[Third Person Pov]
Within the suffocating void of absolute darkness—an emptiness so complete that even sound should have been devoured—Lucian could still hear the distant screams of Agares.
They echoed impossibly far away, yet thundered through the abyss as though reverberating inside an endless cavern. Each roar rolled through the black expanse in trembling waves, deep and wrathful, shaking the nothingness itself.
"Lucian."
The whisper brushed against his ear.
Lucian turned sharply toward the voice, instinctively searching for its source. But there was nothing to see. There was never anything to see in this place. The darkness was not merely the absence of light—it was substance, heavy and smothering, swallowing form and presence alike.
"Go grab Annabeth and leave this place to me. I'll handle Agares. You've done enough. Leave the rest to me. I'll find you when I'm finished."
The voice of Hades carried quiet authority—cold, absolute, and brooking no argument. It wasn't shouted. It didn't need to be. It was a decree carved in stone.
Not that Lucian had any intention of protesting.
He gave a small, compliant nod despite knowing his father could likely sense the gesture rather than see it. Pride stung faintly in his chest, but he buried it. Then, without another word, Lucian let himself dissolve into the shadows, his form blending seamlessly into the void as he withdrew from the impenetrable dome of darkness.
He stepped out from what appeared to be a hemispherical shroud of pure night, a massive dome that veiled everything within from sight and sound. The world beyond felt almost foreign after that suffocating emptiness.
Lucian exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration bleeding into the breath as he forced himself forward.
Each step was labored.
He planted the butt of his spear against the pavement and leaned on it heavily, using it as a makeshift cane. His free hand pressed against his abdomen, fingers digging into fabric as a grimace twisted his features. His insides felt wrong—unnatural. His organs shifted uncomfortably beneath his ribs, writhing like snakes fighting to coil back into their rightful positions.
The pain wasn't sharp. It was worse.
It was invasive.
His irritation simmered just beneath the surface, equal parts discomfort and wounded pride.
'This wasn't how this date was supposed to go…'
The thought came bitter and dry as he pushed onward, following the familiar pulse of Annabeth's aura. Her magic was active—bright and structured, laced with intent. He could feel the precision in it, the careful layering of spellwork.
'What exactly was she doing?' He wondered.
As he approached the source, Lucian slowed, blinking once—then again—to ensure his vision wasn't compromised from having his head smashed into various solid surfaces earlier.
Surrounding Annabeth stood a formation of Terracotta soldiers.
Dozens of them.
Each one stood rigid and imposing, crafted from earthen clay yet detailed with astonishing intricacy. They wore stylized Greek armor—crested helmets, engraved breastplates, circular shields resting at their sides. Their empty eyes stared forward in disciplined silence, like a battalion awaiting command.
They radiated dormant magic, ready to awaken.
At the center of it all, Annabeth knelt upon the pavement.
Her phoenix quill glowed faintly in her hand as she inscribed complex runes and wards into the ground. The enchantment circle around her was massive, layered with concentric rings filled with symbols, sigils, and ancient script. Each rune burned into the concrete as she etched it, leaving glowing lines that smoldered like fresh brands against the stone.
She muttered incantations under her breath, voice steady and focused, weaving magic with scholarly precision. The circle was only halfway complete—but even unfinished, it thrummed with restrained power.
"Annabeth?" Lucian called out, concern slipping into his tone.
'She didn't hit her head too hard, did she…?'
"Mm?" Annabeth lifted her head absently, then froze.
Her gaze landed on Lucian first—lingering for a fraction too long—before shifting past him toward the distant dome of darkness looming behind.
"Huh? Did you manage to momentarily trap Agares?" she asked, eyes brightening with sharp calculation.
She didn't even wait for him to answer.
"That's perfect. Now, while we have the opportunity, you can help me complete this banishment circle."
"A banishment circle?" Lucian echoed, arching a brow but not correcting her just yet.
"Yes," Annabeth replied briskly, already returning to her work. "We'll set a trap. Create bait suitable for a demon—something irresistible. The moment he steps within the spell radius, I'll activate it and send that bastard straight back to Hell where he belongs."
There was unmistakable pride in her voice. Strategic. Efficient. Thorough.
She finally glanced up again—and paused.
Lucian was smiling.
Not mocking, not dismissive—just faintly amused.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes but ignored it, gesturing toward the Terracotta soldiers surrounding them.
"And while you were busy fighting him, I went ahead and created these. They'll serve as distraction units and auxiliary combat support. Their defensive formations are based on ancient Greek phalanx structures, so they should—"
"Annabeth," Lucian interrupted gently, scratching the back of his head with an awkward grin. "It wasn't me. My dad showed up. He's the one fighting Agares right now."
"…Eh?"
She blinked.
"Wait. Lord Hades is here?" she demanded, utterly bewildered. "Why?!"
Lucian's grin shifted into something sheepish as he looked away.
"Let's just say…" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, momentarily vexed. "I got my ass incredibly kicked."
"You did?" Annabeth shot to her feet so fast her quill nearly slipped from her fingers. Her disbelief was pure and unfiltered. "No way."
After all, to her, Lucian was the strongest person she knew.
The one who bent the impossible into something achievable. The one who pulled miracles out of his ass with reckless confidence.
The idea of him losing—of him being overwhelmed so completely that Hades himself had to intervene—didn't fit the image she carried of him.
And yet…
The way he leaned on his spear.
The tension in his posture.
The faint pallor beneath his usual composure.
It told a different story.
"It was… a humbling experience, to say the least," Lucian admitted quietly. The bitterness that had edged his voice earlier seemed to dissolve into something heavier—something reflective. "I didn't stand a chance."
"I see…" Annabeth murmured.
The look in her eyes shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. It was as though some unshakable pillar in her worldview had cracked. Lucian losing wasn't just surprising. It was destabilizing.
Her gaze drifted down to the half-finished magic circle etched into the pavement. The glowing runes flickered faintly, still hungry for completion.
Her expression hardened.
"So what you're telling me," she said slowly, annoyance seeping into her tone, "is that I wasted my time doing all of this for nothing?!"
Lucian winced faintly. "Sorry—?"
A thunderous crack interrupted him.
The sound was sharp and violent—like glass shattering across an endless sky.
Both of them snapped their heads toward the distant dome of darkness just in time to see fractures splintering across its surface. Jagged lines of pale light split through the black hemisphere before it ruptured entirely, exploding outward in a storm of shadow fragments.
"RAHHHH! HADES!!"
The roar tore through the air like a divine thunderclap.
"Do you seriously believe you can do as you please and I won't retaliate?!"
The voice alone made the ground tremble.
Annabeth and Lucian stared.
And then they understood.
What stood before them was not the Agares they had fought earlier.
This was something else.
Something unveiled.
A giant.
An infernal goliath whose upper body stretched so high into the distorted sky that they couldn't even see where his shoulders began and horns ended. His massive silhouette eclipsed the light itself, casting a suffocating shadow over the broken landscape.
The disparity in scale was nauseating.
They were ants beneath him.
His presence alone crushed the air.
The pressure of it pressed against their chests, forcing their lungs to work harder just to draw breath. His aura seeped into their skin like oil—thick with depravity, ancient sin, and demonic corruption. It made their nerves prickle and their stomachs twist.
It felt wrong.
They felt wrong.
Annabeth's fingers trembled slightly as an unfamiliar wave of intrusive thoughts brushed against her mind. Morality—once solid and unquestioned—felt blurred at the edges. Lines that had always been clear now wavered.
Lucian felt it too.
The subtle erosion of inhibition.
The temptation to indulge.
The whisper that nothing truly mattered.
He clenched his jaw, forcing his will into place. He had no doubt—if Agares had revealed this true form in the real world rather than within this fabricated space, the consequences would have been catastrophic.
Humanity would have unraveled.
Madness would have spread like wildfire.
People would devolve into their darkest impulses. Theft. Murder. Rape. Violence. There would be no ceiling to the sins humanity could descend into under that corruptive presence.
Fortunately, Lucian's will was not easily bent.
He moved.
In an instant, his spear dissolved into wisps of darkness and returned to his soul as he lunged toward Annabeth. He crouched, ignoring the protest from his shifting insides, and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"We have to go! Now!!"
"Ahh—wait!" Annabeth yelped, caught completely off guard.
Even as Lucian turned to run, she fumbled with her pouch, fingers moving quickly despite the oppressive pressure bearing down on her mind. She slipped her phoenix quill inside before snapping the pouch open and aiming it toward her carefully crafted Terracotta soldiers.
'It would be a waste of energy to leave them behind! They could become useful later,' she reasoned urgently.
Coating her fingers in magic, she waved her hand in a precise motion and chanted sharply.
The Terracotta soldiers lifted off the ground in unison. Their rigid forms shimmered, shrinking rapidly as clay bodies compressed and condensed into miniature figurines no larger than dolls. A magnetic force pulled them toward Annabeth's pouch, where they vanished one by one in streaks of light.
Her summoned spirits swirled protectively around them, resisting the demon's corruptive aura with visible strain.
Meanwhile, Lucian extended his free hand forward.
He could feel Agares' influence clawing at the edges of his mind now—pressing harder, trying to wedge itself into his thoughts.
The mist that composed the illusionary realm responded to his will.
It gathered in front of him, swirling and thickening until it congealed into the shape of a door—ornate and spectral.
Lucian didn't hesitate.
He burst through it.
Reality snapped back into place the moment they crossed the threshold. The fabricated space collapsed behind them as Lucian swung his hand back, forcing the door to slam shut. It dissolved into trailing wisps of purple mist that evaporated into nothing.
Silence.
Real air.
Real gravity.
They both inhaled sharply, lungs filling as though surfacing from underwater.
Lucian staggered slightly and lowered Annabeth back onto her feet.
For a split second, relief washed over them.
Then Lucian froze.
His expression tightened.
Without a word, he turned abruptly and stumbled toward a nearby car, bracing himself against its metal frame for support. His body convulsed once before he gagged violently, regurgitating everything he'd eaten that morning onto the pavement.
Annabeth's eyes widened in alarm.
"Lucian?! What's happening to you?" She rushed to his side, hand hovering near his back, ready to steady him.
"Fuck…" Lucian groaned hoarsely.
He held up one hand to stop her from touching him while wiping his mouth with the back of the other.
"Sorry," he muttered between breaths. "It seems my internal organs are currently fighting over residential placement."
He swallowed hard, grimacing as another nauseating wave rolled through him.
"It's making me—ugh—queasy."
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