Chapter 1

Hi, my name is Luke Castellan son of Hermes and the one that helped Kronos rise. 

Now I know what you are thinking, you were hoping for Perseus Jackson the one that goes to become the greatest hero in all the world, beloved by all and seen as a god. Well this isn't his story this is mine. And it is time someone else took the stage as the main character even if they plan to rebuild the world. This is my story, how I died and met the one true god and was given the chance to go back in time and change the past.

This is how I, became the King of the Gods.

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The grand doors of the palace, colossal enough to navigate a cruise ship through, had been wrenched from their hinges and obliterated effortlessly. Standing at the heart of the throne room, I spread my arms wide, absorbing the scene before me. The starry ceiling captured my attention, and my laughter echoed, surpassing even the cacophony from the depths of Tartarus.

"At last!" I bellowed triumphantly. "The Olympian Council—so arrogant and powerful. Which seat of power shall I obliterate first?"

Ethan Nakamura wisely kept to the side, steering clear of the scythe in my grasp. The hearth flickered with dying embers, only a few coals glowed in the ashes. Yes everything was going greatly, nothing was going to stop me now.

"My lord," Ethan warned.

I turned, a smile playing on my face. Save for the piercing golden eyes, I mirrored the image from four years ago when I had welcomed Percy into the Hermes cabin. Annabeth emitted a pained sound, reminiscent of a sucker punch.

"Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?" I inquired. "Is that the choice you will make—to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."

"Luke would fight with a sword," Percy retorted. "But I suppose you don't have his skill."

I sneered, and my scythe morphed until I held Backbiter, Luke's former weapon, with its half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade. Wait, why did I think that, I am Luke. 

Nex to Percy, Annabeth gasped as though struck by sudden inspiration. "Percy, the blade!" She unsheathed her knife. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

Before Percy could voice my confusion, I raised my sword.

"Wait!" Annabeth's voice cut through the chaos.

I surged forward as Kronos, a whirlwind of destructive energy.

My instincts took control, guiding me through a frenzy of dodges, slashes, and rolls. It felt like confronting a legion of swordsmen. Ethan attempted to slip behind Percy, diverted by Annabeth's interference.

I backed Percy up against the throne of Hephaestus—a huge mechanical La-Z-Boy type thing covered with bronze and silver gears. I slashed, and Percy managed to jump straight up onto the seat. The throne whirred and hummed with secret mechanisms. As Percy jumped straight over my head as the throne shot tendrils of electricity in all directions. One hit me in the face, arcing down my body and up my sword. 

"ARG!" I roared, collapsing to my knees and relinquishing Backbiter.

Annabeth seized the opportunity, kicking Ethan aside and charging at me. "Luke, listen!"

With a flick of my hand, Annabeth went hurtling backward, crashing into the throne of her mother before slumping to the floor.

"Annabeth!" Percy's scream echoed through the tumult.

Ethan rose to his feet, now positioned between Annabeth and Percy. Confronting him meant exposing Percy's back to me.

Grover's music intensified, taking on a more urgent tempo. He moved toward Annabeth, but maintaining the pace of his song constrained his speed. Grass sprouted on the throne room floor, and tiny roots crept through the cracks in the marble stones.

I rose to one knee. My hair smoldered. My face was covered with electrical burns. I reached for my sword, but this time it didn't fly into my hands.

"Nakamura!" I groaned. "Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson's secret weakness. Kill him,

and you will have rewards beyond measure."

"Look around you, Ethan," Percy said. "The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? Do you really want everything destroyed—the good with the bad? Everything?"

Grover was almost to Annabeth now. The grass thickened on the floor. The roots were almost a foot long, like a stubble of whiskers.

"There is no throne to Nemesis," Ethan muttered. "No throne to my mother."

"That's right!" I tried to get up, but stumbled. Above my left ear, a patch of blond hair still smoldered. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer."

"You said your mom is the goddess of balance," Percy reminded him. "The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn't balance. Kronos doesn't build. He only destroys."

Ethan looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing, and Ethan swayed to it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia—a wish to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here. His good eye blinked.

Then he charged . . . but not at Percy.

While I was still on my knees, Ethan brought down his sword on the Titan lord's neck. It should have killed me instantly, but the blade shattered. Ethan fell back, grasping his stomach. A shard of his own blade had ricocheted and pierced his armor.

I rose unsteadily, towering over my servant. "Treason," I snarled

Grover's music kept playing, and grass grew around Ethan's body. Ethan stared at Percy, his face tight with pain. "Deserve better," he gasped. "If they just . . . had thrones—"

I stomped his foot, and the floor ruptured around Ethan Nakamura. The son of Nemesis fell

through a fissure that went straight through the heart of the mountain—straight into open air.

"So much for him." I picked up my sword. "And now for the rest of you." 

Percy stood between me and Annabeth, Grover was at her side, feeding her ambrosia.

Everywhere I stepped, the roots wrapped around my feet, but Grover had stopped his magic too

early. The roots weren't thick or strong enough to do much more than annoy me.

We fought through the hearth, kicking up coals and sparks. I slashed an armrest off the throne of Ares, as I backed him up to his dad's throne.

"Oh, yes," I said. "This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!"

Our blades clashed in a shower of sparks. I knew I was stronger than him, but for the moment I felt him overpower me as he pushed me back and struck- slashing Riptide across my breastplate so hard he cut a gash in the Celestial bronze. 

I stomped my foot again as time slowed. Percy tried to attack but he was at the speed of a glacier. I backed up leisurely, catching my breath. I examined the gash in my armor while Percy struggled to move forward. 

"It's too late, Percy Jackson," I said. "Behold."

I pointed to the hearth, and the coals glowed. A sheet of white smoke poured from the fire, forming images like an Iris-message. I watched as Percy stared at the smoke. the son of Hades and two mortals down on Fifth Avenue, fighting a hopeless battle, ringed in enemies. In the background Hades fought from his black chariot, summoning wave after wave of zombies out of the ground, but the forces of the Titan's army seemed just as endless. Meanwhile, Manhattan was being destroyed. Mortals, now fully awake, were running in terror. Cars swerved and crashed.

The scene shifted, and Percy looked in horror at what he saw. A column of storm was approaching the Hudson River, moving rapidly over the Jersey shore. Chariots circled it, locked in combat with the creature in the cloud. The gods attacked. Lightning flashed. Arrows of gold and silver streaked into the cloud like rocket tracers and exploded. Slowly, the cloud ripped apart, and he finally saw Typhon clearly for the first time.

"The Olympians are giving their final effort." I laughed. "How pathetic."

Zeus threw a thunderbolt from his chariot. The blast lit up the world. I could feel the shock even here on Olympus, but when the dust cleared, Typhon was still standing. He staggered a bit, with a smoking crater on top of his misshapen head, but he roared in anger and kept advancing.

I noticed his limbs begin to lossen up but ignored it. My attention was focused on the fight

and my final victory. Typhon stepped into the Hudson River and barely sank to midcalf. Suddenly, a conch horn sounded from the smoky picture. The call of the ocean. The call of Poseidon.

All around Typhon, the Hudson River erupted, churning with forty-foot waves. Out of the water burst a new chariot—this one pulled by massive hippocampi, who swam in air as easily as in water. Poseidon, glowing with a blue aura of power, rode a defiant circle around the giant's legs. As he swung his trident, the river responded, making a funnel cloud around the monster.

"No!" I bellowed after a moment of stunned silence. "NO!"

"NOW, MY BRETHREN!" Poseidon's voice was so loud I wasn't sure if I was hearing it from the smoke image or from all the way across town. "STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!"

A legion of Cyclopes warriors burst out of the river, riding the waves on huge sharks and dragons and sea horses. 

"Tyson!" Percy yelled. Riding behind him was a Hundred-Handed One.

All the Cyclopes held huge lengths of black iron chains—big enough to anchor a battleship—with

grappling hooks at the ends. They swung them like lassos and began to ensnare Typhon, throwing lines around the creature's legs and arms, using the tide to keep circling, slowly tangling him. Typhon shook and roared and yanked at the chains, pulling some of the Cyclopes off their mounts; but there were too many chains.

The sheer weight of the Cyclops battalion began to weigh Typhon down. Poseidon threw his trident and impaled the monster in the throat. Golden blood, immortal ichor, spewed from the wound, making a waterfall taller than a skyscraper. The trident flew back to Poseidon's hand.

The other gods struck with renewed force. Ares rode in and stabbed Typhon in the nose. Artemis shot the monster in the eye with a dozen silver arrows. Apollo shot a blazing volley of arrows and set the monster's loincloth on fire. And Zeus kept pounding the giant with lightning, until finally, slowly, the water rose, wrapping Typhon like a cocoon, and he began to sink under the weight of the chains.

Typhon bellowed in agony, thrashing with such force that waves sloshed the Jersey shore, soaking five-story buildings and splashing over the George Washington Bridge—but down he went as Poseidon opened a tunnel for him at the bottom of the river—an endless waterslide that would take him straight to Tartarus. The giant's head went under in a seething whirlpool, and he was gone.

"BAH!" I screamed. I slashed my sword through the smoke, tearing the image to shreds.

"They're on their way," Percy stated. "You've lost."

"I haven't even started."