence shifting from commanding to arrogance.
Then, without warning, Lucian stepped forward—and in that instant, his form shattered into a thousand brilliant particles of light. The luminous fragments scattered and streaked through the air like a meteor shower, descending into the chaos below.
Annabeth didn’t hesitate. “Aerarius… it’s time to suit up,” she muttered, voice calm and resolute. Reaching beneath her shirt, she drew out a pendant shaped like a bronze owl. The owl’s once-closed eyes snapped open, glowing fiercely, before the pendant exploded into a stream of sentient liquid metal. The alloy surged around her, engulfing her body completely before solidifying into a radiant suit of Valkyrie armor. Bronze-gold wings unfurled from her back with a sharp metallic hiss, and in her hands, two curved short swords melted into existence. Her silver eyes glowed through the slits of her helm, sharp and fearless.
Markus stood beside her, silent as a shadow. He crossed his arms, and in a burst of black light, two sickles ignited in his palms. His tattoos disappeared into embers as he swung the blades together, sparks leaping from their collision.
Without a word, he and Annabeth launched into the sky, wings slicing through the air as they chased after Lucian’s glowing trail.
Meanwhile, Thalia remained rooted to the spot. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes, letting the chaos fall away as a tranquil aura of blue and green enveloped her body like a second skin.
Electric static licked her fingertips as she gently floated above the earth, weightless, serene. The wind responded to her call, swirling around her in growing intensity. Her leather jacket flared out behind her, snapping like a banner, and her shoulder-length hair whipped around her face.
Then her eyes snapped opened—twin oceans of pure electricity, crackling with arcing tendrils of lightning that escaped from the corners.
She raised her arms toward the sky, fingers spread wide as if conducting an orchestra of storms.
The wind howled.
With deliberate, precise motions, she began to rotate her hands, and the clouds overhead began to shift, dancing to her command.
They circled and twisted, forming a spiraling vortex—a colossal cyclone of white that coiled above the camp. The sun vanished behind the growing mass, plunging the battlefield into a dim, ominous twilight.
Bolts of lightning erupted from her palms, shooting into the center of the swirling clouds. The once-white canopy began to shift—first to gray, then to a brooding black. Thunder growled across the sky.
A single raindrop kissed Thalia’s cheek and slid slowly down her skin.
Then the heavens opened.
A torrential downpour crashed down with force, drenching the earth, quenching flames,
…
Initially, the demigods stood frozen in disbelief. Some were sprawled on the ground, dazed and bruised from the ongoing chaos. Others were mid-battle, blades drawn and breath ragged. Yet, all eyes turned skyward. Above them, an ominous storm churned with supernatural force—dark, thunderous clouds coiling. The light dimmed, casting eerie shadows across the battlefield.
Then a streak of bronze-gold flashed across the sky. Annabeth slammed down from above, flying gracefully above the charging mechanical bull. Her wings cut straight through the metal and down the mud in one clean, decisive motion. Sparks and fluid burst from its core as it crumpled in a heap before a wide-eyed demigod.
Annabeth land smoothly from the air, her silver eyes gleaming beneath her helm. “Don’t take your eyes off the enemy! Stay focused!” she barked, her voice sharp and commanding—shaking the dazed demigod from their stupor.
“A-Annabeth!!” the girl gasped, her voice cracking with disbelief. Hope surged in her chest like wildfire. “Then that means Thalia and Lucian are here too! We're saved!!”
Before the words could finish echoing, a black blur tore through the sky like a falling star. Markus descended with violent grace, targeting a grotesque, towering abomination—a writhing mass of limbs and bone, holding multiple demigods in its grotesque hands.
The creature brought one terrified demigod, clad in cracked Greek armor, up toward its open, fanged maw.
In an instant, Markus darted in. His wings sliced the rain, his eyes locked onto his target. With precise timing, he slashed through the monster’s arm with one sickle, severing the limb in a geyser of black blood. He caught the falling demigod with his free arm and twisted midair, landing them safely on the ground before taking off again in a single, fluid motion.
“%@$&@!!” the creature screamed—if it could be called a scream. It screeched in an inhuman language, a chorus of discordant sounds that tore through the minds of those who heard it.
Nearby demigods, particularly those of the Ares cabin, screamed and dropped their weapons, clutching their heads. Markus winced, his ears ringing as the sound scraped at the edge of his sanity. But he didn’t stop. He bit down on his lip, blood trickling down his chin, and launched himself upward with a beat of his wings.
He flew like with surgical precision, he slashed across the creature’s thick neck—cutting just deep enough to silence it. The beast choked, its cry cut short as blood sprayed from the ruined voice box. It staggered, disoriented, swiping wildly at the air.
But Markus was already gone.
Like a blur in the storm, he moved faster than the eye could follow, weaving through its flailing limbs. Each pass left the abomination more broken, more helpless. Limbs dropped to the earth in wet, sickening thuds. He danced in the rain, corkscrewing through the air like a scythe in flight, until finally—only a torso remained.
Then, with a thunderous roar and a final burst of speed, Markus folded his wings tight and slammed into the creature’s chest with all the force he could muster. The impact sent it hurtling backward, crashing into the earth with a seismic thud. Mud and rainwater exploded from the impact site in every direction, soaking the field.
Markus landed in the cratered earth, his boots sinking slightly into the wet ground. He let out a shaky breath, rain running down his brow as he lowered his sickles. “I got this,” he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but steadying with each word. “I totally got this…”
Behind him, one of the Ares demigods approached cautiously, his weapon still raised, eyes full of suspicion despite what he had just witnessed.
“You…” the boy said, breathing heavily. “Who are you? We’ve never seen you around camp before.”
Markus glanced over his shoulder, then turned fully to face him. He gave a half-laugh, rotating his sickles in his hands with a casual flair despite the adrenaline still pulsing through him.
“Huh? Oh… right,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You wouldn’t have. This is my first time stepping foot in camp.”
The son of Ares tensed slightly, still unsure.
“As for who I am…” Markus’ smirk grew wider as he raised his blades and rested them across his shoulders. His eyes gleamed with pride and mischief.
“You can call me Markus. And I’m Lucian’s lieutenant”
