Chapter 2: Spartan Instincts and Seaweed Smackdowns
Waking up the second time was less dramatic. No headbutting my sister, no existential crisis—just a dull, aching soreness in every muscle, like I'd been thrown down a flight of stairs. Which, technically, was an upgrade from being slapped across the woods by a drakon.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. My back popped like a bundle of firecrackers, and I let out a groan. Gods, my body was wrecked.
That's when I saw it.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]
I froze.
A faint, glowing text flickered in the corner of my vision. It was like someone had installed a heads-up display directly into my brain.
[Berserker Ascension System Initialized.]
Okay. Okay. This was new.
I inhaled sharply, half-expecting someone to jump out and yell "Surprise! You've been punked!" But no one else was in the cabin.
I focused on the text, and new lines appeared:
[User: Lionel La Rue][Race: Demigod (Son of Ares)][Rank: Bronze-Tier Warrior]
[Berserker Gauge: 0%]
[Passive Perks Unlocked: Spartan Instincts, Adaptive Combat]
A system. A Berserker system. In the Percy Jackson world.
My heart started racing. This was big. No—this was huge.
I clenched my fists, feeling a faint warmth flood through my veins. If this worked the way I hoped, then I just got the ultimate cheat code for becoming a real god of war.
I focused on the words Spartan Instincts, and a new text box popped up.
[Spartan Instincts: Your body has inherited the raw battle conditioning of ancient Spartan warriors. Reaction speed, physical efficiency, and combat flow improve based on combat exposure. The longer you fight, the better you adapt.]
That sounded… kind of broken. And by "kind of," I meant absolutely.
I pulled up Adaptive Combat next.
[Adaptive Combat: You learn from battle at an accelerated rate. Each fight permanently increases combat efficiency with weapons, dodging, and close-quarters techniques.]
My breathing quickened. This was insane.
This wasn't just some RPG leveling system where I needed experience points. This was real, battle-forged improvement. I just needed to fight—actually fight—and my body would adapt like a supercomputer processing combat data.
I looked at my fists. They didn't feel different. But something in my bones felt sharper, like my body was just waiting to be pushed to its limits.
I grinned. "Oh, hell yeah."
Before I could experiment, the cabin door swung open, and my sister's voice cut through my thoughts.
"You better not be trying to fight your own reflection again."
I turned, and there was Clarisse, standing in the doorway with her usual I'm-going-to-punch-something-today energy.
"That was one time," I grumbled.
"That was last week," she shot back. "And you broke the Apollo cabin's mirror."
"Listen, it was a good fight."
Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Whatever, genius. Chiron wants to see you. Probably to lecture you about your 'reckless actions' and 'self-destructive tendencies.'" She made air quotes, then smirked. "You know. The usual."
I pushed off the bed, testing my legs. Still sore, but stable. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
As we left the cabin, I took in Camp Half-Blood with new eyes. The smell of fresh grass, the distant clang of swords from the training grounds, the faint sea breeze rolling in from the shore—it all hit different now. Because now, I wasn't just some demigod with a death wish.
I had a system.
A cheat code.
And I was going to abuse the hell out of it.
We made our way to the Big House, dodging a few curious glances from other campers. I caught Percy and Annabeth sitting by the campfire, chatting about some prophecy nonsense. Percy saw me and gave a lazy wave.
"Yo, Kratos-wannabe!" he called. "Try not to get bodied again!"
I smirked. "Don't worry, Jackson. You're next."
He laughed, shaking his head. Annabeth just sighed, probably already regretting every interaction she'd had with me.
Clarisse elbowed me. "You really think you can take on Percy?"
"I know I can," I said confidently. "I just need to figure out how to make him bleed first."
Clarisse grinned. "That's the spirit."
We reached the Big House, where Chiron waited on the porch, looking like he was about to deliver a stern yet educationaldisappointment speech.
"Ah, Lionel," he said, in that way that really meant What dumb thing did you do now?
"Chiron," I greeted, in that way that really meant I regret nothing.
He sighed. "Come inside."
Clarisse nudged me. "Good luck."
I followed Chiron into his office, which was filled with old scrolls, war maps, and the faint scent of coffee. He turned to face me, his centaur form taking up most of the room.
"Lionel," he started, "do you understand why what you did was reckless?"
I thought about it. "Because I got my ass kicked?"
Chiron pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because you could have died."
I shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't."
"That is not the point." He exhaled slowly, then studied me with those ancient, wise centaur eyes. "Lionel, you are undoubtedly skilled. Ares blessed you with exceptional talent. But skill without discipline is a blade with no handle. Sooner or later, it will cut you."
I frowned. "So what? You want me to stop fighting?"
"No," he said simply. "I want you to fight smarter."
I hesitated.
"I know the blood of Ares burns in you," Chiron continued. "You want to prove yourself. To be stronger. But power means nothing without control."
I clenched my fists. I wasn't used to thinking about my fights. I just fought. But now…
Now, I had a system that could make me better.
I could adapt.
I could evolve.
I met Chiron's gaze. "Alright," I said. "I'll do better."
Chiron studied me, then nodded. "Good."
Before he could turn this into some inspirational lecture, I cleared my throat. "So, uh. Can I fight Percy now?"
Chiron sighed. "You're impossible."
—
The training grounds were packed. Word had spread fast—probably because Percy Jackson vs. Lionel La Rue sounded like an MMA main event.
Percy stood in the center, twirling Riptide like he did this in his sleep. His sea-green eyes glinted with amusement. "You sure about this?"
I cracked my knuckles. "Oh, very sure."
He grinned. "Alright. Try not to die."
The crowd backed up. Clarisse watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, already placing bets. Annabeth stood nearby, probably hoping I'd knock some sense into Percy (or vice versa).
I rolled my shoulders. Time to test this system.
[Berserker Gauge: 0% → 10%]
I launched forward. Fast. Faster than before.
Percy's eyes widened, but he reacted like a seasoned fighter—stepping back, slashing Riptide in a quick counter.
I dodged. Not consciously—I just moved, my body flowing like I'd already seen the attack a hundred times before.
Spartan Instincts. Adaptive Combat.
Percy swung again. I leaned back just enough to let the celestial bronze graze my shirt. My body knew how close I could get without being hit.
Percy smirked. "Not bad."
I grinned. "Oh, I'm just getting started."
I lunged, fists flying. He blocked, but my blows were faster, sharper than before. He countered with a sweep—I jumped, flipping over him with more control than I should've had.
The system was working.
I was learning.
[Berserker Gauge: 10% → 20%]
Percy lashed out with a water blast. I dodged, but the edge of it clipped me, sending me skidding back.
I wiped my mouth. "Okay. That's cheating."
Percy laughed. "Oh, now it's cheating?"
I exhaled, feeling my blood burn hotter.
Alright, Jackson. Let's see if you can keep up.