[Third Person’s PoV]

“To me, my steed!!” Lucian called out, stretching his hands forward as everyone finished getting into formation.

His shadow spread across the rocky ground, shifting unnaturally. From its depths, a black stallion with a flowing mane of darkness and glowing red eyes emerged, its hooves leaving wisps of shadow in their wake.

“THAT’S AWESOME!!!” the Dionysus twins, Pollux and Castor, shouted in unison.

Lucian swung himself onto the horse’s back and placed his battle helm over his head.

“Dude, you’re looking more like a general every time we do these games,” Charles, the son of Hephaestus, said with a chuckle.

“I really want my own horse…” Nico grumbled impatiently. “A skeleton one would be fine too. I’m not picky.”

Bianca smirked, adjusting the bow slung across her back. “Are you going to give an inspirational speech too, General Lucian~?” she teased.

PHTOOOOOOOOM!!!

The battle horn sounded just as Lucian opened his mouth, one finger raised.

Annabeth stifled a laugh. “Looks like you missed your chance.”

Lucian scoffed, urging his horse forward. “A General never misses an opportunity to give an inspiring speech. So listen up—because I’m only saying this once!”

“Everything that you thought had meaning: every hope, dream, or moment of happiness. None of it matters as you lie bleeding out on the battlefield. None of it changes what a sharp blade does to a body, we all die.

But does that mean our lives are meaningless? Does that mean that there was no point in our being born? Would you say that of our slain comrades? What about their lives? Were they meaningless?…

They were not!! Their memory serves as an example to us all! The courageous fallen! The anguished fallen! Their lives have meaning because we the living refuse to forget them! And as we ride to certain death, we trust our successors to do the same for us!

Because my soldiers do not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world! My soldiers push forward! My soldiers scream out! My soldiers RAAAAAGE!!!” Lucian roared as Sebastián neighed loudly, kicking his hooves into the air before barreling forward, his hooves pounding against the ground.

But he was the only one charging.

Everyone else stood rooted in place, staring in disbelief. A shiver ran down their spines, and goosebumps prickled along their skin as an overwhelming feeling filled the battlefield.

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

Nico’s sudden battle cry shattered the silence. He took off after Lucian, black sword raised high, his voice raw with excitement.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

One by one, the rest of the team followed, their own shouts echoing across the battlefield. Even Bianca, caught up in the feverish atmosphere, sprinted forward with wild determination.

Lucian leaned forward, gripping Sebastián’s reins tightly as they tore across the field. The world around him blurred with speed, a dark mist trailing behind them like a phantom’s wake. His red eyes gleamed with focus.

Then he heard it—the growl of an engine roaring to life, the howling wind rushing toward him like an oncoming storm.

Overhead, Thalia made her entrance.

She rode a massive motorcycle sculpted entirely from swirling blue wind, matching Lucian’s charge with her own reckless speed. Her black hair whipped wildly behind her, and her glowing blue eyes burned with fierce determination.

In her grasp, Thalia’s spear had transformed—encased in a violent cyclone, its shape stretched into a massive jousting lance, spiraling with razor-sharp winds.

“LUCIAN!!!” she bellowed, leaning forward, her lance aimed straight at him.

Lucian grinned, gripping his scythe with both hands. The blade pulsed with dark mist, the energy thick and ominous.

“HAHAHAHA! THALIA!!” he roared back.

The battlefield became their arena.

Lucian swung his scythe. Thalia thrust her lance.

They clashed in a storm of sparks and energy, weapons colliding in a deafening explosion of force.

As they passed each other, Lucian yanked back on Sebastián’s reins, slowing his steed to a steady trot as he turned to face his rival. Thalia twisted her throttle, sending her [Wind Chariot] skidding sideways across the ground, one foot out to steady herself, her lance still crackling in her grip.

A jagged scratch suddenly appeared along Lucian’s armor, a testament to the razor-sharp winds radiating from Thalia’s spear. At the same time, a shadowy corrosion tainted a part of Thalia’s breastplate, the creeping darkness left behind by Lucian’s strike.

Then—

Lightning surged along Thalia’s arm, snaking into the cyclone of her spear. The wind crackled with electricity, the entire weapon sparking like a storm contained within metal. Stray bolts struck the ground around her, scorching the earth.

Lucian’s eyes gleamed.

“Lances, huh…?” he mused, shifting his scythe.

With a fluid motion, the weapon’s form shifted—morphing into something he had yet to use properly in battle.

A spear.

Thalia scoffed, revving her bike’s throttle, making the wind howl louder. “Copying me now, are you?”

Lucian smirked, twirling his new weapon. “No, I’m adapting~” he said with a teasing sneer.

Lucian activated his [Magnetic Manipulation], causing a ball of crackling purple lightning to form in his free hand.

With a flick of his wrist, he levitated his spear above him. Another surge of purple electricity pulsed in his palms as the ground beneath them began to tremble. The earth quaked subtly at first, then more violently as tiny grains of black sand rose from the ground like a swirling stream.

The dark particles rushed toward his spearhead, coalescing into a spiraling, conical shape.

Thalia watched, both amused and horrified, as Lucian’s spear underwent a drastic transformation. The weapon had shifted into a lance, its tip now resembling a massive black drill.

Lucian grasped the weapon as it settled back into his hand. With a smirk, he aimed it at Thalia. The drill began to spin—faster and faster—until it whirred at an unfathomable speed, the air around it warping from the sheer force.

Then, he added more.

Raising his free hand, he channeled his cursed shadow flames into the spinning drill. The black energy fused with the rapidly twirling sand, morphing the weapon into a swirling, hellish vortex of destruction.

Lucian corrected his posture atop Sebastián, his feverish grin widening.

“You ready?” he asked, excitement burning in his eyes.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Lucian blinked. “Eh?”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU PLANNING TO USE THAT PENETRATING WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION ON ME?!” Thalia shrieked, throwing her arms in the air. “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS THINK UP THE CRAZIEST SHIT WHEN YOU’RE BATTLING ME?! WHERE WAS THIS THINKING WHEN YOU FOUGHT HERACLES?! JUST LOOK AT THAT THING! IN WHAT WORLD AM I SURVIVING THAT WITHOUT LOSING AT LEAST AN ARM?!”

Lucian hesitated, glancing at his spinning drill, which was already glowing red from the friction and heat. Then, looking back at Thalia—who was on the verge of an aneurysm—he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“…It’s not my fault, alright?” he muttered. “If you haven’t noticed, most of my most powerful attacks are inspired by you…”

Thalia narrowed her eyes as her cheeks turned slightly pink.

“And saying that out loud makes me realize something,” Lucian continued. “Do you remember when we were younger? When we first met? You asked me how I was so powerful, and I told you—be creative with your powers.”

Thalia stilled.

She did remember.

That conversation had driven her, had pushed her to always test her limits, to always one-up Lucian, to be smarter, faster, stronger—to never back down.

She opened her mouth to retort—

Then froze.

Lucian was staring at her with a soft, warm smile. His eyes, filled with something deeper than admiration.

“Thalia… you’ve grown,” he said gently. “I’m immensely proud of you.”

Thalia’s breath hitched. She blinked—once, twice—her mouth opening, then closing, then opening again—

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Lucian’s own expression turned to sheer disbelief as he watched her. Thalia? Crying?

So stunned was he that his spinning drill slowed, sputtered, then stopped entirely—smoke rising from its blackened form.

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