The Path to Olympus
It was always interesting how humans adjusted their minds to their own version of reality. On the news, they were broadcasting what, for them, had happened on the beaches of Santa Monica.
According to the official information, two criminal groups, along with their entire forces, had clashed in a violent battle of enormous proportions, right on the beach. It was said that it could be one of the largest battles between criminal organizations in the history of the United States.
The alleged deaths were counted in the hundreds. However, not a single body had been found. According to the authorities, these had been recovered by their own companions in order to leave no evidence behind.
The government, of course, began to say many things. They spoke of reinforcing security, of capturing those responsible, of ending drug trafficking, and of restoring order. But in truth, it was rather interesting to imagine how they planned to arrest, quite literally, two entire armies of the undead.
Everything had been broadcast nationwide. Even news outlets from other countries talked about the incident the following day, analyzing blurry images, unexplained explosions, and contradictory versions of the events.
There were numerous theories about why such a brutal war had broken out, precisely on the beach. But there was one in particular that directly connected Percy and his friends with Ares.
The authorities claimed that a kidnapper of teenagers had abducted Percy and several other children. Among them, possibly, were the sons of the mafia bosses from both gangs. Amid the confusion, each group believed their rival was responsible, which ended up triggering a bloody and brutal battle.
And all of it, according to that version, was the kidnapper's fault, who in this case was Ares. It was now believed that he had been riddled with bullets by both sides, which made many people happy, much to Percy's personal amusement.
It was also clarified that the moments in which Percy had been thought responsible for certain incidents were nothing more than desperate attempts to escape from his captor.
In this way, his name was completely cleared.
Much of this version was supported thanks to the testimony of a waitress who had heard Ares openly threaten them at the restaurant, before forcing them into the back of an animal transport truck. That detail gave the story far more credibility.
In addition, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover appeared publicly to give a statement. According to the police, they had managed to rescue them after the boys threw themselves into the water to save their lives.
Even Percy, upon hearing how the reporters handed him the perfect excuse, simply began to act. Fake tears welled up in his eyes, while his friends nodded at every word, all of them pretending they had suffered immensely.
"I'm happy to have finally put an end to this torment. I can't believe everything we went through; it was like a movie, but a horror one," Percy said as he blew his nose, his tone genuinely sad.
"To my stepfather's friends, I want to apologize. I was forced by that man to profile the money. But don't worry, I will return it to you. Everything that belongs to you will go back to you," he continued.
Percy looked genuinely hurt, but his gaze was not. Instead, Gabe's friends felt a chill run down their spines when they met those eyes through the television screen, cold and unmoved.
After that, people who felt sorry for them quickly organized a fundraiser to pay for the trip to New York. For a moment, that worried Percy. However, with the Master Bolt in his hands, he trusted that Zeus would not attack him; after all, he would not want to destroy his own lightning.
Humans were satisfied. They had found culprits, heroes, and a comfortable explanation. The fact that none of it was real did not seem to matter to them.
….
Meanwhile, Miraak had already separated himself from Percy and the others. RAt that moment, he stood calmly before a man seated on a throne of bones, who was watching him with visible annoyance.
That was right. He was standing before Hades.
Incidentally, the realm of Hades had finally finished being repaired.
"My helm," Hades said, extending his hand forward, as if he wanted Miraak gone as quickly as possible.
Miraak extended his own hand as well, expecting something in return.
Hades clicked his tongue before moving it. A soldier entered, carrying a large bag that rattled with every step; he could barely walk. He set it down right in front of Miraak.
Miraak opened the bag slightly and examined its contents. There were bones, minerals, crystals, and other strange objects. His gaze stopped on a black ingot that seemed to absorb light itself.
He picked it up carefully and felt how that simple material tried to harm even his soul. For an instant, he sensed something attempting to cling to his essence, not like an attack, but like an invitation, patiently waiting. Without hesitation, he tossed it aside as if it were trash. He knew those materials well, and also the weapons forged from similar things; weapons named by Daedric Princes for the sole purpose of corrupting and destroying their wielders.
That gesture made Hades' eyes widen, clearly displeased. That material was one of the most powerful in the Underworld, capable of harming even immortal beings. Of course, its use came at a price: losing what one truly was.
"The Styx is one of the finest materials of the Underworld," Hades said seriously.
"I have a similar material, without needing to lose my vital force," Miraak replied, tossing the helm toward the god of the Underworld with a simple motion.
"Where are they?" he asked, his gaze serious.
"Free. In exchange for the information you provided. That was the deal," Miraak answered calmly.
Hades nodded with a sigh.
"I do not know what you plan to do with that place. Many demigods are trapped there. You could start a war," he said, looking at him. However, his tone made it clear that he did not really care; he was saying it just for the sake of saying it.
Miraak turned around and began to walk toward the exit.
"A war would not benefit me. I would lose potential future subjects," he said calmly, before disappearing in a flash of magic.
…
"Percy, we have to take the bolt to Olympus right now. The solstice is almost here and we have spent three days in this hotel," Annabeth said, truly agitated, as she kept insisting, again and again for Percy to return the bolt he now held in his hands.
"Wait. My master said I should arrive almost at the last moment. There is still an hour left," Percy replied with complete calm.
"But…," Annabeth was about to say something more, but Percy looked at her calmly.
That was enough for her to shut her mouth. She frowned and put on a slightly annoyed expression, unable to understand why Percy's master would ask for something like that when the gods were on the verge of starting a war. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl.
Every minute that passed without returning the bolt was another crack in the patience of the gods.
They had truly completed the mission ahead of time and, even so, they waited until the very last moment to return the bolt.
Grover was a bundle of nerves. He would not stop playing his flute to calm himself and, at one point, he even grabbed the wrong instrument and summoned a spectral Bear, which caused a few small disasters inside the hotel room. A hotel that, by the way, Percy had indeed paid for.
At that moment, a kind of note floated toward Percy. He caught it quickly in midair, while Annabeth stared at him intently, as if trying to read his mind.
"Looks like it's time to return it," Percy said with a smile, though a very different seriousness was reflected in his eyes.
He grabbed the backpack that was in a corner of the room and calmly walked toward the exit.
…
Percy looked at the enormous building in front of him and let out a sigh. Annabeth, upon learning that Percy had finally gone to return the bolt, stopped hovering over him and, still nervous, took Grover back to the camp, after Percy practically threw them out. He knew it would not be a safe place for them to accompany him. It was not distrust; it was calculation. If something went wrong, he preferred the mistake to be his alone.
Besides, although they had already sent a message to Chiron through the Iris network, it would be better for Annabeth to explain everything face to face. Or at least, that was the perfect excuse for both of them to leave.
Percy crossed the building's doors. He was wearing his black jacket, the one he considered his best armor, along with all the clothes his master had made for him. They surely offered more protection than any metal armor in existence.
After all, he was about to meet the god who threw lightning bolts as if they were paper balls.
While thinking such nonsense, Percy confidently approached the desk guard and said,
"I want to go to floor six hundred."
The guard, who was reading a rather old book, barely lifted his gaze before replying,
"That floor does not exist, kid," and tried to return to his reading.
"I need an audience with Zeus," Percy said directly.
The man stopped lowering his gaze toward the book and looked back at Percy, now with an amused smile, as if what he had just heard were a joke.
"An audience with who?" he asked.
For a moment, Percy wondered if he was dealing with a normal mortal. However, the next words dispelled any doubt.
"Without appointments, there are no audiences. Zeus does not meet with everyone who wants to see him," the guard said in a clearly mocking tone.
"Well, that's unfortunate. Then it seems I will have to keep this," Percy replied, opening the backpack.
The metal cylinder immediately caught the guard's attention. At first, he seemed not to recognize it, but within seconds his face turned pale, covered by an expression of genuine horror.
"Would you like me to come back another day or…?"
"No, no," the guard said quickly. Of course, he did not want to be responsible for turning away the one carrying Zeus's Master Bolt. He jumped out of his seat and approached Percy.
"Here, here," he said, handing him a golden card.
"Insert it into the security slot and make sure no one is with you in the elevator," he added urgently.
Percy nodded and entered the elevator. As the doors closed, a slot opened on the control panel, where Percy immediately inserted the card. The console changed and, among the other floors, floor six hundred now appeared as an available option.
Percy waited what felt like several long minutes, listening calmly to the elevator music, even slightly moving his head to the rhythm of the tune.
Then, with a soft ding, the doors opened. Percy's expression hardened once more. For an instant, he could not help but be surprised to see that the elevator stopped in front of what looked like a stone or marble walkway suspended above the clouds. Below, Manhattan stretched out at an altitude similar to that of an airplane in full flight.
He quickly regained his composure and let out a brief sigh.
"Time to meet my family," he murmured, stepping forward with a firm stride.
He took his first steps toward Olympus, the home of the Greek gods.
Humans already had their version of the story. Now it was Percy's turn to face the real one, and answer to it.