Chapter 7 - The Beginning of the Journey
The first thing Percy did after leaving the building was to hail a taxi, aiming to get as close as possible to Camp Half-Blood. But soon he ran into a problem that, ironically, he hadn't expected to face as a demigod, especially being the son of Poseidon.
He had no money.
As he watched the taxis drive by, the ground seemed to crumble beneath his feet. How could I forget something so simple? he thought. He and his mom had been so focused on the backpack, preparing supplies and clothes, that they completely forgot the essential: money. Without it, Percy wouldn't be able to buy food, water, or even pay for a taxi.
Stunned, he stood there for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, until a woman walking by noticed him. A child only five years old, carrying an enormous backpack, standing alone in the middle of New York, was at the very least suspicious.
"Hello, sweetie, are you lost?" the woman asked with an alarmed and worried voice.
"Huh?" Percy muttered, turning to see who was talking to him.
The woman had black hair and brown eyes. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but what caught his attention the most was the concerned look on her face. It was rare to find someone so genuinely worried about a stranger.
"Uh… I think I'm fine, yes, ma'am. My mom just went to buy a snack in that diner," Percy said, pointing to a corner shop.
"Hm? That one?" the woman asked, looking in the direction he pointed.
"Yes! Actually, she's taking a little while… Could you check if she's okay? I need to stay here. My dad is coming to pick us up, and I want to wait for him," Percy said, forcing a tone of concern.
The woman hesitated for a moment but soon nodded.
"Of course, sweetie, but don't move from here, okay?"
"Sure!" Percy replied, forcing a smile.
As soon as the woman turned to head to the diner, Percy turned in the opposite direction and ran through the busy streets of New York.
"Crap!" he muttered.
Now, you might be wondering: why did he do that? Simple. Percy knew that if that woman found out he was alone, she'd definitely take him to the police station to find his parents. And that was not an option for him. He had a mission, and he needed to fulfill his goal.
After a few minutes of running, he found an alley and leaned against the wall, panting, trying to gather his thoughts. He had no money, and anyone with common sense would take him straight to the police if they saw him alone. New York wasn't a safe place for a five-year-old to walk around by himself.
Percy reflected on his options. He couldn't depend on charity, and he had no way of earning money legally. The situation seemed desperate. Then he looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, but there were signs of rain on the horizon, and a thick, humid mist was starting to form.
That's it! Mist!
Percy exclaimed out loud, remembering that the Mist, the veil that separated the mortal world from the supernatural, could be manipulated to make mortals see what he wanted them to see.
But when he tried to put that into practice, he hit a snag. He was a complete novice when it came to being a demigod. Percy had some theoretical knowledge thanks to his newly-acquired memories, but in practice, he was as clueless as any mortal. He didn't even know where to start.
After several frustrating attempts, he was about to give up when a sudden memory hit him like lightning. A vivid scene came to his mind: a dark-faced man (Hades) talking to a curly-haired young woman (Hazel). The man said, "It's more about what people want to see, not the other way around."
With that in mind, Percy focused again. He went into a nearby convenience store, concentrated on the idea of being a customer with money overflowing from his pockets, and entered.
When he walked into the store, Percy went straight to the counter. He was nervous but knew he had to trust his instincts and the Mist. He grabbed some supplies—a bottle of water, a few cereal bars, and a map of New York—and walked to the cashier.
"That'll be ten dollars, kid," the cashier said, without suspecting anything.
Percy focused. He imagined the cashier seeing a twenty-dollar bill in his hand, and with a slight tremble, he extended his empty hand.
To his surprise, the cashier took the "money," gave him change, and said:
"Here you go. Have a good day."
Percy grinned from ear to ear. It worked! He left the store with the supplies in his backpack and a sense of accomplishment.
Now more confident, Percy went back to the street and hailed another taxi. He got in and gave the driver the closest address possible to Camp Half-Blood. The driver nodded and started driving.
As the car moved through the streets of New York, Percy reflected on what he was about to face. He knew this journey would be a test, not only of his skills but also of his ability to survive in the gods' world. He needed to improve his reflexes, learn how to fight, and most importantly, master the control of the Mist.
"This training… it's either going to kill me or make me stronger," he muttered to himself.
With that in mind, he opened the system, hoping to see experience points accumulated from the fight against the dracaenae. However, there was nothing. Percy frowned, confused. How did I not earn anything? But before he could dive into that thought, the driver called him:
"We're here, kid."
Percy closed the system, thanked the driver, and once again used the Mist to trick him, showing "money" in his hand. It worked again. He got out of the car and, as the taxi drove off, Percy looked at the forest ahead of him.
It was time to begin his real journey.
He knew he needed to improve as quickly as possible. Each step he took toward Camp brought him closer to his destination, but it also increased the risk of attracting the attention of Zeus or Hades.
And one thing was certain: if the gods knew he was a son of Poseidon, the danger would be much closer than he would like.
With that thought, Percy entered the forest, determined to grow stronger before being claimed.