8 PLANS

Athos rubbed the ring on his finger as he lay in a hot, steamy bathtub. The Leviathan ring now had a small blue gem embedded in it with faint glowing blue lines coiling around its entirety. It had changed its appearance yet again after he had turned his axe back to its ring form.

"Just what are you hiding?", he whispered, staring at the pulsating blue rock on the metal ring. The most jarring thing wasn't even the fact that the previous bronze hammer had morphed into an axe-hammer hybrid, but that he was able to hold it. It was made of Stygian Iron! A metal that only the creatures of the underworld or the children of Hades, the God of the dead or Thanatos, the God of Death, could wield. He sure didn't have any underworld blood in him, or that's what his father adamantly claimed.

He wouldn't know, for he had never met his mother. Perhaps there was a chance that she was a demigod, but it was unlikely. He really couldn't see his father getting attracted to a demigod of the big three, but he didn't cross out that possibility completely. After all, he was a God, and they weren't the best examples of a 'normal' family.

'Well, they are a 'Well-knit' family at the very least. Ares can attest to that', Athos thought, snickering at his stupid joke. He sighed and shook his head, getting up, bemoaning his broken sense of humour. He should probably stop wasting time and get ready. Today was a big day. The day he gets to finally leave the island.

He quickly wiped himself down before wrapping himself in a towel and walking over to the mirror. He looked into the reflective surface and a pair of electric-blue eyes stared back at him, his black hair coming down to his neck. He had copper skin and sharp features, with a fairly chiselled body due to his hellish training. Honestly, with his height and looks, he could easily pass off as a 14-year-old, something that would be useful when going out into the world. He really didn't want to be stopped on the streets by adults asking him where his parents were.

He also didn't want to cut his silky black hair, so he tied it into a ponytail to prevent it from hindering his battles. He then wore a tight-fitting black tracksuit with a blue design for it was comfortable and most importantly, went well with his eyes and his ring. He liked to look good, after all.

He grabbed his backpack which was filled with everything he could possibly need in the outside world. Food, mortal money, drachma, some more clothes and a phone for emergencies. It was a Nokia 9100, a model that was popular at the start of the 2000s, which gave him an idea of what year it probably was. All he hoped was that the Titan War hadn't already started for he didn't want to be dragged into it when he was just 12 years old.

His dad never told him what year it was, which really made him annoyed.

His answer was always, 'It is not needed. Focus on your training, boy. I do not want you to embarrass me by dying to some unnamed dracaenae'. It was frustrating, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Although it would be incredibly useful, he knew he had to avoid using the phone, as it was equivalent to, as Percy so eloquently put it, 'Sending out a signal to a monster so that it could rearrange your face.' Putting away the phone, he wore a pair of comfortable shoes and walked out of the wooden cabin he lived in and headed toward the beach.

It was fairly early in the morning, and as he walked to where his father would be, he looked around the island where he had built many fond memories. Memories of getting injured and almost dying were the most prevalent.

He had grown a lot here. Going from barely being able to take down a Blemmyae to beating the ever-living shit out of a Hyperborean Cyclops. It was a good experience that prepared him well, but now it was time for him to actually use what he had learned.

Athos had two goals. To grow stronger and to become a God. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to go about doing either one of them. Sure, he was just 12 years old, and his strength would continue to grow for quite some time and he would eventually grow to be an immensely strong demigod, but then what? There were hundreds of gods who could still kill him with a snap of their fingers, let alone the demigods of the Big three that could control elements at will.

He racked his brain for anything he could use to grow stronger and what he would do when he first ventured out to the outside world. He knew that didn't want to immediately go to Camp half-blood. After all, there was nothing that they could teach him and he would just end up as a pawn for the Gods. But where else could he go? He couldn't just roam around on the streets, getting attacked by monsters every single day. He even wanted to grow stronger, but didn't want to rely on the blessings of the Gods, for begging for power didn't really sit right with him. And would it really be 'his' power if it could be revoked anytime? He didn't think so.

He sighed to himself as his shoes dug into the white sand. Could a demigod even 'grow' stronger without a God's blessing? And why could he wield Stygian Iron? And what were the secrets behind his Leviathan axe? He had so many questions, yet no answers.

Questions...

Questions?

"Wait! Questions?", Athos perked up as he remembered something or rather someone that could help him. Somebody that possibly had omniscience and was older than Poseidon himself.

Nereus, The Old Man of the sea. He was a sea deity that demigods used to seek out when they needed answers. Even his father had met him and gotten his help, but actually getting an answer out of the sea god was a Herculean task in itself for no God, would be so generous as to just willingly give out pieces of information.

Moreover, that old geezer was as slippery as an eel, for he could literally shapeshift himself into one!

Athos grinned. He now had a vague idea of how to achieve his goals. Meet people with prophetic abilities and beat the answers out of them. The only problem he saw with this approach was catching the attention of the Olympians which he absolutely did not want. But, he would have to meet them eventually if he walked down the path to Godhood.

A few more minutes passed as he continued trudging across the wide beach before he saw a lone figure in the distance. His father was in his usual spot, staring at the very same horizon. But, his shoulders were a little down, his posture not as unshakeable as usual.

Athos quickly ran up to his dad, his excitement palpable, "Father, I am ready."