PP092
patreon
The Son of Storms 21
🕑 Added 2024-07-21 23:47:33 +0000 UTCPS- A review would be nice once in a while, if you guys like what you are reading, or a particular scene looks good. it keeps me informed about whether the writing is going good or not. Like the last chapter, and the Artemis scenes, Thanks.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Wake up, brat,” a foot nudged him in his ribs as the unknown voice chuckled, and Harry instantly jumped to his feet, his sword stabbing towards the man’s voice at the height of where he judged his throat to be, while his other hand raised upwards to send forth a storm of crackling electricity. However, just a moment before his xiphos could fully manifest, a hand clamped down on his wrist, stopping it in its place, while the hand that had been poised to burn the unknown man alive was slapped away as if it was an errant fly, trees and stones being blasted to bits by the explosion of power that happened, “…those are grounds enough for me to skewer you, you know? You just challenged a God.”
“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his eyes moving upwards, catching sight of the massive hand that was gripping his wrist, following the muscled arm towards the broad shoulders, before he met the baleful orange eyes staring down at him with amusement. His senses burned with the power of the deity before him, his nose assaulted viciously by the smell of blood and rotting, burning flesh, for a split second, the land around him shifted to naught but mountains of corpses and mudpools of blood, as the War God’s presence bore down upon his mind much like Artemis’ had scant moments ago, “Lord Ares.”
“That seems the right enough reaction for me to forgive that attack, Harry Potter,” Ares’s voice rumbled as he released his wrist, a casual smirk on his lips. He instantly dropped to his knees, bringing his fist by his heart as he stared at the ground, finally realizing that his injuries from the encounter with Artemis and Phoebe were completely healed. Based on what he could perceive, they were in the woods behind the camp, removed from the Huntress and her maidens’ presence. Ares’ presence abated from actively pressing down upon his mind, and the God took a step back, “You can stand up now.”
“Yes, milord,” he answered, standing straight and meeting the Olympian’s eyes for a moment, before he looked in the direction where he could feel the Huntresses gathered, “You saved me from Lady Artemis.”
“I did,” the giant man laughed, conjuring a throne for himself to sit upon. “It's been a while since someone had the balls to actually challenge her little bitches like this. Though, if it would be anyone, I should have known it would be a Son of Zeus. And it helped me get my daughter’s head back on track, at least for a while, so there is that.”
“But why?” He asked, confusion on his face as he rolled his shoulder, feeling a stab of pain from when it had been dislocated by Artemis’ power just minutes ago. “Why would you int-”
“Interfere with my sister’s playtime as she breaks you into pieces?” The god raised an eyebrow, conjuring a sharp, curved knife in his hands. “There are many reasons, but none that concern you. For now, just know that I have a…small problem that I need taken care of. And I have decided to select you for the role.”
“Forgive my curiosity, milord,” Harry shook his head, “But why not one of your own children? Devin is just as skilled at arms as I am, probably even more.”
“As I said, my reasons are my own,” Ares intoned calmly, flinging the knife towards him, and Harry stood still as he saw the wickedly sharp blade cut through the air, feeling it pass by his ear before it embedded itself in the trunk behind him. “Carlos has stolen one of my weapons from my armory without my permission, and has killed a Son of Hermes, as well as a daughter of Hephaestus in the last week. Kill him, retrieve my weapon, and bring me his head on a pike.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fuck this quest, that was the only thought going through his head. In the start, he had decided to use the Point-Me charm taught to him at Hogwarts, but evidently, demigods were somewhat impervious to mortal magic. Or the divinity inside them interfered with the working of the wizard's magic, making it impossible for him to pinpoint Carlos’ direction, his wand spinning randomly in the air before him.
However, Tyche must have been smiling down upon him, as Chiron was able to provide him with the information of where exactly the son of Ares had last been, from where a passing satyr had brought the bodies of the demigods killed by him. And now, as he stood in the small clearing with the hellhounds withering away in golden dust by his feet, Harry looked down at the ground around him, spotting the shine of metal amongst the fallen leaves and dirt. Kneeling down and parting the leaves, Harry grabbed the celestial bronze knife, the seal of Hephaestus glittering upon its crossguard. Closing his eyes momentarily, he remembered Diana and how she had taught him how to wield an axe. Harry picked it up, his eyes staring at the blood upon its handle and crimson on its edge.
Years ago, when Chiron had just begun his instruction on how the lives of demigods went, he had never mentioned that one day, Harry would have to take the lives of demigods themselves. It was only supposed to be monsters.
Demigods were family. They were good.
And that is why, Ares’ quest had become a personal matter for him. For some reason, Carlos’ deeds had shaken his whole viewpoint in a way. The deaths of two demigods might not be a big thing in the grand scheme for him, especially since he had lost friends a lot closer than the ones that died here…but they had never been betrayed.
Closing his fist around the axe, Harry took a deep breath and looked around himself silently. Tracking Carlos like this was going to be hard, with no clues on his whereabouts. The satyr that had found the bodies of Diana and James, had done so far after they had gone cold, and Carlos would have been long gone by then.
That had been four days ago.
In these four days, Carlos could have walked acr-wait. His eyes lowered to the axe in his hands, and he looked at the dried blood on its edge. Carlos was a son of Ares. he had a demigod’s healing factor, but nothing on the level that the children of Apollo, or he himself possessed. With an injury, and hopefully multiple—caused by celestial bronze, it was going to take him a while to be at one hundred percent. Chances were, he would have gone to the nearest city to get himself patched up first, and the one nearest to Wayne National Forest was…Lancaster, Harry noted, opening the map and scanning the state he was in.
Whispering a prayer in Hephaestus’ name to the spirits, Harry felt the axe vanish from his hands as he looked northwest, beginning his walk towards the city. An hour and a dozen scared animals later, Harry arrived at Lancaster properly. Walking through the rained-upon streets, he sighed and breathed in the smell of the rain and dirt, feeling the Sylphs in the sky above float through the aether. Now, to find a clinic or a place where Carlos would have gone to get himself patched up.
Heading towards the center of the town, Harry smiled as he saw two toddlers run by him, the balloons in one’s hands sliding across his face as their giggles echoed in the street, just before he saw who appeared to be their mother run around the corner. Seeing her sigh loudly as she took a deep breath while leaning on her knees, Harry turned his face away as her eyes met his, hearing her jog past him a moment later. It was kind of surreal, to see a couple of happy children, and that too with their mother.
At the camp, the demigods were happy—most of the time, at least, he thought ironically, considering the task the God of War had given him. They had the best food on the planet, and the best drinks, and they had adventures out of myth. But parents? That was a dream for probably more than eighty percent of the campers. More so with most being single parents and running out on a super-powered, divinely juiced-up kid that could attract monsters before it could say a full sentence. Hell, some of the campers had stories of how the monsters that had been coming for them, had instead killed their parents in front of their eyes.
And if that didn’t happen by the age of seven or eight, well, the dyslexia and ADHD kicked in overtime, leading to poor performances in schools, teasing, and bullying from the classmates. That in turn, caused them to be singled out, without any friends, and the ever-increasing monster occurrences also added to that, leading to incidents that usually resulted in termination from the schools.
He had at least been lucky in that regard, having never had to experience monster attacks in Surrey—which, was now explained by the absence of Celtic monsters in the Dagda’s lands, and the fact that the Greeks had no influence there. The fact that mortal magic too ran through his body had somehow prevented his dyslexia from surfacing, and even the restlessness, or the hyperactivity that came with being a demigod was absent in him, or at least, tempered down to manageable levels.
“Stephens Clinic and Meds,” he muttered, staring at the board before him, following the arrow upon it to look to his right, finding the said clinic and chemist shop. It seemed the shutter had just been lifted, an old man still arranging the boxes upon the shelves. Sighing a little, Harry adjusted his bag and moved towards the man, closing his eyes for a moment as he saw the chemist bang his face into an open shelf, “Here is to hoping he hasn’t got dementia. Hey, Dr. Stephens?"
“Hmm? Who-wait, you are not another tourist hurt in the forest are you?” the man blinked, turning towards him slowly, his grey eyes somehow still sharp adn focused despite his frail appearance, “Though I don’t see any blood. Well, spit it out lad, what is it you want? I ain’t gonna take someone for part-time if that's what you are here for!”
“No, not really,” he shook his head, holding up a photo of the demigod he was after, “This is Carlos, my cousin. Did he stop by within the last two-three days, we were camping in the Park and got separated, and I saw signs that he was injured.”
“Carlos? Hmm, yeah, the kid dropped by two-three days ago, all right,” the man nodded, frowning as he leaned forwards to rest his arms on the desk, “Had a bad gash on his side, adn seemed to be in a lot of hurry. I sewed up the injury, and gave him a few painkillers. Wanted to call the cops, but then I…forgot? Dam-”
“Where was he going, if you know it Dr. Stephens?” he interrupted, molding the wrist around the aged man’s mind, ready to confound him into forgetting this conversation as well, “Did he mention a location or a person?”
“Uh, he hasn’t gone anywhere kid,” the Doctor shook his head, turning around to return to his shelves as he waved a hand towards the center of the town, “Just saw him yesterday, dancing with some young lass at the bar. Your cousin is probably still there, shitfaced and vomiting with how much he was drinking.”
“Thanks for that, Doctor,” Harry smiled, snapping the mist around the old man’s mind, making him forget the conversation, and Carlos himself as he turned around, intent on finding the bar as soon as possible. And he would need to draw Carlos out of the town too. While he didn’t care much for the muggles, he wasn’t bent on needlessly causing their deaths either. Plus, Hestia would not like it, and that was enough for him.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A whisper echoed in his dream, as Carlos found himself staring at the growling Cerberus before him, all three of its heads staring at the giant eagle, and the pristine white pegasus before it. Shadows danced around the great Guardian of the Underworld, while at the same time, lightning crackled in the Eagle’s feathers, and powerful, dark water swirled at the Pegasus’ feet.
Hades, Zeus and Poseidon. The three Elder Gods.
Who seemed to be locked in a perpetual, cold war stalemate of sorts. At their feet, ants of various colors were spawning and turning to ash at the same time. Once in a while, a bigger one would appear, coated in one of the three powers the avatars of the Big Three were, and rampage around amongst the ants, crushing and destroying hundreds. At the edge of the greyish nothingness around him, Carlos could see other animals, each one stranger than the rest.
A cat and a crocodile were on his right, and to his left, were a bull and a cow. A little ways behind him, was some kind of winged reptile, and by them was a large deer. Amongst the faint light being given off by these specters, the Son of Ares could see other phantoms, but each was more indistinct than the last, and soon, his attention was grabbed by the gaping maw that opened in the shadowy earth before him.
‘Belligerent, foolish, arrogant,’ the whisper surrounded him again, the voice frail and weak, like a dying old man in his last words, but yet, Carlos found himself frozen in place, staring at the bottomless pit before him, a faint golden glow in its dark, spaceless depths capturing his eyes, ‘They trample over everything like unruly children, spawning more and more of their own to destroy the beautiful world we created. Destroying everything they touch and breathe at, throwing away their children like pikes at each other. Poisoning the humans, and the world with their cruelty and curses. Making them fight the monsters, and live their lives in fear inside that prison they call a house, all in their name. Sending you on quests that see you dead, just to glorify their own deeds.’
“Who are you?” he whispered, feeling a sharp, cold sensation at the base of his neck, the words spoken reminding him of his own time before he was brought to the camp. His mother had gotten pregnant when she was nineteen, and by the time he was four, she had already lapsed into drugs and alcohol. She cursed him for all her misfortune, blaming him for Ares not returning to her. And since he had been aware of his divine blood, the scent of a demigod over him grew stronger each month, inciting more and more monster attacks.
And just like that, one evening, he had found his mother torn apart by a pair of Laestrygonians, her head crushed in front of him as they squabbled over her remaining body. Five minutes later, standing there in the mix of his mother’s blood and the monster’s disappearing remains, Carlos had felt the presence of the father he had never known, guiding him towards a life of a demigod proper.
‘See? And there are dozens like you, with your godly parents uncaring, ignorant of you till they want some entertainment, some new specimen to torture with their games,’ the whisper returned, the numbing cold on his neck shifting and coiling around his shoulders like some serpent, but yet, beneath his skin, in the depths of his heart, Carlos felt a warmth like he had not felt in five days, when he had last held Diana’s dying body in his arms, ‘Even demigods like her, slaves to the Gods will, stand in the way of your happiness. Did she not leave you to spend the night with that man? Slandering and spitting on your love, naught but a few paces away from you, as if you didn’t even matter. Who do you think encouraged her boy? The Blacksmith hates your father, and you were nothing but a sacrifice to his joy, to bring Ares shame in their eternal rivalry, as he used his daughter as a tool to make you weep.’
Unbidden, the memories returned to him. Of waking up the night, devoid of Diana’s presence by his side, a moment later, feeling the vibrations in the ground. The kind he was intimately familiar with, as a terrible thought wormed its way into his mind. Coming out of his tent, Carlos had been met with a scene that he had never thought he would have to see. Diana, his girlfriend of two years…making out with James as she bounced on his lap. His eyes traced their way up their legs, taking in the sight of the juices running down the Son of Hermes’ limbs, Diana’s ass rolling on his thighs as she stuck her tongue down his throat, his hands clutching at her back and hair, while they moaned and rutted like beasts.
The next moment, his vision had went red as Carlos felt a fire devour his very soul, anger the likes of which he had never experienced coming over him. He had just felt his body move, his hand grabbing Diana’s neck before pulling her off James, while his other had punched the boy right on his nose with his full strength. Launching his cheating whore of a girlfriend into the boulder by his tent, Carlos had jumped over James before the boy could right himself, striking him in the temple to send him crashing back first into the ground. After that, it had been nothing but a bloodbath, with him throwing away the bitch to climb over the dazed son of Hermes, his fist thundering down on his face with all the power his body had to offer.
Unfortunately for the cunt, it was a lot more than the feeble demigod could handle.
His hands had crushed through the skin and bone within moments, with nothing but brains and blood exploding upwards on his face as he turned James’ face into nothing but mush, his one single remaining eye staring up at him as Carlos silently wrecked every single inch of his head into paste. The curtain of red before his eyes had lifted when his instincts had screamed at him to move out of the way of something coming at his back, and he had dodged to the side, but still, it had not been enough to escape Diana’s axe, as it bit into his side and carved through his flesh.
However, while Diana was strong, and a capable fighter, she had still been unbalanced due to her recent fucking, the shock of Carlos throwing her headfirst into a boulder—and on top of that, seeing him punch James’ head into nothingness, with the son of Hermes somehow still twitching on the ground at his feet. Against an awakened Carlos though? That was enough. His vambrace turned into his xiphos as he stabbed his hand forwards, but surprisingly, Diana had been fast enough to deflect it by bringing her axe upwards. However, what she didn’t see was the dagger in his other hand that sliced across her forearm, opening it up in a spurt of blood. As the axe fell from her hands, Carlos brought his sword arm back in a vicious slice, staring into her widening eyes, the moment stretching into years for him as he had stared at every inch of the dusky skin, every strand of the matter hair, every drop of sweat on her face, and each fleck of gold in her brown eye.
The next moment, his sword had bit into her flesh, carving her chest open from shoulder to navel, and he had felt her arms somehow wind up around his neck. His xiph-
‘Wake up, demigod’ his thoughts shattered to once again reveal the formless void he had been standing in, only this time, there were no animalistic avatars of the Gods around him. It was just him, and the presence in the hole, ‘The abomination approaches you. You are in no condition to fight him. Flee into the woods, and I shall take care of the rest. Do not dare to disobey my words child, should the thought even cross your mind. He is here to kill you, to prevent you from bringing justice to Diana, to prevent another from ever being used like you both.’
A moment later, Carlos snapped his eyes open as he felt a weight on his stomach, and his eyes widened as he saw the ornate, black knife on his bandaged abdomen, the blade dangerously close to the naked thigh slung across his frame. Carefully moving the knife to the side, he raked his eyes over the long legs over him, sloping over the curve of the girl’s tits before alighting on her slightly bruised, marked neck and face. Sabrina had been fun to play with over the last two days, but as the voice in his dreams had said, he had a bigger purpose now.
As if agreeing with him, thunder cracked in the sky above, Carlos clutched his fingers around the cold hilt of his sword.
