Prytaneum
Lighthouse
"What do you mean you're a demigod?" Hestia demanded with widened eyes, looking and sounding stunned.
"My mother was a human," I answered, simultaneously worried and confused. I'd thought as much but…it definitely wasn't just a coincidence that I hadn't seen any demigods until now. "And my father was a god. So I'm half-human and half-god."
"Who—" She paused and then sighed. "Poseidon?"
I nodded, figuring it was pretty obvious at this point.
"I…suppose that would explain things somewhat," Hestia mused uncertainly. "It doesn't feel as though you're lying to me, at least. And if you were a…demigod, the details of your Status would make a great deal more sense. But…don't you know?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"That gods can't have children," She stated.
I froze at the words.
That was obviously wrong and my first reaction was to laugh and tell her so—but more than the words, that she would even think such a thing was wrong. Even if the gods had died and been reborn, losing all their memories, it still didn't make sense to believe such a thing. Sure, a lot of demigods died protecting Mount Olympus, but some of them would have survived, right? No, more than that, even if they hadn't, legends would remain. My personal opinion on him aside, Hercules was like an Ancient Greek Starbucks; the guy got everywhere. I wasn't an expert on the subject, but I knew that a lot would have to happen for anyone to forget his myths, much less the rest of Greek mythology. You'd need to do something like blow up the internet and every library in the world along with it, and that still might not be enough. It just wasn't possible for a Greek Goddess to look me in the eye and say that demigods didn't exist. That kind of loss just wasn't possible.
Was it?
I hadn't seen anyone I thought was a demigod while walking around the city, which had struck me as odd after hearing that there were gods running around, but after giving it some thought, I'd been able to sort of see it. While Kronos may have been the one to do the actual destroying, the Second Titanomachy had been started by and for demigods. Luke had rallied others to his cause because, quite frankly, most of the gods were terrible parents. I was pretty sure that I'd gotten the best deal possible and even I could count the number of times I'd met my father on one hand—most demigods didn't even get that. You'd wake up one morning and realize something was a little odd about you and then you'd been getting chased by monster. Oftentimes, they'd chase you out of things like your home, your school, your life, but if you were lucky, you'd make it to Camp, at which point your divine parent may or may not acknowledge your existence. Whatever you do, whatever happens to you, there's no guarantee they'll even say they care.
Luke was a bastard for everything he done, as well as an idiot for believing it was a good idea in the first place. I still had no idea what he expected to accomplish by raising the King of Titans and tearing down the gods. Did he actually think Kronos would be better? To this day that didn't make any sense to me. But like I'd told Calypso, I understood the angry he and his followers had directed towards the gods. If my dad hadn't been on their side and my friends hadn't been in the line of fire, I wasn't sure I'd have cared what happened, beyond worrying about what Kronos would do if he won. I got why some kids who'd lost everything and never gotten a word of acknowledgement for it might listen to someone saying what they wanted to hear.
So maybe, I'd thought, maybe the gods realized that to some extent. Maybe they'd figured out that you shouldn't be having children if you were just going to throw them away, for their own sakes if no one else's. After World War II, the Big Three—that is, my father, Hades, and Zeus—had made a pact not to have children after hearing the prophecy and seeing the chaos that had resulted from the fighting. Maybe after Olympus was toppled, they'd had decided to expand things to cover the rest of their gods, in the hopes of not dying again. That was more common sense then I'd come to expect from most gods, granted, but it was possible.
Granted, I'd believe that Luke knew what he was doing before I believed they'd be able to stick to that. Even with the threat of the prophecy—the threat of annihilation—both Zeus and Poseidon had broken their oaths within fifty years. You apply it to every god and I doubted it'd last twenty. But if fifteen years had passed, hey, it might be possible that no new demigods were running around yet.
But I was pretty sure that wasn't what she was trying to say.
"When you say they can't, do you mean…?" I began hesitantly, almost afraid to ask.
"I mean that we literally can't," She confirmed. "Like Spirits, we're born as we are. We have no parents or siblings and it's impossible for us to have any children, whether with mortals or with each other. Though I've heard of gods falling in love with mortals, I've never heard of a demigod child being born in all this time, either. In a thousand years, it's never happened once."
At those words, what was left of the bottom of my stomach promptly evaporated.
"A thousand years?" I asked.
"That's how long the gods have been living amongst mortals," She answered, though she might have misunderstood the question. "Before that, we usually only met with mortals when they died and ascended to Heaven."
A thousand years, I repeated internally. I tried to tell myself it was impossible, but I could already feel my heart sinking as I started to believe it. I'd already noticed that things were different in a massive way, but I didn't know everything—there were things I hadn't seen or even heard of. I could have just found myself away from home and somewhere new. And when I'd learned about the gods and that wasn't enough to explain things anymore, I accepted that some time might have past. I mean, I'd died and all and the circumstances of both my death and rebirth were rather unusual, so who knows what might have happened.
But if what she'd said was true, if the current incarnations of the gods had been around for a thousand years—no, at least a thousand years; I couldn't forget the time they'd spent in Heaven—that was something else entirely.
And it made sense, gods help me. It would explain why so much was different and strange, why I didn't recognize anything. A lot can happen in a thousand years or so, after all. This city—and damn, but Orario and the Dungeon had existed before the gods came down, hadn't they?—could have been built long after my death, so it was no wonder I didn't recognize it.
Then was this the future? I'd always thought of robots and flying cars when I imagined what could happen in a thousand years, but instead, it had turned out to be a world of magic and swords, monsters and gods—as if everything had been torn down and slowly rebuilt, which may well have been the case. Was I the cause of this? Had my failure to stop Kronos led to the end of the world?
"Percy," Hestia began again, drawing me from my, frankly, terrified thoughts. "Are you sure? I don't want to doubt a member of my Familia, so if you say you are, I'll believe you, but…"
I licked my lips, feeling lost. She was worried about this, I knew, but I was too busy worrying about something entirely different to empathize, much less make up a convincing lie. So instead, I told her the truth.
"I am," I said. "He told me so himself."
Hestia took a deep breath and looked at me worriedly.
"Percy…don't tell anyone else about this, okay?" She said. "If the other gods find out that you're a demigod…"
"They'll be upset?" I guessed.
"They'll be interested," She corrected, tone implying this was worse. "For the gods who abandoned Heaven to entertain themselves, you are already something 'unique.' Leaving aside your status as a demigod, you have two rare skills, three magic slots, and two Development Abilities at level one; that alone would be enough to draw many of them to action. If they find out that you're the child of a god—the only such child I've ever heard of—on top of that…they'll come for you. They'll want you as a part of their Familia."
That got my attention and I glanced at her with a frown.
"I won't leave you if that's what you're worried about," I assured. "Since we're friend…no, with this we're family now, right? So I won't abandon you."
"That's not what I'm worried about," Hestia replied, though that didn't keep relief from filling her eyes. "Most likely, they'll try to take you by force. Even without their divine power, the attention of the gods can be dangerous and the larger Familia could even come after us directly."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"The first time I ever met my father, he and a bunch of other gods had a vote on whether or not they should kill me," I told her, seeing as she wouldn't remember. "I know better than anyone that a Demigod is dangerous, but I didn't want to lie to you. I won't tell anyone else unless I have to."
Hestia winced slightly but nodded.
"I'll…" She began before her voice faltered. After a moment, however, she pursed her lips and adopted a resolved expression. "Don't worry. As your goddess, I'll protect you no matter what."
She was obviously worried, uncertain, and maybe even afraid, but she was still willing to say she'd protect me.
I smiled at her.
"Thank you, Lady Hestia," I replied. "I'll do my best not to cause too much trouble for you. What about my skills, though? And my…Development Abilities and Magic? Do I need to keep those a secret, too? Because that would make fighting monsters a lot harder."
Hestia shook her head, though her brow was still furrowed.
"A person's Status is considered personal information," She said after a moment. "While the Guild will require you to report your level, but otherwise there are no requirements. At a glance, there shouldn't be any way for others to tell if anything's wrong…probably."
"What if someone sees it, though?" I asked, looking over my shoulder again. "Can't they just read it?"
"Can you?" Hestia asked, voice serious.
"The parts I can see, yeah," I replied, a bit confused by the statement. "It's on my back though, so that's not much. Is that not normal?"
She shook her head at me.
"It's written in the Sacred Text," She explained. "While it's not impossible for mortals to read, it's a language that few people learn. But I suppose that doesn't apply to a demigod?"
I shrugged my head. What I could see on my back looked a bit odd, but most of it just seemed to be Ancient Greek.
"Still, if it's seen, it's true that there are those who could read it," Hestia murmured, sounding worried. "I'll do what I can to hide the details, just in case. But…it should be okay? Or rather, it would be better if you don't hold back in the Dungeon, even if there are risks. Compared to holding back and getting hurt, I'd rather you fought seriously and kept yourself safe. It isn't as though the Dungeon will hold back even if you do, after all."
"Right," I said relieved. I was fairly confident in my own abilities, but I had pretty much the same concerns as she did. While I could hold back if I really had to, it wasn't something I'd like to do if I was fighting a bunch of monsters that were trying to kill me, see as if I lost…well, they'd kill me. "Ah, about that, how powerful are the monsters in the Dungeon?"
Hestia tilted her head to the side.
"It depends on the floor," She answered after a moment of thought. "While it's not always true, generally the monsters get stronger and the floors get larger the deeper you go into the Dungeon. A new Adventurer would generally stick to fighting on the first four floors, but if you're asking what floor you're ready for…I don't know. It's hard to gauge your abilities just from your Status, because it's so strange."
She paused for a moment there, looking concerned at me before nodding. It must have been difficult for her to try and take responsibility for me—I thought my mother was a saint just for putting up with me, honestly.
"As I thought, we should be careful," She decided. "Percy, now that you have God's Grace, we should put your abilities to the test. Several of them should be new to you as well, right?"
"Right," I agreed easily before looking around. "But it's probably not a good idea to do it in someone's library. Let's find somewhere more open first, okay?"