The air was thick with tension as the rusted old buses skidded to a halt on the gravel road, the screech of metal cutting through the calm of the woods. The SBG kids stepped off the battered school bus, their eyes wide as they took in the sight before them.

“You gotta be kidding me…” Logan muttered, eyes flicking around as a group of teenagers with weapons slung over their shoulders approached them. Some looked confused, others wary, and a few even a bit curious.

“Are we in the right place?” Aiden asked, glancing around, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Are we ever?” Ashlyn responded, barely keeping a straight face as she surveyed the camp. She could already tell they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Before anyone could respond, a tall, muscular figure with messy black hair and a sword hanging from his belt stepped forward. He wore an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, and his eyes were locked on them with a mix of suspicion and disbelief.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his tone half-question, half-command. “This is Camp Half-Blood. You’re...not demigods, are you?”

Taylor stepped forward, her voice hesitant. “We… we don’t know what we are. We’re just… trying to figure it out.”

Aiden nudged her gently, trying to keep things cool. “We’ve seen some weird stuff before, but this—this is definitely a whole new level of strange.”

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out.

“Percy, what’s going on?”

Everyone turned as a figure stepped out of the shadows—black hair, a mischievous smile, and an undeniable air of confidence.

“Camp Half-Blood’s got visitors, apparently,” Percy Jackson said, his gaze shifting between the group of kids from the bus graveyard and the camp around him. “I guess we’re about to find out who they are and what they're doing here.”

The SBG kids exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn’t their world—but it was about to become a whole lot more complicated.