Chapter 11: One Week Later…
The forest around him was imposing. Massive trees rose toward the sky, and the dense vegetation seemed to swallow everything. The sounds of wildlife filled the air, but the young demigod walking among the trees barely noticed. Percy Jackson, only five years old, looked exhausted, but his green eyes shone with a strange, almost animalistic focus.
He had already learned that monsters could appear at any moment. Since waking up in this new reality, a week had passed, and that week had been a constant test of endurance. Not a single day had gone by without monsters finding him. They appeared from all sides—dracaenae, hellhounds, and even gorgons.
And Percy had adapted.
He touched the pocket where he kept the small bottles of gorgon blood he had acquired earlier. He already knew their properties—one was a miraculous cure, the other a deadly poison. But more than the bottles, Percy himself was changing. Each battle left its mark, but he noticed that, day by day, his reflexes improved, his body adjusted to the rhythm of the fights. His adaptation wasn't just physical; it was mental and emotional. He was becoming more resistant to chaos and fear.
"Will this ever end?" he thought, kicking a stone away. His feet were sore, but he knew he couldn't stop. I can't let them catch me off guard again.
The memories of the monsters he had faced haunted him. That week had been brutal, but at the same time, something inside him knew this was just the beginning. The abilities he had acquired so far were helping him, but they weren't enough. The sleepless nights and the wounds, although healed, took a mental toll. He could feel the weight of it.
As he walked, his thoughts wandered. Those blades… the ones that appeared in his dreams. Percy didn't know where these images came from, but something inside him recognized them. Something drew him to them. He didn't know what they meant, but he had the unsettling feeling that, somehow, they would be crucial for his survival. They're my only chance to really fight these monsters, he thought.
Lost in these thoughts, he almost didn't notice the movement to his left. Wait, what…
Suddenly, a massive paw swiped at him. But he didn't need to see it.
Percy had already sensed the attack before it happened. His new sense, which had been developing since he started to understand his control over water, had alerted him. It was a strange feeling, as if he could "see" the enemy's movements without using his eyes. He felt the water flowing in the creature's body and, somehow, knew it was about to attack.
At the exact moment, Percy spun on his heels, dodging the swipe and positioning himself to face his opponent. It was a centaur, but different from the ones he had heard about in hero stories. The creature had a fierce look, its teeth bared in an animalistic snarl, its hooves pounding the ground in fury. The beast's muscular, hairy body moved with destructive power, and it held an improvised spear in its hands.
Percy felt sweat dripping down his forehead. I'm not going to be crushed by a monster now. He tightened his grip on Anaklusmos, the celestial bronze gleaming in his hand, and began circling the centaur, his eyes watching every move of the creature.
The centaur charged, its spear slicing through the air. Percy dodged, but not just with reflexes; he had sensed the attack before the monster even struck, guided by the flow of water in the centaur's body. Each strike of the spear seemed slow to him now. He moved with precision, sidestepping, backing away at the exact moment the centaur lunged.
This is working… Percy realized, almost in disbelief. His body was reacting before he could think. That ability—to sense the water inside living beings—was becoming a huge advantage.
When the centaur prepared for another strike, Percy leapt to the side, avoiding the spear's point, and then used the opening to counterattack. Anaklusmos sliced through the air with a lethal gleam and hit the centaur's flank. The monster roared in pain, stumbling. Percy wasted no time; he struck again, this time aiming for the neck. The celestial bronze tore through flesh, and the centaur collapsed, dissolving into golden dust on the forest floor.
Percy panted, feeling the adrenaline slowly drain from his body. With every fight, he became more efficient, more calculating. But also more tired. Mentally. The regeneration healed his wounds, but it didn't relieve the mental exhaustion. He looked at the spot where the centaur had fallen, cleaned Anaklusmos, and then allowed himself a moment of rest.
His abilities were growing. He looked at the system screen, as he always did when a battle ended, and analyzed his progress.
Percy Jackson's Status
Age: 5 years
Skills:
• Regeneration (Level max)
• Adaptation (Level max)
• Beginner Swordsmanship (Level 2)
• Water Sense (Level 1)
The adaptation wasn't just for the battles. He felt his body and mind adjusting to every new situation, and that included the ability to endure stress, to get used to constant danger. I'm not the same boy who woke up here a week ago. He knew that. But he also knew he couldn't let himself get complacent. With every step, he became stronger, but also more aware that the challenges were only just beginning.
Percy stood up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked around. The small cave he had sheltered in for the past few days no longer seemed safe. He needed to keep moving, keep going forward. Something was calling to him, something beyond the daily battles. The blades.
It was time to go. Percy packed his things, stored his small bottles of gorgon blood, and with one last glance at his temporary shelter, started walking. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but something inside him, a gut feeling or perhaps the confused memories that surfaced from time to time, was guiding him.
His destiny was ahead, and Percy knew the journey had only just begun.