[Third Person PoV]

Percy and the others finally lowered their weapons, the tension slowly ebbing away as their eyes darted between Lucian and Circe. Percy broke the silence that hung between everyone as he said, “So what, was this all just some kind of test?” he asked, his tone somewhere between frustration and disbelief.

Lucian gave a small shrug, his lips quirking into a sly grin. “Yeah, a bit…” he admitted before removing his helm. The metallic mask hissed softly as it came off, revealing his pale face to Circe for the very first time. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light as he stepped forward, spreading his arms slightly in mock formality. “Lucian BlackHeart,” he said with a bow that was half sincere, half teasing, “at your service, Great Aunty~”

Before anyone could react, Circe was suddenly in front of him. None of them had even seen her move. One moment she was standing a yard away, and the next her fingers were lifting his chin with almost clinical curiosity. The others froze, startled by her speed and poise.

Lucian blinked, giving a nervous laugh. “I… wouldn’t exactly do that if I were you,” he warned, an awkward grin tugging at his lips.

Circe’s eyes narrowed with disdainful amusement. “I’m a Goddess, boy,” she said coolly. “Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t be able to protect myself from your little… affliction?” Her voice dripped with confidence as she continued to study him like a rare and dangerous creature.

“What are you doing?” Thalia asked suspiciously, taking a cautious step forward.

Without even glancing at her, Circe raised a hand and waved dismissively. “Shush, child. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Her gaze returned to Lucian, tracing over every feature of his face as she muttered to herself. “Hmmm… although your skin is pale and you have those dreadful dark circles under your eyes, it’s smooth. Flawless, really. And those ruby eyes… striking. Silky hair… clearly you inherited your mother’s charm, combined with the Underworld’s natural beauty. A deadly combination indeed.”

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, she smiled sweetly. “So… how would you feel about being a female?”

Lucian straightened proudly, puffing out his chest. “I think I’d look absolutely beautiful no matter the gender,” he said with mock grandeur. Then he smirked, amusement glinting in his eyes. “But I believe my mother would prefer me the way I am.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Circe sighed in disappointment, pouting slightly. “A shame, really. You’d make a stunning woman. Why did you have to be born a man? What a waste of magical potential.”

Lucian’s smile faltered. “Okay—woah, that’s taking it a bit too far, don’t you think?” he said, his voice edged with offense. “My magic skills are one of my greatest points of pride.”

Circe waved his protest away as though brushing off a fly. “Oh, I’m sure you’d make a good Warlock—”

“A witch,” Lucian interrupted sharply, catching her wrist as he pushed her hand away from his face.

Circe’s brow arched, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

Lucian met her gaze unflinchingly. “I, Lucian BlackHeart, am a witch. And proud to be one,” he said firmly, his tone losing all traces of humor.

For a long moment, Circe just stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into laughter — rich, melodic, and utterly amused. “Hahaha! What an entertaining boy you are. It seems that little brat raised you well,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Are you absolutely certain you don’t want to reconsider my offer? I could make you a magnificent woman.”

“I’m certain,” Lucian said dryly, rolling his eyes. “I came to you regarding a different matter, anyway.”

“Oh?” Circe tilted her head curiously, interest flashing in her eyes. “You sought me out personally? I wonder what for. Could it be about your… condition? Perhaps you want me to whip up a little remedy?”

“Can you?!” Annabeth blurted out, stepping forward before anyone could stop her.

Circe smirked, her lips curling in that knowing, predatory way only goddesses could manage. “Certainly. Who do you think I am?… But,” she added with a sly gleam, “I’d want something in return.”

Lucian’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t come to you for a cure,” he said, sighing through his nose. Then his grin returned — wide, challenging, and unmistakably daring. “I came here in the hopes that you’d entertain me with a magic duel. You and I.”

The air went still.

Everyone stared at Lucian as if he had just grown a second head.

Circe blinked once, utterly dumbfounded. “…What?” she asked flatly.

“Yeah, we’re leaving,” Thalia said immediately, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “Sorry for bothering you, Madame Circe. Lucian’s not thinking straight. Come on guys, before he digs himself deeper.”

Lucian didn’t so much as glance at her. His gaze remained locked on Circe, sharp and unwavering. “We’re not leaving,” he said calmly. “Great Aunt Circe, you are renowned across the realms as one of the most powerful sorceresses alive. I haven’t had the chance to cross spells with someone of your caliber. The last opponent even close was Baba Yaga in Europe — and that was centuries ago. Since then, nothing’s truly tested me.”

His grin widened slightly, his aura flickering faintly with magic. “I want to see how I measure up against you. In both power… and skill.”

The rest of the group groaned in unison, the sound echoing faintly through the chamber. Annabeth pressed her fingers to her temple and shot Lucian a sharp look, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Lucian,” she said, exhaling slowly, “we don’t have time for this. We can do this after we’re done with our quest—”

Lucian didn’t even look back at her. His voice came out calm but firm, the quiet intensity in it enough to silence her mid-sentence.

“No,” he said. “I won’t always be able to fight in preferable conditions. I wish to battle with her as I am now.” His crimson eyes gleamed faintly as he lifted his chin toward Circe. “That is, of course, if you agree.”

Circe’s lips curled into an intrigued smile. She folded her arms and leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Lucian’s, “Hmmm…” she hummed thoughtfully, almost as if she were peering into his soul. “You have your mother’s audacity, I’ll give you that much. It seems to run strong in the bloodline.” Her smirk deepened. “But for a witch, that’s hardly a bad trait. Shall we make this fun?”

Lucian blinked, momentarily caught off guard by how easily she accepted. “You agree?” he asked, unable to hide the faint note of surprise in his tone.

“Of course,” Circe said with a light laugh. “You’re an amusing child. And whether we like it or not, we’re family. You remind me of your mother in far too many ways… I suppose I can indulge your little desire for a duel.” Her grin sharpened. “But—let’s add a special condition. We make a wager.”

Lucian’s smirk returned almost immediately. “I’m listening,” he said, crossing his arms casually though his eyes never left hers.

Behind him, the others were groaning louder this time. Thalia dragged a hand down her face. Even Percy looked like he was regretting stopping on the island.

Circe’s grin took on a more mischievous edge. “If you fail to impress me with your magical prowess, and this little contest turns out to be a waste of my time,” she said, her voice turning coldly playful, “I’ll turn you into a girl and you’ll stay here with me—permanently.”

Lucian’s smile faltered for half a second before recovering. “And if I do manage to impress you?” he asked, arching a brow in challenge.

“Then,” Circe purred, “I’ll cure that which plagues you. I am a goddess, after all. Such a thing would be trivial for me.” She chuckled lightly, clearly confident in her upper hand.

Lucian tilted his head, the faintest glint of calculation flashing behind his eyes. “Can I ask for something else instead?”

“Oh?” Circe said, her tone shifting into amused curiosity. “Sure. What is it you want?”

Lucian’s lips curved slowly into a grin as he turned his gaze to the far end of the room. Two attendants stood there, statuesque and silent, waiting patiently for their mistress’s next order. Their expressions were calm and disciplined—too calm for mortals, too still for servants.

“I want your two servants,” Lucian said, his grin widening as if he were barely restraining a laugh.

“…”

The silence that followed was immediate and heavy.

“Eh?!” the two attendants exclaimed, pointing at themselves in disbelief.

Behind him, his companions collectively stared, their jaws dropping.

Annabeth blinked several times before narrowing her eyes dangerously. She slowly drew her daggers, her knuckles tightening around the hilts. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

Thalia’s eye twitched as she looked at Annabeth. The two shared a silent conversation that ended when Thalia gave a curt nod of permission.

Annabeth’s smile turned far too cheerful for comfort as she raised one of her daggers higher. “I’m going to stab him,” she said pleasantly.

Circe’s expression darkened, her tone icy. “You’re interested in my servants?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

“Yes,” Lucian said, waving off the unspoken accusation before it could form. “But not for the reasons you think.” He scoffed lightly. “You’re wasting their potential here. You and I both know they don’t belong on this island.”

Circe paused, blinking once as if processing his words. Then a slow, delighted laugh slipped from her lips, echoing faintly against the marble walls. “Perceptive…” she admitted, smiling in genuine amusement. “Very well. If you manage to impress me, they’re yours.”

“Mistress!!” the two attendants cried out in horror, eyes wide.

Lucian turned toward them, his grin softening into something almost nostalgic. His mind was already racing ahead, connecting pieces that had long since fallen into obscurity.

‘Reyna and Hylla,’ he thought. ‘Daughters of Bellona — the Roman Goddess of War, Destruction, and Devastation. Gods, I completely forgot they were even here…’

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