Reincarnation in the PJO verse: Volume 1

『The Grand Ending』

"Perce, you really pick the wrong people to fight," Diedre groaned as the God of War strode towards them.

"It's not my fault," Percy said, readying his sword.

"Yeah, said no one ever," Diedre snorted.

"You were supposed to die, kid," The God of War's first words to Percy.

"Oh, really, is that it?" Percy asked lightly. "Well, then. I better run down to Uncle and ask him to off me because you, a just and merciful God, have ordered it to be so—oh, wait ."

Percy was pretty sure he could hear Grover moaning in despair. Ares, though, grinned cruelly, the fire in his eyes dancing. "You've still got your spunk. It's refreshing—too many of you brats turn out to be such whiners, never bothering to fight, always bemoaning your life. You're different, Perseus Jackson. I like it."

"Oh, a compliment from you ?" Percy exclaimed sarcastically. "I can finally die happy now."

Ares chortled. "Shame I'll have to kill you now. And the witnesses, I suppose."

Diedre's mind pedalled way too much. He had been choked by one of the big three already today, his quota of god bullshit was full today and he was not going to take shit from a god of war who was going to fight a twelve-year-old soon.

"Witnesses? Like, crime witnesses? What are you talking about?" Diedre asked, trying to project confusion. "You're not saying. . .you stole the bolt and helm, didn't you?!"

"Of course I am, stupid," Ares said in a patient, condescending tone that made Diedre's skin crawl. "It's this simple: with Jackson in possession of both weapons when he enters the Underworld, Corpse Breath kills you for stealing his helm, pissing off Barnacle Beard. Meanwhile, Pops is still convinced you stole his master bolt and is gonna be furious at his old man. At the same time, he's on Corpse Breath's hit list for trying to steal his helm via his stupid nosy kid and is always looking for an excuse to be pissed at Pops. Just like that, we've got a good old-fashion family feud going—god-sized. See what I'm getting at?"

Diedre definitely could but he wasn't going to say that. He was not that stupid.

"I see," Diedre said slowly, still trying to look like he was gradually working his way to the big secret, and not trusting himself to say too much at the moment. "You mean . . .you started this war? But why?"

"Why? Why?" Ares repeated mockingly. "I am the god of war, bloodlust, battle—this war would do nothing but serve me, Diedre Hayes, empower me. There is nothing like watching relatives desperately try to end each others' existences, I say. World War Two? Pah—that's nothing but a school scuffle. This, now, this will be where it's at. The sons of Kronos smashing each other, gods and monsters taking sides, humans dying everywhere —the blood will never stop running. It will be a beautiful fight."

"That's horrible. They're your family!" Annabeth exclaimed. Diedre resisted the urge to snort; not five minutes ago she'd been advocating for a death sentence for certain other family members of theirs.

"I told you, girlie," Ares sneered, "It's the only kind of fight worth watching. Even your fool of a mother knows that."

Annabeth growled at this, but before she could defend Athena, Grover placed his hand on her arm, whispering something in her ear urgently. The anger didn't completely disappear, but she stood down—freeing Diedre to ask the final, damning question.

"But why keep it?" he asked, blue eyes as wide and naïve as he could make them. "You're the god of war, you know your weaponry. With it, you wouldn't need to use any tricks like this. You could do what you wanted, without someone else coming along and messing it all up."