𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 ∣ 𝗉𝗃𝗈

20

The day had finally arrived; for both Penelope's birthday and the war with the Russian.

Penelope had been waiting for this day to come; the day when all hell would break loose. For normal people, they would without a doubt be so nervous they would faint just at the thought of a war. 

However, Penelope was not a normal person.

First, she did not work well with nervous. Nothing could make her nervous, nothing except for Tartarus, probably. As the girl did not really know how to expect from the hell itself with an addition of her knowledge from the book about Percy Jackson's experience, she could not help but to feel nervous.

Second, the girl loved blood. Penelope loved blood so much she probably could pass as a grim reaper. She found it pleasing and entertaining: the disturbing smell of blood and the nasty scene of people covered in blood and multiple wounds while being chained to the wall or hanged from the ceiling.

Third, Penelope could not help but to feel giddy whenever she thought about how much test subjects she could gain after this whole war ended. Other than blood, Penelope loved her torturing-poor-souls experiments. The girl liked the sound of her victims' screams and insults, it made the butterflies inside her stomach grew wild. She also liked the whole torturing process as it entertained her.

With being reincarnated as a demigoddess, nothing could really satisfy her interest and kept her entertained. In a world where it was either kill or be killed, Penelope worked hard to survive as long as she could, even if she developed some sinister hobbies along the way.

Though, Penelope could not really say that she was anticipating her twelfth birthday. The girl knew when she hit up the number twelve, she would need to go to the Camp Half-Blood, where all demigods trained themselves to be the best disposable pawns to help the gods.

Penelope dreaded the day where she would go there, or rather, what would happen there. In fact, despite her insanity and love for blood, Penelope was not stupid enough to walk into battlefields herself just to clean up the gods' shit. The girl had nothing to gain with helping the gods except for immortality and godhood, which neither interest the girl.

Her train of thought was cut off as she descended the stairs, looking like the queen that she really was. Completed with a tiara sitting on top of her head, the girl let out a swoon-worthy smile. The music began to play as the light dimmed. Penelope mentally thanked Lucifer for the fairytale-like birthday party. It was grandiose and extravagant and Penelope loved all of it.

It slightly helped her feel a little normal. Kids running around trying to catch each other while adults waltzing around with a champagne glass on each hand. Her smile widened as she gazed around the room. Her gaze fell on one of the groups where she only could see men in their own expensive suits talking with each other, not really giving a damn about the glances and stares from the people around them.

The girl greeted back the people who congratulated her as she passed them. Some stopped her to make small unnecessary talks for everyone knew how much her father adored her, those shitty two-faced people who only used her to be closed with Lucifer. Penelope had wanted to throw some sarcastic comments or even blatantly showed her disinterest, however, with how good her mood was, she let them off with a nod and a small smile.

Somehow, Penelope had managed to reach the group of men who was still talking about some bullshit nonsense. It was Anastasius who first took a notice of the only female before he pulled her to his side and slung his arm around her shoulder, naturally helping her engaging with whatever the others were talking about.

"Are you ready for the showdown, princess?" The Ricci asked as he smirked.

Penelope rolled her eyes when she heard the nickname, but grinned as she winked. "I was born ready, good sir."