[Third person POV]

As soon as Lucian’s words left his mouth, a collective silence swept through his friend group, followed by a ripple of disbelief. Their eyes widened, expressions flickering between shock and exasperation—especially those who were familiar with Lucian’s methods and, more importantly, his infamous potions.

‘This crazy motherfucker…’ they all thought in unison, some of their faces twitching involuntarily as the implications dawned on them. ‘He’s actually planning on using this opportunity to finally digest that damn potion!’

Annabeth let out a deep, weary sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. ‘Only Lucian,’ she thought with a shake of her head, ‘Only he would be mad enough to willingly go through something that nearly kills him—all for the sake of advancement. He treats life-threatening danger like it’s just another step in his training.’

Meanwhile, Thalia’s expression was more complicated—her brows knit together as she crossed her arms, watching Lucian closely. ‘I honestly can’t tell if he’s genuinely doing this for Hestia’s sake, or if he’s just putting on an act to trigger the effects of the potion. He’s hard to read when he gets like this…’

Her gaze softened slightly as she saw Hestia clinging to Lucian’s armored neck, tears streaming freely down her face.

Thalia shook her head and sighed internally. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? He probably jumped into this mess for her without a second thought—and only realized partway through that it would benefit him too. Typical Lucian—reckless and noble in the same breath.’

Bianca, however, remained visibly worried, her fingers nervously tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Lucian wouldn’t be so reckless as to not have a plan to cure himself… right?” she asked aloud, her voice trembling slightly with anxiety. “He has a plan… right?”

Percy raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with mild amusement. “Is it just me, or do you actually sound pretty worried about Lucian?” he teased, his lips curling into a smug grin.

“Of course I’m worried! He’s my brother!” Bianca snapped, glaring at him with fire in her eyes.

Percy held up both hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, with the way you two usually treat each other, I wasn’t expecting you to sound this concerned. It’s kinda uncharacteristic of you.”

Bianca’s expression darkened as she clenched her fists. “Would it be uncharacteristic of me to beat your ass into the ground right now?” she said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing like daggers.

Percy blinked slowly, then nodded with a smirk. “Yup,” he replied, the word popping out casually.

“Percy, shut up,” Clarisse muttered with a groan, already tired of the back-and-forth.

“Sorry…” Percy mumbled, clearly unconvinced but wisely deciding to drop it.

Meanwhile, Lucian slowly rose to his feet, exhaling through his nose as he surveyed the battlefield. His body ached, his limbs heavy with lingering exhaustion and the miasma’s corruptive presence. Most of the others were still recovering, scattered and dazed, trying to gather their bearings after the intensity of the fight.

Hestia stood beside him, her arm carefully wrapped around his waist as if afraid he might collapse. Her concern was etched clearly across her features.

“I’m fine… for the most part,” Lucian said, offering a strained smile to reassure her. His voice was raspy, fatigued, but steady. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “But there’s something else I’m more concerned about right now…”

He began walking, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. Every step was deliberate, his body clearly weakened. The toll the miasma had taken on him was impossible to ignore.

From a distance, Nico and Markus watched him closely, their eyes dark with concern. To both of them, Lucian had always been a symbol of strength—an unshakable force, a demigod whose power stood at the pinnacle. Seeing him now, pale and visibly struggling, was deeply unsettling. It felt wrong. Like watching a god bleed.

Lucian made his way toward the subdued monsters—still pinned beneath the combined force of Annabeth’s summoned spirits and the looming shadow soldiers under his command. Despite the chaos, none of the creatures had escaped. Muzzled and tightly restrained, they remained trapped, thanks to the suppression tools crafted by Nebula, using her mastery over the Mist.

His eyes then shifted to a massive jar stationed at the center of it all—filled to the brim with viscous, pulsating flesh. The entity inside was still alive, grotesquely writhing and twitching, its form barely visible through the thick liquid. It struggled in vain, unable to break free from its confinement. The magic that bound it was too precise, too strong, and the space it was trapped in was far too compact.

Lucian stared into the jar, his expression unreadable as the creature’s form twisted against the glass.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucian noticed a flicker of movement—something big and fast. His instincts kicked in a second too late as he turned his head and spotted the cause.

One of the massive bronze bull automations was still active. Its gears groaned and creaked as it forced itself upright, steam hissing out from its joints. Smoke billowed from its nostrils as it pawed at the ground like an angry beast, letting out a metallic, guttural MOOO that echoed like a warhorn across the battlefield. Then, with fire in its eyes and fury in its steps, it charged—straight at Lucian.

Flames replaced the steam from its nostrils, searing the ground beneath it with every step. The very grass turned to ash in its wake.

Lucian sighed in pure exhaustion, already bracing himself for impact. He didn’t even have the strength to raise a hand in defense. “Aw, fuck me… this is gonna hurt,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes as if that might somehow soften the blow. The combination of the miasma and the spell he casted had drained him far too much—his limbs felt like stone, and his muscles refused to move.

The others saw the bull barreling toward him and immediately sprang into action. Swords unsheathed, powers readied—panic surged through the camp.

But before any of them could reach him, a blur of massive strength beat them all to the punch.

BOOM.

The ground shook as Tyson charged in, slamming down next to Lucian and intercepting the bull with both hands. He caught it by the horns mid-charge, digging his heels into the dirt. The earth beneath him cracked from the force as he was pushed back slightly, his muscles bulging with the strain.

“MOOOO!” the bull bellowed furiously, thrashing its head and suddenly rearing back to unleash a torrent of flames point-blank at Tyson’s face.

Everyone froze in horror.

“TYSON!!” Percy screamed, eyes wide. He took a step forward—but then stopped.

To everyone’s shock, Tyson didn’t scream. He didn’t even flinch.

The fire washed over him like a tidal wave—but when it faded, Tyson was still standing tall. His shirt had been reduced to cinders, the edges smoldering with glowing embers. His chest and arms were covered in soot, smoke swirling around him.

Unbothered, Tyson growled and slammed his arm into the bull’s gaping mouth, reaching deep inside. With a loud crack and a flash of sparks, he yanked out its glowing bronze core with his bare hand.

The bull’s eyes went dim.

It staggered… then collapsed with a heavy, metallic thud right in front of Lucian.

Lucian blinked, still processing what just happened. Tyson stood before him, holding the still-glowing core in one soot-covered hand, his single eye locked on Lucian. That eye—usually full of childlike innocence—now held something else. A mix of fear, concern… and apprehension.

“You… protected me,” Lucian said quietly, lifting his gaze toward the towering boy.

Tyson gave a hesitant nod, his voice low but earnest. “Even though you’re really, really, really scary… I couldn’t just watch you die.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin. “I wasn’t really going to die… but I appreciate the gesture—”

He stopped mid-sentence, the grin on his face stretching wider as something caught his attention.

Gasps rang out through the camp.

Everyone froze again, their eyes going wide, this time not in fear—but awe. They stared above Tyson’s head, jaws slowly dropping. A faint glow shimmered in the air.

Percy’s mouth hit the floor, his trident slipping from his fingers as he stared up in pure disbelief. “Wha—!!”

“Well, I’ll be damned…” Thalia muttered, rubbing her temples.

Annabeth looked to Percy in confusion. “Why are you so shocked? Didn’t you know?”

Percy spun toward her, flailing his arms. “How the hell was I supposed to know?!”

Annabeth folded her arms, unimpressed. “Because his kind are mostly his children! How have you not figured this out? Honestly, at this point I’m amazed you even realized he was a cyclops.”

“HE’S A CYCLOPS?!” Percy shouted, even more bewildered.

Annabeth stared silently at Percy, her eye twitching. She turned slowly toward Clarisse. “You have my condolences.”

Clarisse had her hands over her face, muttering into her palms, “Don’t. I don’t wanna talk about it…”

Tyson, meanwhile, looked around, confused and increasingly self-conscious under everyone’s stares. He shifted awkwardly. “Why… why is everyone staring at me?” he whispered.

Lucian smirked. “Look above you, big guy.”

Tyson tilted his head up—and saw it. A glowing trident symbol hovering just above his head, shimmering like it was made of ocean light.

He blinked and then, innocently, swatted at it like it was a bug. “What is that? What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t understand…”

Lucian only chuckled, stepping forward and clapping a hand on Tyson’s arm.

“It means,” he said with a grin, “you and I are now officially cousins. Welcome to the family, Tyson.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep