I watched as Blackjack folded his wings and plummeted like a black comet toward the boat.
I glimpsed monsters patrolling the upper decks—dracaenae snake-women, hellhounds, giants, telkhines, humanoid seal-demons. I remained concealed within the shadows, keeping a vigilant eye on their movements.
When Percy sent word that he and Beckendorf were planning to destroy Princess Andromeda and needed my assistance, I didn't hesitate. Without returning to camp first, I came straight from New York.
It felt good to see Rachel again, though the smirk that crept onto my lips was more about the thought of her kiss with Percy. I couldn't help but wonder what Annabeth would have made of that moment. Her inquiry about girls and subsequent pondering of Zoe's reaction echoed in my mind.
I highly doubted Zoe would have given it any thought at all.
After all, I hadn't heard from her the entire year—not a single word.
The whole thing with Zoe was left up in the air.
After that night by the campfire, I didn't see her the next morning, not even at breakfast. I wondered if she expected me to send an iris message or write her a good old-fashioned letter.
But then again, did she even expect anything from me? Probably not. She never said she did. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should've done something. I had paper and envelopes but couldn't figure out what to write. Honestly, sending a letter and getting no response was too much for me. It would've been too embarrassing, too much like rejection.
Racing down the vessel's stern, Blackjack spread his wings, landing lightly on the lowest deck.
Percy dismounted; he looked nauseous from the ride.
The pegasus soared off into the night.
Percy retrieved his pen from his pocket, uncapping it to reveal Riptide, which sprang to full size—three feet of deadly Celestial bronze gleaming in the dusk.
Beside him, Beckendorf retrieved a piece of paper, initially mistaking it for a map. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a photograph of Silena Beauregard, Aphrodite's daughter.
I recalled how they had started dating the previous summer after years of their friends insisting, "Duh, you guys like each other!" Despite their dangers, Beckendorf had appeared happier this summer than ever.
"We'll make it back to camp," I assured him.
A flicker of worry passed through Beckendorf's eyes before he masked it with his usual confident smile.
"You bet," Beckendorf replied resolutely. "Let's go blow Kronos back into a million pieces."
Beckendorf led the way, guiding us through a narrow corridor to the service stairwell as we'd practised.
However, our progress halted when we heard noises emanating from above.
"I don't care what your nose says!" snarled a voice, distinctly half-human and half-dog—a telkhine. "The last time you smelled half-blood was a meatloaf sandwich!"
"Meatloaf sandwiches are good!" another voice retorted. "But this is half-blood scent, I swear. They are on board!"
"Bah, your brain isn't on board!"
As the telkhines continued their argument, Beckendorf gestured for us to descend further down the stairs. Silently, we crept downwards, the voices of the telkhines gradually fading as we descended two floors.
Finally, we arrived at a metal hatch. Beckendorf indicated silently that it led to the engine room.
Though locked, he effortlessly severed the bolt with chain cutters from his bag.
Inside, the room was a symphony of activity—yellow turbines, the size of grain silos, churned and hummed. Pressure gauges and computer terminals adorned the walls. Oblivious to our presence, a telkhine hunched over a console, engrossed in his work. Standing about five feet tall, with sleek black seal fur and stubby feet, he possessed the head of a Doberman and clawed hands nearly human in appearance. He seemed completely absorbed, growing and muttering to himself, perhaps in communication with his cohorts on an obscure website.
As we approached, the telkhine tensed, sensing that something was amiss. Before reacting, he leapt towards a conspicuous red alarm button, but Percy intercepted his path. With a hiss, he lunged at him, only to meet the deadly edge of Riptide. In an instant, he disintegrated into dust.
"We've got one down," Beckendorf remarked. "Just about five thousand more to go." He tossed Percy and me jars of thick green liquid—Greek fire, one of the most dangerous magical substances.
Then he handed us another indispensable tool of demigod heroes—duct tape.
"Stick those on the consoles," he instructed. "I'll handle the turbines."
We got to work.
The room was sweltering, and we were soon soaked in sweat.
Meanwhile, the boat kept moving forward. At this rate, the ship would reach New York Harbor by dawn. We had to act fast.
Just as I attached a second jar of Greek fire to the control panels, I heard the clatter of feet on metal stairs—so many creatures descending that I could hear them over the roar of the engines.
Not a good sign.
I met Beckendorf's gaze. "How much longer?"
"Too long," he replied, tapping his watch, our remote control detonator. "I still need to wire the receiver and prime the charges. At least another ten minutes."
From the sound of the footsteps, we didn't have that kind of time.
"Percy and I draw their attention," I said. "Meet us at the rendezvous point."
"Oskar—"
Percy didn't look keen on the idea, but I was already pushing him towards the door, so I turned to Beckendorf.
"Wish us luck."
He looked like he wanted to protest.
We had planned to slip in and out without being detected.
But we had no choice but to adapt.
"Good luck," he finally said.
With that, we charged out the door.
A half-dozen telkhines were stomping down the stairs. Percy and I attacked; I sliced through them with my Xiphos daggers, Percy with Riptide, before they could even let out a yelp.
We kept ascending—past another telkhine, who, to his surprise, dropped his Lil' Demons lunch box. I spared him, partly because his lunch box was pretty cool, and I was hoping he'd raise the alarm and divert his friends from the engine room.
Bursting through a door onto deck six, we didn't stop running. The once plush carpeted hall was now a clawed-up, slimed mess—a testament to the ship's three years of monster occupation.
Reaching the promenade—a massive shopping mall that occupied the ship's middle—I froze, Percy crashing into my back.
"Wha-" Percy exclamation fell from his lips.
A fountain stood in the courtyard, and a giant crab was squatting in the fountain—and I mean giant—not your average Alaskan king crab, but bigger than the fountain itself.
The monster loomed ten feet out of the water, its mottled blue and green shell and long pincers more menacing than any seafood dinner.
Imagine that blown up to billboard size if you've ever seen a crab's mouth, all foamy and grotesque with whiskers and snapping bits. This one didn't look any better. Its beady black eyes glared at me with intelligence—and malice.
"Percy, any chance you speak gigantic crab and tell that thing to fuck off?" I whispered, backing away slowly.
"Being the son of the sea god doesn't mean I can win any points with Mr. Crabby," Percy muttered angrily.
"FFFFffffff," it hissed, sea foam oozing from its mouth.
The stench was like a week-old garbage can filled with fish sticks left baking in the sun.
Alarms blared, signalling that we were about to have lots of company.
We had to keep moving.
"Hey, crabby," Percy called as we edged around the courtyard's perimeter. "Just passing through—"
The crab moved faster than I expected.
It scuttled out of the fountain, pincers snapping. I dove into a nearby gift shop, crashing through a rack of T-shirts. The crab's pincer smashed the glass walls as it raked across the room. Gasping for breath, I dashed back outside, but Mr. Crabby followed, turning to pursue me once more.
"Percy! Call it off!" I yelled.
"I don't speak its language!" Percy screamed from the other side.
"There! Intruder!" a voice shouted from a balcony above us.
At least we had successfully drawn attention, but being trapped in the ship's heart wasn't part of our plan.
I certainly didn't fancy being crab fodder.
The monstrous crustacean lunged at me, and I swung Xiphos daggers, slicing off the tip of its claw.
It hissed and foamed, but it didn't seem too bothered.
Glancing between the fountain and the slick marble floor, Percy extended my hand, focusing on the water. The fountain erupted, sending water cascading everywhere, soaking the balconies, elevators, and shop windows. The crab didn't mind. It loved the water and ignored me, going sideways towards Percy, snapping and hissing.
"Crabs have a chink in their armour right in the middle of their bellies!" Percy shouted as he continued to distract the monster with the water, dodging its pincers. "Stab the belly!"
I charged straight at it, screaming, "AHHHHHHH!"
Just before our collision, I dropped to the ground baseball-style, sliding across the wet marble floor and under the creature. It felt like sliding under a massive armoured tank. With the crab distracted, I jabbed one of my Xiphos daggers into its vulnerable spot, releasing the hilt and pushing myself out from underneath just in time.
The monster convulsed and hissed, its eyes disintegrating, its shell glowing red as its innards vaporized. The hollow shell collapsed into a massive heap on the floor.
There was no time to marvel at the result.
Percy and I sprinted for the nearest staircase, the chaos of monsters and demigods around us filling the air with shouts and clanging weapons.
In the elevator foyer on deck eight, a pair of dracaenae blocked our path. Their upper bodies resembled women with green scaly skin, yellow eyes, and forked tongues, while their lower halves morphed into double snake trunks instead of legs. Armed with spears and nets, they eyed us hungrily.
"What is this? Two prizes for Kronos!" one hissed.
Not interested in engaging in a snake wrestling match, I spotted a stand with a ship model, a kind of "YOU ARE HERE" display.
I ripped it off and hurled it at the closest dracaena. The ship model struck her squarely, sending her crashing down. Vaulting over her, Percy seized the other dracaena's spear and swung her around, slamming her into the elevator before continuing toward the ship's bow.
"Get them!" she shrieked.
Hellhounds howled, and an arrow whizzed past us, embedding itself in the stairwell's mahogany-panelled wall. I paid no mind to it, focusing on luring the monsters away from the engine room and giving Beckendorf more time.
As we ascended the stairs, a dishevelled kid charged down, half-dressed in armour, brandishing his sword and shouting, "Kronos!"
Yet, he sounded more frightened than enraged. He couldn't have been more than twelve, about the same age I was when I first set foot in Camp Half-Blood.
The realization saddened me. This young demigod was being indoctrinated—taught to despise the gods and to lash out because of his divine heritage. Kronos was manipulating him, yet he perceived me as his adversary.
I refused to harm him.
No weapon was necessary.
Stepping into his attack, I seized his wrist and slammed it against the wall, causing his sword to clatter to the ground.
Then, unexpectedly, I acted on impulse. It was likely reckless and endangered our mission, but I couldn't suppress it.
"If you value your life," I warned him, "leave this ship immediately. Warn the other demigods."
With a firm shove, I sent him tumbling down the stairs to the next level.
We pressed onward, encountering memories of past escapades. We traversed a hallway adjacent to the cafeteria.
Emerging onto the main deck, I saw the twilight sky fading from purple to black, illuminating a swimming pool between glass towers and restaurant decks. The upper deck appeared strangely deserted.
The objective was clear: cross to the opposite side and descend to the helipad—the designated emergency rendezvous point.
Hopefully, Beckendorf would rendezvous with us there.
Beckendorf and Percy would leap into the sea, relying on Percy's water abilities for protection. I would shadow travel away, and Beckendorf would detonate the charges from a safe distance.
Midway across the deck, a voice halted me in my tracks.
"You're late, Oskar." Luke stood on the balcony above, a smile gracing his scarred face. His attire resembled an ordinary college-aged individual—jeans, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops—but his eyes betrayed his true nature, gleaming with solid gold.
"We've been anticipating your arrival for days," he continued, initially sounding like the Luke I knew. However, his demeanour shifted. A tremor passed through him, and his voice transformed into something weighty, ancient, and commanding—the voice of Kronos, the Titan lord. His words sent a chill down my spine. "Kneel before me."
"Yeah, that's not happening," I muttered defiantly.
Laistrygonian giants emerged from the shadows on either side of the swimming pool as though awaiting a signal. Towering eight feet tall, each boasted tattooed arms, leather armour, and spiked clubs. Demigod archers materialized on the rooftop above Luke while two hellhounds leapt down from the opposite balcony, their snarls directed at us.
In the blink of an eye, we were surrounded. Percy and I stood back to back, ready to fight, but it quickly became apparent that we were outnumbered. Though we might have been able to take down a few adversaries, the sheer multitude of enemies made it impossible to defeat them all.
We were completely overwhelmed.
It was a trap; they couldn't have positioned themselves so swiftly without knowing our arrival.
Glaring up at Luke, fury surged within me. I couldn't discern if Luke's consciousness still resided within that body. Perhaps, given the change in his voice, it was Kronos adapting to his new vessel.
Regardless, I reassured myself that it didn't matter. Luke had long been corrupted and villainous, even before Kronos seized control.
We'll have to confront him eventually.
Why not now?
I may not be the chosen one, but I wouldn't stand by and watch Percy fight him alone.
According to the prophecy, Percy's destiny to make a pivotal choice that could save or doom the world was mere days away—seven.
So why not act now?
If I possessed the strength, what difference would a week make?
I had faced monsters and deities alike in the past.
And did it have to be Percy?
Prophecies have been wrong before ...
As if discerning my thoughts, Luke's lips curved into a smile.
No, it was Kronos.
I had to remind myself of that.
"Advance, if you dare," he beckoned.
"Don't," Percy muttered, but I ignored him.
The horde of monsters parted, allowing me to ascend the stairs, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I half-expected an attack from behind, yet they permitted me to proceed. Percy was at my back, ascending backwards and watching for surprise attacks, but the monsters let us pass undisturbed.
Kronos's hands materialized his weapon—a six-foot-long scythe made of Celestial bronze and mortal steel.
The sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.
Yet, before I could reconsider, I launched myself forward.
Time seemed to decelerate, a tangible effect of Kronos's power. I struggled against the resistance, feeling like I was wading through molasses. My limbs weighed heavily, and lifting my sword became an arduous task. Kronos grinned, twirling his scythe regularly, patiently awaiting my gradual approach.
I attempted to resist his magic, focusing on the sea surrounding me—the wellspring of my abilities. Though I had honed my ability to channel it over the years, now it seemed futile.
With each sluggish step, the giants taunted, and the dracaenae mocked with their hissing laughter.
I lunged at Kronos, but my movements were sluggish. I hesitated when I glanced at his face—Luke's face—reminded me of the friend he once was. Despite my animosity towards him, the idea of harming him felt wrong.
However, Kronos showed no such restraint. He swung his scythe downward, narrowly missing me as I leapt back. The blade sliced into the deck, leaving a deep gash just inches from my feet.
Desperate to create distance, I kicked Kronos in the chest. He staggered backwards, but his weight felt far greater than it should have—like trying to move a refrigerator.
Kronos swung his scythe again, and I clashed with my Xiphoe dagger, but his strike was overpowering. My blade could only divert the blow slightly. The scythe grazed my arm, tearing through my shirt sleeve. The cut seemed minor, but a searing pain erupted throughout my entire side. It felt like my very essence was being drained away.
I recalled the warning of a sea demon: Kronos's scythe could sever the soul from the body with a single touch.
Now, I understood the gravity of that threat. It wasn't just a physical wound—I could sense my strength, resolve, and identity slipping away.
Staggering backwards, I switched my sword to my left hand and launched another attack. My strike should have been fatal, but my dagger glanced off Kronos's abdomen as if hitting a solid stone. He couldn't withstand such an attack.
Kronos chuckled darkly.
"Disappointing, Oskar Vitale. I expected better. Though Luke did tell me, you were never his match at swordplay."
My vision started to blur.
I knew I didn't have much time.
Percy wound an arm around my waist as I stumbled back.
"Luke had a big head," Percy said. "But at least it was his head."
"A pity to end you both now," Kronos pondered, "before the grand finale unfolds. Oh, how I yearn to witness the fear in your eyes when you comprehend my plans to obliterate Olympus."
"You'll never sail this vessel to Manhattan," Percy retorted.
I couldn't speak, sinking into Percy. My arm was pulsing with pain; my vision clouded with dark spots.
"And why is that?" Kronos's golden gaze gleamed. Distorted by some sinister force, Luke's visage appeared like a facade illuminated by malevolence. "Are you relying on your friend with the explosives?"
He gestured toward the pool and summoned, "Nakamura!"
A young man in full Greek armour emerged from the crowd, his left eye concealed by a black patch. I recognized him immediately: Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis. I had saved his life in the Labyrinth, unwittingly aiding Kronos's resurrection.
"Mission accomplished, my lord," Ethan announced. "We apprehended him just as instructed."
He clapped his hands, and two giants dragged Charles Beckendorf forward, his appearance battered and bruised.
Panic gripped me at the sight of him—Beckendorf, with his watch still intact, potentially signalling that the explosives were armed.
But could we detonate them from afar?
Surely, the monsters would have disarmed them by now.
"No!" Percy cried out.
Locking eyes with Beckendorf, I noticed him subtly gesturing toward his hand—his watch, the detonator. They hadn't confiscated it yet. Beckendorf had deceived them, feigning disorientation to mask his true intentions.
The Greek fire might still be ready to ignite! Yet, our escape from the ship was imperative for any chance of detonation.
Kronos hesitated.
Let the deception work, I prayed, my arm throbbing relentlessly.
"Inspect his bag," Kronos commanded.
One of the giants seized the satchel from Beckendorf's shoulders, grunting inside before upending it. Anxious monsters recoiled as cans of peaches spilt out instead of Greek fire jars. Kronos's controlled breathing betrayed his frustration.
"Could it be," he inquired, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "that you found this demigod near the galley?"
Ethan paled. "Um—"
"And might it be," Kronos continued, his voice dripping with venom, "that someone was dispatched to ACTUALLY CHECK THE ENGINE ROOM?"
Ethan's terror was palpable as he retreated, leaving a trail of cowardice in his wake.
Cursing inwardly, I realized time was rapidly dwindling before the bombs were disarmed.
I sought Beckendorf's gaze again, silently questioning: How much time?
He formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger—zero delay.
If he had triggered the detonator now, the ship would have erupted instantly. We had no chance of escaping in time. Kronos's smug grin widened as he flaunted a silver bracelet bearing a scythe charm—the emblem of the Titan lord.
My arm throbbed, clouding my thoughts, but I managed to murmur, "Spy at camp . . . communication device."
Kronos chuckled darkly.
"You can't rely on allies. They will inevitably betray you. Luke learned that lesson firsthand. Relinquish your sword and surrender, or watch your comrade perish."
Swallowing hard, I observed one giant tightening his grip around Beckendorf's neck. I was powerless to intervene; any attempt would only hasten his demise.
Beckendorf silently mouthed, "Go."
I shook my head, refusing to abandon him.
Meanwhile, the second giant remained occupied with the peach cans, granting Beckendorf a fleeting opportunity. He raised his left arm toward the watch on his right wrist with agonising slowness.
I wanted to scream, to stop him.
Below, a dracaena by the pool hissed, "What is he doing? What is on his wrist?"
Beckendorf shut his eyes tightly and directed his hand to his watch.
With little strength, I launched my dagger at Kronos like a desperate javelin. Though it barely grazed his chest, it momentarily unsettled him. Capitalizing on the distraction, I shoved Percy through the mass of monsters and propelled him off the ship, hurtling towards the water below.
As Percy plummeted, I turned back to face the encroaching monsters, swiftly retrieving my remaining dagger from its sheath at my ankle.
Deep within the ship, a low rumble sent tremors through the air.
Monsters scrambled in disarray from above, their chaotic shouts filling the space. A spear whizzed past my ear, narrowly missing its mark. An arrow found its mark in my thigh, but the pain was a distant concern.
My attention briefly flickered towards Beckendorf. He was fixated on the photograph in his hand, of Silena.
Then, I sank into the shadows before blacking out.