Chapter 4: Sometimes You Gotta Know When to Fold
The air was different now.
The moment Percy got serious, it was like a switch flipped. The easygoing, sarcastic demigod I'd been sparring with? Gone. In his place stood something much worse.
A real hero.
His sea-green eyes locked onto mine with a weight that made my instincts scream danger. The water around him wasn't just reacting anymore—it was moving with intent, coiling at his feet like a living thing. The sky darkened, clouds rolling in despite the clear summer afternoon.
I swallowed hard.
[Berserker Gauge: 70%]
I could push further. But my instincts, my system, my very soul told me one thing loud and clear:
Don't.
And honestly? That was enough.
I was crazy, yeah. I had a death wish, sure. But I wasn't stupid.
The moment Percy vanished from sight, I knew I'd lost.
A fist slammed into my stomach so hard that for a second, my brain refused to process it. I barely had time to blink before my body exploded backward.
Everything blurred.
Wind rushed past my ears.
I crashed into the ground hard, bouncing like a skipped rock across a lake.
I couldn't breathe.
Pain radiated through my body, my ribs screaming in protest. I rolled onto my side, choking, trying to suck in air that refused to come. My vision flickered, and in the distance, I saw Percy standing exactly where I had been, fist still extended.
Oh.
Oh, he was that fast.
The crowd had gone dead silent.
Clarisse, who had been watching with her usual bloodthirsty grin, actually looked concerned. Annabeth had that calculating expression, probably debating whether or not I'd just died. A couple of Apollo campers were already murmuring about whether they'd need to heal me.
I groaned and forced myself up. "I—"
Percy appeared in front of me.
No flash, no warning, no nothing. Just there.
Oh, that was so unfair.
His fist cocked back, and before I could react—
BAM.
I skipped across the dirt like someone had punted me across a football field. Again.
I barely registered the pain before—
WHAM.
Another hit.
The world spun. I wasn't even sure which direction was up anymore.
Percy didn't let up.
He moved like a hurricane, fast, relentless, like the ocean itself had taken offense to my existence. Every strike carried the weight of someone who will fight titans, gods, and whatever other nightmares the universe wants to throw at him.
And me?
I was just some guy with a Berserker System and a dream.
By the time I crashed into the dirt for the final time, my body felt like it had been smashed into paste. I twitched, coughing up dust, barely able to lift my head.
Percy loomed over me, arms crossed. "Yeah, you're done."
I wanted to argue. I really did.
Instead, I just groaned and gave him a very weak thumbs-up.
"Cool," I rasped. "Good talk."
The crowd finally exhaled. Someone clapped awkwardly. A few murmurs of 'well, that was one-sided' rippled through the audience.
Clarisse stomped over, staring down at me. "You dead?"
"Emotionally? Yeah," I wheezed. "Physically? Also yeah."
She smirked, then nudged me with her boot. "I'd say good fight, but you got folded like a camp brochure."
I groaned. "Thanks for that, sis."
Percy chuckled, holding out a hand. "Honestly? You did way better than I expected."
I stared at his hand for a second before sighing and grabbing it. He yanked me up effortlessly, like I weighed nothing.
"Yeah, well," I muttered, rubbing my sore ribs. "Next time, I'm bringing a trident."
Percy snorted. "Looking forward to it."
—
Later that night, after I was mostly sure my organs weren't jelly, I sat at the Ares cabin's dinner table, picking at my food.
It was loud as usual—Clarisse and some of the other campers were arguing over battle strategies, someone was arm-wrestling, and a few were just yelling for the hell of it. Classic Ares energy.
But me?
I was thinking.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I had time to just process.
I was here. In Percy Jackson. In the body of Clarisse's twin brother, some demigod that never existed in canon.
I had a system.
I had potential.
And yet—
I stabbed my fork into my plate, frustrated.
Today had proven something. Yeah, I was strong. Yeah, I could adapt. But compared to the monsters—compared to guys like Percy, who had literally fought the god of war, father, and won—
I was nothing.
No. Not nothing.
I clenched my fists.
I was unfinished.
That fight? That wasn't my limit. That was just where I started.
I exhaled.
Alright. If I was really going to do this—if I was really going to live up to my goal, to my dream of becoming a true warrior—
I needed a plan.
I needed training.
And most importantly—
I needed to get a whole lot stronger.
I took another bite of food, the fire of determination burning in my chest.
Alright.
Let's get to work.