[Third Person POV]

Lucian stared at Hermes in silence, his piercing gaze weighing heavily on the messenger god, who looked as though he might collapse to his knees because of his own desperation. Hermes pleaded, almost begged, for the mercy of his child, his voice trembling with a father’s fear.

Yet Lucian remained unmoved, his eyes narrowing before he finally closed them and released a long, weary sigh.

“Tell me this, Hermes,” Lucian said at last, his tone calm, “what are you going to do about your father?”

Hermes blinked, utterly thrown off by the question. His lips parted in confusion, his brows knitting together as he echoed, “What?”

Lucian’s expression darkened, shadows sharpening his features into something solemn and unforgiving. “Luke has committed a crime that cannot simply be washed away with apologies or excuses. An act so vile that even my father would see fit to deliver his punishment personally once Luke breathes his last breath. He has dared to harm Lady Hestia.”

Hermes flinched at the name, but Lucian pressed on, voice grave. “You know how beloved she is, don’t you? The gentlest and most cherished of our aunts—our hearth, the very foundation of our family. And yet, Luke raised his hand against her. The only reason he hasn’t already been obliterated by our fathers’ collective wrath is because our grandfather shields him.”

Hermes’s jaw tightened, his teeth sinking into his lower lip until the skin whitened. The truth in Lucian’s words settled over him. He looked down at the sand beneath his feet, realization dawning with cruel clarity.

Lucian leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “So tell me, Hermes… even if by some unfathomable miracle I found it within myself to forgive Luke, what then? How do you intend to shield him from the fury of every god who wishes to see him punished? What defense could you possibly muster against Olympus itself?” His voice dripped with disdain, ending with a sharp scoff.

Hermes lifted a trembling hand, covering part of his face as though to hide the crack in his composure. “I’ll… I’ll ask my father to show leniency,” he muttered desperately. “I’ll say Luke was manipulated by… Him. I’ll beg him to show mercy—”

“Bwahahahaha!” Lucian’s sudden roar of laughter ripped through the beach. He threw his head back, his body arching by the sheer force of his amusement.

“Y-Your father?” Lucian wheezed between fits of laughter, clutching his stomach. “Merciful?! Hahahahaha!” He slapped his thigh repeatedly, his laughter relentless, each breathless exclamation laced with mockery.

Thalia’s lips twitched, her shoulders shaking slightly. She wasn’t laughing at Hermes’s plight—far from it. It was Lucian’s sheer over-the-top reaction, his wild, almost theatrical laughter, that pushed her to the edge of a smile she tried to hide.

Hermes’s irritation deepened, his fists clenching as Lucian finally calmed enough to wipe the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Exhaling, Lucian grinned wickedly. “Phew… no wonder they call you the Trickster God. You’ve got quite the talent for comedy, Hermes. That line was pure gold.”

Thalia’s amusement slipped away, replaced by pity for Hermes. She sighed, her tone firm yet gentle as she intervened. “Lucian, that’s enough. Stop it.”

Lucian released one final chuckle before straightening, his expression sobering once more. “You see, Hermes,” he said, his voice quieter but laced with weight, “whether I forgive Luke or not is irrelevant. There are far greater threats you’ll have to face.”

Hermes ground his teeth, frustration etched deeply into his features. “I see that now…” he admitted bitterly. “I’ve wasted my time here and I see you’ll offer no aid. Fine. I have other matters to attend to.”

As he turned and his form began to blur, vibrating as though ready to vanish into the wind, Thalia called out sharply, “Wait! What are you planning to do next?”

Hermes paused, the question halting him in place. For a moment he stood there, silent, before releasing a heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped as he answered, his voice low and weary. “I don’t know… You were my last hope. I’ll figure something out. I have to.”

Thalia’s eyes softened. “If it’s any consolation, Lord Hermes,” she said gently, “I truly hope you do. For your sake—and for his.”

Hermes scoffed, though the sound was brittle, hollow. Then, without another word, he vanished in a gale of wind, the force scattering the sand into violent spirals that forced Lucian and the others to shield their faces until the moment passed.

When the world grew quiet again, Thalia lowered her arm, only to feel her shadow stretching unnaturally across the sand. From its depths, Annabeth slowly emerged, her expression wry. “Well,” she said dryly, dusting off her clothes as though she hadn’t just risen from pure darkness, “that could’ve gone better.”

Thalia turned to her, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you think?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About Luke. Do you think he should be forgiven?”

Annabeth’s face hardened instantly, her lips curling into a disdainful frown. “No. Luke is dead to me. Honestly, he has been for a long time. The moment he tried to kill Lucian, he became my mortal enemy. Whatever he was before, that person no longer exists.”

“Right… of course,” Thalia muttered under her breath, sounding both unsurprised and weary. She turned her gaze back toward Lucian just in time to see his form shimmer and shift, his features beginning to revert, until his original appearance returned.

Lucian’s body slowly shifted back to its original form. His hair darkened, returning to its natural pitch-black, strands falling loosely over his pale forehead. The fiery glow in his eyes dimmed until only the sharp crimson red remained, and the strange tattoos crawling across his skin shrank back, vanishing into nothingness. His flesh turned stark white once more, and with a ripple of energy, his armor reformed over his body piece by piece, clinking into place as if conjured by unseen hands.

He swayed slightly, the aftereffects of the transformation leaving him visibly drained. Then, without warning, Lucian staggered to the side, lifted a finger in the air as if to excuse himself, and hunched over. A vile, tar-like sludge burst from his mouth, splattering onto the golden sand in thick streams. The stench was sharp, metallic, and acrid, curling into the air like a living curse.

Thalia and Annabeth grimaced in unison, their faces twisting with disgust and worry.

L Lucian wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, scowling at the mess before him. With a snap of his fingers, black flames erupted from his hand, dancing with an eerie, consuming hunger.

The flames devoured the sludge in an instant, reducing the foul substance to nothing but fine, blackened ash that scattered with the wind.

“Alright,” Lucian said with an exaggerated grin, giving them both a double thumbs-up. “I’m good. Let’s get going.”

Both girls let out a heavy sigh at the same time, the sound uncannily similar to the one Hermes had made before. They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever came next, there was no more time to waste. A sense of urgency gripped them all.

“I’ll prepare us a ride,” Thalia announced, stepping forward until the tips of her black boots brushed the edge of the surf. The water lapped at her feet, and the salty wind caught her dark hair, sending strands whipping across her face. She closed her eyes briefly, centering herself, before raising both hands high.

The air shifted. The still breeze became a gust, then a roar, circling them with a gathering force. The sand whipped at their ankles as the gale thickened, vibrating with raw energy until the very air seemed to shimmer. Slowly, the rushing winds condensed, folding into themselves and glowing faintly with a green light. The energy crackled, bending to Thalia’s command, until it took shape before their eyes.

Lucian and Annabeth both looked on in awe as the storm solidified into something immense and magnificent. A massive pirate ship materialized, its hull carved with intricate details of waves and storm clouds, the mast towering overhead with sails that snapped against the wind as if alive. The entire construct gleamed with the faint translucence of condensed air, a work of art forged from her [Wind Construct] and [Wind Chariot] ability.

“Is this the largest thing you’ve created so far?” Annabeth asked, her voice hushed with genuine admiration as her gaze traced the ship’s design.

Thalia wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing uneven but steady. She gave a small, proud nod. “So far, yes. I’ve been practicing my precision, learning to shape smaller details with control.” She gestured at the ornate carvings along the ship’s bow, the texture of the sails, the faint creak of wood and rope—all illusions, yet crafted so perfectly they almost fooled the senses. “So, what do you guys think?”

A massive plank extended outward from the side of the ship, dropping smoothly onto the sand like a ramp. The impact sent a soft tremor through the ground, as though even this wind-forged creation carried weight.

“I think you just got a whole lot cooler,” Lucian said with a wolfish grin, striding up the ramp without hesitation.

Thalia’s chest swelled with pride at his words, her smirk widening. She crossed her arms, puffing herself up as Annabeth followed behind him, her analytical eyes flicking across every detail as if memorizing the construct’s design.

As the three of them stepped onto the deck, the plank dissolved into streams of air, flowing back into the body of the ship until it vanished entirely.

A few moments later, The vessel gave a deep, echoing groan like a real ship cutting through waves, before slowly beginning to move forward.

The pirate ship glided gracefully over the water, sails filling with an unnatural yet steady wind. It drifted further and further from the shore, the coastline shrinking behind them until it was nothing more than a fading outline in the horizon.

And with that, their journey officially began—

The quest for the Golden Fleece had set sail.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep