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The afternoon sun hung warm and golden over New Rome, casting long shadows across the marble streets and terracotta rooftops. The place looked more like a college campus than a legion base. Students were lounging on the steps of temples, demigods were arguing about homework and sword drills like they were midterms, and the smell of fresh bread was drifting from the bakery down the street.
And sitting on the edge of the fountain in the forum was Percy Jackson. To everyone else, he looked like… well… some guy. He looked like a chill guy, a very chill guy.
He leaned back against the fountain with one arm draped over the stone edge, flipping a drachma between his fingers. His dark hair stuck up in that permanently-windblown way, his Camp Half-Blood T-shirt was faded, and his expression said he had absolutely nowhere important to be.
Which, technically, was true. Across the plaza, a group of younger legionnaires whispered. “Who’s that?” one asked. “No clue,” another said. “Some guy from the Greek camp, I think.” “He looks like he should be in a frat.” “Yeah,” someone snorted. “Probably just here visiting his girlfriend.” Percy heard every word. He didn’t say anything, just smirked a little and kept flipping the coin.
From the steps of the Senate House, Annabeth Chase watched the whole thing with her arms crossed. “Are you going to tell them?” she asked. Percy shrugged without looking up. “Tell them what?” “That the guy they’re calling a ‘frat dude’ once fought a Titan, a giant army, and the literal Earth Mother.” He tossed the drachma in the air and caught it. “Eh, let them figure it out.”
Annabeth rolled her gray eyes but there was a smile tugging at her lips.
Classic Percy.
Just then, a horn blasted from the city walls. Not the training horn, the alarm horn. Every conversation in the forum died instantly. Another horn followed, louder, urgent. Then came the shout from the north gate. “MONSTERS AT THE WALLS!” The plaza exploded into motion.
Legionnaires scrambled for shields and gladii, students grabbed armor from nearby racks, and messengers sprinted toward the barracks. From the Senate steps, the praetors burst into the forum.
Reyna Ramírez-Arellano’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “First and Second Cohort with me! Archers to the walls!”
Frank Zhang shifted instantly into command mode beside her. “Third and Fourth form defensive lines at the gate!”
The ground trembled as something massive slammed against the outer wall. The stone cracked, another hit—harder, a roar rolled over the city like thunder.
Percy stopped flipping the drachma. He stood slowly, eyes narrowing toward the northern gate. Annabeth was already moving. “Hydra,” she muttered, spotting the rising heads over the wall. “And… oh great. Cyclopes.” “Yeah,” Percy said. “That’ll ruin your afternoon.” The gate exploded inward. Monsters poured through the breach—cyclopes swinging tree-trunk clubs, dracaenae hissing through the dust, and behind them—The hydra.
Seven heads snapping and shrieking as it slithered into the streets. Legionnaires formed ranks, but it happened too fast, a cyclops smashed through the first shield line. Another legionnaire went flying, the hydra’s heads lashed out, scattering soldiers. For half a second—The formation faltered.
And in that moment Percy moved. He stepped forward into the open street like he’d done it a thousand times, because he had. “Shields up!” he shouted. His voice cut through the chaos like a lightning strike. Legionnaires instinctively obeyed before they even realized who was speaking. “Second Cohort, lock the flank!” Percy barked. “Archers—aim for the eyes! Not the necks!” The soldiers moved fast, because the orders made sense.
Percy drew Riptide, the pen flashed into a celestial bronze sword in his hand. Water from the nearby aqueduct surged over the rooftops like it had been waiting for him.
The legionnaires froze, wait, water…?
Percy raised his sword; the water crashed down behind him like a tidal wave. “Push them back!” he yelled. The wave surged forward, and Cyclopes went flying. Dracaenae slammed into walls. The hydra reared—and Percy ran straight at it.
Annabeth sprinted beside him, “Left head!” she called. Percy ducked under a snapping jaw and slashed upward, taking off one of the hydra’s heads in a clean arc. “Frank!” Percy shouted over his shoulder. “Fire!” Frank didn’t even hesitate. “Archers!” Flaming arrows streaked through the air, cauterizing the neck before another head could grow. Reyna stared for half a second, then she smiled like someone who had just figured out a very obvious puzzle. “Oh,” she said, Frank blinked, “Wait… is that—”
Percy vaulted onto the hydra’s back, “Little help?” he yelled. Annabeth stabbed another head through the eye. The legionnaires surged forward with renewed confidence, because suddenly the battle had a rhythm, a plan, a leader.
Within minutes the monsters were retreating. The last cyclops crashed to the ground, and the hydra collapsed in a steaming heap. Silence spread across the street, dust drifted through the air.
Legionnaires slowly lowered their shields, and every single one of them turned to look at the guy standing on the hydra’s back.
Percy wiped monster dust off his sword.
Then he noticed the staring, “…What?”
A young legionnaire whispered, “Is that…?” Another said, “No way.”
Reyna walked forward through the ranks. She stopped a few feet from Percy, and then—very deliberately—she saluted. “Praetor Percy Jackson.” The plaza went dead silent, and every legionnaire snapped to attention. Frank followed Reyna’s salute.
Around them, the realization rippled through the crowd. The chill guy, the frat-looking dude, the guy sitting on the fountain, the one who had just casually commanded the entire defense of New Rome–Was Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Hero of Olympus, the guy who had fought Titans.
Percy looked around at all the stunned faces. Then he glanced at Annabeth, “…This is why I didn’t say anything earlier,” he muttered. Annabeth smirked, “Yeah,” she said. “But it was a lot more fun watching them figure it out.”
The street stayed silent for a long moment. Dust drifted through the air where the hydra had collapsed, its massive body already dissolving into golden monster dust. The smell of smoke from Frank’s flaming arrows hung over the shattered gate.
Every single legionnaire in New Rome was staring at Percy Jackson. Percy stood on the hydra’s back like he’d accidentally climbed onto a stage and only just realized there was an audience. “…Uh,” he said. He sheathed Riptide, which turned back into a pen with a small click. No one moved, Reyna and Frank were still saluting, and the entire legion followed.
Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “You guys can stop doing that. Seriously.” No one stopped. Annabeth stepped beside him, brushing monster dust off her shirt like this happened every Tuesday. “Romans,” she said calmly, “you can stand down.” Shields lowered, salutes dropped, but the staring? Still very much happening.
One of the younger legionnaires—the same one who’d been whispering earlier in the forum—slowly raised his hand like he was in class. “Sir…?” Percy winced, “Please don’t call me sir.”
“…Are you actually Percy Jackson?” A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. The name moved through the ranks like electricity. Percy Jackson, the Percy Jackson, the guy who helped defeat Kronos, the guy who drowned an army in Alaska, the guy who fought giants, the guy the Greek demigods talked about like a walking legend.
Percy sighed, “Yeah,” he said. “That’s me.” The legionnaires looked at each other, then back at Percy, then back at each other. One girl from Third Cohort whispered loudly, “We thought he was some random Greek dude visiting his girlfriend.” Annabeth raised an eyebrow, “Technically correct,” she said. Percy pointed at her. “See?”
Frank finally lowered his salute and shook his head, half amused, half impressed. “You know,” he said, “most people introduce themselves.”
Percy hopped down off the hydra’s dissolving body. “I tried that once,” he said. “People started asking for autographs.”
Reyna crossed her arms, studying him like she was re-evaluating a puzzle she’d already solved once. “You were sitting in the forum eating gelato while the legion drilled.”
Percy shrugged, “It was really good gelato.”
A few legionnaires actually laughed, and the tension finally cracked. Then someone in the back said, “Wait.” Everyone turned, the same young legionnaire who had asked the question earlier stepped forward, eyes wide. “You… you just took command.”
Percy blinked, “Well, yeah. There was a hydra.”
“That’s not what I mean!” the kid said. “You gave orders and the praetors followed them.” All eyes turned to Reyna and Frank. Frank shrugged, “They were good orders.” Reyna nodded once, “The best ones available at the moment.”
The kid looked back at Percy, “You sounded like you’d done that before.”
Percy scratched his cheek, “…A few times.”
Annabeth snorted, “A few.”
The kid frowned, “How many battles have you actually fought?”
Percy looked at Annabeth, and Annabeth looked at Percy. Percy said carefully, “Do we count the Titan War?”
The entire legion froze again, as Frank rubbed his temples. “You know,” he muttered, “when I first met you, I thought people were exaggerating.” Reyna smirked, “They weren’t.”
Another legionnaire spoke up, “Wait… if he’s Percy Jackson… then that means—” They all looked at the broken gate, the hydra’s dust swirling in the air, the massive wave marks still streaking across the cobblestones, the aqueduct water slowly draining back into its channels. “…he did that,” someone finished.
Percy looked around, “Okay, in my defense, the water thing kind of just happens.”
Annabeth leaned closer to him, “You literally summoned a tidal wave in the middle of the city.”
“Small tidal wave,” Percy corrected.
Frank laughed, “Remind me never to ask you what a big one looks like.”
From the back of the crowd, a voice called out, “Jackson!” The legionnaires parted instantly.
An older centurion pushed his way forward, helmet under his arm, “Reports say you were sitting on the fountain ten minutes ago.”
Percy nodded, “Yep.”
“And then you defeated a hydra and half an invasion force.”
“…Also yes.”
The centurion stared at him, “…You weren’t even wearing armor.”
Percy looked down at his Camp Half-Blood shirt, “Oh.” He shrugged, “Guess I forgot.”
Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose, “Of course you did.”
Reyna turned toward the damaged gate, “Centurions,” she called, “reform the perimeter. Check for stragglers.” The legion snapped back into motion, orders flew across the plaza, but the soldiers kept glancing back at Percy, whispering and staring. The legend had been sitting on the fountain five minutes ago.
Percy leaned toward Annabeth, “…I liked it better when they thought I was a frat guy.”
Annabeth smiled, “You should’ve seen their faces.”
Frank walked over, still shaking his head, “You know what the weirdest part is?”
Percy braced himself, “What?”
Frank gestured toward the forum, “You were literally feeding blue cookie crumbs to the pigeons before the alarm horn.”
Percy brightened, “Oh, hey, those were good cookies.”
Reyna gave him a look, “You defeated Kronos.”
“Technically Luke did the final part.”
“You fought giants.”
“With help.”
“You survived Tartarus.”
Percy paused, “…That one was mostly Annabeth.”
Annabeth bumped his shoulder, “Team effort.”
Reyna sighed, “And you were sitting in the forum feeding pigeons.”
Percy pointed at her, “They were really nice pigeons.”
Frank burst out laughing, and the nearby legionnaires tried very hard not to laugh too. One of them whispered to another, “He’s way more normal than I expected.” The other whispered back, “He summoned a tidal wave.” “…Fair point.”
Percy looked around the forum as things slowly returned to normal. Broken stones, monster dust, legionnaires rebuilding formations. Then he glanced at Annabeth, “So… gelato?” Annabeth stared at him. “You just led the defense of New Rome.”
“And now I’m hungry.”
Frank groaned, and Reyna shook her head, but there was a small smile there.
Annabeth sighed, “Fine.” Percy grinned as they started walking back toward the forum. Behind them, the younger legionnaires whispered excitedly, “Did you see that?” “That was Percy Jackson.” “The Percy Jackson.” “And we thought he was just some guy.” The legionnaire from earlier watched Percy walk away with Annabeth and the praetors. Then he said quietly, “…I think that might be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And across the plaza, Percy Jackson—the most casually terrifying demigod in the world—was arguing with Annabeth about whether blue gelato should exist.