There is a fundamental rule in RPGs that I forgot in the heat of the moment: You cannot damage a magic enemy with a non-magic weapon.
I stood on the rain-slicked road, gripping my aluminum baseball bat. It was a Louisville Slugger. Good for hitting home runs, bad for hitting mythological monsters.
The Minotaur snorted. It turned away from Percy's car—which was currently upside down in a ditch—and looked at me. It was massive. The top half was a bull, the bottom half was a man, and the whole thing smelled like rotten hamburger meat and wet fur.
"Hey, ugly!" I shouted, banging the bat on the asphalt. "Over here!"
"Valerius, get back in the car!" my mom screamed from behind me.
"Go!" I yelled over my shoulder. "Get to the farmhouse up the hill! I'll draw aggro!"
I didn't wait to see if she listened. The Minotaur charged.
In the movies, monsters usually roar and run slowly so the hero has time to dodge. In real life? This thing moved like a freight train. It closed the fifty feet between us in a blink.
I didn't dodge. My ego wouldn't let me. I'm the son of Zeus, I thought. I have super strength.
I swung the bat with everything I had. I aimed for its knee, intending to shatter the bone.
CLANG.
The sound was sickening. The aluminum bat connected with the Minotaur's hairy leg... and bent at a ninety-degree angle. It vibrated up my arms so hard my teeth rattled.
The Minotaur didn't even flinch. It looked down at the bent bat, then at me, with an expression that said, Really?
"Oh," I whispered. "Physical immunity. Right."
The Minotaur backhanded me.
It wasn't a punch. It was a casual swat, like a human swatting a fly. But when you're hit by a monster that can bench press a truck, a "swat" feels like getting hit by a wrecking ball.
I flew.
I literally went airborne, sailing twenty feet backward. I crashed into the muddy embankment, tumbling through wet grass and thorn bushes. The air left my lungs in a painful whoosh.
Okay, I thought, staring up at the lightning-filled sky as I gasped for air. Note to self: Get a magic sword. Immediately.
The Canon EventI scrambled to my feet, spitting out mud. My chest ached, but nothing was broken. My dense muscle fibers had saved me from being turned into paste.
Down on the road, the scene was chaos.
Percy Jackson had dragged his mom, Sally, out of the Camaro. Grover was unconscious in the grass.
"Run, Percy!" Sally was screaming.
The Minotaur, bored with me after swatting me away, had turned its attention back to the easier prey. It charged them.
"No!" I shouted, sprinting back toward the road. I was fast, but I wasn't fast enough.
I watched the canon event happen in slow motion. The Minotaur grabbed Sally Jackson by the throat. She didn't scream. She just looked at Percy with sad eyes.
Then, the monster squeezed.
There was a flash of gold light, and Sally Jackson dissolved into a shower of shimmering dust.
"MOM!" Percy screamed.
The sound was raw. It wasn't the whine of the annoying kid I'd seen in the cafeteria. It was the rage of a son who just lost his world.
Percy turned toward the beast. He didn't have a weapon. He didn't have training. But he had adrenaline.
"You like killing my mom?" Percy snarled.
The Minotaur roared and charged. Percy jumped—actually jumped—straight up, pushing off the monster's snout and landing on its neck. He grabbed the horns.
I skidded to a stop a few feet away, panting. I still held my bent baseball bat. I felt useless. I knew this was supposed to happen—it was part of the plot—but watching it live was different. It was brutal.
Percy leaned back, pulling on one of the horns with a strength that surprised me. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, I thought.
SNAP.
The horn broke off in Percy's hands. The Minotaur shrieked in pain, thrashing around. Percy fell into the mud, clutching the jagged bone shard.
The monster turned, ready to trample him.
"Hey!" I roared, throwing my useless bat at the Minotaur's head. It bounced off its nose harmlessly, but it made the beast blink.
"Use the horn, Jackson!" I yelled. "Stab it!"
Percy didn't need my advice. He was already moving. As the Minotaur lunged, Percy drove the jagged horn upward, right into the monster's ribcage.
The monster stiffened. It looked down at the bone sticking out of its chest. Then, it began to dissolve. It turned into yellow dust, blowing away in the storm wind, leaving nothing behind but the horn.
Percy collapsed into the mud, sobbing. Grover was still passed out.
I walked over, my body aching. I looked down at Percy. I wanted to be jealous—he got the kill, he got the glory—but seeing him crying in the rain, I just felt... respect.
"Get up, Jackson," I said, my voice surprisingly gentle. "We're not safe yet."
The BarrierMy mom ran down the hill, sliding in the mud. She grabbed my face, checking for injuries. "Val! Are you okay? You flew—I saw you fly!"
"I'm fine, Mom. Durable, remember?" I brushed her off, looking at the top of the hill. A massive pine tree stood there. Thalia's tree.
"We have to get them inside," I said, pointing to Percy and Grover.
"Who are they?" my mom asked.
"Classmates. Demigods. Like me."
I grabbed Grover. He was lighter than he looked. I threw him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Mom, help Percy."
We trudged up the hill. The rain was freezing now.
As we reached the pine tree, I felt it. A hum in the air. A static charge that wasn't lightning. It was the magical barrier of Camp Half-Blood.
I stepped through. It felt like walking through a cold curtain of water, and then... warmth.
I turned back. My mom was standing on the other side of the property line. She couldn't cross.
"This is as far as I go," she said, her voice trembling.
"Mom..." I put Grover down on the grass inside the camp boundaries. I walked back to the line.
"You'll be safe here," she said, forcing a smile. She reached out, but her hand hit an invisible wall. Or maybe she just didn't want to try. "He... your father... he said this place is a sanctuary."
"I'll be fine," I promised. "I'm going to run this place in a week. You'll see."
She laughed, wiping tears away. "Don't conquer it too fast, Valerius. Try to make friends."
"No promises."
She turned and ran back down the hill toward the car. I watched her go until her silhouette disappeared into the storm.
I turned around. We were on the porch of a big farmhouse. A guy with eyes all over his body (Argus) was staring at us.
Percy had collapsed on the porch, clutching the Minotaur horn like a teddy bear.
"Welcome home," a voice said.
I looked up. Standing in the doorway was a tall, blond girl with gray eyes that looked like storm clouds. She looked at Percy, then at me.
Annabeth Chase, I recognized.
"He's the one," Annabeth said, pointing at Percy. "He must be."
I felt a spike of irritation. I was standing there, six inches taller than him, radiating enough electricity to jump-start a car, and she was looking at the drooling kid who passed out?
"Hey, Blondie," I snapped, stepping forward. "I just tanked a Minotaur hit and carried a goat-boy up a hill. A little service here?"
Annabeth looked at me. Her eyes narrowed. She analyzed me—my stance, the sparks on my fingers, the arrogance.
"You're not supposed to be here," she said, her voice calculating.
"Story of my life," I smirked. "Now, where's the food? I'm starving."
And then, just like Percy, the adrenaline crash hit me. My vision went black, and I face-planted right onto the wooden porch.