13 MEDAL

Athos was in a zone he hadn't been in since his past life. A zone where his body moved in symphony with his mind, Where he threw his tactics down the drain and let instinct take over. He didn't plan out his every move. He didn't have to. Why should he? He was the son of Herakles! Fighting was in his blood!

As he battled it out with the Manticore, every fibre of his being responded with such enthusiasm that he felt taken aback, and a familiar feeling started to well up him. Yet his eyes were of focus and resolve, with a hint of bloodlust, as he ducked and weaved around the manticore's attacks, masterfully using Leviathan to shield himself from the sneaky poisoned spikes the monster dished out from time to time. After a few seconds, He grinned under the mask as another claw swipe missed his head, recognizing the oh-so-familiar feeling. His love for fighting had returned. This wasn't training where he had the protection of his father. This was a real fight. This was what made his blood boil all those years ago. His attacks flowed from one swing to another, from one stance to another while his dancing feet struck up an odd rhythm and soon enough, the manticore was pushed back with a nasty cut across its torso.

"Grrrrrr! Filthy half-breed! How are you still standing? My poison....", the manticore's voice trailed off as he saw Athos' wound show signs of healing. The bleeding had almost stopped and it was started to scab over.

"You! What is your Godly lineage!", it screamed, angered at how the poison it prided itself on was being disregarded so easily.

Athos didn't answer, quickly advancing and swinging Leviathan sideways using the hammer side. It was too fast for the manticore to dodge and it slammed into its left hand which it used to block. A gruesome crack sounded.

"Graaawhhrr!", the monster howled as its only hand was broken and was hurled sideways by the sheer force of the blow, slamming into a rusty, rundown car. It coughed and tried to sit up, but its limp arm wasn't responding. Footsteps echoed in its ears and the manticore looked up to find Athos slowly walking toward it with a bloody arm while dragging a large axe on the concrete. All the while the cold, unfeeling visor of his Dark Vader mask bored into its very soul.

Fear gripped the monster's heart but its ambition and dreams refused to let it surrender.

"No! I shall never submit. Not to mongrels like you!", It yowled, piercing forward with its sharp scorpion tail that aimed for Athos' head, but he was ready for it. He instantly tilted his neck sideways and lazily sliced off the tail as it shot past him, eliciting another pained yell. He wouldn't fall for such tricks anymore after he got so unceremoniously stabbed.

"N-No! I was promised...They promised me...How!!!", The monster stammered, trying to put as much distance between itself and Athos, but it was in vain.

Athos lifted his axe in the air and the fear in the monster's eyes visibly increased.

"I-I was destined to spread terror and fear, foul half-blood! I shall make the Gods pa-

*SMASH*

He brought down Leviathan on the manticore's throat, silencing the monster's ramblings. It gurgled for a few seconds before being absorbed into his axe, whose purple tint slightly increased.

"Be careful not to choke on your aspirations", he said, the lenses on his mask glinting evilly.

It was a tough fight. A fight he would remember for a long time. He really had to work on his mentality, for unlike what he previously thought, it made a world of difference. He sighed and shook his head to clear his mind, turning Leviathan back into its ring form. He was then about mentally celebrate his victory, but with a jolt, he realised that the two kids were nowhere to be seen and that they had vanished from behind the white van.

'Shit! Fuck! Don't tell me all this was for nothing', he thought, trepidation filling his heart. The goal wasn't 'Kill the Manticore'. It was 'Help them'. Although extremely vague, he doubted Hephaestus would be happy if he lost the demigods.

His jumbled-up thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing again which almost gave him a heart attack. It was how Hephaestus had contacted him before and it was probably him this time as well. He took out the phone and held it in his hands, his face a little pale. He truly hoped that the message wasn't just, 'Die', after which he would blow up into smithereens.

He took a deep breath, tentatively turned on his phone and looked at his messages. And sure enough, there was a message from Hephaestus with his symbol of a Hammer and a forge.

[ The kids have been taken care of. I sent a signal to a satyr that was close by ]

Athos let out a large breath and felt as though a large weight had lifted off his shoulders. He really didn't want to imagine if the kids had run off and been gobbled up by another monster. He shuddered at the thought of being fried alive by an annoyed God. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience, that he could tell.

Just as he was turning the device off, he noticed another small sentence at the bottom of the message which he glazed over. Screw you, dyslexia!

[ Brace Yourself ]

Huh?

*CLANG*

Something heavy smacked the back of his mask and fell to the ground. Surprised, he whirled around, summoning Leviathan believing it to be another monster, but found nothing. He looked down in confusion to find a bronze medal on the ground. He was certain it wasn't there before but he found it slightly familiar. Picking it up he found that it had a depression in the middle and the greek number 'Dio' meaning 'two', was carved into it.

He didn't know why 'Dio' was carved, but he did recognize the medal as the very same object Annabeth and Percy used to find Hephaestus in the 'Battle of the Labyrinth'. It was given to them by Eurytion, a demigod of Ares, who received said object from the God himself for doing him a favour, not unlike what Athos himself had done. Probably why he had also received a similar object.

The medal, unlike its seemingly mundane looks, was in fact, an automaton, the product of Hephaetus' many tinkerings. If he pressed the depression in the middle, it would turn into a mechanical spider that would lead him to wherever Hephaestus was at the time. It was indeed convenient. Perhaps the God could help him figure out the secrets behind his axe.

'Something for another time', he thought, putting away the medal. He then inspected his wounded arm which was stabbed by a spike. The bleeding had completely ceased and a fairly large scab had formed. Even the pain had dulled and the numbness had vanished. His healing factor was quite powerful indeed.

He sighed in relief as no permanent damage had been dealt. Any other demigod would have blacked out from the immense pain generated by the poison, but it was quite bearable for him. He then reduced Leviathan to its ring form once again and stared at the sun that was slightly peeking out from behind the clouds.

'Time to go assault an old man'