The air split with divine fury, but Percy stood unmoved. The Olympians stared, their disbelief tangible, the golden remnants of Zeus' own attack still dissolving into shimmering butterflies.
Percy had rewritten an act of divine will.
And that, more than anything, terrified them.
"You…" Zeus growled, his voice a low storm, raw power crackling at his fingertips. His robes billowed, his godly presence demanding submission. "You dare to defy Olympus?"
Percy laughed.
A soft, theatrical chuckle, like the gentle rolling of the tides before a storm. He raised a hand, gesturing carelessly, as if swatting away a dull question.
"Defy? Oh, dear Uncle, no, no, no." He tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming with mirth.
"I am not defying Olympus."
He stepped forward, cane tapping against the ground, the ripples of his presence warping reality itself.
"I am simply…"
Another step.
"Overwriting it."
The gods reacted instantly.
Athena raised her spear, strategy whirling in her mind, but before she could command an attack, her weapon crumbled into golden dust.
Hera tried to weave a curse, her divine will pressing into the air—
But Percy simply smiled, and her power collapsed in on itself, unwoven like a poorly written script.
Hades' gaze darkened, and for the first time, the Lord of the Underworld felt a presence equal to his own.
Poseidon remained silent, his expression unreadable. But his grip on his trident tightened.
They were gods.
Yet for the first time in history, they were the ones on the defensive.
Chapter 13: A Witch's Court Forms
The demigods of Camp Half-Blood had never seen the gods challenged like this. Not by Titans, not by Giants, not even by Kronos himself.
And Percy knew it.
This moment—this declaration of power—was the fracture that would change everything.
He turned, his golden eyes sweeping over the gathered demigods. Some looked at him in fear, others in awe, and others…
In newfound belief.
Ethan Blake, the son of Nemesis, was the first to step forward. His dark eyes burned with conviction. "Percy…" He hesitated, then lowered himself to one knee.
"I will follow you."
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
Then, another demigod stepped forward—a daughter of Hermes.
Then a son of Aphrodite.
Then, more.
One by one, demigods knelt, swearing allegiance—not to Olympus, not to fate—but to the Witch of the Endless Tide.
Percy smiled.
Ah.
So the pieces were finally moving.
Chapter 14: The Olympians Break
Zeus' rage could no longer be contained.
"Enough!" he roared, his godly presence pressing down, seeking to crush Percy's will.
But Percy merely raised his hand—
And the very concept of authority shattered.
The sky cracked, the air split, and in that moment, Zeus' divine presence—the weight of his rule, the power of his command—collapsed in on itself like a broken throne.
The gods trembled.
For the first time since the birth of Olympus, their power was no longer absolute.
Percy grinned, eyes flashing with unfiltered amusement.
"Now, now, Uncle," he said lightly, twirling his cane. "There's no need for such dramatics."
He tilted his head, his golden butterflies swarming around him, dancing in the air like a cascade of rewritten fate.
"You sit upon your throne of lightning, believing yourself a king."
The sky darkened.
"But a king is nothing before a Witch."
He snapped his fingers.
And suddenly—reality broke.
The gods gasped as they felt it—the shift, the unraveling, the rewriting.
Percy's presence expanded, weaving into the very fabric of Olympus, latching onto the world's narrative threads.
And with a single, merciless command—
He erased Olympus from the gameboard.
Chapter 15: The World Remade
Camp Half-Blood did not fall.
Instead, it rose.
No longer a place of training for demigods to serve the gods, but a sanctuary for those who wished to be free.
A new court, formed not by divine decree, but by choice.
And at its center sat Percy Jackson, the Witch of the Endless Tide.
His throne—woven from the ocean's eternal depths, shimmering with the golden glow of an untouchable reality—stood as a symbol of change.
The gods?
They were still there.
But no longer in control.
Their thrones existed, yet held no true power.
Percy had not killed them. No.
He had simply…
Redefined them.
They were figures of history, no longer rulers, no longer the ones who dictated the fate of their children.
And the world moved on.
A world where Witches now reigned.
A world where fate could be rewritten.
And as Percy sat upon his golden throne, watching as the gameboard shifted in his favor, he couldn't help but smile.
Because in the end…
The greatest victory a Witch could achieve…
Was not to fight the gods.
But to simply make them irrelevant.
The Witch's Gameboard is Set.
The Age of Olympus has ended.
The Age of the Endless Tide has begun.
To be continued!!! or the end???