Prologue

Reborn as Perseus Achilles Jackson was not my retirement dream, or something I remotely wished for by any imaginable means. Who would wish themselves the burden of being the protagonist of a series of fantastic fiction books where their lives would be at risk just by existing? Fighting mythical monsters that ate their unlucky demigod brothers for breakfast, interacting with disgruntled and lazy gods who couldn't keep their pants tight, and stopping the great evil on the horizon were many things I was increasingly certain would be my death.

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The sound of the alarm clock woke me with a slight start, my grunts of displeasure audible for the entire space of my room to hear, but only a replica of a Pooh teddy bear was present and silently greeting me, typical. He had always been the passive observer of my morning antics.

I lay on my side in bed, unconcerned, the morning sun streaming in through the crack in the window, the blue water-themed covers tangled up around my small limbs with guilty pleasure, savoring the tickle of my toes from the friction of the socks. I sighed through my nose, savoring the small moments of peace briefly as I allowed myself not to think about anything, my eyes tightly closed.

It worked for a few seconds, until reality finally seeped into my senses with its claws of sobriety as my eyes opened to the world.

"Well, let's get this over with." I turned off the alarm clock at the headboard and dragged myself out of bed in regret, my feet barely reaching the hardwood floor from my sitting position, before finally taking the final step towards the small bathroom connected to my bedroom.

Performing the typical hygiene processes was automatic for me, although bodily dysphoria was still a problem even after weeks of this unwanted awakening. Weeks that continued in this uninterrupted non-dream, no deity came to impale me furiously on a mystic Greek trident back out to sea, and no Fury was on my trail in search of my soul. It was terribly boring and anticlimactic, and only the knowledge that revealing the truth had a high probability of causing my death held me back. Mainly the mystical beings who could trivially extend my suffering.

The cool water from the faucet splashed against my face, washing it away and invigorating me as I let my hands rest on my eyelids, rubbing them. My wet hair clung to my face as I allowed the water to get into my hair, the weird aquatic sixth sense initially disconcerting, always on the edge of my senses once I became aware of it. Useful.

"Nothing can ever be easy when it comes to me, can it?" I watch the mirror between my fingers for what is probably the thousandth time, and still I can't shake the awkwardness away. Unruly, wet black hair adorns a slightly tanned angular face with sea green eyes and a small nose, a slender youthful figure who couldn't have been more than 8 years old. Wearing blue themed pajamas, what was it with all the blue anyway? With a thought, the water that once clung to my skin flowed into the sink.

As I slipped into a pair of yellow shorts and a white sleeved shirt, a pair of dark blue shoes complementing the look, I wondered briefly if there was a public library with elementary and high school content written in Ancient Greek. Dyslexia and ADHD were just irritating to live with with all the words moving, my demigod fighting brain wasn't suited to all English or any other language.

I looked at the bedroom door, closed my eyes, my fingers brushing the knob in a self-imposed morning ritual, and when I opened the door, I wasn't disappointed that anything changed. None at all. I headed towards the kitchen, crossing the short hallway to the right and bracing myself for a familiar but no less disturbing scenario.

"Good morning, Percy." Sally Jackson smiled kindly at me and I stopped at the end of the hallway, I held the bile that threatened to rise in my throat, the words 'I'm not your child, I'm a common wage earner and a body thief' were stuck in my throat, the heart heavy with guilt and the need to reveal the lies that have come out of my mouth in the last few weeks since I arrived in this nightmarish reality. "I made your blue pancakes how you like it." She gestured to the table across the yellow-walled kitchen, behind a marble countertop as she dried her hands on a cloth.

I didn't allow my inner thoughts to bleed onto my face, smiling politely in a way I hoped wasn't unnerving. I sat at the table, the wooden chair creaking as I went through the arduous task of acting like an 8 year old and trying not to look like I knew too much.

"Good morning mom". I placed my arms on the table nonchalantly, taking the fork and knife in my hands as I sliced ​​the peculiar blue pancake in front of me. It felt good, although it would probably take some time to get used to her eating routine before adding my own tastes without any alarms or suspicions of abrupt changes.

"I'll probably get free samples of those blue candies." She sits across from me, eating her own quirky blue pancakes. "And maybe we can go to that restaurant you like after class, what do you think?" I lower my fork, tilt my head, and weigh my options. There was nothing bad about that, and a day without Gabe Ugliano was a good day in my books. The man was insufferable.

There were no advantages to having Gabe Ugliano around. Disguise to keep the monsters from finding me? More than likely gone due to my demigod consciousness, I was running on borrowed time until an inevitable confrontation with a monster, Gabe's horrible smell or not. My conscious control of my powers was steadily increasing, and I assumed this would increase the tracks the monsters could follow.

Maybe I should kill him discreetly?

I decided against it, at least for the time being. I could probably find a way to actively manipulate the Mist that separated the mystic from the mundane to plant suggestions in his mind. Change little things that would make it more tolerable or even a complete change. If I didn't get a satisfactory result of handling the Mist in the next month, I would probably think of a way to disappear with his body.

"I would like it very much". I try hard to sound excited, and in part it's a genuine feeling.

Something in Sally's smile seems to relax and her eyes light up, she looks happier than usual. I suppose it makes sense, this is one of the few times she's had the opportunity in recent weeks to offer a walk in the park and be really hanging out with her son, without Gabe around or work in her way.

And it makes me uncomfortable, despite everything, Percy Jackson's life shouldn't be mine. I was a 34 year old dead man wearing the skin of a child, even though inadvertently I stole Sally Jackson's only and most precious child. There was no doubt that if I said a single word about the truth, Sally Jackson would find a way to have Poseidon checked in if he bothered. The gods were petty, and the Greek gods even more so. The likelihood was that my existence would be eradicated, cursed, or simply fucked up by the whims of the gods.

Why couldn't my life not be a steaming load of shit waiting to explode?

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The classes were admittedly boring. Even with my studies hampered by my ADHD and Dyslexia, I had a lifetime's knowledge of a salaried person to keep up with, and it had been easy enough to go with the verbal responses once the teachers realized I preferred it that way about the filling on paper. I was happy that the teachers cared enough about my disturbances to find a comfortable path for me, and in turn I played the hardworking, dedicated, and helpful model student.

My classmates seemed envious at how easily I managed to get tangled up in the teachers' goodwill, but any malicious planned acts died out pretty quickly when I helped them with their problems. Playing the Good Samaritan was fun and rewarding, and children's minds were simple and straightforward most of the time. Most didn't have filters for their mouths, and the shy ones were slowly and surely coming out of their shells with praise here and there.

"Change!". A blond child with cropped hair screamed, and I dutifully followed his advice as the group of children around me ran sideways, dodging a barrage of head-sized red rubber balls that hit their spot previously located. The gym was clean, the railings freshly painted a shade of dark green, the class split into two groups excited for a little adrenaline in PE in the form of the good old Queimada game.

The game had stretched on for long minutes, mainly due to the newfound teamwork boosted by a few of reability pins. The 5 boys and 3 girls in my group were sweating bullets, panting heavily while I didn't even consider this a warm-up, and wasn't that a wonder?

1 boy and 3 girls from the opposing field recovered their efforts to eliminate us, as tired as my own teammates, the girls standing out mainly due to their flexibility of gym lessons. Your group mimicking our own inverted V position.

I caught one of the red balls that flew from my left towards my face without the need for my eyes to track it, the balls sticking out to my sixth sense like ripples in the air as its trajectory became trivial to intercept and dodge up. I pumped my moving leg muscles from the center of the training, my upper body gyrating as my left arm was thrust forward like a whip, the ball leaving my hands in a red blur as it crossed the dividing line and hit the leg of an unsuspecting pale boy on the right, with blue eyes and black hair, who stumbled in mid-motion and fell sideways to the ground with a grunt.

Minus one, plus three to go. I sent an apologetic smile to McCarty, who just waved at me as he walked away out of the game, being cheered by his defeated teammates, his face matched with a beetroot with the unusual amount of praise.

"Looks like I'm going to win again, Claire." I teased a center-positioned girl, as tall as me, with curly hair, brown eyes and dark skin. She looked nervous, her face sweaty and her gym clothes clinging to her body, her eyes focused on me.

"Fuck off, Jackson." She actually had colorful verbiage, but her eyes were warm and determined. She really liked me, her anger was actually the fervor of our Power of Youth! I waved to myself, intercepting one of the balls that came from my right with an afterthought, tossing it back as I backed away from two balls thrown towards me. There was a groan and a thud, minus one, two to go.

I look back, and my team seems quite content to retreat to the bottom and regain their strength, one of the boys giving me a thumbs-up as everyone looks at me in awe, like I'm some kind of endurance monster doing stunts impossibles. I mean, technically true, my half god status share meant I could keep moving this game for hours at full capacity without breaking a sweat.

Two balls fired at my chest, taking advantage of my apparent distraction for a critical hit, which I easily intercept as Claire cursed audibly, her plans thwarted. It was fun nudging her as she rages, I huffed, my arms moved and the game ended with 9 total active participants on my side.

My team cheered in loud whoops and whistles, and I approached the two girls grunting from their positions on the floor, hair tousled and dazed as they held their sides. Maybe I had hit them too hard? I offered my hands, the girl next accepted it with a soft thank you and I sent her an apology, which she just waved with a weak smile as she walked away unsteadily.

"Fuck you and your pity, Jackson." Claire spat at me and slapped my hands away, rising to her own feet with a determined grunt. She shook the dirt from her clothes and ignored her tousled hair, puffing a bang out of her face as she gave me a dangerous look.

"Your vocabulary needs some work, maybe try something like 'Go eat shit, Jackson!' next time." I flash her a cheeky smile, see a vein popping in her neck as she lets out a scream of rage, barely containing her desire to strangle me, fists clenched as she turns and stalks away, the kids giving her ample space while she left for the women's locker room.

"Damn, I thought for a moment we were going to have a fight." The blond boy from before said behind me, disappointed. I raised my eyebrow at him. "She looks more nervous than usual." He elaborated.

"So it seems, Richard, so it seems." I said as I joined the boys towards the men's locker room.

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I savored the silence that came from the complete absence of noise pollution as I enjoyed the pages of a book called 'Ancient Greek for Beginners' that the school library receptionist had been so kind to direct me to. The hardcover book was red, its title highlighted in bright gold letters, its texture indicating it was probably new and used very little. I assumed it made sense, very few are interested in what is practically a dead language for the mundane side of the spectrum or absent from their daily routines in general.

Still, it was exciting for me. Here was a book my demigod brain was programmed to understand, which would allow me to learn about the world of Ancient Greece a little more. As much as I was a dedicated salaried man, my knowledge of current Greek Mythology boiled down to Percy Jackson, a few tales I'd observed in passing, and God of War games. Entertainment games for the masses and their logic probably didn't apply.

Still, was there a Kratos equivalent of Greek/Roman mythologies?

The image of a frowning Kratos looking holes in PJO Zeus was amusing, and I mentally jotted it down to add to my longer and longer list. Greek Mythology Studies to the victory!

"The more things change, the more they stayed the same." I sighed with pleasure, allowing myself a small smile. How long had it been since I could enjoy time alone without the worries of the world punching me in the face? Weeks? Months? It was depressing to realize that I had wasted so much of my life wallowing in my work worries and forsaking my own leisure.

I closed my eyes, my posture straightening in the chair as I cleared my mind of jumbled thoughts. I stretched my awareness inside of me to reach the sea in my stomach and pulled, directing a small fragment of myself to the surface. A thin layer of seawater materialized above my skin, the smell of salt water noticeable to my nose. As I wish, the water didn't cling to my clothes or the book in my hands, and I immersed myself in the invigorating feeling of being covered from head to toe with a piece of sea power.

The slight tug in my stomach from summoning water had subsided to an imperceptible crawl, only the desire being needed to sustain the already existing water, which in turn constantly reinvigorated me to my peak. How did Percy Jackson not become addicted to this sensation? Power bubbled above my skin with one of the most flexible elements of the four traditional elements, one thought and I could mold it into a gaseous state, cover an entire room and then solidify it into ice whose durability was limited by how concentrated I was it was in keeping its shape.

Why didn't Percy properly experiment with his power in the canon? While the overexertion was certainly uncomfortable and the pull in my stomach often almost painful, it didn't dissuade me from the thought that I had superpowers! This was the materialized dream of humanity given form, I possessed something that set me apart from everyone else and that only a small portion of the world had access to.

Poseidon was the God of the Seas, of earthquakes and of storms, father of horses and one of the Three Great Gods. His domain was mine to command as his direct offspring, and so I did.

By the way, how exactly did this work? Amphitrite is the wife of Poseidon and Queen of Atlantis, I had a half-brother named Triton who was the official heir to the Throne, which in turn extended his domain to the Seven Seas that roam the world. I was the bastard offspring that shouldn't exist due to the broken oath the Big Three formed after World War II. Not exactly surprising considering the gods' record with their escapades, but it was still ironic that Hades was the only one to stick to his oath, considering his less-than-stellar reputation as the fearsome God of the Underworld.

Percy's canonical relationship with Amphitrite and Triton seemed to be not very good, which was understandable given that he was a fruit spawned out of wedlock because Poseidon couldn't hold his pants. It was still bound to occur eventually because of the eternity of the gods and their immortality, one time or another one of the oath-sworn gods would slip into their bad habits. Maybe they didn't expect it to be so soon and that Poseidon would restrict himself to a century of celibacy? Or used a condom?

In the end, it was an untenable oath to maintain a fragile truce, it didn't help that the King of the Gods of Olympus broke his oath first. The punishment for breaking an oath at the River Stix falling on her demigod children in the form of misfortunes, I imagine, since the gods would not actually be affected due to her immortality.

"Excuse me, eh, your name is Percy, isn't it? How are you doing this?". I freeze and curse my luck, dropping the book and quickly looking forwith my eyes the low, distinctly feminine voice to be behind a library bookcase to my right. In parallel, I disperse the water on my skin into the air in a gaseous, visually imperceptible form, sending it sweeping in all directions through the library like sonar, permeating the shape of objects with my aquatic sense.

There was a child with shoulder-length curly brown hair, pale skin and gray eyes that sparkled with intelligence barely contained by her baby face, who denounced her as being two years below me and probably a 1st year student. My short scan didn't give away any other presence in the library than the receptionist at the entrance, everyone else leaving for lunch. She didn't look hostile, her size was a head below me and her clothes were snug, her arms were at her sides as she looked at me with a questioning and curious look.

"You did it again." Before I could open my mouth to repeat a valid excuse or feign ignorance, the child approached my desk quickly, jumping to her feet almost as if she was about to have a seizure sent by a sharp sugar crunch. "As soon as you turned to look at me, I smelled the seawater leaving you and running through the library, are you a wizard?" She whispered the last part as if she were revealing a dark secret, her head resting on the edge of the table due to her small size.

"Me what?". I stuttered, watching this strange girl who appeared out of nowhere determined to unravel my secrets. "Me, a wizard? Not at all". I try to show ignorance behind an impassive, evil face. The child's eyebrow rose, a snarky, smug face, were children capable of looking smug?

"You didn't deny being responsible for the sea water." I open my mouth for a scathing retort, but this strange girl held up a finger. "At first I thought you were covered in sweat, but I realized it was a thick layer of seawater due to the smell. His clothes are dry, the book has no moisture marks or is wet in any way, and the water that was on his body evaporated in a moment." She held up a finger to each point listed, looking very proud of herself.

I wondered briefly how unlucky or lucky I could be to have to deal with an oddly intelligent 6 year old. How did she even notice my powers? Shouldn't the Mist automatically plant a mundane justification in your head as it had other people?

Could she be like Sally Jackson? Someone who saw through the Mist that separated the mystic and the mundane, or even a demigod? Her intelligence was unusual even for a 6 year old.

"So no excuses?" Her face became even more smug, and a small smile swam across her face, gods that little shit was annoying. Something must have appeared on my face as her eyes turned hesitant and her smile faded. "You're not going to curse me, are you? Or turn me into a ferret?". She didn't pull away as I expected, determined to get her answers through, it seems.

"You are too smart a girl for your own good." I decide for an open approach, a 6 year old would hardly be a problem to deal with if she babbled. What would she say? That weird boy named Percy has super water powers and is a wizard? Right. No one would listen to what seemed like a child with a vivid imagination. "I recommend that you be more careful when approaching a stranger, especially a stranger with unusual abilities or appearance. You never know what your intentions will be." The girl's face turned worried, probably due to my impassive and slightly menacing face. Still, it was fair warning, it would suck if she innocently approached a monster and disappeared the next morning.

I sigh, exasperated, and motion for her to take the chair across the table. She's certainly an intelligent child, but she hadn't built up any real instincts for self-preservation. With a moment's hesitation, she sits down in the chair, her little arms tucked into her knees as she eyed me nervously. She finally seemed to understand that she was getting tangled up in complicated things, but she seemed stubborn on getting it over with.

"What's your name, smart ass?" I raise an eyebrow at her, the childish facade I built for myself lowered to convey how serious the situation was. "If we're going to reveal secrets at the heart of a library, we should at least start with formal introductions. My name is Perseus Achilles Jackson, many call me Percy, but you already knew that." To her credit, the child didn't cry out in nervousness, her eyes became analytical and thoughtful, carefully considering her alternatives, as if she suddenly realized she was walking through a minefield.

"Briona, Briona Jones". The newly appointed Briona said after a few moments of hesitation, probably adjusting to the totally unexpected turn the conversation had taken. "I really don't want to be a ferret." She repeated it again, as if to make sure she had accentuated that point of her fears. After all, a child with simple fears.

"I'm not really a wizard, nor am I able to turn you into a ferret or perform Voodoo." I finally shook off her concerns, as much as it was fun watching her squirm, I needed to make things clear. "However, sorcerers are real. I don't recommend that you make contact with any of them without being able to fend for yourself, many have dubious morality and might decide to turn it into an ingredient for their potions." She gained an interesting shade of pallor at the thought of becoming an ingredient for some nefarious sorcerer.

"Not like Harry Potter then?" She muttered weakly, almost crestfallen, and I couldn't stop my lips from curling slightly.

"Not like Harry Potter, actually." She seemed to quickly absorb the information to herself. "That's not to say there aren't benign sorcerers, but I recommend being cautious when interacting with a magic user. Many have found ways to extend their lives by various means, and generally have the flexible morality of living for so long." Or so it seemed with Circe and her daughters, as I remembered from the books. And Hecath, the Goddess of Magic, was certainly not a shining bastion of morality considering how much of a genuine threat she was to Olympus.

"But how did you do those things with the water?" She looked confused, her brown brows furrowed in thought as she speculated to herself in low mutters. "Is it related to what you said about unique looking people? Not human then?" She was quick on perception, and it strengthened my thinking that she was a demigoddess to be more likely, maybe I should get a spider to test if she possessed the crippling fear of arachnids?

"To some extent, yes. Technically I'm a demigod and therefore half human and half god." His eyes widened at my casual admission as being more than human, but she didn't flinch from his position in the chair or run in the other direction. "Although unique abilities aren't just restricted to sorcerers and demigods, monsters and the gods themselves also have them by extension." I completed it with a casual wave of my right hand, and the water present from the moisture in the library air I'd dispersed earlier coalesced between my fingers and my palm in a moment, a fist-sized sphere of seawater adult floated innocently there, out of sight of the receptionist. There were no cameras to worry about, luckily.

Briona leaned across the table to watch the sphere of water floating inches above my hand, then poked it with her forefinger. The sphere rippled briefly before stabilizing. I carefully watched her reaction, her eyes were gleaming in wonder at the water that was casually breaking the Laws of Physics and probably more than a handful of her books that told how reality was supposed to work. It worked for the normal world, not so much for the supernatural side of things.

"Are gods and monsters real?" She looked at me, as if to make sure this wasn't a prank from a boy two years older than her. Understandable, I silently waved at her. "Huh, who is your divine father then? Or is it your mother?". She shuffled around for a moment, almost bouncing with the same excitement there was at the beginning, I smiled.

"My divine father is Poseidon, God of the Seas, Earthquakes and Hurricanes, Greek Mythology. Not so mythological though." I dispersed the sphere of water into a gaseous state again while thinking. Wasn't that the big deal? How much has humanity really been influenced by the supernatural side of things in this universe?

"Does your father live with you?" Briana asked, suddenly looking excited at the prospect of meeting Poseidon in the flesh. "Is he a fisherman on the Hudson River or something?" She was excited by the image of a god in fisherman's clothes, huh?.

"He doesn't live with me, or nearby, I never met him other than when I was a baby." I confess, technically it was true if you didn't consider the dimension of Olympus above the Empire State Building to be nearby, being a separate dimension and all. And Atlantis was, well, Atlantis. It was thousands of miles away and at the bottom of the sea. "I live with my mom in an apartment near downtown New York, she always tells me he's a man who disappeared at sea and refuses to say her name, but I caught her repeating it a few times with nostalgia."

"Why wouldn't your father visit you? Or send letters?". Briana asks, and I stop to think of a good answer. Old Laws was a more or less valid justification, as they prevented direct interference, but said nothing about help and indirect contact. A Sea servant to relay information would be more than enough, though I attribute his absence to Poseidon's fear that my bastard existence will be discovered by Zeus and hence by Hades. Thalia Grace's fate was probably an indication.

"Ancient Laws that forbid direct interference in the lives of your demigod children." I sighed and said, I didn't bother elaborating. Briana was sensible enough not to comment or ask tough questions. "And you?". It would be interesting to see if my conjectures had any truth at all.

"And I?". Briana questions with a quizzical look.

"How is your life? Some divine father you don't know on the horizon?". I snort, dramatically waving my hands playfully, seeking to break the awkward mood that has set in.

Briana… seems to actually consider this for a moment, before shaking her head. "My father has been a watchmaker for decades and dedicated to his craft, my mother died after my birth. I live at my father's house and close to the school". She seems pretty sure about herself.

I wondered if I should run the necessary checks, and if I actually found something, should I be the one to tell her? Daughters of Athena didn't seem to fly below the monsters' radar like the children of lesser gods, and it seemed wrong to hide from her the slightest possibility of anything that would jeopardize her chances of survival. Eventually, she would encounter a monster, sooner if that "Law of Ignorance" that masked the scent of monsters' demigods fell when she learned who her divine mother was.

I sighed inwardly, maybe I was being too paranoid and seeing divine correlations in everything, it wasn't like every kid who could see through the Mist and missed a parent was a demigod after all. Prodigy children existed. Unless the geniuses of this world were even distantly related to strategist gods acclaimed for their intelligence, in which case I might as well give up and wipe my hands of trying to figure it all out.

I felt a headache forming at the thought.

'Why can't things be simpler?' I internally groaned to myself.

Looking at it from that perspective, Luke Castellan's bitterness toward the gods became much more understandable. The gods had only a vague connection to their demigod children most of the time, and only paid special attention to those who demonstrated the potential to become great heroes, famous, or possessed some noteworthy talent. Otherwise, most were probably considered statistic in the grand scheme of things, attention-hungry kids throwing themselves to their deaths on missions against monsters for some validation of their existence. A validation that they were unique among a sea of ​​half brothers.

'That's pretty fucked up when I stop to think about it.' Maybe I was overreacting and thinking about it too much, maybe the gods kept in touch with the demigod children who arrived at Camp Half-Blood through text messages, phone calls, or Iris the Rainbow Goddess. 'Wasn't there something about monsters tracking phone calls? How does this happen? It was an odd thought to imagine a dangerous, furry, scaly monster in a Telemarketing attendant's uniforms. Maybe Telemarketing Agents are really demons in disguise?

The siren that signaled the end of recess rang in the distance and I cleared my turbulent thoughts, there was no point in getting lost in speculation, focus on the present.

"Well, it looks like we have to go to our respective classes." I rose from the chair, stretching my back and twisting my torso sideways, enjoying the crack of my spine and the relaxation of my stiff muscles.

"Are we going to be able to talk again?" Briana looked at me uncertainly.

"Clear". I smile kindly at her as I take the 'Ancient Greek for Beginners' book back into my arms. "I'm in Grade 3, I'm not going to evaporate into thin air or something, so we can take the time off lunch break to talk during weekdays, okay?". She waved an excited smile, and I held out my hand for a greeting.

The smaller hand that clings to mine is strong and determined, and I internally celebrate the beginning of a relatively stable friendship.

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The taste of my first steak roasted in this reality was tastier than I remembered, the meat soft and melting in my mouth. Sally Jackson and I weren't at a particularly expensive restaurant, being pretty average in terms of location and clientele, but I didn't mind. It was night, and at least the window offered a nice, quiet view of the streets.

"... mom?". I wondered how to broach the subject, should I just tell her?

"Yes Dear?". She smiled at me with her typical gentle smile that made my insides ache. She looked tired after a hard day's work, with dark circles under her eyes, but she still found time for me, for Percy, I corrected myself, berating myself. I carefully considered my words.

If I told her that I knew who my father was, she would suffer because my knowing the truth meant the end of a normal and relatively stable life with her. Going to Camp Half-Blood meant reduced interactions with Sally, and she would always be wondering for Percy's safety, considering all the dangerous things that went on in the supernatural side of things. Considering my luck, I would likely end up entering an event to save the Western world from some threat within a few weeks of stepping into the Camp.

"Is nothing". I lie, nibbling on a piece of steak.

I suppose I might as well wait for Chiron, if my theory of my increasing powers attracting more monsters is true, it probably wouldn't be long before an undercover satyr caught on and relayed it. Training my powers and my body seemed like a good plan, I wouldn't be as helpless as canonical Percy when the shit hit the fan. I was in no rush to get tangled up in complicated things, and I was quite content to go with the flow until the big moment.

It helps that I didn't want to be anywhere near Zeus when his Master Ray was stolen by Luke, or from Camp in general. Dealing with Luke meant getting tangled up with Kronos sooner, and it seemed safe to assume he would have backup options in case I thwarted his plans and adjusted accordingly. If I played the ignorant kid, I'd probably be at least four years old or younger before dealing with Camp Half-Blood.

All I could do was wait, grow stronger, and develop creative uses for my power.

I sighed, being Percy Jackson was suffering, and I couldn't count on the plot armor or narrative conveniences that suited the original. It was amazing that he hadn't been killed or incapacitated after his dozens of battles with monsters, gods, titans, giants and surviving the harsh environment of Tartarus. Granted, he was extremely skilled to keep up, but a lot of the things he'd pulled and survived must have been his death.