"Are you sure you don't want some?" Percy asked, chewing messily on a piece of meat.
Isabella suppressed a grimace as he practically inhale the barbecue on his plate.
While the boy's prowess in battle could not be denied, his manners left much to be desired.
"Don't speak with your mouth full, kelp head." Annabeth chastised, wrinkling her nose.
Percy ignored her words with practiced ease, choosing to turn fully toward Isabella instead.
He paused for a moment when their eyes met, and then swallowed—a sheepish look on his face.
"My mom always said that Kansas had the best barbecue in the world," he said, a wide grin spread across his lips. "You shouldn't waste this chance. Who knows when we'll be here again?"
Isabella's expression softened as she offered him a nod.
"Yes, Percy. I am sure."
The cinnamon bun in her hand began to steam as she heated her palms with magic.
"I'm afraid the taste of meat isn't as… desirable to me as it used to be."
She closed her eyes and took another measured bite of the sugary dessert.
Her tastebuds danced with joy.
The strict diet Chiron imposed on them while they resided at camp made indulgences like this a rare treat.
"I'm quite satisfied with this."
It was fortunate that Percy received the chance to enjoy food like this while it was still appealing to him.
After the first year of finding them in every meal, only a few demigods could still say that they honestly found any real pleasure in either meat, cheese, or bread.
"I agree," Annabeth said, gently picking up her own dessert. "This is almost enough to make up for the nonsense we've had to deal with over the past few days."
Percy snorted loudly as half the pastry disappeared in her mouth, causing her cheeks to bulge.
She looked like a stuffed squirrel.
His lips pursed, his thoughts clearly racing with the task of searching for the right quip to throw at her.
Isabella chuckled quietly as she followed their antics.
It was a scene she had seen play out countless times since the start of their adventure.
They were adorable.
"I disagree," Percy said, shaking his head. "Aside from that whole thing with the head-exploding cult leader on the first day—and those Sphinxes yesterday—things haven't been too bad."
A sly smirk grew on his face as Annabeth choked on her meal.
"Fine?" she forced out. "What the Hades do you mean, fine?"
Her eyes burned like molten silver as she glared at him.
"Those Empousae almost killed you! And that's after I explicitly warned you not to trust anyone in that store!"
Isabella leaned back into her chair, taking her attention off the ensuing argument in favour of glancing around the upscale restaurant.
Despite Annabeth's raised voice, none of the other patrons were paying them any mind.
It had taken her days to master the Mist well enough to achieve this.
Convincing the owner to give them the best seats she had available had been far easier in comparison.
All it took was lowering the veil for a moment.
"See, now you're just making things up." Percy rolled his eyes. "They didn't even put a scratch on me."
Annabeth huffed with matching annoyance.
"That's only because they lost interest in your seaweed brain the moment they spotted Isabella."
She turned to look at her.
"Which I still find surprising." The corners of Annabeth's mouth twitched. "Honestly, I was almost convinced they would proclaim you their queen, instead of attacking you."
Isabella twirled a strand of silky hair around her finger as she studied the girl.
It was fascinating how quickly relationships could change.
For five years, every attempt she had made to connect with the brightest daughter of Athena had been met with distrust and hostility.
If only she had known that a few battles and some shared time together were all it took to win her over.
"Their queen?" she repeated. "While I wouldn't have minded taking some of them under my wing. I'm afraid those creatures already have an owner."
"Owner?" Percy echoed, green eyes lighting up with interest. "What does that mean?"
Isabella simply smiled, throwing Annabeth an expectant look.
The girl never missed a chance to showcase her knowledge.
"I've never heard her called their owner before, but the Empousae do serve the goddess of magic," Annabeth explained, meeting her gaze. "Although, given how many qualities you have in common, I thought they would at least go easy on you."
Isabella stifled a laugh, arching an immaculate brow instead.
What a cheeky girl.
"And what qualities would that be?"
"Do you really not know?" Annabeth scoffed, gesturing toward the red-haired woman watching them intently from across the room.
The restaurant's owner.
As the only mortal still able to perceive them, she had also been the one to take their orders and serve their food.
"Maybe that cult leader was onto something after all."
Percy released scandalized gasp, bringing his hand to his mouth in a theatrical gesture, though he could not fully hide the laughter shining in his green eyes as he followed their exchange.
"Is that supposed to be an insult, little owl?" Isabella asked, leaning forward slightly.
"I don't know." Annabeth smirked. "Is it?"
Her stern mask melted into a smile.
"I wouldn't mind either way," she admitted easily. "After all, we wouldn't have made it this far into our adventure if it wasn't for those qualities of mine."
Annabeth's lips thinned as she stayed silent, knowing better than to refute the truthfulness of her words.
"That's right!" Percy interjected, visibly perking up. "The way things are going, we'll finish this quest way before the deadline!"
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Annabeth said. "We have just over a week left to cross half the country and then descend into the underworld." Her brows drew together. "And that's not even mentioning that we'll have to somehow convince the Lord of the Dead of your innocence and get the Master Bolt back."
"I'm sure it'll be alright," Percy replied without missing a beat. "The prophecy already confirmed we'll succeed."
"You shouldn't put too much faith in Prophecy," Isabella said. "The Fates aren't all powerful. And they're not always right."
"Exactly," Annabeth added. "As far as I know, Prophecies are mostly self-fulfilling."
She shot Percy a heavy glance.
"And you should pray to the gods that this one doesn't come true."
Isabella's fingers brushed against the necklace she had tied around her neck.
The silver pendant bore a particular crimson mark.
This quest was her chance to prove herself to the mysterious devil, but that did not mean that she would hesitate to make use of him if the danger became too much to handle.
"I know," Percy murmured, his brows pinching together. "Though I still think the Oracle made a mistake. Why would any of my friends betray me?"
"That's the problem with Prophecy." Annabeth's gaze sharpened. "We won't know until it's too late."
Isabella froze as an insidious presence coiled around her.
The surrounding noise of the restaurant faded into the background, swallowed by the ringing in her ears.
Her hands quickly clenched into fists beneath the table.
Wrath had always been the emotion she struggled with most to contain.
"...bella!"
Annabeth's voice gradually cut back into focus.
"What's wrong?"
Her magic strained against her control as heavy footsteps echoed across the restaurant.
A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she glanced at her companions. They were watching her with clear concern, as if unaware of the danger approaching them.
It had to be a god.
Nothing else could overpower her mental defences like this.
"I'm impressed."
A slow clap drew her gaze sideways.
"By all rights, you should've already fallen into a bloodlust-filled frenzy by now."
A tall man dressed in black claimed the last seat at their table.
"Is this some half-blood bullshit that allows you to resist my influence?" His deep voice was filled with mocking curiosity. "Let me guess—it's because my bloodlust overlaps with your mother's lust domain?"
Isabella gritted her teeth, her sharp nails piercing into her palms.
The man's aggravating presence slowly receded as she forced her emotions back under control.
There was only one god this could be.
"Who the hell are you?" Percy asked, his shoulders tightening like coiled springs, ready for action.
"Don't think I've forgotten about you, Perseus," Ares drawled. "You've made me wait a long time, boy." He wagged his finger. "You're lucky you've already given me the most glorious of gifts, otherwise I would be very angry right now."
"Gift?" Percy repeated, his hand disappearing beneath the table. "What gift?"
Ares grinned.
"What else?" he asked. "You gave me the gift of war!" His arms spread wide at his sides. "A civil war between my father and uncle… It's like something plucked directly from Morpheus' realm."
His voice softened, making sound almost caring.
"And it's only possible because of you."
Percy sprang to his feet, his thumb hovering over Riptide's cap.
"If you want a fight—"
This foolish boy.
"Be quiet!" Isabella ordered, imbuing her voice with divine authority. "Sit down. Put the pen away."
Percy's green eyes went vacant as he obeyed her commands.
She took no pleasure in using her powers like this, but she promised to protect him.
"Would you look at that?" Ares chuckled. "The first demigod son of the Sea born in decades—the destined Destroyer." He clicked his tongue. "Silenced like an obedient pet."
His gaze settled on Isabella.
"Aphrodite has favored you. Be grateful."
She clutched her dress tightly as anger bubbled up from within her again.
Her mother had nothing to do with the mastery she possessed over her powers.
"You can't be here, Lord Ares," Annabeth said, color returning to her pale cheeks. "This is a Great Quest."
"So what?"
"Gods aren't allowed to interfere in quests. It's against the rules."
"How cute," the god chuckled. "Chiron taught you well—but it looks like there's one thing he failed to mention."
He removed his sunglasses, revealing the cold flames burning where his eyes should have been.
"War does not care about rules."
"You can't hurt us," Annabeth continued, her voice steadying as she glanced at Percy. "None of us have challenged you."
Ares smiled.
It was the most hatefully and patronizing expression Isabella had ever seen.
"You aren't very bright, are you?"
The table creaked as a crushing pressure slammed down on them.
Annabeth collapsed into her chair. Unconscious.
"Athena's brats," Ares scoffed. "They always fall to their hubris."
Percy's fingers twitched—clarity returning to his vacant eyes.
"Chimera got your tongue?" Ares asked as he looked at her.
"Don't tell me that was enough to scare you, little lady." A bronze knife materialized in his hand in a red flash. "I thought you were supposed to be the most special demigod since my half brother crawled out of our father's thigh."
He lazily spun the blade between his fingers.
"Is the world outside your gilded cage scarier than you expected?"
Isabella met his gaze without flinching.
This situation wasn't right.
If he wanted them dead, they already would be.
"You!" Percy snarled. "Don't talk to her like that!"
The boy's body trembled with rage as his gaze dropped to Annabeth's unconscious form.
"I'll make you pay for that."
The fire in Ares's eyes deepened into a darker red.
"Are you challenging me, boy?"
"Percy, dear," Isabella cut in firmly. "You need to calm down. Now."
Her eyes gleamed in a low purple as they met his.
"You're tired."
"Tired?" he frowned. "No. I'm—"
"You're tired," she repeated. "Go to sleep."
Her voice softened as his eyes fluttered shut.
"You can leave the rest to me."
Anger—entirely of her own making—twisted her features as she glared at the god of war.
"You might be a god, but that boy's emotions are mine to command—and mine alone."
He met her stare in silence.
Then he laughed.
"So you do have a spine." The knife vanished without a trace. "I see why she likes you so much. You're just like your mother."
"I am nothing like her."
Ares snorted.
"You're lucky she didn't hear you say that."
He lifted his hand, empty palm twisting toward the ceiling.
"In any case, I am a buys man. And I've given you brats enough of my time."
An innocuous bag materialized on the table between them.
"A gift from her," he added. "You'll need it when you face my gloomy uncle."
A wide grin stretched his lips, revealing a pearly white row of sharp teeth.
"Don't loose it. You'll die if you do."
Isabella's gaze dropped to the bag.
It was stylish. And purple.
Her mother had sent her many similar gifts over the years.
"Why should I trust you?" she asked, gesturing to the unconscious demigods. "After this?"
"I don't care if you trust me, little girl," he scoffed, rising to his feet. "But if you must know…"
He slid his sunglasses back on.
"When my father finally figured out what you are, I voted to keep you alive."
Isabella's breath caught.
What?
"I still regret that your English cunt of a father died before I got my hands on his magus throat."
He studied her with a smirk.
"You're quite the hot topic up in Olympus. Don't disappoint me."
He vanished in a blinding flash of golden light.
"Magus..."
Isabella frowned as the mortals around her unfroze, resuming their lives as if nothing had happened.
What's a magus?
————
Darkness closed in on me from all sides as I awoke into an empty, endless void.
Radiant crimson threads stretched outward, connecting me to dozens of small flames, flickering in the far distance.
From each of them, a steady stream of energy was flowing into me.
My eyes fluttered shut as I savored the slow growth of power. The increase was negligible for now, but it would accumulate with time.
The Mark of the Dragon truly was my greatest creation yet.
A faint smile tugged at my lips as I released a satisfied breath.
My last conversation with the Moirai had revealed once and for all that they did not care about their followers.
Whatever their reasons may be, they were more than willing to trade a few of them away to keep me in their domain.
As long as that remained the case, I likely could have just used my devil magic to manipulate my targets—the Fates warnings about using mind control be damned.
Luckily for them, I did not want to do that.
There was something far more intoxicating about tempting mortals into accepting my mark willingly.
Over the course of a week, a dozen more humans had joined Tom and Sally as a part of my collection.
My focus sharpened as the void was replaced by the crimson soul space I shared with the Heavenly Dragon.
"Wassup, Ddraig," I called, taking in his mountainous form.
Despite its recent growth in size, my dragon from still appeared like a child next to his.
"It's been a while, Partner."
"Yeah… sorry about that,"
The earth I had conjured inside into the ethereal realm crunched beneath my feet as I advanced toward him.
"I bring good news about your favorite demigoddess."
"She's not—" A plume of smoke burst from his nostrils. "Tell me about the little warrior."
I sat down and raised the ground beneath me into a small hill, elevating it upward until I was level with his face.
"She assured me that she's been beating the crap out of their best fighter on the daily."
My smile deepened into a grin.
I was proud of her.
It was a shame that Chiron had tightened their Camp's security after Isabella slipped away.
Today was the first time she managed to pay me a visit ever since the lighting thief Quest began.
"Is she now?" Ddraig hummed, a flicker of interest kindling in his inhuman eyes.
"If she's to be believed, yes"
"What of the other one?" he asked, lowering his head to his claws. "The Barthomeloi child."
"I've been meaning to ask," a patch of vibrant green grass formed beneath me as I leaned back. "you've been acting like you know that name for a while now. How?"
"One of my Hosts was captured by a member of her family a few centuries back." His tail lashed against the ground, though I could not tell wether it was out of anger or annoyance. "Like so many others, they tried to extract me from him. And like always—they failed, and he died."
A quiet shudder creeped up my spine.
Dying in a Magus experiment sounded like a terrible way to go.
"Every story you tell me about your past Hosts is worse than the last," I scoffed. "What do you know about the people who did that to him?"
"Not much." Ddraig lifted his wings slightly, and then dropped them again. "They call themselves Homo Magus."
Did he just shrug?
"They're the ruling faction of England," he continued. "Truth be told, the only reason I bothered remembering them at all is because they're the ones who bought the majority of the White Ones' body after our battle."
His lips curled into a delighted grin.
"They even built their headquarters on top of it… they call it the Clock Tower."
"I see," I murmured, digging my fingers into the soft ground beneath me. "How come I've never heard of them before?"
"They're fanatic isolationists. It's how they resisted the influence of the gods for so long."
His gaze narrowed to slits.
"The Barthomeloi are one of their noble houses."
How interesting.
"So for Isabella to be a demigodess connected to them—"
"It shouldn't be possible," he finished.
"And yet it happened," I mused, my expression brightening with anticipation. "It's a miracle—one that belongs to me now."
"Don't get ahead of yourself just yet," Ddraig scoffed. "She'll be a lot harder to recruit than the little warrior."
"Tempting people is what I was born to do," I huffed. "How hard can it?"
"Her mother is Aphrodite." His teeth gleamed as his lips curled into a smirk. "The same applies to her."
I rolled my eyes.
Satans save me from smartass dragons.
"Maybe," I conceded. "But can she do this?"
A polished katana appeared beside me in a flash of jade light.
It was one of the ever increasing amount of treasures I had stored in the Boosted Gear.
"I doubt she's ever convinced someone to let her brand them like livestock."
"Ah yes… how could I forget about that spell?" Ddraig sneered, his voice thick with derision. "The mighty Red Dragon Emperor, leeching off mortals for their energy."
He released a mournful breath.
"The first few years of my Host's life are always the most undignified.
My jaw dropped.
"I'm not leeching off them!" I snapped. "They're sacrificing their life force to me. That's not the same!"
Compared to the training I put myself through, the increase in power they gave me was barely worth mentioning.
"Gods do this every day."
"They don't."
"… What?"
Ddraig raised his head, staring down at me with undisguised amusement.
"What you're doing with those mortals—it's nothing like the relationship gods have with their followers."
"What's the difference?"
"How would I know?" he retorted, dropping his head back down with a heavy thud. "Do I look like one of those pompous fools to you?"
I blinked, caught of guard by the sudden shift in attitude.
"The why are you talking?"
"Because I've seen something like this before, your predecessor's followed a path very similar to yours."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"The first-generation Pillars?"
"Of course not." A cloud of smoke slipped out from between his teeth. "They're just cheap knockoffs."
"Then who?"
"Demons."
His gaze sharpened as the humour faded from his voice.
"Creatures that hold dominion over humanities' fear. They're the original devils—existing long before Lilith gave birth to your kind."
My fingers drummed against the ground as I considered his words.
This world was growing more fascinating by the day.
"Where are they now?" I asked.
"Who can say?" Ddraig rumbled, already getting bored of the topic he himself had brought up. "Lucifer is dead, and it's been millennia since I last faced one."
He shrugged again, in his own peculiar and draconic fashion.
"Mortals still fear, so they must be alive somewhere—growing stronger in whatever hole they've crawled into."
"Good for them."
I dragged a hand through my hair, my thoughts racing.
"I don't see them becoming much of a threat."
My gaze settled on the crimson mark etched onto my katana. A beautiful treasure I would likely never use in battle, but took from its previous owner regardless.
"The fact that they're satisfied with feeding on mere fear tells me everything I need to know."
My pupils narrowed into slits as I met Ddraig's curious gaze.
"A true devil wouldn't be satisfied with that—I am not satisfied with that."
My voice slowed as the sentiment resonated with something deep within me.
"I want everything."