Titans Wrath

The battlefield had quieted. The cries of wounded demigods and hunters still echoed across the scorched ground, but the worst of the battle had passed. The remnants of Tartarus's forces had been driven back—at least, for now. And yet, the air crackled with tension, heavier than the death and smoke that hung over the field.

Because Zeus had come.

Percy stood amid the wreckage, his sword still dripping with ichor, his breaths steady but weighted. The presence of the King of the Gods was a storm rolling in, suffocating, pressing against the very air itself. Around him, the remaining campers and hunters knelt—or at least, those who still had the strength to. They averted their eyes, acknowledging the authority that had just descended upon them.

Percy didn't move. He simply lifted his gaze, meeting Zeus's with an unreadable expression.

Zeus's eyes burned like lightning itself. "Kneel."

Silence. Percy blinked once. Then—

He laughed.

A sharp, incredulous bark of laughter that cut through the air like a blade. It was not the response anyone had expected. The kneeling demigods flinched, exchanging uneasy glances. Even Artemis, standing stiffly to the side, tensed.

"You're joking," Percy said finally, a grin pulling at his lips. "After everything—everything—I've done for Olympus, you're seriously standing here, demanding I kneel?"

Zeus's expression darkened. "I do not jest. Kneel, Percy Jackson, and swear fealty to Olympus. Swear loyalty to your king."

Percy shook his head in disbelief, his smile sharp and humorless. "You mean to you."

"To Olympus," Zeus corrected, his voice cold. "You have walked the line long enough. Your power is unchecked, your place uncertain. Swear now, or be deemed a threat."

A threat.

Something in Percy shifted.

The amusement drained from his face, leaving only something hollow. Something cold. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, but the air around him grew impossibly still. The smoke stopped drifting. The flames licking at broken banners froze mid-motion. The very world seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

The storm answered.

The skies above Olympus split apart, clouds churning in a violent dance of elements. The sea roared in the distance, waves rising as if pulled by an unseen force. The ground trembled beneath their feet, fractures splitting the battlefield, as if the earth itself feared what was waking.

Percy didn't move. He didn't need to.

The raw power that surged from him was not the power of a demigod. It was not even the power of an immortal.

It was something more. Something untamed. Unshaped. A force as ancient as the sea, as furious as the storm, as unrelenting as the tide.

Zeus's stance did not falter, but his eyes narrowed, measuring. The other gods shifted uneasily. Even Athena, usually composed, watched with something unreadable in her gaze.

Percy let the silence stretch before he finally spoke, his voice quieter now. Steadier. But no less dangerous.

"You call me a threat," he said. "Like I haven't bled for Olympus. Like I haven't sacrificed everything. And now, after all of it, you want me to kneel?"

He tilted his head slightly. "No."

The word rang through the air like a hammer striking stone. Unyielding. Absolute.