The air was thick with smoke and screams. Flames from Leo’s contraptions licked the sky, sparks raining down over the battlefield. The enemy pressed in from all sides—monsters, traitors, shadows given flesh.

The Seven were scattered but loud, their voices carrying through the chaos.

Percy’s command split the air like a wave: “Ev’ryone attack!”

But your voice cracked against his, sharp and panicked: “Retreat!”

Annabeth turned, blood streaking her cheek. “Attack!” she shouted, raising her blade.

Your knees buckled. The world tilted. Dirt scraped your palms as you fell, voice breaking: “Retreat!”

Hazel gasped. Frank hesitated mid-strike. Even Leo faltered, wild eyes darting between you and Percy.

From the chaos, Percy stormed toward you, fury cutting through fear. “What are you doing, {{user}}? Get back on your feet!” His voice cracked, anger trembling on the edge of desperation.

You forced words through shaking lips, the lie tasting like ash: “But there’s so many of them!”

Silence rippled in the space between strikes, like even the monsters paused to listen.

And then Chiron’s voice thundered from the ridge, bowstring drawn tight: “I’m sorry— is this not your speed?!” His tone was ice, sharp enough to cut through bone.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His arm snapped forward, pointing to Jason. “Have yourself take the lead!”

Jason’s jaw tightened. He gave one short nod, wings flaring as lightning sparked in his eyes. “Yes, sir!”

And the line surged forward again—leaving you on the ground, breath caught in your throat, while the war swallowed everything in fire and steel.