Percy Jackson King Of The North

|Chapter 5|

"The water hears and understands.
The ice does not forgive."
-

"Focus, Percy"

His hand tightened on the handle of his sword. Slashing the ice beast straight through its neck, blue blood splashing from the veins. Percy swung his sword backwards to block the attack from the six-armed snow soldier.

"Harder."

Plunging his sword deep in the soldier's chest, he slashed the oncoming series of attacks with his left hand, cutting its defenses in one swift movement.

"Trust your senses"

Right when he was about to decapitate the soldier's head, the beast reformed its wounds and came barging with godly speed. The beast spread his mouth wide and gusters of ice gather in it, ready to freeze his entire body to be another one of Khione's prized sculptures.

"Never let your guard down."

Percy, sensing the killing intent from his right, immediatly plunged his body upwards, succesfully dodging the strike of both enemies. In mid air, he twirled his body so that it turns into a falling position head-first. Swords ready at hand, he dealt the killing bow with such ferocity, blue blood coated his skin as if it was another layer of his body.

"Good." The voice praised, a clapping sound escaped from the background, as Percy pulled his swords from both fallen enemies. He ignored the praise and wiped the blood from his hands.  Seathing both swords back to its case, Percy continued his journey uphill.

His body was now adorned with countless scars. New and old blending  nicely, masking the layers of experience underneath. His coat flaying againts the wind covering the exposed shoulders. Climbing higher and higher, he finally stepped on even ground.

Percy walked for another hour before facing another obstacle he had to face.

He looked up towards the humongeous boulder blocking his path that serves as his last trial. Its surface coated with thick layers of snow and ice making it look like a piece of glacier in front of a stone wall.

Soft winds blew amongst the top edge, signalling how cold it must've been

"You've done well." The voice speaks in a soft tone, pride and joy laced underneath it, the sincereness could be heard from miles away.

Staring up to the slowly turning boulder with the glowing ice as its skin, the corner of his lips lifted.

"Have i?"

Jumping to unimaginable heights, he draw his swords, face to face with the last guardian of the north:

The Esteemed _Glaceioum. The oldest and greatest creation by the hands of The God of Winter himself. His most prized and hellish possesion. Skin harder than the hardest of diamonds with teeth sharper than the sharpest of swords, its mix of offense and defense was deadly. Legend says it was once blessed by the king of titans as well.

"Yes," The voice answered "very good,"

Glaceioum's eyes opened, sending shivers of anticipation running down Percy's spine.

Percy lifted his sword, planning to strike the first blood, when suddenly its tail slammed hard againts his torso.

Unprepared and stricken, he was thrown fastly to the ground below.
Eyes widening, he unconciesly plastered a smirk on his face.

The god's stiffled laughter filled his mind as he fell. His last words taunting his proclaimed defeat.

"Now let's see if it's enough, shall we?"