Capítulo 201: Chapter 201: Confrontations
[Third Person's PoV]
Lucian perched on a thick, sturdy branch of a towering tree overlooking the heart of Camp Half-Blood. The branch was broad enough to hold two people comfortably, and it swayed slightly in the cool evening breeze. Above them, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, fading into the encroaching darkness.
Thalia sat on his lap, her back pressed against his chest. She leaned into him, her spiky black hair brushing his jawline as they basked in the serenity of twilight. The camp below was rowdy, the usual bustle of demigod life grew even louder as night approached.
Breaking the silence, Thalia tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but curious. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask. How's your progress coming along since your fight with Heracles?"
Lucian smiled faintly, his hand slipping around her waist as she intertwined her fingers with his. He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder, his tone thoughtful. "Surprisingly, I'm up to 45%. That fight helped me more than I expected—especially with understanding the 'Knight' aspect of my title. The 'Cursed' part is... trickier. That one's giving me the most trouble."
Thalia scoffed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You? Having trouble? The sky must be falling."
Lucian chuckled, rolling his eyes. "What about you? How's your progress?"
"95%," she grumbled, her frustration evident. "It feels like I'm missing some tiny, elusive piece before I can advance."
Lucian raised a brow. "You're probably overthinking it. You do that a lot—it's a bad habit."
"I don't overthink things," she muttered defensively.
He laughed softly. "At least look me in the eye when you say that. You might sound more convincing."
Thalia twisted slightly, locking her stormy blue eyes with his. "I don't overthink things," she repeated firmly.
Lucian grinned. "Hmm... you still do."
Thalia rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. Leaning forward, she kissed him lightly. "There. No overthinking that, right?"
"I suppose not," Lucian murmured with a chuckle. His hand moved to her cheek, guiding her into a deeper kiss.
As their lips parted, they stayed close, foreheads touching. Their conversation shifted back to Thalia's struggle with her progression. "Don't overthink it," Lucian whispered against her skin. "Sometimes taking things literally is the key."
Thalia frowned, her hand resting on the back of his neck. "What's that supposed to mean? Take what literally? The name 'Thunder Herald'?"
Lucian remained silent, letting her work through the thought. "A herald is... a messenger, someone who announces what's to come." Her eyes widened. "Lucian... I hate freaking you sometimes."
Lucian smirked smugly. "You were overthinking it, weren't you?"
Thalia groaned, pressing her palms to her face. "Of course, I was. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'There's lightning before the thunder?'"
"Duh?" Lucian said,
"That's what I am… I am a Herald, I am a forewarning, I am the Lightning before the Thunder, I am a message for that the worst is yet to come. I. Am. The Lightning" Thalia declared as she clenched her fist, sparks of lightning crackled along her hands while sparks flew from the corner of her eyes.
Lucian leaned back, amused. "You just hit 100%, didn't you?"
Thalia laughed despite herself. "This is so stupid..."
Before she could finish reveling in her breakthrough, Lucian's hand darted to the side, catching a card mid-air. The movement was so sudden and precise it almost startled her.
"Annabeth?" Thalia guessed.
"Who else?" Lucian replied, activating the card.
It burst into flames, the fire forming words in the air: Percy is on the move.
Both of them sighed in unison. "Damn it..."
---
Percy sat on a fallen log at the edge of the campfire, fiddling with his sleeves. He wore a light blue hoodie with the camp's logo, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His green eyes lingered on Luke, who had just finished his meal and was brushing crumbs off his hands.
With a deep sigh, Percy pushed himself to his feet. 'I hate confrontations,' he thought bitterly, but he knew he couldn't delay this any longer. Shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets, he made his way over to Luke.
"Luke," Percy called quietly.
Luke turned, his expression unreadable. "Yeah?"
"We need to talk," Percy said, his voice low to avoid drawing attention.
Maybe it was pride, maybe it was arrogance, but Luke messed with him the most, it was because of Luke that everyone suspected he was the lightning thief, Percy knew that without the help of a hero a God couldn't steal the symbol of power from another God, so it was because of Luke that Hades thought Percy also stole his helm and took his mother as hostage. It was Luke's fault that his mother now knew what the Underworld looks like. It was Luke who had given him the shoes to send him flying to Tartarus.
Luke raised an eyebrow, wiping his lip with his thumb, licking sauce with his tongue. "Oh? Do we now?"
Percy said nothing, just held his gaze. Although Percy hated confrontations, that didn't mean he wouldn't do it if the situation called for it.
Luke smirked, amused by Percy's silence. "Oooh, how scary~" he teased, standing. "Alright, follow me."
From a distance, Clarisse watched the exchange with a frown. "What's that idiot doing now?" she muttered.
Annabeth, standing beside her, narrowed her eyes. She noticed Luke and Percy heading toward the forest. Clicking her tongue in irritation, she pulled out a card from her pocket and sent a quick message.
---
Luke led Percy to a secluded clearing in the forest. The faint glow of bioluminescent plants lit the area, while fireflies danced in the cool air.
"This should do," Luke said casually, turning to face Percy. "Now, what's this about?"
Percy kept his hands in his pockets, his expression tense. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling before speaking. "What did I ever do to you?"
Luke tilted his head. "Excuse me?"
"I didn't even know I was a demigod and I was already accused of a crime I didn't even commit. And from that point on forwards you just kept on targeting me, so I can't help but wonder if I ever did something to you for this kind of treatment? I mean you even went on to act as my friend just so you can stab me in the back and try to send me to the abyss. At this point it must be because I did something personal to you that offended you" Percy said with both a scoff and amusement.
"Hahahahaha!" Luke laughed, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. He couldn't help it. "Dude, Percy, as unreliable as my words might seem to you by now, I'm not lying when I say this—it's nothing personal. You're just so unlucky."
Percy wasn't offended in the slightest. In fact, he chuckled along with him. "Honestly, I don't doubt it."
Luke's laughter faded, his expression turning solemn. "The gods, Percy... they're a curse to this world," he said bitterly. "I'm sure you know this, too. Or maybe you don't. With Lucian and the others around, I doubt you've had many close calls. But did you know? Most of the monsters in this world—those creatures that threaten both mortals and demigods—were created by the gods themselves. And because of that, most demigods don't make it past their twenties. They die fighting the monsters our parents—the gods—brought into existence."
Memories of Medusa and his father flashed through Percy's mind, and his gaze faltered. He couldn't look Luke in the eye. He knew Luke had a point.
"We, Percy," Luke continued, his voice heavy with anger, "are nothing but tools for the gods to interact with the mortal world. When they can't enforce their will directly, they send us. Demigods. We're their messengers, their soldiers, their scapegoats. That's all we are to them—tools. Nothing more. And when one of us steps out of line? When we dare to have an opinion, to defy their wishes? They destroy us. We're not allowed to feel. Not allowed to think. We're just supposed to be these emotionless pawns, serving their egos."
Luke's face twisted with rage as he raked a hand through his hair. "And what sickens me the most—what maddens me—is how so many of us call it an honor. They think it's some kind of privilege to be used, manipulated, and thrown away like that."
His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Percy didn't argue. He couldn't. Because deep down, he knew there was truth in them.
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