Children of the Storm
A battle unlike anything ever seen had erupted within Camp Half-Blood, where former campers clashed against those who had stayed; against the very people they once called companions, brothers, family.
Now they stood facing each other, weapons in hand, ready to kill the others if they stood in the way of their mission. And that mission was precisely to destroy every last one of them, as well as the very gods who had brought them into this world.
Maybe it was revenge. Or maybe they simply still didn't understand the true weight of their actions.
But even so, the children of Camp Half-Blood were not going to stand still and die without a fight.
With the arrival of the new temporary activities director, many things had changed within the camp.
The campers no longer charged forward screaming as if simply being children of gods was enough.
Now they understood something far more important.
They weren't as strong as they had always believed.
But they could become far more dangerous than they had ever imagined.
Under truly powerful guidance, even they could become a real army.
And more importantly... they had learned that being children of gods was not what made them special.
What made them special were their own reasons, their own abilities, and the things only they themselves could do.
Because at the end of the day, staying alive would not depend on their parents or anyone else.
It would depend solely on them.
"Attack!" Charles Beckendorf shouted, having been accepted by all the campers as the leader of that improvised army.
A son of Hephaestus and the best blacksmith in camp, he was someone many of them couldn't help but see as an older brother, even if there were certainly others who might have fit that role as well.
But Charles Beckendorf was the steadiest, hardest-working, and most dependable of them all.
Thanks to the combined assault of Luke and Alison, the enemy group had managed to break through several of the traps that had been blocking their advance, so the face to face clash had finally begun.
The sound of swords, spears, arrows; all kinds of noise rang across the battlefield while some fighters dropped for a moment, making Beckendorf hesitate for a second.
To his left, one camper was dragged out of the line by one of his companions while blood poured from his shoulder, and an arrow slammed into the ground just a few steps away from Beckendorf.
But hesitation only caused more casualties.
So he tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.
A truly special sword.
Its blade was a pale white, almost unnatural, while a faint bluish aura slid along its edge.
A new creation.
Something he had managed to forge and even enchant himself after learning a new craft from the very being who, in theory, should have been an enemy of Olympus itself.
Beckendorf was not the best fighter in camp.
But that did not mean he was going to stand there and watch his friends fall.
He ran straight into the battlefield, dodging several attacks aimed directly at him as the leader, while striking back with his sword and dropping small circular objects onto the ground that no one seemed to notice in the middle of the chaos.
Until Beckendorf himself moved far enough away.
And then they exploded.
Flames burst out of those small discs, blasting several enemies into the air and hurling them several meters away.
If Percy had been there, he probably would have noticed that it looked a lot like a miniature version of the artifact Tyson had created aboard Luke's ship.
...
For the first time, Annabeth was following someone else's strategy instead of her own.
And even so, she entered the battlefield.
She still could not believe Luke was insane enough to bring a war directly into the camp itself.
But she simply clenched her hands tightly and attacked those who seemed determined to bring her down.
At times, her eyes seemed to shift ever so slightly into something else, as though she were predicting the direction of enemy attacks in advance and immediately putting them at a disadvantage.
As if she could see the entire battlefield for brief moments.
As if, for an instant at a time, she truly had absolute control over the area around her.
And she wasn't just fighting.
She was also commanding.
"Dodge to the left after his attack, then go for his right leg. Now," Annabeth said to one of the fighters who seemed to be struggling against his opponent.
The boy reacted instantly and followed her words.
His strike threw the enemy off balance and dropped him to his knees.
"Hit his temple," Annabeth added immediately.
And quickly, the boy obeyed and knocked his opponent unconscious before looking toward Annabeth for a brief moment, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his eyes.
But Annabeth was already moving again across the battlefield, doing the exact same thing with others.
Behind her, an improvised barricade began to burn after a torch fell onto the wood, while two campers shouted orders as they tried to reorganize the line.
"Get down..."
Before she could finish speaking to another nearby camper, she suddenly sensed danger.
She ducked instantly.
A dagger flew right over her head, grazing her hair and slicing off a small lock.
But that wasn't all.
Annabeth rolled across the ground barely a second later.
Two more daggers buried themselves exactly where she had been an instant earlier.
And then they shot back through the air, returning to their owner.
"We meet again, Annabeth," Alison said, looking at her with a faint, amused smile before throwing the dagger in her hand to the side, where a camper was about to attack her, only to be pierced through and collapse to the ground. A moment later, the dagger returned to her hand, now stained with blood. Alison didn't even bother looking back at the camper she had just taken down. "And now Clarisse isn't here to protect you, so this time no one's going to save you when I carve you open from side to side," Alison added, looking at her as if she were already dead in front of her.
Annabeth looked at Alison for a moment, her expression serious.
"That's true. She's not here," Annabeth said calmly, not falling so easily for Alison's provocation, as her gray eyes shifted slightly, her pupils narrowing into vertical slits. "But I was waiting for you."
She said that as she pulled out what looked like a small tiara and placed it on her head.
Then the glow in her eyes seemed to become more noticeable.
Alison raised a mocking eyebrow when she saw her putting on a tiny princess tiara.
But almost instantly, she seemed to notice a slight change in Annabeth, which made her frown.
Even more so when Annabeth suddenly pulled out a flute, one with several animals carved into it.
And Alison recognized it immediately.
It looked far too similar to the one Grover had used back on the island.
"Just like you're using something that isn't yours to fight with... I borrowed something that isn't mine either," Annabeth added before softly blowing into the flute.
And suddenly, two wolves, a bear, and a tiger seemed to form out of the mist itself before stepping forward to stand in front of Annabeth.
...
Meanwhile, Tyson was fighting Luke hand to hand, though he was clearly having the harder time.
Luke attacked with his sword, aiming directly for Tyson's neck to finish him in one strike.
But Tyson reacted quickly, moving his tower shield to deflect the blade before immediately swinging the war hammer in his other hand toward Luke.
Luke, however, was fast.
He shifted to the side to dodge as the hammer slammed into the ground, kicking up dirt and stones, showing the monstrous strength the Cyclops possessed.
But Tyson was facing the man who had once been the best swordsman in camp.
Luke moved with precision, taking advantage of Tyson's missed attack.
With quick footwork, he slipped inside the Cyclops' guard.
Tyson tried to protect himself immediately, but Luke spun right in front of his chest and slashed toward his arm, forcing him to drop the shield as a fairly deep cut opened across his forearm.
Then he struck directly toward his chest.
But Tyson reacted in time.
He dropped the hammer as well and raised both arms to protect himself, which caused a second deep cut to appear across his other arm.
"Aaah!" Tyson shouted in pain, while his eyes seemed to turn slightly red with rage.
And then, immediately, he launched a direct attack with his head.
A brutal headbutt aimed straight at Luke.
Luke dodged just in time.
Or maybe his skull would have turned to mush if he hadn't, considering the absurd strength of the Cyclops.
But Luke didn't stop.
He attacked Tyson's neck again, wanting to finish him once and for all.
"Oaken Skin," Tyson said.
And suddenly, a glow fell over his body while the tone of his skin seemed to shift slightly.
That made Luke raise an eyebrow for a moment, but it didn't stop his attack.
And then he was surprised.
His sword didn't cut through the Cyclops' head the way he expected.
It barely left a bleeding mark.
Luke felt as if he had just tried to cut through a mountain.
Even a slight vibration ran through his wrist from the impact.
Tyson took advantage of that moment.
He grabbed Luke's sword with one hand.
And with the other, he threw a punch straight toward his chest.
The blow whistled through the air, carrying enough force to shatter several ribs on anyone who got hit by it.
Luke didn't hesitate.
He let go of the sword and ducked as Tyson's massive fist brushed past his hair.
Then he rose quickly and answered with a punch straight to the Cyclops' chin, even using the strength of his legs to drive it harder.
But when he hit, it felt like punching a steel plate.
It even sounded like one.
He barely managed to move Tyson's face.
Meanwhile, Luke felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist.
And once again, he had to move fast.
He spun across the ground to dodge the direct kick Tyson launched at him.
Then, as he rose, Luke kicked the back of Tyson's knee.
Again, it sounded hard.
But even so, he managed to force Tyson down onto one knee for an instant.
Luke didn't waste that chance.
He moved quickly again and gave a small leap before driving a knee directly into the back of the kneeling Cyclops' neck.
Even though that didn't seem to do much real damage to Tyson, it still forced him forward, making him catch himself with both hands on the ground.
Luke turned immediately and kicked a spear lying on the battlefield, sending it flying into his hand.
And then, using both hands and all his strength, he stabbed toward the Cyclops' back.
But the spear couldn't withstand the impact and shattered.
Even so, the tip managed to pierce slightly through Tyson's tough skin, making him howl in pain for a moment.
At the same time, the Oaken Skin spell seemed to end right then.
And Luke, seeing the Cyclops' skin return to normal, seemed to understand it instantly.
He moved quickly.
He grabbed his sword, the one Tyson had dropped.
And he raised it over his head, aiming directly for the Cyclops' neck from behind, while Tyson tried to push himself back up and at the same time cast the enchantment on himself again.
But when he turned and saw Luke about to cut him down, Tyson froze for an instant.
Fear crossed his face in a way that looked far too human.
Luke noticed it... and gave only the faintest mocking smile when he saw it.
And just before Luke's sword could touch Tyson's neck...
Another sword suddenly appeared to stop it.
Luke recognized that sword immediately.
And he looked up just in time to see Percy.
Percy was staring at him with a truly cold expression.
"So you finally made it. I was starting to think I'd have to kill your brother just to get you here," Luke said when he saw him, giving him a faint smile. "You always show up just in time to almost lose someone, Percy."