[Third Person PoV]

“Another transformation?” Thalia muttered, staring at Lucian’s demonic form in utter disbelief. Her jaw nearly dropped as she added, “How many does this make now?”

“Four, I think?” Annabeth guessed after a brief moment of thought. “There’s his Curse Knight Form, then that Suicidal Branding Form, then Brightheart—and now…”

She trailed off, squinting at Lucian’s new, monstrous figure as if searching for the right word to describe it. Thalia crossed her arms, trying to make sense of the sight. “Demonheart Form?” she suggested skeptically.

Annabeth shook her head with a small laugh. “I was actually thinking Lucifer Form. You know, kind of a play on words—’Lucian’ and ‘Lucifer’? Feels fitting, considering how unholy that thing looks right now.”

Meanwhile, Circe observed the transformation unfold with an expression caught between intrigue and exasperation. Lucian was laughing—loud, unhinged, and almost joyous—as the air around him rippled with malevolent energy.

“You’re not in control of yourself, are you?” she asked flatly, though she already knew the answer.

“Nope.” he replied in a distorted, almost casual tone, “What was left of Lucian’s sanity is currently taking a short sabbatical. This is his insanity speaking. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Circe exhaled slowly through her nose, unimpressed. “Likewise…” she muttered dryly.

Lucian’s grin widened to something monstrous. “Now then, shall we have a little fun?” he purred. Raising one clawed hand, he conjured a swirling sphere of darkness that hovered just above his palm. The sphere pulsed violently, compressing tighter and tighter until it shrank into a pinpoint of pure black.

He flicked his wrist.

Circe’s eyes widened in alarm. She teleported away in a flash just as the tiny orb detonated into a silent, devastating beam of annihilation. The world seemed to bend and collapse around it—sand, stone, and air vaporized in an instant.

One moment, the ground before him was perfectly level. The next, a deep, miles-long trench carved through the coastline like a wound in the world itself.

Lucian vanished, reappearing behind Circe in a blink. “Running away so soon?” he whispered beside her ear, voice dripping with mockery. “Does my new look scare you that much~?”

His spear-like tail lashed out like lightning. Circe barely managed to raise a barrier in time, but the impact shattered it instantly, the force launching her through the air. She spun midflight, landing roughly on her feet, sand spiraling around her in a storm.

The sand rose at her command, hardening into countless razor-sharp shards of glass that launched toward Lucian in a glimmering wave. Each one cut through the air with a high-pitched whistle before slamming into him.

Lucian barely flinched. His skin was torn open, black blood oozing from the wounds—only for the injuries to steam and knit shut seconds later. He laughed lowly, a deep guttural sound that rumbled like distant thunder.

He clapped his hands together, and a shockwave of darkness burst outward from his body. The wave tore through the air, dissolving Circe’s glass shards back into sand.

Spreading his arms wide, he conjured a dense orb of liquid darkness between his hands. It dripped and hissed as it touched the sand, melting it instantly. “I call this one…” he said with twisted delight, “…’The Corrosive Sea.’ Go on, test out the waters.”

A flood of darkness exploded outward, consuming everything in its radius. The black tide rolled like ink, devouring the land, turning sand and stone into bubbling sludge.

“Annabeth, the shield!” Percy shouted over the roar of destruction.

“I know!!” Annabeth snapped, sweat dripping down her forehead. She could feel the shield’s magic buckling under the corrosive onslaught. “Everyone, hold on tight!”

The golden shield expanded, glowing brightly as she forced it upward, lifting the group off the ground just before the black tide reached them. They landed hard, tumbling onto their backs as Annabeth struggled to reinforce the barrier.

“Have you forgotten?” Circe’s voice rang out through the chaos, filled with confidence. “This is a resort. I’ve dealt with every kind of muck and grime there is!”

She snapped her fingers, and her magic rippled across the field. The black sea shimmered—then began to bubble, froth, and transform into… soap.

Lucian blinked, momentarily thrown off as the once-corrosive waters turned into sparkling, foamy suds.

“Adorable,” he sneered, his grin returning as the air grew colder, “but even soap eventually goes down the drain.”

The darkness beneath his feet twisted violently, forming a vortex. The pull was immense—a miniature black hole devouring everything around it. Sand, air, even the remnants of Circe’s magic were dragged into its spinning maw.

Circe grinned, steadying herself against the tremendous suction.

“Annabeth!” Clarisse yelled, gripping the edge of the shield. “Do something—now!”

“I’m trying!” Annabeth cried, forcing more energy into the shield as it creaked under the pressure. “Lucian, stop! If you keep this up, we’re all going to be sucked in and devoured!”

Lucian looked back over his shoulder, his demonic grin splitting wider. “That sounds like a you problem, babe~” he said mockingly. “If you can’t handle a situation like this… then you’re better off dead. I’ve got no room for dead weight dragging me down.”

“I’m so going to kill him when this is over!!” Thalia shouted over the deafening roar of the vortex. The wind whipped violently at her hair and clothes. “In fact—forget waiting—I’ll kill him right now!”

Thalia extended her arm toward the swirling storm of darkness, lightning dancing madly across her fingertips. Instantly, storm clouds gathered overhead, spinning in unison with the growing vortex. Bolts of raw lightning tore through the sky and came crashing down toward Lucian—only to twist mid-descent, bending unnaturally.

The bolts curved and were swallowed whole by the spiraling darkness surrounding him, their power completely absorbed. The clouds themselves began to tear apart, fragments of the tempest being pulled and devoured into the endless whirlpool below.

Thalia blinked, then shrugged with a deadpan expression. “Oh well, I tried.” She turned to Annabeth with a helpless grin that screamed ‘Nothing I could do about it.’

Annabeth just stared back at her, her expression cold and flat as stone. “You’re not helping,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, Circe’s eyes widened as she noticed the shimmering mist that composed the subspace around them—the delicate magical fabric keeping them isolated from the outside world—beginning to drift, being drawn toward the center of Lucian’s vortex. The edges of reality itself were starting to fold inward.

“Lucian, stop!” Circe commanded, her voice layered with divine authority and charm speak. “If you keep going, you’ll tear this subspace apart! Everyone outside will be pulled in as well die!”

Lucian froze for half a second—then threw back his head and laughed. The sound was sharp and cruel.

“Pffft—Hahaha!! Why are you talking like I should give a shit?” His grin widened into something monstrous, fanged teeth glinting. “If they die, that’s on them! Only the strong survive, while the weak either serve… or perish.”

His eyes gleamed with malicious delight as he went on, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “But hey, since I’m in such a generous mood, I’ll give them a choice. When they die, they can still serve me as my shadow servants. Eternity in my service—doesn’t that sound merciful? Would that please you, witch? Because it would certainly please me~”

Circe’s expression darkened. The air around her shimmered faintly as she sighed—a quiet, ancient sound full of disappointment rather than anger. “No, Lucian,” she said softly. “It would not.”

Her eyes ignited with radiant golden light. Her voice, calm yet commanding, echoed through the collapsing subspace like a divine decree:

“All of you—close your eyes.”

Annabeth, Percy, Thalia, and the others obeyed instantly, squeezing their eyes shut just as Circe’s mortal vessel began to fracture. Her skin split with glowing lines of light before her entire body shattered like fragile glass, revealing the divine being beneath.

Circe’s true form radiated pure celestial majesty. Her skin shone with a deep sapphire hue, her body adorned with constellations that shimmered and pulsed like living stars. A luminous crown with two long, radiant points sat around her forehead, and her hair—made entirely of white magical energy—flowed down her back like a river of light that nearly brushed the floor.

Lucian screamed as the divine radiance struck him. “Arghhh!!” He clutched his face, black blood spilling between his fingers as the brilliance pierced his eyes.

Circe walked toward him unfazed, the raging winds and suction around her completely ignored—as though the universe itself bent away from her presence. Each step she took made the air hum with divine power.

When she reached him, she lifted two slender fingers and gently tapped his forehead.

Cracks spread through the glowing pentagram etched into Lucian’s forehead, spiderwebbing across his body as her voice thundered through the air with regal finality:

“I thought I told you to stop, brat. I won’t tell you again.”

The demonic energy clinging to him tore away piece by piece, fragments of his transformation peeling off like burning ash in the wind. The vortex collapsed, the roaring ceased, and the distorted subspace shattered like glass—returning them all to Circe’s resort in an instant.

When the crushing weight of divinity lifted, the group cautiously opened their eyes. Circe now stood in her mortal form again, serene and composed, though faint traces of divine glow still lingered in her eyes.

Lucian stood a few feet away, his body trembling, trails of black blood still running down his cheeks. His breathing was ragged as he swayed, then stumbled forward—resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“…So,” he croaked with a weak grin, “did I… impress you or what?”

Circe blinked in mild surprise before a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “As much as I hate to admit it,” she said softly, “you are quite the amazing witch… for a man, that is. So yes—you managed to impress me.”

Lucian chuckled tiredly, his grin faint but proud. “Sweet…” he mumbled. “So… where do I sign up for the special resort treatment?”

Circe couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head in amusement.

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