Son of Kaos (PJO Chaos Gacha)

[Sebek]

Pff, Artemis can't even fathom the mistake she made! Soon, Zoë will experience the life changing power of a 100 years of good Counseling! Truly, she'll come back a changed woman.

 

[Arrowman]

Honestly, you would think the gods would go themselves or send an army in a quest this important?

Once again, Artemis proves to be the worst deity in the room.
That said room has Zeus, Hera, Ares and the Fates is..... impressive to say the least.


Wasn't Dyonisius the god of Theater?

 

[XxExtremeSamX2]

Yeah I really wouldn't survive here without the biggest of sticks

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Eh, it's not like the Gacha doesn't have some really big sticks.

 

[En-men-lu-ana]

Oh great, her.

 

[obcorbino2146]

"Alright, fuck this."

Click to shrink...

YESSSSS!!!

"You can't cut something that isn't there. You can't weave whatever you want into my life, or my death for that matter. You can't decide I fall down the stairs tomorrow and break my neck, because according to you, I'm not connected to your little fucking embroidery."

Click to shrink...

I mean the audacity for them to assume that they can cut the cords or decide fate of beings connected to Khaos. It is absurd. I don't think there's any thread for Gaia or any other children of Khaos like why would he be any different.

"...yeah. Thought so." I gasped as the eldest Fate's bloodshot eyes snapped towards mine in abject fury.

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Lol everything I imagined and more but I wish he actually called them old ugly witches as well actually insult them.

"Gods fucking—" I gasped as I fell back on my butt.

The parchment unfurled itself cheerfully in front of me, apparently unconcerned by the fact that some of the oldest beings in Creation were currently having what I could only describe as a collective aneurysm.

Golden letters burned themselves across the page.

[Achievement Recognized!]

[Defied Fate]

[You have stood against the Great Loom itself!]

[Silver Trait Drachma Awarded!]

[Rewards Dispensing]

A silver drachma dropped from the scroll and I snatched it out of the air, turning the coin over between my fingers as I reread the reward.

A Silver Trait.

For pissing off the literal embodiments of Fate so badly that they'd tried to erase me from existence.

'You know what? Worth it.'

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I love it that you actually did my suggestion author, even down to it being a silver ticket the only thing missing was punching them in the face, the only thing really missing is someone acknowledging that even khaos agrees that they're out of line in one of the texts.

"But, my Lady… that is… a boy…"

My shoulders slumped in quiet despair as besides me, Hermes just laughed even harder.

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Oh she's not going to have a great time, she's going to have to quickly get over her sexism or she's going to be in a hell of a time trying to pick a fight with the son of KHAOS.

She is much lower on the pecking order then he is. Demigod or not he is still the son of Khaos and is in many ways, he's higher on the pecking order than even the Olympians, I wish that you acknowledge that maybe in the future when Gaia wakes up it'll be acknowledged that as a son of khaos they have no authority over children of Khaos, which now includes the MC.

 

[Bakkughan]

Now we just need Zoe to discover that said boy is Techically higher up on the pantheonal ladder then even her Goddess and thing will get even more fun

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Yeesh, not sure even [Councelling Mastery] can deal with the aneurysm she'll get from that...

Pff, Artemis can't even fathom the mistake she made! Soon, Zoë will experience the life changing power of a 100 years of good Counseling! Truly, she'll come back a changed woman.

Click to shrink...

The power of therapy triumphs yet again!

Honestly, you would think the gods would go themselves or send an army in a quest this important?

Click to shrink...

This was something I ran into when writing the quest, but then again, in canon Zeus lost the symbol of his power and a weapon comparable to a nuke in destructive power and instead of getting off his ass and scouring the land to find the damn thing, he instead let a bunch of twelve year olds look for it while he sulked in his throne room and threw hissy fits at his brothers.

Maybe it's a YA novel thing in general, maybe it's just because Riordan seems to have a hate boner for specific gods and Zeus in particular, but the man (god) is genuinely incompetent in the books to the point one genuinely has to ask how Zeus hasn't been overthrown yet. I mean it almost happened in one of the original myths when Hera tried to pull a fast one on him and despite his raping shape-shifting ways as told by the ancient greeks, he was at the very least a true King back then....

Wasn't Dyonisius the god of Theater?

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Correct. However, there is some overlap with Apollo's domain who is the god/patron of the arts in a more general sense, though with him it's more music/writing related.

I don't think there's any thread for Gaia or any other children of Khaos like why would he be any different.

Click to shrink...

As the previous chapter shows, even with direct proof not all of the gods are fully convinced Ethan was conceived directly by Kaos. The primordial void hasn't been very active since the beginning of creation to say the least, so him popping out another kid after untold millenia is already hard to believe, much less that his latest kid just looks like... well, like Ethan. Like just a dude. Primordial Kaos that gave birth to the literal Earth and Sky, from whom the first Night and Darkness itself came, now gave birth to... some random guy.

After this confrontation (and your comments was indeed one of many who made me realize said confrontation was sorely needed) the proof has become much stronger though.

even khaos agrees that they're out of line in one of the texts.

Click to shrink...

Him granting the ring was basically his stamp of approval for Ethan standing up to them. Given how vast and ancient he is, I want to keep Kaos a bit in the background for now, present but sleeping, or perhaps with a conciousness so vast and alien that only a small part of it is focused on what's going on with Ethan.

I wish that you acknowledge that maybe in the future

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I'm saving that for future chapters as Ethan grows more powerful, especially if I stick with my nebulous plan for now to have him be the Protogenoi of Free Will.

 

[Sebek]

It really makes sense, after the whole debacle their first children caused and how reality ended shaped, that, if the Primordial Void is going to bring a new child to existence, to be conceived at the lowest possible level while giving them the tools to claw their way up. So every scrap of power wasn't something they were born with, but earned through blood and tears.

Also, funnily, he should be able to apply Counselling Mastery to himself if needed, too. So he can look and treat his own possible current and future traumas.

 

[Arrowman]

Yeesh, not sure even [Councelling Mastery] can deal with the aneurysm she'll get from that...

The power of therapy triumphs yet again!

This was something I ran into when writing the quest, but then again, in canon Zeus lost the symbol of his power and a weapon comparable to a nuke in destructive power and instead of getting off his ass and scouring the land to find the damn thing, he instead let a bunch of twelve year olds look for it while he sulked in his throne room and threw hissy fits at his brothers.

Maybe it's a YA novel thing in general, maybe it's just because Riordan seems to have a hate boner for specific gods and Zeus in particular, but the man (god) is genuinely incompetent in the books to the point one genuinely has to ask how Zeus hasn't been overthrown yet. I mean it almost happened in one of the original myths when Hera tried to pull a fast one on him and despite his raping shape-shifting ways as told by the ancient greeks, he was at the very least a true King back then....

Correct. However, there is some overlap with Apollo's domain who is the god/patron of the arts in a more general sense, though with him it's more music/writing related.

As the previous chapter shows, even with direct proof not all of the gods are fully convinced Ethan was conceived directly by Kaos. The primordial void hasn't been very active since the beginning of creation to say the least, so him popping out another kid after untold millenia is already hard to believe, much less that his latest kid just looks like... well, like Ethan. Like just a dude. Primordial Kaos that gave birth to the literal Earth and Sky, from whom the first Night and Darkness itself came, now gave birth to... some random guy.

After this confrontation (and your comments was indeed one of many who made me realize said confrontation was sorely needed) the proof has become much stronger though.

Him granting the ring was basically his stamp of approval for Ethan standing up to them. Given how vast and ancient he is, I want to keep Kaos a bit in the background for now, present but sleeping, or perhaps with a conciousness so vast and alien that only a small part of it is focused on what's going on with Ethan.

I'm saving that for future chapters as Ethan grows more powerful, especially if I stick with my nebulous plan for now to have him be the Protogenoi of Free Will.

Click to shrink...

In this fandom, one has to quote the 'Ancient Laws', AKA Plot contrivance laws, to rationalize anything.
They are never fully mentioned, so it is difficult to determine what is a political agreement, a methaphysical law passed on from Khaos/the Primordials or a personal decision.


Kenainath and Antony444 have different takes on them, but their headcanons are interesting.
Their works are huge in size though, be warned.

 

[obcorbino2146]

Yeesh, not sure even [Councelling Mastery] can deal with the aneurysm she'll get from that...

The power of therapy triumphs yet again!

This was something I ran into when writing the quest, but then again, in canon Zeus lost the symbol of his power and a weapon comparable to a nuke in destructive power and instead of getting off his ass and scouring the land to find the damn thing, he instead let a bunch of twelve year olds look for it while he sulked in his throne room and threw hissy fits at his brothers.

Maybe it's a YA novel thing in general, maybe it's just because Riordan seems to have a hate boner for specific gods and Zeus in particular, but the man (god) is genuinely incompetent in the books to the point one genuinely has to ask how Zeus hasn't been overthrown yet. I mean it almost happened in one of the original myths when Hera tried to pull a fast one on him and despite his raping shape-shifting ways as told by the ancient greeks, he was at the very least a true King back then....

Correct. However, there is some overlap with Apollo's domain who is the god/patron of the arts in a more general sense, though with him it's more music/writing related.

As the previous chapter shows, even with direct proof not all of the gods are fully convinced Ethan was conceived directly by Kaos. The primordial void hasn't been very active since the beginning of creation to say the least, so him popping out another kid after untold millenia is already hard to believe, much less that his latest kid just looks like... well, like Ethan. Like just a dude. Primordial Kaos that gave birth to the literal Earth and Sky, from whom the first Night and Darkness itself came, now gave birth to... some random guy.

After this confrontation (and your comments was indeed one of many who made me realize said confrontation was sorely needed) the proof has become much stronger though.

Him granting the ring was basically his stamp of approval for Ethan standing up to them. Given how vast and ancient he is, I want to keep Kaos a bit in the background for now, present but sleeping, or perhaps with a conciousness so vast and alien that only a small part of it is focused on what's going on with Ethan.

I'm saving that for future chapters as Ethan grows more powerful, especially if I stick with my nebulous plan for now to have him be the Protogenoi of Free Will.

Click to shrink...

I can't wait to see what you do cuz there's no way in hell that any of the Primordials after healing what will happen wooden yell at the god saying how higher on the totem pole the MC actually is he's technically Primordial or Demi-Primordials which means he's higher in the hierarchy than them they have no say over him. And I would love for Gaia or one of the other siblings to the MC to call them out on it and for them to realize that they're right and still try to overstep but get their asses kicked by Gaia or the Sky or Darkness or the literal void becomes more active than it ever have been just to scare them straight to show them that they don't have any say over the void and it's decisions.

And I can't wait to see the Primordials reactions when they try to Lord over another child of khaos. Concerning none of them have threads anyway and the Fates tried to have one of their siblings killed, oh that would be a fun talk for the fates of getting yelled and probably being spanked by literal beings higher than them and the Gods, a legit scared straight.

In the end I just want there to be consequences of how everyone was acting with the MC, when Gaia wakes when and if the skies in some way shows up or any of the other Primordials show up. Cuz you know they will have choice words for them when they learn what they tried to decide for someone who is their sibling and is undoubtedly higher on the totem pole than them even if he's still technically a mortal or demi-Primordial that's just how important Primordials are.

And here's a question will the MC at any point interacting with his siblings cuz he'd be funny if Gaia becomes protective considering he would be the first children of khaos since creation. Like all the Primordials becoming more and more interactive than they have been just because they want to interact with their younger sibling. Like I can imagine it now Gaia showing up with like a picnic basket with golden fruits and says let's have a meal together brother acting on protective and motherly lol.

Anyway sorry again for the word problem but I just love in the story I can't wait to see what you do when these other beings finally get on to the board cuz there's no way they're not going to get mad at the fates and the gods for how they acted with their younger sibling or when void becomes more active than he's ever been because they want to interact with their youngest or something like that.

 

[Bakkughan]

Like I can imagine it now Gaia showing up with like a picnic basket with golden fruits and says let's have a meal together brother acting on protective and motherly lol.

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I understand where you're coming from but that feels a bit too unserious for this fic. Most of the protogenoi are antagonists, or so vast and alien that they don't bother with humanity or inadvertently cause them harm. Also most of the primordials are either asleep or chilling in their own domains, most of which aren't on Earth or even the Underworld, but below in Tartarus.

There are romantic connections between some primordials, Gaia with Ouranos and later Tartarus, or Nyx en Erberus, but I wouldn't exactly call them siblings and I wonder how many of them would view Ethan in the role of a little brother. However, Ethan's status compared to the Olympians is a bit nebulous right now. As Ethan realized earlier, Thalia isn't like her fellow demigods because to about half of them, she's their aunt rather than another niece, literally one branch up the family tree and that's enough to matter. However, Ethan himself could not be closer to the root of the tree and that of course matters as well, it's just that he hasn't grown into his full power yet.

As the Gacha continues supplying him with more pieces of reality pulled from the non-existence that is the Void, Ethan's status will change to reflect that. Especially once he starts growing into his role as the Protogenoi of Free Will. But right now, he's just a dude with weird powers as far as most divine beings are concerned, though with one hell of an insurance policy.

 

[Sebek]

Imagine when he starts rolling the different divine blessings in the gacha with none of the Olympians actually handing them. Or those of foreign deities.

 

[obcorbino2146]

I understand where you're coming from but that feels a bit too unserious for this fic. Most of the protogenoi are antagonists, or so vast and alien that they don't bother with humanity or inadvertently cause them harm. Also most of the primordials are either asleep or chilling in their own domains, most of which aren't on Earth or even the Underworld, but below in Tartarus.

There are romantic connections between some primordials, Gaia with Ouranos and later Tartarus, or Nyx en Erberus, but I wouldn't exactly call them siblings and I wonder how many of them would view Ethan in the role of a little brother. However, Ethan's status compared to the Olympians is a bit nebulous right now. As Ethan realized earlier, Thalia isn't like her fellow demigods because to about half of them, she's their aunt rather than another niece, literally one branch up the family tree and that's enough to matter. However, Ethan himself could not be closer to the root of the tree and that of course matters as well, it's just that he hasn't grown into his full power yet.

As the Gacha continues supplying him with more pieces of reality pulled from the non-existence that is the Void, Ethan's status will change to reflect that. Especially once he starts growing into his role as the Protogenoi of Free Will. But right now, he's just a dude with weird powers as far as most divine beings are concerned, though with one hell of an insurance policy.

Click to shrink...

I can understand where you're coming from, but I still feel like once the other Primordials learn about Ethan and realize that the gods, especially the Fates, essentially overstepped their bounds with another child of Khaos they'd probably be angry. Not necessarily because they care about Ethan personally, but because the gods dared to try and lord over another child of Khaos.

I could see that being a major line they crossed. Ethan might not be strong enough yet to command their attention, but his status as another child of Khaos would still matter. It's less "we're defending our little brother" and more "who gave you the right to interfere with one of Khaos's children?" That distinction feels important when dealing with beings that old and powerful.

And well, it might be different depending on the Percy Jackson version of these Primordials, since many of them have shown that they don't really care about humanity and can even take actions that harm humans without much thought.

But even if Ethan is only partially Primordial and still mortal, I could still see the fact that he's another child of Khaos making them pay more attention to him when they learn about him. He's not just some random human or demigod he's their sibling, one of the first since creation. They might not necessarily care about him right away, but I could see some of them becoming a little protective simply because of that connection.

And even if their interest isn't necessarily because they care about Ethan personally, they might still want to interact with him because they're curious about why Khaos created another child after so long. Either way, I could see his heritage giving him a much better chance of getting a positive reaction from them than a typical human would.

Also considering it's the chaos gacha him receiving a trait or skill that makes them start to like him more isn't completely out of the question. Like if you was to somehow get the child of Gaia trait, I have no doubt in my mind that she'd be much more interested and more motherly with him like I said cuz not only is he technically her child, he's also the child of khaos, I feel like subconsciously she may be a little more protective like she has been of some of her children. In the end depends on his traits and how you write the story.

 

[Nameless Godless]

He should have pulled the ultimate strategy on them.

"I call for this case to dismissed on the grounds of discrimination. It is unjust to single myself out in this situation thus I call on my sister Nyx The Night and ask of her if the spawns of Kaos should kneel to the Loom."

Plan: Make the opponent their mother.

 

[Yohnos]

I hope that the day he gets powerful enough, he goes all Old Kratos on Olympus

"… that." she said after a heavy pause, jutting her chin towards me with a displeased look.

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And she'll be the first to die

 

[Bakkughan]

CHAPTER 11
​

---

The ride down from Olympus was strangely mundane.

For all the pomp surrounding the throne room (the assembled Olympians, the prophecy, Zeus handing down a quest that would probably decide the fate of Western civilisation) we still ended up having to wait for the elevator.

When the elevator finally chimed and the doors slid open, a young satyr stood on the other side, laughing at something a pair of giggling nymphs had just said, one arm draped comfortably around each of their shoulders.

The moment he looked up and spotted Zoë, the laughter died in his throat.

She stood with her arms folded, her expression making it abundantly clear that whatever they'd been doing, she disapproved of it on principle. The satyr paled and his arms disappeared from the nymphs' shoulders so quickly you'd have thought they'd turned into red-hot iron. Both nymphs flushed scarlet, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. All three quickly bowed their heads.

"My apologies, Lady Nightshade," the satyr stammered, giving an awkward little bow from the waist that also somehow incorporated his horns. "We were just... ah... on our way to... to a book club! Right, girls?"

He looked desperately at the nymphs.

"Book club," one echoed immediately.

"Very educational," added the other almost pleadingly.

"Right. Well. We'd best not be late, don't want to miss... the educational value." The satyr finished weakly.

Without waiting for a response, the three of them sidled past Zoë with exaggerated caution, hugging the edge of the narrow walkway. The instant they were clear of the elevator, they abandoned every pretence of dignity and disappeared down the bridge at a pace that suggested 'book club' was about to start without them.

For a moment, Zoë and I watched them go, before I shot the Huntress a look from the corner of my eye.

"You usually have that effect on people?"

"Only foolish ones." She immediately shot back, stepping past me into the elevator without a further word.

I quickly joined her, pressing the button for the ground floor as I silently observed the woman. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, staring straight ahead with the sort of perfect posture only someone with several thousand years to practise could manage. It occurred to me that this was the first time since we'd met that we'd been completely alone together.

It also occurred to me that my brain had picked a remarkably inconvenient moment to remember she was absolutely gorgeous.

I firmly informed that particular train of thought that it could kindly fuck off.

It ignored me.

"So, does that include me?" I asked jokingly, trying to get a conversation going.

Zoë shot me a look that clearly said that, just by asking that question, I had already answered it.

"Right. Good talk." I muttered.

The rest of the ride down was spent in silence.

---

It was a blessedly short walk from the Empire State Building to where I had left my truck, wedged between a delivery van and a battered yellow taxi. I was somewhat relieved that it still looked like a normal pickup rather than the mobile artillery platform I'd been afraid it would turn into when I wasn't looking thanks to the Hephaestus Cabin's modifications.

"Well," I said, fishing my keys from my pocket, "there's Arion. Hop in, and let's get moving."

Zoë stopped dead in her tracks.

"...Arion?"

I looked over my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Thou hast named thy vehicle after Herakles' horse?"

"Uh, I named it after a horse that was at one point ridden by Herakles, I suppose. Why, that a problem?"

"Yes. It is an insult."

"What the- why?" I asked, baffled, but the beautiful woman just turned up her nose at me, her stance rigid.

"As a Huntress of Artemis, I will not ride a chariot that bears such a name. You should name it after a proud mare instead."

For a moment, we stood on opposite sides of the Chevy's hood as silence fell between us.

"Yeah, no." I said flatly, before unlocking Arion and hopping behind the wheel.

Zoë's eyes widened, clearly not used to such a casual dismissal, freezing for a moment before she threw open the passenger side door.

"What dost thou mean 'no', you would disobey-!"

"Alright lady, here's the deal. Better we hash it out now since we got about a twelve-hour road trip ahead of us. I'm not your subordinate. You do not give me orders. You're here because I need a tracker, so when it comes to tracking and hunting and camping in the woods, I'll be more than happy to take your lead. Anything else, I'll do what I think is best to complete the Quest and prevent a potential war between the Fates and my dad. ... or mom. Progenitor?"

I struggled to find the proper words for a moment before shrugging.

"And that certainly extends to what I call my stuff, least of all my fucking car. You hate it so much, you can sit in the flatbed for all I care." I said, venom creeping into my voice as I gripped the steering wheel.

Zoë bristled as she stood on the sidewalk.

"Thou foolish boy. Thou knowest not what thy idolatry of that man even means, for-"

"Yeah, that wasn't me." I interrupted, "that was Lily's suggestion."

"...Lily?"

"Eight years old. Hephaestus cabin. Missing her two front teeth. Big fan of refurbishing old Chevy trucks apparently."

Zoë blinked and I sighed.

"So here's what's going to happen. If this is genuinely such a grievous offence, I will turn this truck around, drive us all the way to Camp Half-Blood, find an eight-year-old girl who was just trying to do something nice, and you can personally explain to her exactly why her naming choice is so unacceptable."

Zoë's eyes narrowed.

"...That would be unnecessarily cruel."

"I agree." I simply shot back as I waited.

For a moment, the Huntress seemed to be locked in an internal debate, before she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin (even higher) and got into the cabin as well.

"The name was chosen in ignorance, but without malice," she declared with all the finality of a queen issuing a royal decree. "I shall tolerate it for the duration of our Quest. Once it is concluded, however, I shall seek out this Lily and properly educate her on the many proud mares of Greek history, that she might make a more informed choice in future."

I stared at her for a second.

"... I bet she'll be thrilled."

"Of course she will be: she's a girl." Zoë stated as if that settled the matter.

Still, she was in the truck, she wasn't trying to rename it anymore, and there was no immediate risk of driving twelve hours with an immortal Huntress sulking in the flatbed. At this point, I was counting that as a victory.

I started the engine, pulled out into the afternoon traffic, and pointed Arion west.

"So Huntress," I said as Manhattan began to disappear in the rear-view mirror, "care to explain where we're actually going, specific-like? The Great Lakes cover, what, ninety thousand square miles? We can't exactly wander around until we trip over the... whatever the Fates want me to find."

"We shall do no such thing," Zoë replied. "One does not simply stumble upon prey by searching blindly. One gathers information, narrows the trail, then hunts."

"Fair enough. Where do we start?"

"Chicago."

I shot her a sideways glance.

"Chicago? Why there? Last I checked, it wasn't exactly famous for its forests."

Zoë sighed, though whether at my ignorance or the question itself, I couldn't tell.

"Because it is the greatest source of trade in both goods and information in the area. Every major road and railway around the Great Lakes passes through it and they carry satyrs, nature spirits and monsters with them. If something has disturbed the wilderness surrounding the lakes, word will eventually find its way there."

She looked out of the passenger window as the skyscrapers slowly gave way to suburbs.

"The Great Lakes are surrounded by countless forests, both in the United States and Canada. We know only that our destination lies where 'endless forests meet inland sea.' That is insufficient to choose a hunting ground. Before we commit ourselves to weeks of searching the wilderness, we shall determine which wilderness deserves our attention."

I nodded.

"So we aren't hunting for the monster yet, we're hunting for the information that'll lead us to the monster. Got it."

Zoë gracefully inclined her head.

"Precisely."

That was apparently all the conversation she intended to contribute.

The silence that settled over the cabin wasn't awkward so much as... deliberate. Zoë seemed perfectly content to spend the next twelve hours saying as little as possible, her attention fixed on the passing landscape beyond the passenger window. She sat as rigidly as ever, one hand resting lightly against the door, the afternoon sun catching the loose strands of her dark hair as they framed a face that, despite my best efforts, remained profoundly distracting.

I dragged my eyes back to the road before my stupid subconscious caused a traffic accident.

'This is getting ridiculous.' I kicked myself.

I'd known Zoë Nightshade for all of two hours. She was older than most civilisations, possessed all the warmth of an armed border checkpoint, and had spent the better part of ten minutes arguing with me over the name of my truck. By any reasonable standard, I should have found her insufferable.

Instead, my idiot brain had apparently decided that aloof competence and impossible cheekbones were exactly my type.

'Traitor.'

Outside, New York slowly gave way to New Jersey, skyscrapers surrendering to warehouses, suburbs and eventually long stretches of open highway. Chicago still lay hundreds of miles ahead. If we were lucky, someone there would know enough to point us through nearly a hundred thousand square miles of lakes, forests and wilderness to save whatever the Fates had sent me to find.

It wasn't much of a plan, but sadly, it wasn't as if prophecies came with GPS trackers either.

---

We followed I-80 west, and spent most of the afternoon climbing through the wooded ridges of the Appalachians before the land gradually opened up as we crossed into Ohio. The roads straightened, the horizon stretched further with every passing mile, and before long the scenery settled into hours of asphalt, service plazas and enough cornfields to make me suspect the Midwest was secretly populated entirely by children of Demeter.

A trip from New York to Chicago will set you back about thirteen hours. Considering it was already mid-day by the time the Prophecy had been issued and Zoë and I had embarked on our Quest, we would have to find a place to spend the night and continue on the following morning.

Well, technically we could've kept on driving straight through the night by switching drivers, but I abandoned that idea the moment Zoë confidently informed me she'd mastered driving decades ago.

It turned out she'd driven exactly once, sometime in the late seventies. According to her, the experience had been enough to prove she understood the principles involved. After all, riding a car wasn't that different from riding a bicycle.

She clarified that she meant one of those Victorian monstrosities with the enormous front wheel.

Against my better judgement (and because she'd accused me of "wounding her pride" by doubting her) I eventually relented and let her demonstrate this supposed mastery on one of the many side-roads along the freeway.

After climbing behind the wheel, she took off without taking the handbrake off, confused the clutch for the gas pedal (several times) and frequently committed a sin usually reserved for BMW-drivers to the point I couldn't help but wonder what she would look like with slicked back hair and overpriced sunglasses.

'Nope, still hot.' I thought, before ruthlessly throwing that thought under the car.

"You didn't use your indicators." I pointed out instead.

"I assure thee, Mister Creed, I indicated my intention to switch lanes perfectly well."

"... by pointing an arrow at a minivan?"

"Towards the direction in which I intended to travel, yes."

"That's called a threat, Zoë."

"It's the clearest form of communication."

"That's not the problem," I said as the car bucked hard enough the back of my skull left an imprint on the headrest.

That one might've been intentional if Zoë's innocent whistle was anything to go by.

"The problem is that nobody knows what it even is you're trying to communicate."

"Then clearly the fault lies with them."

I quickly demanded we'd find a motel before she hurt someone (namely me) and the Huntress finally agreed with a pout that did irritatingly fluttering things to my heart.

By the time we'd lurched across an empty motel car park, narrowly missed a shopping trolley and mounted a curb that had done absolutely nothing to deserve it, I'd come to the conclusion that the greatest monster we'd encounter on our Quest was sitting in the driver's seat.

She still considered hitting a postbox "an unfortunate but isolated incident."

The motel itself looked like someone had copied and pasted it from the Official Shabby Motel Design Handbook: faded paint, cracked asphalt, a buzzing VACANCY sign with about a third of the letters missing and just enough neglect to make you wonder whether the place had changed ownership or simply outlived it.

It wasn't much to look at, but it had beds, a roof and, most importantly, would keep Zoë off the road for the remainder of the night.

"Try not to threaten anyone this time," I muttered as we climbed out.

"I never threaten without cause." The Huntress rebuked.

"You drew a bow on a Chrysler."

"I had no intention to fire... as long as he relinquished the right of way."

I decided that was as close to progress as I was likely to get.

A little brass bell chimed as we stepped into reception.

The lobby smelled faintly of stale coffee, cigarette smoke and desperate industrial-strength air freshener currently losing a war against both. Behind the counter sat a woman somewhere in her sixties with heavily permed grey hair, nicotine-yellowed fingers and enough jewellery to set off airport security while still standing in the parking lot. A cigarette rested lazily between two fingers despite the large NO SMOKING sign mounted directly above her head.

She looked up from a crossword, her eyes drifting from me to Zoë and back again before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face that immediately put the both of us on our guard as we approached the grimy window.

"Well now," she said, voice rough enough to sand furniture. "Ain't you two just adorable little lovebirds."

Every male instinct I possessed, passed down from man to man since the time we sat around in caves and invented fire, immediately told me everything about this conversation was going to be unpleasant.

"I assure you," Zoë said evenly, "we are not birds."

"We'd like two rooms for the night." I soldiered on as the old woman cackled.

"Uh-huh. 'Course you do, darlin'." The woman drawled, seeming to delight in dragging out every word.

She didn't reach for the register. She simply kept looking between us with the sort of expression normally reserved for grandparents who'd just spotted teenagers holding hands.

"One room'll do just fine." She eventually rasped.

"Two," I shot back automatically.

The woman snorted as she slapped a single key on the stained countertop.

"... two." I pleaded now in a small voice, intensely aware of the Huntress radiating her displeasure beside me.

"Sorry, darlin'. We're all filled up." The ancient crone shrugged.

Without a word, our eyes drifted up past the receptionist to the board of hooks behind her. More than half the keys were still hanging there.

"...You're full?" I repeated sceptically.

"Emotionally?" the woman shrugged. "Most days."

"...The motel."

"Oh." She glanced over her shoulder without bothering to turn around. "Guess I forgot to update the board."

Somehow, I doubted that.

"C'mon dearies, just take it. It'll be grand." She grinned with yellowed teeth as she patted the single key on the stained countertop.

"We really would prefer separate rooms-" Zoë now tried, but she turned out to be as ineffective as I was as the crone easily interrupted her.

"Oh dearie, no need to pretend around me, you know." She said with a slow wink.

"... pretend?" the Huntress blinked.

"That you're just friends." She leaned on the counter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You kids eloping?"

I very nearly swallowed my own tongue.

"What? No!"

"Relax, darlin'. Happens all the time. Daddy doesn't approve, Mama starts crying, the young lovers hit the interstate and wind up somewhere like this before Vegas."

"We're going to Chicago." Zoë corrected and the woman blinked at her, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"... well, the casinos there aren't as exciting I suppose, but still, good for you. Takes guts."

"There is no 'you two'," I said, feeling my ears burn.

"Uh-huh." The woman hummed (or rattled, more like), clearly unconvinced.

"We're just travelling together."

"My, what a coincidence."

"On a... business trip."

"Honey, I've heard every excuse in the book. Business trip. Study partners. Cousins." She snorted. "That one was weird."

While Zoë and I were still trying to process that last one, the receptionist lit up another cigarette, blowing out a massive cloud of blue smoke that briefly obscured her from view.

"Anyway, when's the wedding?"

"There isn't going to be one." I shot back.

The receptionist mock-gasped, covering her nicotine-stained mouth with bony, liver-spotted fingers.

"Not even bothering with marriage? That eager, huh?"

"What? No! That's not what I—"

"Relax, darlin'. I ain't judging."

"There is nothing to judge!"

"Of course darlin', of course, you're quite right. Free country after all." She winked.

"...Can we please just have the key?" I begged, thoroughly defeated.

She slid it across the counter with a grin.

"Room fourteen. End of the row. Nice and quiet. Walls are thicker than they look."

I almost choked as Zoë slowly glanced from me to the receptionist and back.

"...Why would that matter?"

The old woman just smiled.

"Oh, honey. You'll learn, in time. Not too much time, I hope." She replied, shooting me a significant look that I bravely tried my best to ignore.

Beside me, Zoë looked between us.

"...I do not understand."

"Good," I said quickly, grabbing the key. "Let's keep it that way."

---

It wasn't a particularly restful night, though only in part due to the receptionist's constant badgering having left me with... impure thoughts. Sharing a room with Zoë wasn't inherently awkward. Sharing one with someone I'd managed to simultaneously annoy and become inexplicably attracted to within thirty seconds of meeting however, was.

Zoë claimed the chair by the window while I dropped onto one of the beds, each of us suddenly finding a dozen entirely fascinating ways to avoid looking at the other.

She checked the string on her bow, inspected her arrows with the kind of scrutiny normally associated with customs officers and tax audits and sharpened a broadhead that probably didn't need sharpening. I, by comparison, exhausted the list of things I owned worth maintaining in about forty-five seconds. Out of options, I folded Father Garcia's trenchcoat, unfolded it again five minutes later because I'd done it badly, then concluded I'd officially run out of productive ways to ignore the still-silent Huntress and gave up, spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the motel's popcorn-coloured ceiling.

Conversation never really got off the ground. We'd already covered the important subjects somewhere in rural Pennsylvania, and neither of us seemed particularly interested in discussing the weather.

Eventually we wished each other goodnight with all the warmth of two diplomats negotiating a ceasefire.

Neither of us slept particularly well.

---

The following morning found Zoë marching towards reception with the determined stride of someone who had spent an entire night preparing a rebuttal. Before I could talk her out of it she'd already reached the counter.

Except the woman from yesterday wasn't there.

Instead, a gangly young man barely older than me looked up from a dog-eared magazine, blinking as the bell above the door announced our arrival.

"Morning."

Zoë frowned.

"Thou aren't a nicotine-addled crone. Where is the older woman?"

"...Sorry?"

"The receptionist."

"I am the receptionist."

"The woman who worked yesterday evening." Zoë explained with mounting frustration.

"My dad closed last night." The kid countered with mounting confusion.

I stepped up beside Zoë.

"Grey hair. Enough jewellery to bankrupt a pawn shop. Smoked like she had a personal grudge against her lungs." I helpfully added.

His confusion only deepened.

"...We don't allow smoking in reception." He said slowly as he pointed to the no-smoking sign above his head, clearly wondering whether or not we could even read.

"Then it would seem thy establishment suffers from a serious staffing discrepancy." Zoë scoffed.

He blinked.

"...Excuse me?"

"An elderly woman conducted the check-in procedure yesterday evening. She smoked excessively, wore an unreasonable quantity of jewellery and repeatedly insisted we were courting."

At this, Zoë placed both hands on the counter as she loomed over the kid, her face set in determination.

"She was mistaken. Severely."

"I'm... sorry?" the kid squeaked.

"Not thee. But she will be."

The poor bloke looked like he was wondering whether he should call his manager or the police and I decided we'd probably reached the point of diminishing returns.

"Come on, let's get back out on the road. He doesn't know anything." I interjected, laying a hesitant hand on her shoulder (and being pleasantly surprised when she didn't slap it away automatically).

She looked as though she intended to continue the argument before eventually relenting with visible reluctance, muttering something under her breath about accountability as I ushered her back outside.

The morning air was cool enough to chase away the last remnants of sleep. I unlocked the pickup and slid behind the wheel while Zoë climbed into the passenger seat, still wearing the expression of someone who'd been denied a perfectly reasonable opportunity to win an argument.

The engine coughed to life but as I reached for the gearstick, something in the driver's side mirror snagged my attention.

The old receptionist stood beneath the faded motel sign, leaning casually against it as though she'd been waiting for me to look back.

For a heartbeat I almost wondered if the kid inside had simply been blind all along, but then the image shimmered for just a moment, almost like a shaft of sunlight flitting through an overcast sky.

The stained cardigan became a flowing rose-coloured dress. The cigarette between her yellowed fingers was gone, replaced by a single crimson rose held with effortless elegance. Every trace of the weary, chain-smoking motel clerk had vanished, leaving behind someone impossibly beautiful who regarded me with amused, knowing eyes.

She lifted the rose in a tiny salute and winked.

A lorry thundered past on the road beyond the motel.

When it had gone, so had she.

"...Huh."

"What is it?" Zoë asked, fastening her seatbelt.

I kept my eyes on the mirror for another second before putting the truck into gear.

"...Nothing."

---

Chicago proved remarkably adept at hiding what I was actually looking for.

From a distance, my [Hawk Eyes] were absurd. I could pick out aircraft lining up to land at O'Hare, follow freighters crawling across Lake Michigan and read motorway signs that wouldn't become relevant for another half hour. Give me an unobstructed horizon and I could see for miles.

Unfortunately, cities had an irritating habit of being full of buildings.

Every time I thought I'd found a decent vantage point, another office block, apartment complex or billboard jumped into view instead. [Hawk Eyes] weren't X-ray vision. The moment something solid got in the way, that was that. Chicago was less a city and more a maze of concrete canyons, each one creating another blind spot.

Zoë, meanwhile, seemed entirely unbothered.

"Slow down."

I eased off the accelerator as we rolled through a neighbourhood that looked like it hadn't seen fresh paint since the Cold War.

She studied the surrounding buildings in silence, her gaze lingering on boarded-up shop fronts, a narrow side street and an ageing public house with windows so filthy they bordered on opaque.

"...Nothing," she decided.

"You got all that from looking?" I asked in surprise, but Zoë casually flipped back her hair as she shrugged.

"The scent is wrong."

I nodded as though that meant something to me and pulled away from the curb.

That became the rhythm of the morning. Zoë directed, I drove.

We investigated a crumbling railway depot that smelled strongly enough of monsters for Zoë to wrinkle her nose before discovering it had apparently been hurriedly abandoned about a week earlier. An old cemetery produced precisely three ghosts, all of whom were considerably more interested in complaining about vandalism than discussing current events. A satyr waystation hidden behind an entirely forgettable florist yielded little beyond the revelation that Grover's species possessed an astonishing ability to gossip about absolutely everything except the thing you actually wanted to know.

By early afternoon we'd accumulated plenty of dead ends and absolutely no idea where to find a lead, which in itself was a clue. From how relaxed the satyrs were and the sudden disappearance of the usual monster watering holes, we quickly realized that something in the surrounding area had the monsters spooked.

What that something was though, and how it related to our Quest (if it even did in the first place) remained entirely unclear. All I knew was that every monster in Chicago suddenly seemed to have developed an overwhelming desire to be somewhere else, which was remarkably inconvenient considering I needed to find one.

"I'm beginning to suspect we're searching for a needle in a haystack." I sighed.

Zoë didn't look away from the window.

"No, that one is simple. Simply light the hay on fire and wait for the smoke to clear. This is worse."

"How?"

"We are searching for something actively attempting not to be found."

"...Right. That is... less than encouraging." I agreed with a sigh.

Traffic slowed as we crawled through another junction. I rested one arm against the open window and let my vision drift across the rooftops more out of habit than expectation. Looking down the streets was an exercise in frustration. Looking above them was another matter entirely.

A movement several kilometres away caught my attention, not on the pavement but on a rooftop.

I focused my eyes, the effect not too different from an overpowered camera lens zooming in as the distance shrank and the far-off building leapt into focus.

A woman cloaked in black stalked the edge of a seven-storey building with the effortless balance of someone for whom gravity was little more than a polite suggestion. Wisps of darkness curled around her feet despite the midday sun, clinging to her shadow like living smoke as she carried a burning torch.

"...That's interesting."

Zoë turned towards me.

"What is?"

"Some strange lady with a torch and a magical shadow doing parkour, I'm guessing."

Zoë's eyes widened the moment I mentioned the torch and she immediately followed my gaze for all the good it did her.

"Where?"

"About three kilometres that way." I jutted with my chin and the Huntress stilled beside me, shooting me a long, considering look.

"You can identify her from here?"

"I can identify the stitching on her sleeves."

The woman stopped mid-stride and slowly turned her head. Even at that distance I saw her freeze as our eyes met, surprise flashing across her face a heartbeat before she spun on her heel and disappeared behind the rooftop, ducking out of sight.

"...and she just spotted me. Somehow."

Zoë straightened immediately.

"After her!"

"Why, you know her?" I asked as I pushed down the accelerator, ignoring the honks from other drivers and breaking about half a dozen traffic laws in as many seconds.

"Not her specifically, but her kind certainly. She is one of the Lampades. Exactly what we're looking for." Zoë managed to bite out as she was thrown back in her seat.

"A Lampades?" I asked as I swerved around a busy intersection, [Novice Driving just barely preventing us from tagging a row of flower pots on the sidewalk.

"Children of Hecate, guardians of crossroads. Very useful, though slippery and difficult to catch. Interrogating her will be worth the effort though." she assured me.

"Really? Why?"

"They are pathological gossips, incapable of keeping secrets."

Arion's tires squealed as I rounded the corner close to the building where I had spotted the Lampad. It was a large street, but more importantly, it was ramrod straight and finally opened up the skyline enough for [Hawk Eyes] to fully expand my view.

Several hundred meters ahead, standing on the rooftop of an apartment building with her hands on her knees, the Lampad was catching her breath. Her eyes widened as I drove Arion onwards with manoeuvres that, if it hadn't been for the Hephaestus kids, would've caused the old Chevy to fall apart as if it had a main role in a Buster Keaton movie.

"Found her." I said grimly as Zoë tensed beside me.

The Lampad looked around once, clearly deciding that remaining exactly where she was had abruptly become a poor life choice, before vaulting onto the next rooftop and disappearing behind a taller building.

For a moment I lost her completely before my enhanced eyes spotted a glimpse of her as she emerged on the opposite side, sprinting along a fire escape.

"There," I said, already pulling into the next street. "She cut east."

"Thou can still see her?"

"When she's not behind a building, sure."

Zoë's eyes swept over the street layout only once.

"She is heading for the elevated railway."

"You sound very confident."

"They prefer shadows and overhead cover. She will avoid open intersections."

I took the next right without questioning it.

A few seconds later the Lampad burst from an alley exactly where Zoë had predicted, glanced over one shoulder and accelerated the instant she realised we were still behind her.

I kept my eyes on the rooftops while Zoë watched the streets below. On my own I'd have lost her the second she disappeared behind another building. Without [Hawk Eyes], Zoë would never even have known she was there.

Between the two of us, the Lampad never had a chance.

Zoë suddenly reached for the passenger door handle.

"What are you—"

"Hard left." She commanded without so much as a flicker of hesitation in her voice.

I yanked the wheel without further questions. Arion lurched into the corner hard enough for the tyres to protest, throwing Zoë against the open door before she used the momentum to effortlessly swing herself onto the cab and roll neatly into the flatbed, coming up with her bow already drawn.

"...Show-off."

The sharp twang of a bowstring was my only reply as yet another silver arrow hissed overhead.

With [Hawk Eyes], I watched it cover hundreds of metres in the blink of an eye before burying itself in the brickwork of the next building over with a crack loud enough to startle a flock of pigeons into the air.

The Lampad had already committed to her leap and only saw the arrow at the last possible moment.

Instead of sailing towards the rooftop she'd been aiming for, she twisted in midair with impossible agility, caught the edge of a lower building and disappeared into the mouth of a narrow alley.

"She changed direction," I called.

"I know."

A second arrow followed immediately. The shaft embedded itself halfway up a fire escape just as the Lampad reached it, forcing her to recoil before scrambling across an adjoining rooftop instead.

I quickly realized that these weren't missed shots thanks to my rough driving; Zoë wasn't trying to hit her, she was trying to herd her.

Every route that offered height vanished beneath another precisely placed arrow until the Lampad's options steadily narrowed, the rooftops giving way to balconies, the balconies to fire escapes and, eventually, the streets.

Meanwhile I kept on driving like I was auditioning for a remake of the Blues Brothers, my [Novice Driving] skill being pushed towards its absolute limit.

Chicago traffic parted less because people were being courteous and more because they valued continued existence. Horns blared behind us as Arion muscled its way through junctions that definitely weren't designed for enthusiastic interpretation, the old Chevy somehow remaining perfectly intact despite the abuse.

Building by building, the glass towers of downtown gave way to ageing warehouses and weather-beaten brickwork. The streets widened the closer we got the lakeside and the docks couldn't be far now.

"There," Zoë called from somewhere above me.

I saw it an instant later.

The Lampad darted between two derelict warehouses before skidding to a halt as a final silver arrow struck the brickwork just ahead of her, cutting off the only remaining escape route.

She hesitated for the briefest moment, looking panicked over her shoulder, before making the only decision she had left and darted deeper into the nearest alley, which unfortunately for her, turned out to be a dead end.

I stomped down on the accelerator and threw Arion sideways across the mouth of the alley. The tyres shrieked in protest as the Chevy slid neatly from wall to wall, sealing the exit. As I killed the momentum, the engine settled into an oddly contented idle purr that somehow reminded me of a cheetah sprawled in the shade after finally running its prey to exhaustion.

I chalked it up to whatever the Hephaestus kids had done under the bonnet and turned my attention to the panting Lampad as I climbed out, while Zoë vaulted smoothly from the flatbed with her bow already in hand.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, we probably cut an intimidating figure as we closed in on the wide-eyed nymph, with my black trench coat contrasting sharply against the Huntress' silver parka, and from the way the Lampad instinctively flattened herself against the brickwork, she seemed to agree.

"I'll never talk!" she blurted, pointing her trembling torch at us with considerably less conviction than she'd probably intended.

I didn't even bother to answer the fake bravado. Instead I stepped forward and drove my fist into the wall right beside her head.

Adamantine Fist didn't really understand the concept of warning shots. The brickwork detonated around my forearm, dust and fragments showering onto the pavement as cracks raced through the wall. When the rumbling finally died away, my fist was buried to the wrist in solid masonry.

The Lampad had gone perfectly still, her wide-eyed gaze travelling from the hole in the wall, to my arm disappearing into it, and finally up to my face. Her mouth hung open in silent shock.

"Just so you know," I said, jerking my head towards Zoë, "I'm the nice one."

The Lampad's eyes flitted over my shoulder to where Zoë stood behind me, bow still drawn and her sharp features set in that signature regal expression of hers, before she swallowed and shot me a brittle smile.

"...You guys got pen and paper?"

---

AN: As always, you can read up to five chapters ahead over on my Patreon

 

[shadyshadow_1776]

Hell yeah nice chase scene, also thanks for the chapter

 

[ENDDRAGON]

The Type-moon version of Heracles is really good. If Riordan had done more research he would have done some research into Arthurian myths where it's revealed that King Arthur finds the sword of Heracles called Marmyadose which is even stronger than Excalibur. It took all 3 Command Seals for him to be corrupted by All The Worlds Evils. As a Berserker in his third Ascension he wields Hippolyta's Labrys which was blessed by both Ares and Artemis. Heracles took it from Hippolyta after her death and used it for an unknown amount of time until he gifted it to queen Omphale. For Heracles, who had gone berserk numerous times in legend, having beat his harp instructor to death when he was a child and many other episodes that involved killing people in rage without even hearing them speak, the Berserker Class is quite familiar and easy in which to adapt. After being Blackened by the Holy Grail in Heaven's Feel, he was able to halt the last strike of his Axe Sword before he died. He was able to do so due to the strength of his heart; a heart which suffered the pain of going berserk since his early days as a hero. He is identified as the most manly character in Fate.

 

[EntropyEnginear]

The motel room thing was funny, I'm guessing Aphrodite messing around? Anyway on a side note. If the MC being free will thing actually pans out to be the truth. Then MC Yelling at the fates telling them he's not their subordinate but their Coworker would be funny.