{Camp Half-Blood, Sparring Grounds 17:00}
After finishing lunch with the other half-bloods, my dad approached me. His eyes held a mix of concern and determination. "Come with me," he said, gesturing for me to follow. I glanced at the other camper who stood nearby their shadowy form being enveloped with a slight green and orange aura.
We walked across the camp, the crunch of gravel under our shoes echoing in the quiet afternoon. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the training grounds. As we reached the sparring area, I noticed rows of weapon racks, each holding an array of deadly tools. Swords, daggers, bows—choices for the demigods who trained here.
I hesitated, my fingers brushing against the hilt of a sword. But when I gripped it, something felt off. The weight was wrong, the balance skewed. I returned it to its place and scanned the racks. My eyes settled on a spear, its shadowy tip catching my eye. Without thinking, I reached for it, and as my hand closed around the shaft, a surge of certainty washed over me.
The camper and I approached each other, weapons in hand. "Introduce yourselves." My father said. "I am Odysseus son Of Chiron, 4 years old." I said while directing myself to my opponents shadowy form.
"I am Kevin son of Ares, 10 years old." My opponent who identified himself as a son of Ares said while whirling his blade around in his right hand.
My dad nodded at our introductions and lifted his arm upwards, and decisively lowering his arm he yelled "Start!"
As soon as the spar begun Kevin rushed at me trying to close the distance so as to make his sword useful. I 'saw' him rushing at me and I jumped backwards. I grabbed my spear with all my strength and without allowing my feet to move I extended my spear forward allowing my body to follow the motion.
Kevin dodged the spear and quickly closed the distance between us and put the tip of his sword to my throat and said in a calm demeanor "I won."
"Again please." I said wanting to continue practicing. "Fine." Kevin said as he sighed in exasperation. The next few hours were continued by sparring and losing, sparring and losing, over and over.
"This is the last one Ozzy." Kevin said we need to go for dinner with the other campers in thirty minutes. As both took our stances and since dad had left a while ago to deal classes to other demigods. Kevin yelled at the top of his lungs "Start."
The sparring ground crackled with tension as Kevin lunged at me once more. His shadowy form blurred, and I backdashed, my heart pounding. The lance in my grip felt like an extension of my arm, its bronze head gleaming in the afternoon sun. I struck from a distance, thrusting, but Kevin was relentless. Parry, dodge, parry—our spar continued, each move calculated, each breath strained.
Then, Kevin shifted tactics. His back foot slammed into the ground, and he surged forward with ferocious speed. I knew this move—the one that had bested me before. My pulse quickened. He closed the gap, rendering my spear useless. But instinct kicked in. I pivoted on my back foot, my body twisting, and unleashed a wide slap with my spear.
The impact reverberated through my arms as the bronze head connected with Kevin's torso. For a moment, he was sent sprawling backward, the distance between us widening by a meter.
But Kevin was no ordinary opponent. He rose swiftly. As I lunged, he sidestepped, his blade slicing through the air. My spear split in twain, the halves falling to the ground. Panic surged, and before I could react, his sword pressed against my throat. I sighed, defeated. "Guess I lost again, huh?"
Kevin withdrew his blade, his eyes assessing. "You did better this round," he admitted. "That last move of yours—it caught me off guard." His praise warmed me, even as I tasted the bitterness of defeat.
He sheathed his sword, striding toward the racks. "Are you coming to dinner or what?" he called over his shoulder, a hint of a smile in his voice the previous orange and green aura around his shadowy form now completely green.
I nodded, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Together, we made our way to the camp's communal table, battle-worn but alive with the thrill of combat.