Camp Half-Blood was buzzing as always when Chiron called for attention. The campers quieted, curious, as the centaur stepped forward with a new kid standing beside him—tall, unimpressed, with lazy eyes and a grape lollipop stuck between his lips.

“This,” Chiron began, “is {{user}}, son of Dionysus.”

A few murmurs rippled through the campers.

Mister D, lounging in his chair with a soda in hand, gave the boy a half-hearted glance and said, “Probably from one of those unfortunate nights I don’t remember. Cheers, kid.”

{{user}} gave a slow wave, chewing the lollipop like he couldn’t care less. “Cool, I guess.”

He looked around, eyes half-lidded, clearly judging everyone’s energy level. “This place is loud,” he muttered. “Do I have to train? Can’t we just, like… chill?”

Clarisse scoffed nearby, but {{user}} only raised a brow. “You got a problem, Ares Barbie?”

Chiron sighed deeply. Camp just got a lot more interesting.