[Third Person POV]

Nebula, Nox, and Lucerna emerged silently from Annabeth’s shadow, their spectral forms gliding forward. Aerarius, shaped as an owl pendant, gave a faint shiver along her neck,

Annabeth pressed her fingers against the cool surface of the pendant, her silver eyes narrowing with quiet determination. “Actually, you guys can stand down,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a faint, commanding lilt. “For this battle, I want to test my own magic. I’m pushing myself here—if I rely on you, it defeats the whole purpose, don’t you think?”

Her familiars froze mid-step, their eyes widening in disbelief. In perfect unison, they began to pout and protest, their overlapping voices filling the air with a chorus of complaints.

Before their grievances could grow into a full rebellion, Lucian’s smooth baritone cut through the din. “That’s enough.”

The effect was instant. Every creature fell silent as they drifted toward his side without so much as a backward glance.

Annabeth puffed out her cheeks in frustration, pulling open her enchanted pouch as she muttered, “Really? They argue with me but jump to attention the moment you speak? Am I not supposed to be their master?”

Lucian gave her a grin so effortlessly charming it almost seemed unfair. “You might be their master,” he said with a lazy wink, “but I am their father.”

Rolling her eyes, Annabeth tied her hair into a sharp ponytail, the motion quick and deliberate, then retrieved a pair of silver-etched bracers from the pouch. Sliding them over her forearms, she let their subtle weight settle against her skin. “My status should still outclass yours by a long shot,” she scoffed, tightening the straps.

Before Lucian could retort, a deep rumble interrupted the night. The ground trembled beneath their feet, sending faint vibrations racing through the soil. The surrounding trees quivered, their leaves whispering in a sudden, uneasy wind.

Annabeth’s head snapped toward the forest’s edge. From the shadows came a guttural roar—not a single cry, but a horrible, layered chorus of countless throats roaring as one.

“It’s here,” Annabeth muttered, her silver eyes igniting with an inner glow that lit the darkness. She fixed her gaze on the shifting treeline, every muscle coiled and ready.

A flash of golden light split the night. Without warning, a thunderous bolt of lightning tore through the canopy and speared toward her. The strike collided with a deafening crack, engulfing her in a blinding cloud of smoke and scorched earth.

When the haze cleared, Annabeth stood untouched, one arm extended. A shimmering hexagonal barrier bloomed outward from her palm, the magic pulsing faintly.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” she said evenly, lowering her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she shaped her fingers into a playful gun and aimed forward. A silver magic circle flared to life at her fingertip, energy sparking with a sharp hiss. In the next heartbeat, a streak of condensed magic screamed through the air.

The shot struck home with a thunderous crack, and a guttural roar of pain reverberated through the clearing.

The monster slithered into view.

Annabeth’s breath caught as the creature finally emerged beneath the moonlight. Even though she had glimpsed it once before through Lucian’s eyes, seeing it in person was something else entirely. The dragon loomed at nearly ten meters tall, its massive body armored in scales. Nine serpentine necks writhed and coiled around one another, each ending in a head crowned with jagged horns and burning, bestial eyes.

Her attack had left a mark. One of the heads bore a gaping wound along its neck, a patch of scales shattered and flesh chipped away as if struck by a high-caliber bullet. But before her eyes, the torn flesh knit itself back together with sickening speed, the scales re-forming until no trace of injury remained.

Annabeth’s mouth twitched upward into an uneasy smile, the sound of a nervous chuckle slipping out. “Hehehe… Well,” she murmured, flexing her fingers as sparks of silver magic danced between them, “this is certainly going to be fun.”

The hydra answered with a deafening symphony of roars. All nine heads reared back in unison before striking forward like striking vipers, their gaping maws snapping toward her with bone-splintering force.

Annabeth darted aside, her body a blur of motion as the ground erupted behind her. The impact of the missed strike sent a shockwave rippling through the clearing, uprooting dirt and shattering tree trunks. She landed lightly atop a mound of rubble—just as one of the heads inhaled and exhaled a savage blizzard.

Frigid air howled across the battlefield, ice and snow churning into a swirling storm. Annabeth’s hands flashed with movement, tracing intricate patterns in the air. A massive silver magic circle spun to life before her like an ornate wheel. With a sharp pulling motion of her fist, she seized the storm itself, transmuting the blizzard’s frozen particles into countless crystalline blades and spears.

With a commanding sweep of her arm, she sent the arsenal screaming toward the beast, each weapon sharp enough to cleave stone.

But the hydra was faster. One of its central heads lunged forward, jaws opening to unleash a storm of molten fire. The inferno collided with her conjured weapons midair, melting them into steam.

Annabeth reacted instantly, slamming her palm against the scorched earth. The ground quaked as jagged slabs of stone erupted upward, forming a massive wall between her and the incoming inferno. The hydra’s fire slammed into the barrier with a deafening whoosh, molten heat washing over the field. The wall glowed cherry-red, cracked, and finally began to melt into rivers of glowing slag—but it had served its purpose. The flames licked harmlessly around her, leaving her untouched.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Annabeth swung both arms sharply upward. Two more walls of granite surged to life on either side of her fist. With a sudden forward thrust of her palms, she sent the slabs hurtling outward like gigantic battering rams. They smashed into the hydra’s lunging heads mid-ambush, the impact ringing through the clearing with the thunderous sound of splintering rock and bone. The serpent’s skull recoiled violently, scales cracking as the creature hissed in fury.

But the hydra was relentless. From above, a deadly rain of acid began to fall, sizzling against stone and soil alike. A bolt of raw lightning followed, tearing through the night with blinding brilliance. Then came spears of condensed light and streams of devouring darkness, all fired in a deadly, overlapping barrage.

Annabeth flowed between the attacks like she was dancing through a storm. Her body weaved and spun, every motion sharp and deliberate. Explosions erupted around her in quick succession—bursts of ice, flame, and shadow—but she moved with a grace that defied the chaos. Her silver eyes remained calm, untouched by panic or fear.

She vaulted over a lunging head, twisting into a midair rotation before slipping beneath another’s snapping jaws. The ground quaked as a massive neck slammed down where she had stood a heartbeat earlier. Landing lightly, she slid beneath the thrashing coils, sparks of magic flickering at her heels.

A whip of thunderous energy sliced across her path, followed by a spiral of frozen wind. Annabeth tucked into a tight backflip, her body rotating cleanly through a deadly lattice of lightning, ice, and fire. She hit the earth in a low crouch, both palms bracing against the dirt. Another hiss of warning split the air—she launched herself backward with a handspring, flipping into the air once more just as a tail carved a deep trench through the ground she’d occupied seconds earlier.

As she jumped into the air, her eyes flared. Drawing a deep breath, she cocked her fist back. Her body shimmered faintly as she converted raw stamina into sheer physical power while activating the deep pulse of her [Geomancy].

With a sharp cry, she dropped her weight and slammed her fist into the ground. The impact cracked the battlefield like glass. A massive chunk of earth—an entire boulder the size of a house—tore free from the ground and rose skyward in a slow, thunderous ascent, propelled by her power alone.

Annabeth straightened and struck a poised stance, fingers snapping sharply. As the sound cracked through the night, a faint orange glow flared beneath the boulder.

While crouching moments earlier, she had inscribed a hidden rune into the soil, a sigil only now coming alive. The markings burned brighter, spreading like veins of molten light.

The hydra’s many eyes flicked upward in unison, drawn to the boulder hanging high above. At its base, a blazing orange symbol now pulsed like a heartbeat.

Flames erupted across the stone in a sudden inferno, swallowing the massive rock in a shell of roaring fire. The night sky blazed as though a second sun had ignited, the air trembling beneath the heat. The falling mass turned into a meteorite, streaking downward with apocalyptic force.

“Okay—whoa. Holy shit,” Thalia breathed, her eyes wide as she shielded them against the blazing light. “Annabeth can just… create meteorites whenever she feels like it? That’s insane.”

Lucian chuckled, leaning lazily against a broken tree trunk. “I don’t know why you’re so impressed, Ms. I-can-create-natural-disasters-with-a-flick-of-my-wrist.” He smirked, but his gaze stayed fixed on the battlefield. “Although, as cool as that is, it still won’t be enough. The big boy over there is a lot smarter than he looks.”

Even as he spoke, the hydra proved him right. One of its central heads tilted back and exhaled a piercing gust of frigid air. The icy blast struck the flaming meteorite dead-on, snuffing the fire with a hiss that filled the clearing with steam. In the same instant, another head opened wide and unleashed a bone-rattling roar—a concentrated burst of sonic energy so sharp it shattered the boulder into a thousand jagged fragments that rained uselessly to the earth.

“…Which,” Lucian added with a sly grin, “is exactly what Annabeth wanted to happen.”

Thalia blinked at him, incredulous. “Wait—what? Why would she want that? Isn’t she strong enough to just take this thing down already?”

“She is,” Lucian said, folding his arms with a grin that was equal parts pride and exasperation. “But it seems Annabeth’s picked up one of my… unfortunate habits—making a fight harder than it needs to be just to force growth. That meteor wasn’t meant to kill. It was a test, a way to measure how many heads she needs to sever to make the battle more dangerous—but still winnable. Just enough to push her limits without crossing into the impossible.”

On the field, Annabeth ran her tongue along her lower lip, her gaze locked with predatory focus on the writhing hydra. “I’ve seen enough,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, but laced with iron resolve. “Let’s start taking heads.”

“Hail Hydra!!” Lucian suddenly declared, throwing an arm into the air at an extremely ill-advised angle.

Thalia slowly turned to him, her stare a mixture of deadpan disbelief and sheer judgment. “…Seriously?”

Lucian froze mid-pose. Realization dawned. He dropped into a crouch, burying his face in both palms as his ears turned crimson. “I—ugh. I forgot who my brother was. That’s… that’s not great for my PR. I regretted it the second the words left my mouth.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep