Percy Jackson walked into Camp Half-Blood, his backpack and sword slung over his shoulder. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he made his way down the narrow path, his eyes scanning the forest for any sign of danger. He was a son of Thanatos, the god of death, and the other demigods at the camp feared and respected him. He was powerful, and no one dared to cross him.
But Percy had a secret. He possessed a system that allowed him to control the world around him, making people fall in love with him and manipulating the fabric of reality. It was a power he had been grappling with ever since he discovered it. He was ruthless by nature, but deep down he knew that using his power in this way would have consequences. He thought about the time he had used his system to make a young girl fall in love with him, and how she had later been killed in a monster attack. He knew it was his fault, but he couldn't help himself. The power was too tempting.
As Percy walked, he overheard the other demigods talking about him. They whispered about his power, about how he was capable of anything. He tried to ignore them, but their words pierced his heart. He knew he was different, and it was a burden that he carried every day. He wished more than anything that he could be like the other demigods, that he could live a normal life. But he knew that was impossible. He was a son of Thanatos, and he was forever bound to the darkness.
Suddenly, Percy felt a cold, familiar chill running through him. It was a warning, a signal that danger was near. His instincts kicked in, and he whirled around, sword drawn, just in time to see a group of harpies descending upon him. The harpies were vicious creatures, with razor-sharp talons and beaks, and they were known to hunt demigods for sport.
Percy didn't hesitate. He charged at the harpies, his sword flashing in the sunlight. They screeched and flapped their wings in fear, but he was too fast. He cut through their feathers with ease, and before they knew what hit them, they were falling to the ground with deadly wounds.
As the last harpy lay