Chapter Eight

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Four years. That's how long it had been since the last clue of Percy's whereabouts. Four long years of searching and killing. The Hunt had grown into the most feared group in all of the Land of the Gods. Their reputation for ruthless efficiency and relentless vengeance had spread far and wide, leaving a trail of terror in their wake.

Two years ago, they started killing every male who didn't give them the information they wanted, no matter how peaceful they were. Once the looming threat of death yielded no results, six months later, they escalated to torture. Fingers went first, knuckle by knuckle until hands were useless stumps. Then went the feet, repeating the grisly process. Lastly, every extremity was cut off until only a torso remained, which they burned alive, the agonized screams quickly silencing as death came. Their most enjoyable victim was Octavian.

Their journey to Camp Jupiter had begun with irritation. Zeus, in his inscrutable wisdom, had sent them on a side quest to deal with Lycaon, who had been causing chaos in the area. Already frustrated by the diversion, they walked into the Roman camp with thin patience. Then Octavian, in a fit of hubris, decided to start spouting insults about the Greeks. With Artemis in her Greek form at the time, it did not go well at all.

They actually laughed when he tried to tell them fake news about Percy's whereabouts. They knew he was lying, of course, because they had already checked there. Seven times.

To get the full picture, you must start from the beginning.

Artemis and her Hunt walked into Camp Jupiter under a tense sky, the air thick with the promise of a storm. Thalia led the way, her electric spear crackling faintly with pent-up energy. Annabeth, her eyes hard and focused, scanned the camp with the gaze of a predator searching for prey. The other Huntresses moved in formation, their expressions grim and determined.

"Why are we here again?" Thalia muttered, her voice barely audible. "We should be searching for Percy, not chasing down some rogue wolf."

"Zeus's orders," Artemis replied, her tone betraying her own frustration. "We deal with Lycaon, and then we continue our search."

Annabeth's jaw tightened. "This had better be quick."

As they entered the camp, the Romans eyed them warily. They had heard of the Hunt's reputation and knew better than to provoke them. That is, until Octavian appeared.

"Well, well," he greeted, stepping forward with a self-assured swagger. "If it isn't the huntresses."

Artemis's eyes flashed with irritation. "We are here on business, Octavian. Stay out of our way."

Octavian smirked, clearly not taking the hint. "Business? What kind of business?" He then glanced at Annabeth and sneered, "Come to take our glory again, Greek?"

Annabeth's patience snapped. "We're here to deal with Lycaon. Unless you have information about Percy, I suggest you shut your mouth and let us work."

"Percy Jackson?" Octavian laughed, a high-pitched, mocking sound. "You still think you'll find him? Maybe he's finally realized that being with a bunch of failures isn't worth it."

Annabeth's dagger was in her hand before anyone could blink. She stepped forward, pressing the blade to Octavian's throat. "Care to repeat that?"

Octavian's eyes widened in fear, but his mouth still moved. "He's gone, Annabeth. Face it. You're chasing a ghost."

Thalia stepped up beside Annabeth, her spear crackling ominously. "I've had enough of your mouth, Octavian."

"Oh, is little Thalia going to zap me?" Octavian taunted, his fear overridden by his arrogance. "Go ahead, do it. Show everyone how unhinged you are."

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