Percy Jackson AU: Hell Born

Chapter 8:

For a moment it feels like he is winning. Riptide cuts through the arai as though they are made of powdered sugar. One panics and runs face-first into a tree.

Another screeches and tries to fly away, but Percy slices off her wings and sends her spiraling into the chasm.

Every time a demon disintegrates, Percy feels a heavier sense of dread as another curse settles on him. Some are harsh and painful: a stabbing in the gut, a burning sensation like he is being blasted by a blowtorch.

Some are subtle: a chill in the blood, an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.

Seriously, who curses you with their dying breath and says: I hope your eye twitches!

Percy knows that he'd killed a lot of monsters, but he'd never really thought about it from the monsters' point of view. Now all their pain and anger and bitterness pour over him, sapping his strength.

The arai just keep coming. For every one he cuts down, six more seem to appear.

His sword arm grows tired. His body aches, and his vision blurs. A demon pounces and sinks its teeth into his thigh. Percy roars.

He slices the demon to dust, this one doesn't seem to give him a curse until riptide makes to collide with the next arai. It is like he has struck a diamond, the blade shatters. Fear, grief, and realization washes over him.

Ares. Back on his first quest when Percy had won a duel against Ares, the god had curse him, that when he needed it the most riptide would fail him. Rage turns his vision red, fuck it, he thinks, I'm getting out of here to slaughter Ares.

He drops the hilt that remains. It slowly disappears returning to his pocket, taking it out, the pen is snapped in half, what a sick joke, he seethes.

He jumps into the fray summoning some of the fire water out of a bottle into his hand. He imagines it shaped as a dagger, using it to slash and stab the Arai.

His fire dagger collides with one more when he collapses.

His mouth burns worse than when he had swallowed the firewater. He doubles over, shuddering and retching, as a dozen fiery snakes seem to work their way down his esophagus.

"You have chosen," says the voice of the arai, "the curse of Phineas...an excellent painful death."

Percy tries to speak. His tongue feels like it is being microwaved. He remembers the old blind king who had chased harpies through Portland with a WeedWacker.

Percy had challenged him to a contest, and the loser had drunk a deadly vial of gorgon's blood. Percy doesn't remember the old blind man muttering a final curse, but as Phineas dissolved and returned to the Underworld, he probably hadn't wished Percy a long and happy life.

After Percy's victory then, Gaea had warned him: Do not press your luck. When your death comes, I promise it will be much more painful than gorgon's blood.

Now he is in Tartarus, dying from gorgon's blood plus a dozen other agonizing curses, while his trusty sword had been shattered. His knuckles start to steam. White smoke curls off his forearms.

I won't die like this, he thinks.

The arai cluster around him, snickering and hissing. "His head will erupt first," the voice speculates.

"No," the voice answers itself from another direction. "He will combust all at once."

They are placing bets on how he will die...what sort of scorch mark he will leave on the ground.

He tries to concentrate. Reaching into his bag weakly he grabs the ambrosia and nectar. The salt water calling to him. He shoves a whole bar into his mouth almost crying at the taste of his mothers blue cookies. Next pouring nectar on his arms settles the steaming. The saltwater he has to summon, exploding the bottle in doing so, he wraps it around himself, sighing in relief.

It helps some, but not enough. He can still sense the poison in him. He is tempted to try and remove it with his powers, but how would that work? Can he control poison? Even if he can he doesn't have the strength anymore.

At some point Nemo had run off, Percy is glad for the kitten, maybe it has a chance to survive.

He raises his eyes one last time. His surroundings seem to flicker. The sky boils and the ground blisters.

Percy realizes that what he has seen of Tartarus is only a watered-down version of its true horror —only what his demigod brain can handle. The worst of it is veiled, the same way the Mist veiled monsters from mortal sight.

Now as Percy dies, he finally sees the full vision that he has slowly been developing.

The air is the breath of Tartarus. All these monsters are just blood cells circulating through his body. Everything Percy sees is a dream in the mind of the dark god of the pit.

This must have been the way Nico had seen Tartarus, and it had almost destroyed his sanity.

In the distance, a deep voice bellows—a voice that Percy recognized, unfortunately.

"I SMELL HIM!" roars Polybotes. "BEWARE, SON OF POSEIDON! I COME FOR YOU!"

Percy must've blacked out because he wakes up in a giants palm, thankfully it isn't his fathers bane, and it gives off peaceful vibes, Percy strangely finds himself trusting the giant.

A small groan leaves him as he tries to move, body still feeling as if he is back in that volcano burning alive. The giant looks down at Percy then he pokes him, causing Percy to fall back asleep.

He slowly wakes in the most comfortable bed he has ever felt, a large hand cupping the back of his head, a bowl of broth being poured into his mouth, with each sip he regains strength until it was gone. His eyes snap open, sitting up he looks around dazed before exhaustion washes back over him and he passes out again. It could have only been a few hours later that he came to again, Nemo curled up on his stomach.

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