[Third Person’s PoV]

Lucian sat on a sand-crafted chair that Annabeth had created, observing the confrontation between Percy and Ares with an unblinking intensity. The waves crashed behind them, their rhythmic roar a stark contrast to the tense silence blanketing the shoreline.

Heracles stood like a mountain behind Lucian, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in steely focus on Ares, something about Ares was just simply rubbing him the wrong way.

Nearby, Clarisse shifted uneasily, gnawing on her thumbnail until it threatened to break. Her usually fierce eyes were shadowed by concern, darting between Percy and her father. Annabeth, standing beside her, noticed Clarisse growing anxiety and couldn’t resist a teasing smirk.

“What’s the matter? Can’t decide who to root for?” Annabeth’s voice was low, yet it held a teasing lilt that only barely masked her own worry.

Clarisse’s eyes narrowed, and she shot Annabeth a glare sharp enough to cut stone. “Shut it, will you?” she muttered, her voice tight with strained emotion.

Annabeth responded with a knowing pat on Clarisse’s back. “You want my advice—”

“No,” Clarisse said without hesitation, not letting her finish.

Undeterred, Annabeth’s brow twitched slightly in irritation as she continued, “Too bad, I’m going to tell you anyways. You should root for Percy. He actually cares about you, much more than your father ever has.”

Clarisse flinched, an involuntary tremor running through her. Her lips tightened as she glanced at Annabeth, eyes glistening with conflicting emotions. “This is why you should mind your own business,” she muttered, voice breaking on the last word. “I’m not rooting for my dad. I’m rooting for Percy. But my father is the God of War. He’s not as honorable or merciful as Heracles… He won’t hold back. He’ll kill him without a second thought.”

Annabeth’s expression softened as she returned her gaze to the battlefield. The two combatants stood only a few paces apart. Ares’s eyes glimmered with the cold, sharp confidence of an experienced warrior as he lifted his colossal silver sword onto his shoulder. The blade’s hilt was carved into a skull, a ruby embedded in its eyes, glittering ominously.

“Shall we go over the rules of our duel one last time?” Ares’s voice rumbled.

Percy, unflinching, met Ares’s gaze with steely determination. “Lucian was declared the winner of his fight with Heracles, so the Helm of Darkness goes to him. If I win, you’ll leave us alone for good—Clarisse included. No more treating her like a pawn or an errand girl. Treat her with the respect she deserves… Like your actual daughter”

Ares’s mouth curled into a scoff, his eyes alight with derision. “And if you lose?”

“It won’t come to that” Percy said as clenched his jaw. He raised his fist, clenching it until the trident tattoo on the back of his hand glowed with a deep ocean green. The tattoo peeled away, morphing into a shimmering, ethereal trident that hovered in the air for a moment before he grasped it firmly. With a practiced motion, he reached into his pocket, uncapped a simple pen that shifted seamlessly into Riptide, his celestial bronze sword.

Heracles shifted behind Lucian, the hero’s eyes widening just enough to betray his astonishment. “That sword…”

Percy positioned his trident defensively and held Riptide at the ready, every muscle taut. The sea breeze tugged at his dark hair, but his eyes remained locked on Ares.

Ares threw back his head and laughed. “Two weapons? You think wielding two will make you have a better chance at defeating me? I need only one to prove your defeat.” He twirled his massive blade, the skull hilt catching the light in an unsettling gleam.

“Are you done showing off, or can we get this over with? I have things to do,” Percy snapped, the edge in his voice daring Ares to make his move.

Ares’s grin faltered, turning into a scowl. “I’ll let you make the first move, punk.”

Without hesitation, Percy surged forward, his trident aimed for Ares’s midsection. But Ares moved like lightning, parrying the strike with an ease that bordered on arrogance. The collision of metal sent sparks flying, tiny stars that landed on the sand and sizzled into nothingness.

Percy pivoted, slashing with Riptide. Ares intercepted, blades scraping and screaming in protest. The air around them crackled with tension, each clash sending shockwaves that rippled through the sand.

As Percy’s attacks grew faster, his movements more precise, Ares responded with effortless counters. It was as if the god could read his mind, blocking each strike before it even formed in Percy’s thoughts.

The two continued to clash for a good while when suddenly, Ares roared and raised his sword high, both hands gripping the hilt. He brought it down in a brutal arc, eyes glinting with feral glee. Percy crossed Riptide and his trident, bracing himself as the sword connected. The force was monstrous, vibrating through his bones with enough power to numb his arms. He bit back a cry, feeling the shock reverberate through his very core.

Ares lashed out with a boot to Percy’s gut, and the demigod was launched backward, air ripped from his lungs. He hit the sand hard, rolling and coughing. Pain lanced through his midsection as he forced himself to rise, wiping the corner of his mouth where blood had begun to pool.

With a flick of his hand, his trident flew back to him, and he spun it with a flourish. Ares was already storming toward him, sword gleaming with lethal intent.

Percy tightened his grip, thrusting his trident forward. A column of seawater erupted from the prongs, shooting toward Ares like a spear. The god dodged nimbly, the spray glistening as it fell in scattered droplets. He closed the distance and slashed for Percy’s head.

Percy ducked low, the edge of the blade grazing his cheek and drawing a thin, stinging line of blood. He rolled to the side, a hiss escaping him as he clutched his face. The droplets that splashed around him shimmered and flew towards his cheek, sealing the wound in an instant.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” Ares sneered, raising his sword again.

Before he could strike, Percy caught the blade between the prongs of his trident and pushed with a grunt, attempting to disarm the god. But Ares’s grip was iron, unyielding. Summoning his strength, Percy channeled water around the prongs and slashed upward. A crescent blade of water surged forward, only to meet a wall of fire as Ares’s blade ignited.

The wave burst into steam, hissing like a chorus of angry serpents. Ares’s eyes gleamed. “You’re not the only one with control over the elements, boy.”

The steam thickened, enveloping them in a dense fog that cloaked Percy’s form. Ares furrowed his eyes as he began to hack at the fog. Ares’ instincts warned him off the danger, and blocked Percy’s sword, which all appeared as a silhouette in the fog. More sparks flew from every direction as Percy was using the fog to his advantage,

“You might control one element,” Percy’s voice echoed from within the fog, low and taunting. “But I can wield many.”

Silhouettes of Percy materialized in the fog, darting around Ares like wraiths. Ares snarled, slashing at the phantoms only to find them dissipating into mist. The god spun, slashing in a wide arc and releasing a wave of fire that seared through the air, pushing the fog back.

As the steam cleared, Ares’s eyes narrowed. The battlefield had transformed; hundreds of icicles floated like frozen daggers, glistening ominously. Percy twirled his trident, and the icicles responded, shivering in place before launching at Ares with deadly speed.

Ares moved in a blur, his blade cutting down the shards as they shattered into glimmering snowflakes that floated like embers. The god’s concentration was razor-sharp, eyes darting as he deflected each attack. The sound of ice splintering and metal ringing filled the beach.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over Ares. His eyes snapped up to see Percy descending, trident poised for a strike. Ares shifted, using the flat of his sword to block as Percy’s weapon crashed down, sparking with violent energy.

The force of their collision sent a shockwave that flattened the sand around them. Percy, breath heaving, uncapped his pen mid-press and thrust Riptide forward, drawing a thin, precise line across Ares’s waist. A droplet of ichor, gold as the sun, oozed from the wound, shimmering between them.

Ares’s eyes widened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of true hatred in the god’s gaze. Percy’s breath hitched, his own eyes reflecting the gold with an almost stunned disbelief.

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