[Third Person POV]

When Annabeth finally made her way back toward Lucian and the rest of the group, she looked like she had just stepped out of the heart of a volcano. Her hair was a wild tangle streaked with soot, her face and arms dusted in ash, and the faint shimmer of residual magic still clung to her.

The moment her boots touched solid ground, a hush fell over the clearing. Everyone was staring at her in a mixture of awe and disbelief. Lucian stood at the center, calmly maintaining a protective barrier of shimmering light around the group. Beside him, Nox floated lazily inside a perfectly round chocolate donut hole, hugging it to his chest like a life raft. His eyes widened at the sight of Annabeth, and in a dramatic whisper he breathed, “Whoa…” before he shouted out loud, “Praise the Great Mother!!”

“Praise the Great Mother!!” echoed Lucerna, Aerarius, and Nebula in perfect unison. They zipped through the air in excited spirals, swarming around Annabeth. Their combined cheers and enthusiastic praise created such a whirlwind of attention that Annabeth, who had faced down a nine-headed hydra without flinching, actually felt her cheeks heat in flustered embarrassment.

Lucian’s lips curled into a sly grin as he lowered his barrier. “I have to say,” he drawled, “when you used those black rose petals to forge that iron golem in my likeness—” he paused to make a dramatic chef’s kiss gesture, fingers poised elegantly to his lips, “—that was exquisite.”

Annabeth let out a short giggle despite herself. “Why am I not surprised that that was your favorite part?”

“Those purple flames were so gorgeous too,” Thalia added with an awestruck sigh. “I had no idea you were hiding that kind of firepower. A little over the top if you ask me, but still… wow.”

Annabeth pressed her soot-smudged hands over her face, her blush deepening. “Okay, okay—enough already. No more praises, I mean it.” She cleared her throat sharply, trying to bury the grin tugging at her lips. “Anyway… did you get it?”

Thalia blinked, brows furrowing. “Get what exactly?” She looked from Lucian to the others, clearly missing a piece of the conversation.

Lucian arched one perfectly unimpressed brow. “Who do you think I am?” He pointed upward with an easy smirk.

All eyes turned skyward—and collective gasps followed. Suspended high above them, dozens upon dozens of severed hydra heads floated weightlessly in the night air, each one encased in Lucian’s dark magic. Jagged fangs glinted beneath the moonlight. Alongside the heads hovered glistening scales and a massive liquid sphere of thick black blood, pulsing faintly like a captured heart.

“Noice,” Annabeth said in a comically deep voice.

“What?” Thalia sputtered, still scrambling to process the scene.

Lucian gestured lazily toward the grisly collection. “Apart from making her fight harder, the real reason she went wild cutting off so many heads was to farm the hydra for its blood, eyes, fangs, and bones. While she kept it busy, it was up to me to make sure the remains were withdrawn and properly preserved during the fight.”

“Wait—what? When did you two even plan this? You didn’t speak, and I didn’t sense a thing through the telepathic link!” Thalia exclaimed, completely baffled.

“We didn’t have to,” Lucian replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

“We’re just that in sync,” Annabeth added, brushing ash from her cheek. “Words aren’t necessary.”

As if to prove their point, both of them raised their hands and crossed their index fingers in perfect unison. “We’re like this,” they declared simultaneously.

Thalia groaned and rubbed her temples. “Right… of course. How foolish of me not to realize.”

Lucian and Annabeth exchanged a mischievous look, then slapped their palms together with an exaggerated smack.

“Niceee~,” they cheered at the same time.

Annabeth’s shoulders slumped dramatically, and she tilted her head back with a frustrated groan. “Ughhh, I swear, I wish I could kiss you right now!”

Lucian chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of her fluster. “Tempting offer,” he said smoothly. “But first, while the spoils of war technically belong to you, I should thank you for the… special gift you left behind just for me.”

Before Annabeth could respond, the moonlight above them dimmed as a colossal shadow swept across the clearing. The temperature dropped as Thalia spun on her heel and instinctively took several steps back, Annabeth mirroring the motion.

Lucian’s eyes flared an ominous crimson. Behind him, pairs of fiery red eyes began to ignite one by one, each set hovering in the gloom. The air rippled as the shapes attached to those eyes revealed themselves—massive, serpentine dragon heads formed entirely of living shadow, their bodies writhing in slow, sinuous motion.

Nine of them emerged in total, each head slick and black as liquid night, their draconic eyes bleeding scarlet light. They slithered around Lucian with a predatory grace, weaving a shifting crown of living darkness.

Lucian reached up and ran his hand along the smooth, cold muzzle of the nearest spectral beast. A small, almost reverent smile curved his lips. “Oh, you precious, precious creature…” he murmured, his voice a dangerous blend of affection and quiet menace.

Lucian tilted his head toward Annabeth and Thalia, a confident, almost cocky grin spreading across his face. Shadows swirled around his feet, and the nine black-and-crimson dragon heads encircling him hissed softly, their glowing eyes cutting through the darkness. “Tell me,” he said with a flourish, “do I look cool or what?”

Both Annabeth and Thalia, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer spectacle, nodded almost involuntarily. The sight of Lucian standing tall, guarded by a living crown of writhing dragon heads, was nothing short of extraordinary. The air itself seemed to shiver around him, the night bending to his presence.

One of the shadowy heads dipped low, its serpentine neck sliding beneath Lucian’s feet. With a slow, deliberate motion, it lifted him high into the air. He rose above the group like a monarch on a throne of living darkness, spreading his arms wide as the other heads coiled protectively around him. “Hahaha!” he laughed, the sound echoing through the clearing. “Man, don’t I just love being me~?”

As the laughter faded, Lucian tapped his chin thoughtfully, the theatrical gleam in his eyes never dimming. “Now then… what to name you magnificent creatures…” He tilted his head, letting the words roll lazily off his tongue. “Something related to the number nine, perhaps? A clever play on words…”

His eyes suddenly lit up with a spark of mischief. “I’ve got it!” He slammed his fist into his open palm and dramatically raised one arm at a sharp, obscene, rigid angle. “Nein!” he shouted triumphantly.

“NOOO!!” Annabeth and Thalia yelled in perfect unison, their horrified cries echoing across the clearing.

Annabeth slapped her forehead and stared up at him in utter disbelief. “Lucian, do you seriously want to give the most poisonous monsters ever a German name—while making that gesture?!”

“Oh my fucking God,” Lucian groaned, immediately dropping the pose and covering his face with both hands. A deep blush crept up his cheeks. “I completely forgot about the whole lethal poison thing.”

“This is the second time in under an hour you’ve made some kind of Nazi reference,” Thalia said flatly, her voice a perfect mix of exasperation and disappointment. “We’re going to need to get your head examined.”

Lucian exhaled a long, dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping as the dragon head beneath him shifted to keep him balanced. “Fine, fine. No German. But I do still need a name. I can already tell I’m going to be summoning this beauty a lot.”

He tilted his head so far to the side it looked like he might fall off the dragon’s back, eyes shut tight in deep concentration. ‘Hmm… Hydra, Hydra, Hydra… I just keep thinking about Marvel whenever the word Hydra comes up… Should I name him Marvel? Hmmm… Nah, it doesn’t fit… I mean apart from Marvel the only thing I could think about is Captain America… He does have a counterpart called Captain Hydra… Hm…’ His inner monologue trailed off into a thoughtful hum.

At last, he snapped his fingers and threw his arms wide. “Alright, I’ve decided! Drumroll, please!”

It was dead silent. No one made a sound.

“…”

Lucian paused, eyes narrowing playfully. “I said drumroll, please!” Still, nothing. He puffed out his cheeks and continued undeterred, voice booming with theatrical confidence. “Fine, I’ll supply my own!” He pounded his chest twice for a makeshift drumbeat and then pointed dramatically toward the sky. “I present to you… my glorious hydra: Captain!”

Annabeth arched a skeptical brow. “You’re seriously going to name that thing… Captain?”

Before she could say more, all nine dragon heads suddenly threw themselves skyward and unleashed an earth-shaking roar. The ground trembled violently, pebbles and ash rattling underfoot as the air vibrated with their deafening approval. The hydra heads swayed in unison, clearly delighted with their new title.

“Well, there you have it,” Lucian said smugly, gesturing toward the ecstatic beasts. “They like it. Democracy in action.” He began pointing to each head in turn. “Captain One, Captain Two, Captain Three…” Each time his finger landed on a head, it let out a proud, ear-piercing roar, as though responding to a roll call.

When the naming ceremony was finally complete, the massive heads carefully lowered Lucian back to the ground. Their shadowy bodies began to dissolve into the night, fading into dark mist—but not before each of them flicked a wary glance toward Annabeth, their glowing eyes betraying a touch of caution in her presence.

Lucian stretched his arms high above his head. “Ahhh… what an interesting day,” he declared with a satisfied grin. “Don’t you all agree?”

As if answering his call, his shadow suddenly stretched outward, spreading across the ground like a living tide. From the darkness rose a crooked hut with wooden beams and black shingles, its walls stitched from pure shadow and its foundation supported by enormous chicken-like legs that creaked ominously as they settled into place. The structure looked as though it had stepped straight out of a nightmare—or a fairy tale.

Lucian gave a casual wave toward the ominous dwelling. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it a night. Tomorrow we can resume our journey. Tonight…” He gestured grandly toward the hut. “We sleep.”

Annabeth and Thalia exchanged a glance, equal parts weary and amused, before silently agreeing. Without another word, they followed Lucian toward Baba Yaga’s shadow hut, the massive chicken feet creaking under its weight as it lowered itself invitingly to the ground. Inside, the darkness beckoned warm and strange, promising a night’s rest unlike any other.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep