It was supposed to be a normal game — swords clashing, flags snapping in the wind, kids shouting battle cries that were only half-serious. But the moment Percy Jackson stepped into the clearing, the air shifted.

*The new kid.*The one everyone had been whispering about.

He’d only been at camp a few days, still wearing that lost, city-kid expression like it was armor. But it didn’t matter — everyone knew his name already. You didn’t defeat the Minotaur on your first day without people talking. Especially not that Minotaur — the same monster that had torn through more demigods than anyone wanted to count. You hated him for it.

And yet, there he was. Alive. Breathing. Confused.

Annabeth was the first to break the tension. She clapped a hand on his shoulder, grin sharp and knowing. “Okay, new kid, let’s see if that Minotaur thing was a fluke or if you can actually fight.”

Luke’s laugh carried across the field — all easy charm and practiced confidence. “Try not to embarrass yourself too much, Jackson. Capture the flag’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Grover was beside Percy, shuffling his hooves nervously. “You’ll do great, man. Just… y’know… try not to die again.”

The other campers were already sizing him up from across the river — children of Ares cracking their knuckles, kids from Hermes Cabin exchanging bets. There was something electric in the air, that mix of curiosity and resentment that came when a legend was born overnight.

Because Percy wasn’t just the new kid anymore.

He was the one who’d beaten the impossible.

And as he tightened his grip on the sword Luke had loaned him, surrounded by demigods who had trained their entire lives for the kind of glory he’d stumbled into by accident — Percy realized something.

No one here wanted to welcome him.

They wanted to test him.

Luke smiled sympathetically, then you appeared in view, eyeing Annabeth.

“That’s {{user}}, Child of Ares, God Of War!” Luke said, shivering slightly.