"Mate."
"Again?"
"Again." It's been a week since I've gotten back to camp, and I've spent almost every single day doing things to organically boost my attributes. It took some time, but I finally cracked the code. The Game wasn't just handing out free attribute points like party favors—it was rewarding effort.
Specifically, it seemed to grant points whenever I pushed an attribute past some hidden threshold, like when I forced myself to go faster, hit harder, or think quicker than I thought possible.
At first, I didn't notice the pattern. I assumed the points were random, or maybe tied to specific actions. But the more I paid attention, the more I realized that wasn't the case. The Game wasn't rewarding routine effort; it was rewarding moments where I genuinely pushed myself. When I stepped beyond what I thought my limits were. For example, the first time I dodged an attack I had no business dodging—a trick swipe from Annabeth that should've nicked my ear —I felt a subtle shift in my stats.
It wasn't just the relief of surviving; it was like the Game recognized that I'd done something new, something I didn't even know I was capable of. The same thing happened when I fought Ares, even though I'd been too busy at the moment to realize it. I'd gone into that fight with zero confidence, ready to lose, but the moment I stopped holding back and gave it everything I had, I felt it again—that slight nudge from the system. And it wasn't just combat.
The Game seemed to reward creativity, too. The first time I used water to create a shield, or when I figured out how to harden it into armor, I got the same response. It was like the Game was saying, Yes, that's it.
Keep going.
So, I made a theory: The Game wasn't just tracking my progress—it was pushing me. Challenging me to break through my limits, to discover strength I didn't know I had. It wasn't content with letting me stay the same. It wanted me to grow. It wanted me to be strong. And yeah, that was kind of terrifying. I wasn't sure how far the Game would push, or if there even was a limit to how much it expected me to endure. But at the same time, I couldn't deny the thrill of it.
Every time I broke through a barrier I didn't think I could, I felt… unstoppable. The Game wasn't here to baby me or hand out easy wins. It was here to mold me into something better. And if I wanted to survive—no, if I wanted to thrive—I had to meet it head-on. So, with a little bit of experimentation, I was able to construct a daily routine that squeezed out as many points for as many of my stat groups as possible while still keeping me sane. Somewhat. I start every morning with a couple of laps around the camp. Not just the cabins and volleyball pit, mind you, but the entirety of camp. I usually went around the fighting arena, by the dining pavilion, and cut through some of the strawberry fields.
Then, I'd do it all over again, faster, if possible. My [DEX] and [VIT] stats were loving it, if their sharp increase was any indication. And, if I'm inclined to believe the whoops and whistles I get from the Aphrodite cabin are all for me, the progress is probably showing in a really visible way, too. I think, all in all, the route's around five miles. I do it at nighttime, too, for a whopping total of twenty miles a day. Normally, running that much isn't exactly advisable, but a good night's sleep heals any physically detrimental effects I could've gotten—man do I love my powers. After my run, I do some sort of workout with the Ares cabin. The little punks were originally a little mad at me for going toe to toe with their dad, but then they realized the implications of what that meant. What a bunch of bricks.
Needless to say, they found it very hard to deny me from joining their strength workouts after that. Clarisse, begrudgingly, taught me how to use a spear, and that's the weapon I'm currently working on mastering. I'd say it's going pretty well. Learning how to fight with something longer than my sword felt weird at first, but then the perk kicked in, and now it's as natural as breathing. In a few days, I'll try to see if I can sneak my way into one of those Apollo archery classes.
Anyway, I tended to follow that up with some mental stimulation— usually by coming to Annabeth's cabin. She'd either make me read some really complex book or lecture me on something while I tried to not let my eyes glaze over.
She claimed that she wants to be a professor someday, so we're kind of scratching each other's backs with the sessions. Not to mention, I just like spending time with her, too. It's been fun getting to unwind after my quest, and I've spent a lot of that time becoming a lot closer with people closer to my age—friends like Annabeth, Connor, and Will—they're all super nice. All of Annabeth's brothers and sisters are super nice, too, and they're more than willing to help anyone trying to learn a thing or two.
A few days into my routine, I was visiting Annabeth, as usual, when one of her little brothers, Malcolm, kept bugging us to play chess with him. Annabeth kept respectfully declining, but I felt bad for the little cutie, so I said I'd play a game with him. I'm not a grandmaster by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd like to think I wasn't a slouch at chess either. I thought, at the least, I'd be able to keep him entertained.
You see, Annabeth forgot to mention one crucial aspect about Malcolm. He has this thing called the Blessing of Athena which, according to Annabeth, basically made him a bonafide genius in one random thing. His thing was chess. The first time we played, he beat me in four moves. Not one to get beat down like that without trying again, of course, I ran it back.
Eight moves this time. Every single day since then, for my mental stimulation, I've tried to beat Malcolm in chess, and every single day, I've lost. I got close a few times, but man—losing to a little kid in just about anything stings. Especially when I'd like to think I have a decent bit on my resume already. Anyway. Back to the present. I sighed tiredly, offering the sandy-haired boy in front of me a smile. He returned it, slowly moving some pieces back to his side of the board. "You know, I'm getting really tired of losing to you, Malcolm."
"Want to play again?" Malcolm asked, twirling two pawns between his fingers. He cast a wayward glance at the window in the cabin. "Still a few minutes left to go before lunchtime."
Do you see what I mean? Malcolm's brain just worked in ways normal people couldn't follow. Hell, my life is a video game, and the kid can still outthink circles around me. It was humbling, to say the least.
"Sure, kiddo," I said kindly, moving my pieces back into their respective positions. I leaned into my chair. "What's your day looking like?"
"Anna said she's gonna take me finger painting," Malcolm said happily, waiting for me to make the first move. "I made her a picture last time and she really liked it!"
"That's fun," I commented, moving my pawn forward two spaces, settling into a King's Pawn opening. I read about this one in a book, and I wanted to see if I could trip up Malcolm with it. Doubtful, of course, but a man can hope, can't he? "What did you make for her?" Malcolm's pawn moved forward as well. "I made her a rhino."
"A rhino?" I really hoped none of my amusement seeped through my tone. "Why a rhino?"
"Well, they're my favorite animals!" Malcolm said excitedly, his steely-gray eyes darting back and forth on the chessboard. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hummed. "They can actually communicate by taking a poop! Did you know that?"
"I didn't know that!" Tsk. Malcolm and I traded pawns. I thought about it for a moment before moving my knight out. "I don't really know that much about animals."
"Can't you talk to some of them?" Malcolm asked. He had a good point. "Since your dad is Poseidon?" I thought about giving him the good old names-have-power song and dance routine but figured it was okay for now. My dad's chill enough that he wouldn't get mad at a little kid for saying his name. Well, it was a child of Athena. Maybe he wouldn't feel too merciful—I didn't want to have to be the one to explain to Annabeth why her little half-brother was a puddle of seawater.
"Yep. I'm pretty sure I can talk to horses," I said, grinning at the look on Malcolm's face as I elected to stop thinking about my dad smiting down my little friend. "And just about everything under the sea."
"That's so cool," Malcolm whined. "You get to do all of the cool stuff! You get to do things with fire and water, and you get to talk to animals! I just get to play chess and read books."
"I wouldn't think about it that way, bud," I comforted him. I leaned in, sort of like I was about to tell him a secret. "You and your siblings get to do some pretty cool stuff, too. Between you and me, Annabeth is much scarier than I am."
"Anna?" Malcolm said incredulously, almost dropping the piece in his hand. "Anna isn't scary at all! She's super nice and funny and she always helps me with stuff!"
"That's right I do!"
Oh, shit. I laughed nervously as Annabeth took a seat next to our table, her stormy eyes boring a hole into the side of my head.
"What was that you were saying, Percy?" Annabeth asked sweetly. I wasn't scared of her! I was at a much higher level than her and my stats were better, too. As if some random camper was going to get to me! I fought Ares, for Zeus' sake! She rested a hand on the table, drawing my attention to the bronze dagger that was lying in her lap. Eep.
"Care to repeat that?" Okay, maybe I was still slightly afraid.
"Nope," I replied cheekily. "I don't think I do."
"Percy, you're getting sloppy," Malcolm complained, capturing one of my rooks. "You started so well, too!"
"I wouldn't expect anything less from him, Colm," Annabeth said in a caring voice, shooting me a grin. "Seaweed Brain here wouldn't know strategy and tact if it hit him upside the head."
"Well, I don't know about that, Anna," Malcolm came to my defense. He stared at the board for a while before making his move. He played right into me, for once. I moved my bishop into position. Bam. His queen fell to my bishop, who was then taken out by his king. "Percy!" Malcolm squealed excitedly. "You got me in check! Anna, look! Percy's better than you now!"
"Huh. Look at that, then. I guess Seaweed Brain is capable of things even the daughter of Athena can't do," I sent a smug look in Annabeth's direction. Just to add insult to injury, I added, "Featherhead."
Annabeth's face reddened. She took insults to her intelligence very seriously. "No way, Percy! You just play every single day! There's no way I can keep up with that! I've played like, maybe twice since you started coming around. Three times tops. If you gave me two days, I could catch up to you."
Malcolm and I shared a look. He went to open his mouth, but I just shook my head. Pissing off Annabeth was never a good idea, and you were never too young to learn certain lessons. "You find what you were looking for?" I turned the conversation to Annabeth, who grinned and held up a small box.
"Yep!" She placed the box in front of me and looked at me expectantly. "Take a look." And I did. I slowly opened the box, letting out a low whistle as I looked inside. It was a laurel wreath made of pure gold.
"Whoa, what's that?" Malcolm asked, in awe of the way the gold glittered in the sunlight. I stifled a laugh as he leaned forward and fell into Annabeth's lap. "That, Malcolm, is what we're going to be playing for today," I explained, trying not to jump up and down in my seat. "The winner of the rock-climbing tournament gets that bad boy."
"It's the Laurel of Tyche," Annabeth said, her voice changing slightly.