A Son From Lands Unknown (PJO x Male Reader)

An Enlightening Conversation

"Am I supposed to know you?" (Y/N) asked. Slightly hesitant. "You don't look like Michael, not if my dream was accurate."

The man chuckled. "I suppose I look a little different off the cross, huh? Want some?" He held the pipe out to (Y/N), offering a puff.

(Y/N) held a hand up, declining. He turned his head to look over the desert landscape. "Off the cross, huh?" (Y/N) pondered. "I'm guessing that makes you Jesus?"

"Something like that," the man said. His voice completely changed, now taking on a Jamaican accent. Looking back, (Y/N) saw that his appearance had also changed. While the suit and pipe stayed the same, he was now of a darker complexion, his man bun replaced with dreadlocks.

"Well, if that isn't just a bloody miracle," (Y/N) sighed. "So, what are you doing here? I doubt I alone am important enough to show up on your radar."

"Sort of," Jesus sighed, pulling out a matchbox and relighting his pipe. "I already know you've made a deal with Lucifer. I also know your bill's coming due."

"Yeah, I gathered that," (Y/N) said. "Seven's demise, a fallen reformed, along with the conditions of my deal made that fairly easy to gather."

"Actually, it might not have been a deal at all," Jesus said. "You're... unique, (Y/N). And it's not just because you're the first demon-born we've ever seen."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how Peter keeps his book?" Jesus asked. "The one that catalogs everything a soul has ever done, and from there determines where they go?"

"Yeah, the one that probably has a big, red, disqualifying mark for me?"

Jesus blew a smoke ring. "Not quite. (Y/N), you're not in it at all."

That left (Y/N) speechless for a moment. After a few moments, he found his voice again. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"No idea, like I said, you're the first," Jesus said, chuckling and taking another puff on his pipe. "Suppose when only a third of people that believe you existed think you're divine, you don't quite get as omniscient as the guy they all believe is divine."

"Yeah, I guess that'll do it."

Jesus sighed. "Look, (Y/N), I don't know what awaits you down there. When Dad and I put it together, it was intentionally designed to be a place we wouldn't even look at once we were done. They wanted to cut us off in life? Fine, we'd cut them off in death. Gave it a plot of land, the closest thing we could get to a sky underground, and left it at that. Anything beyond that? That was your dad, his brothers, and Humanity."

"So, expect Dante's," (Y/N) sighed. "Got it. At least Asmodeus's ring won't be that bad."

"Possibly," Jesus said. "Were we talking in the 1400s, I'd say yes, but now? Humanity's thoughts on Hell have shifted so much, I don't even know what all is down there."

"Lovely," (Y/N) sighed, looking into the shack. He could see an ominous red light shining from a hatch inside, The hatch itself was covered in sand, making the ominous feeling even worse. He glanced back at Jesus, who had changed form yet again. Now he looked more Arabic, though the beard stayed the same and the hair was the same length, though no longer in dreads.

Jesus sighed, blowing out another smoke ring. "I won't tell you this is going to be easy, (Y/N). Nothing worth doing ever is. But there is one specific warning I have to give you."

"And what's that?" (Y/N) asked.

"Don't eat any mock Fruits of Knowledge while you're down there," Jesus warned. "You are still mortal. You didn't die from the one you ate before because you ate it on Earth. Its connection to the original Tree was diminished, its magic having to travel across the veil of death. You eat one down there, it would be like eating some of that ambrosia or drinking the nectar the Greeks have. As a mortal."

"So, explode or become a fine mist, got it. Duly noted."

"Oh, one last thing," Jesus said, chuckling again. "Don't worry about going to Church for this. Sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do."

Jesus snapped his fingers. His white suit began to turn gray, his body following suit. It looked like he was nothing more than a statue, but soon even that faded away, becoming nothing more than dust in the hot desert wind. His churchwarden pipe was all that was left, falling into the sand. Soon even that was gone, buried beneath the dunes.

"Ugh, this is going to be a headache and a half," (Y/N) sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now that Jesus was gone, the creepy and ominous feeling of the shack hit (Y/N) like a freight train, causing his heart rate to spike. He began looking around before once again centering himself and remembering where he was.

He approached the hatch that was glowing red and gave one of the edges a pull. No dice. It wasn't opening, seemingly locked. (Y/N) wiped the sand off it, trying to find the lock to break it, but there wasn't one. Instead, there was an inscription on the hatch in a language that wasn't English. Serving as a backdrop to the inscription was an obsidian slab, with various scenes inscribed in it. It was divided into nine pieces. A few of the scenes looked like they had been degraded by the sand, but a few of them were clear. A man turning his back on a crowd. A man shooting another. A man shoveling food into his mouth.

But by far the most clear was the image on the right side. It was a man sitting at a desk atop a thousand humans, counting money.

(Y/N) ran his finger across the inscription. "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate," (Y/N) read. The red light beneath the hatch glowed brighter, and an ominous chanting came from beneath it. (Think Wally reciting the Requiem Poem from Warframe, if you know it.) The hatch split in twain, each side sliding away from the other until the entrance, a yawning portal inviting (Y/N) into damnation, was wide open. (Y/N) was forced to cover his eyes to avoid going blind from how bright the light was. The chanting ended, but (Y/N) could still see the red light shine through his fingers. He moved his hand out of the way, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. He whispered to himself that translation for the inscription.

"Abandon all Hope, ye who enter here."