Chapter 1: Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Boy
I woke up to the smell of burnt marshmallows and the sound of somebody screaming. Not in a help, I'm being murdered kind of way, but in an I'm about to murder someone kind of way.
I sat up too fast and cracked my forehead against something solid. My vision exploded in stars, and I heard a thunkfollowed by a groan. Blinking through the pain, I realized I'd just headbutted a girl.
Correction: A very angry girl.
Correction again: A very angry, very strong girl.
Clarisse La Rue.
Her face twisted in rage, nostrils flaring like a bull seeing red. She looked like she wanted to rip me in half, which would've been alarming if not for the fact that I was too busy figuring out why the hell I woke up in the Percy Jackson universe.
"Oh, you did not just headbutt me," she growled.
I held up my hands. "Okay, first of all, I just woke up. Second, who starts the day by leaning over someone's unconscious body like a serial killer?"
"You died, idiot," she snapped, rubbing her forehead. "Well, almost. You've been out for two days. We thought you were a goner."
I blinked. "Huh."
Now that I was actually paying attention, I realized my entire body felt like I'd gone five rounds with a cement truck. My arms were wrapped in bandages. My ribs ached like they'd been used as a monster's chew toy. And my throat was dry, like I'd been screaming for hours.
I also realized I wasn't in some sterile hospital room—I was lying in an open-air cabin, on a rough mattress that smelled like sweat and battle scars.
Camp Half-Blood.
I was at Camp Half-Blood.
Memories slammed into me all at once.
Fighting that hellhound in the woods. The giant boar. The pain. The darkness.
And before that—before I was in this body—
Nope. Nothing. Just a void.
A strange, shivery feeling crept up my spine, like something was missing. I tried to grab onto it, but it slipped away like water through my fingers.
Whatever. I could freak out about my existential crisis later.
"Wait," I said, focusing on the important part. "You said I almost died?"
Clarisse folded her arms. "You took on a drakon alone, dumbass."
I stared at her. "A drakon."
"As in, giant, ancient, murder lizard," she said flatly. "You fought one. By yourself. With no plan. Because you—" she deepened her voice in an exaggerated impression of me "—'wanna be the greatest warrior ever, like Kratos but hotter.'"
Oh gods.
That did sound like something I'd say.
She rolled her eyes. "You got in, what, three good hits? Then it smacked you across the forest like a ragdoll. We had to drag your unconscious body back here."
I groaned, rubbing my face. That explained why I felt like a car crash victim. But hey, at least I got three hits in.
Clarisse sat on the edge of my bed, eyeing me like she was debating whether to punch me back into a coma. "What the hell were you thinking, Lionel?"
Lionel.
That was my name now. Lionel La Rue. Son of Ares. Clarisse's twin brother.
My first instinct? I wanted to say, I thought I was the main character, okay? But I had a feeling that wouldn't fly.
"I…" I hesitated, the words surprising even me. "I just… I wanted to prove myself."
Clarisse's expression shifted, just a little. She didn't soften—La Rues don't do soft—but she didn't look like she was about to deck me anymore.
She sighed. "You don't need to prove anything, idiot. You're my twin. You're already one of the best fighters here. But if you keep acting like an unhinged maniac, you will die."
I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off. "Seriously, Lionel. You wanna be the strongest, fine. But strength without strategy is just stupidity."
I blinked. "You sound like Chiron."
"Yeah, well." She scowled. "Maybe the centaur has a point."
That was… weirdly insightful. I wasn't used to Clarisse being wise. Usually, she just punched people until they saw her point.
Before I could process that, the cabin door banged open.
A familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, well. Look who's not dead."
I turned my head and—yep. Percy Jackson.
He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, wearing his usual I'm-cool-but-I-don't-try-to-be expression. His sea-green eyes twinkled with amusement, like he'd been waiting all day to roast me.
"Percy," I greeted. "Did you come here just to admire me?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said. "I heard you tried to solo a drakon. Bold move. Stupid, but bold."
Clarisse smirked. "Told you."
Percy tilted his head. "So, uh… how'd that work out for you?"
I sighed. "I got three good hits in."
Percy grinned. "Nice. And then?"
"…Then it yeeted me into the stratosphere."
Percy snorted. "Yikes. Guess you're not Kratos yet."
"Give me time," I muttered.
Percy plopped into the chair beside my bed, looking way too entertained. "So. You woke up, and the first thing you did was headbutt your sister?"
Clarisse groaned. "Don't remind me."
Percy grinned. "Man, I wish I saw that. That's almost as funny as the time you tried to use chains as weapons and almost strangled yourself."
"That was an experiment," I said defensively.
"Oh, totally," Percy said. "And was it also an experiment when you challenged the Apollo cabin to a 'sunlight endurance contest' and nearly passed out from heatstroke?"
"Listen—"
"Or when you tried to wrestle a hellhound because, and I quote, 'Spartans fear no beast'?"
I groaned. "Are you just here to bully me?"
Percy smirked. "Yes."
I grumbled something unkind about seaweed brains, but I couldn't help but be relieved. Percy and I had this weird, friendly rivalry thing going on. We both liked to fight, we both had big egos, and we both had a bad habit of throwing ourselves into dumb situations.
The difference? Percy actually survived his dumb situations.
I needed to work on that.
Before Percy could roast me further, the door opened again. This time, Chiron walked in, his horse hooves clopping against the wooden floor. He had his usual wise-but-tired expression, like he'd been dealing with demigod nonsense for way too long (which, to be fair, he had).
"Ah," Chiron said. "Lionel. I see you're awake."
I gave him a thumbs-up. "Barely."
Chiron nodded, then turned to Clarisse. "How's his condition?"
"Still an idiot," she said. "But physically, he's fine."
Chiron sighed. "Well. That's something."
He studied me, his eyes serious now. "Lionel, what you did was reckless."
I nodded. "Yeah."
"You could've died."
I nodded again. "Yeah."
Chiron frowned. "And?"
I hesitated. "And… I need to get stronger."
Chiron's expression flickered. That wasn't what he'd wanted me to say. He'd probably expected me to say something wise like I've learned my lesson or I'll be more careful.
But that wasn't me. That wasn't how I worked.
I wasn't going to stop fighting. I wasn't going to stop pushing myself.
I was going to become the strongest warrior Camp Half-Blood had ever seen.
Chiron sighed, rubbing his temples. "Lionel, strength without wisdom is dangerous. Ares may favor brute force, but a true warrior knows when to fight and when to step back."
"I'll get there," I promised.
Chiron gave me a long, knowing look. "I hope so."
With that, he turned and left, his hooves echoing through the cabin.
Percy stood, stretching. "Welp. You're alive. Guess that means you still owe me that sparring match."
I smirked. "Oh, you're on, Jackson."
"Great," he said cheerfully. "Try not to get yeeted into the sky this time."
Clarisse snorted. "No promises."
As they left, I stared at the ceiling, flexing my hands. My body still ached, but deep inside, I felt something stir.
A hunger.
A fire.
I wasn't done.
Not even close.