The Proposal of Chaos (PJO)

Chapter 3

If Percy was in prime condition, he would've been disgusted at what just happened. Since he had two stab wounds, he was just relieved he didn't die. He slowly got up, his body groaning in agony. Percy knew the only way he could survive was to submerge himself fully in water, and healing enough to survive was a low chance since he had two series wounds. Previously, he has only tried to heal minor wounds with water.  

He slowly started limping to the beach, not wanting to risk mist traveling. Percy tried to distract himself from the pain by figuring out what just happened. He knew that he never had that ability before, after all, he had been in many close-to-death situations before. He then thought back to the conversation he had with Chaos.

"The waters kept you as their favorite child," Chaos said. Maybe as the waters' favorite child, they gave him extra powers? This just made Percy even confused, because he thought waters were controlled by his father's emotions. It got harder and blurrier to think the longer he was walking. 

Percy finally reached the shoreline, the sand very hot after facing the relentless sun, which seemed to get brighter as if it was trying to slow him down by its heat. Blood ran down his leg, the liquid dripping on the sand and immediately drying.

The moment the first wave hit Percy, he got energized enough to fully dive into the ocean, the sun dimming as if it was defeated. In the moment, Percy thought he was hallucinating. After all, why would the sun, the basis of all living beings, try to kill him? 

For any normal person, the ocean surf would be a very irritating or dangerous place to be while there were gigantic waves, since the salt would get into their mouths or noses, while the natural debris scratched at their skin, and while the ocean waves try to drown them, but to Percy, it felt like home.

Percy looked at his wounds, which were not hurting anymore. Surprisingly, it looked like they were almost gone, with the first layer of skin on both wounds not present. He was really surprised, he thought the water would only heal it halfway, making it a major wound, but not necessarily a death wound, but now, it just looked like an accident while sword fighting, which happened frequently.

This train of thought led to him wondering what made this time different, which thereafter led him to the topic of his father, which he had been pushing to the back of his head.

He felt sad, hurt, and worst of all, worthless. Because of his fatal flaw, he could never feel angry about things other people did, only wonder why the person did it, and how his personality influenced them. There was a hole in his heart, one that started to form his mortal family had died, then grew bigger when his girlfriend had died. It had now grown completely; he felt alone in the world; worthless.

Percy then felt emotions from the waters that helped him feel better, at least for now; belonging and comfort. He smiled gratefully, not at someone, but somewhere, which was the waters. A school of dozens of fish darted past him, a flurry of reds and oranges. He laid down on the sands sea floor, which had many shining shells, all different variants and sizes, the debris knocked off of them by the relentless waves.

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Percy exhaled, the tiny, clear, and circular oxygen bubbles slowly rising up to the surface. He had been in the ocean, talking with animals for what seemed like dozens of minutes, knowing that in fact it was countless hours.

A pod of dolphins had taken a liking to Percy, keeping him company by circling around his prone body on the sea floor, his muscular arms acting as a cushion for his head. They were the main animals that had talked to him for the time he has been under the ocean, topics ranging from the most popular sea creature to the newest shipwreck, even breaching the topic of the god of the ocean, Poseidon. They had hurriedly changed the subject the they noticed Percy's wince.

"Who do you think would win, an orca or a narwhal in a fight, my lord?"  One of the dolphins, the name Chester if Percy remembered correctly asked. When they first came near him, they just wanted to meet the 'legendary, esteemed hero of the sea', and in a few hours they got comfortable enough to ask these ridiculous questions.  

Percy rolled his eyes. "Just call me Percy like I have been telling you to do for the past hundred times," Percy said.

"Very well, my lord," All the dolphins chattered their version of a laugh. He gave a small smile at their antics.

"I would like to think it would be a narwhal, with it's spear-like tusk," Percy answered the question. All the other dolphins stood still and looked like they were in thought, a rare feat for the pack of troublemakers. They finally made sense of the logic of the answer and started circling around Percy again.

Percy bid goodbye to the pod of dolphins and started to go effortlessly up through the salty, cold, and dense waters of the ocean. Once he was close to the surface, he could see the silvery, radiant, and ethereal effulgence of the moon softly lighting up the world and piercing the ocean.

Percy was shocked; he spend about the whole day underwater with no food. He chalked it up to the ocean waters sustaining him. He stepped back into he now cold sand, it not sticking on him since he didn't allow himself to get wet.

He heard a growl. Percy froze and slowly brought out Riptide, uncapping it. When he turned to one of the forests surrounding the sides of the beach, he saw multiple pairs of red, angry, and intelligent eyes looking back at him.

His grip tightened on his sword; they were hellhounds. He was confident in his ability to take them down, but he was worried about other enemies, there was no way dozens of hellhounds, close to a hundred, could attack working together without any fighting.

A few dozen hellhounds lunged at him, the black fur on their bodies camouflaging with the dark black of the night. The only warning was their eyes, blazing with fury coming closer to him, and the beautiful silver strands of moonlight contrasting against their bodies.

Percy attacked the few hellhounds at the front, refusing to back up in case he tripped, which would be a death wish. He killed them without any effort. 

He then jumped into the fray of hellhounds, becoming a death tornado, killing most of the hellhounds. He stabbed one of the dozen hellhounds left, it howling in pain and disintegrating into dull, golden dust. While his sword was in the hellhound, which was for a second, another hellhound jumped at him, sharp claws poises in front, ready to shred him to pieces.

Percy dropped to the ground back first, using his legs to hit the chest of the hellhound in between his paws, effectively stopping the hellhound's inertia. Percy then grunted in effort and kicked the hellhound in another, rolling out of another one's way at the same time. The hellhound that he had thrown had accidentally killed another one. The hellhounds stopped attacking him, probably confused at why a hellhound had killed its ally, not knowing it was accidental. They started growling and barking at each other in distrust, which Percy planned on. Using the chance, he killed all of the remaining hellhounds that had attacked him, meeting no resistance since they had divided their attention.

He heard clapping. He quickly turned around, lifting his sword into ready position, his right foot in front of his left, his weight in the balls of his feet, getting ready to move in any direction at the slightest hint of danger. Both hands held the hilt of his sword in front of him, the sword crossed over his body, coming from the right side of his stomach all the way to the left side of his face.

Percy's attention was focused on a figure, cloaked with an ice blue cloak. However, his subconscious was scanning the background for any danger.

"That was a good performance," The figure said. It was the same person who had tried to find him in the forest, recognizable with her cold, icy tone. "Why don't we make it a little harder?" She pulled out a sword from a sheathe on her hip. It looked like a sword made out of Olympian silver, meaning she was a god, the sword coated with what looked like ice. Usually, ice refracts the light using its rough edges, but this ice was impossibly and unnaturally smooth, allowing the moonlight to illuminate the swords wicked point.

The figure copied his stance effortlessly, showing she is experienced in fighting. Percy sighed; this was going to be a long and hard fight since she was a god, plus the one who neutralized his powers earlier.