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Chapter 12: Blood Manipulation
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Zagreus' POV
"What the fuck did you mess up this time?!" Those were the first words Meg shouted at me the moment I was thrown out of the forge hall by my father.
He had stayed behind to try calming the Telchines—though, truth be told, they were the ones making me uncomfortable, with those worshipful stares they kept throwing at me. Seriously, they looked like they were about to build me a shrine. The adoration in their eyes was so obvious, I actually started worrying about their mental state.
I had no idea what was going on.
No one had ever treated me like that before. I wasn't like the other gods—those who crave kneeling and praise wherever they go. Not me. And yet, it was like I had suddenly become their personal messiah.
Honestly, I hoped it was just a phase. A temporary reaction. A collective moment of confusion. I figured that once they'd processed whatever had just happened, they'd go back to treating me like they always did.
But back to the main point: I hadn't done anything.
Or at least, nothing intentional.
It had all been a chain reaction. Fast, and more importantly, uncontrollable—a sequence of events crashing into each other one after another, and I ended up right in the middle like a damn target. I didn't even have time to understand what was happening, let alone react to it.
So I did the only sensible thing I could: I pulled out my best smile—the "innocent and charming" one, complete with the raised eyebrow—and tried to bluff my way out of the mess.
"My dear Meg, I have no idea what you're talking about… Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have to urgently return to my room—"
I didn't even get to finish the sentence before a sharp, precise punch hit me square in the chest, sending me flat on my ass with a thud.
Meg didn't waste a second: she practically jumped into my lap, grabbed my face with both hands, and brought hers just inches from mine. For a moment, I thought about how much I'd love to kiss her, but the fire in her eyes reminded me that this was absolutely the worst possible time for that.
"And that, how the fuck do you explain it?" she snapped, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "They're like that after all the chaos you caused—waiting for your return like two sluts ready to spread their asses for you!"She pointed over her shoulder with a sharp gesture.
Instinctively, I followed her finger, and what I saw left me speechless: her sisters, the Furies, were kneeling in a line, facing me, in a position that—let's be honest—was… rather striking.
To be precise, both of them had their foreheads to the floor and their asses in the air.
I have to admit I stared at the scene a few seconds too long—or at least until a slap to the back of my head brought my attention back to my favorite Fury, who was glaring at me with a less-than-pleased expression.I honestly had no idea why.
"And how exactly is that my fault?" I blurted out, smiling somewhere between amused and incredulous. "I think I'd remember if I had that kind of effect on women, don't you?"
Meg scoffed in disgust, crossing her arms. "You wish, huh?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted with a shrug and a half-smirk. "Especially if we're talking about a beautiful woman like you."
"Tsk. What would a virgin boy like you even know about beautiful women?" she shot back with another exasperated scoff.But even as she said it, I clearly noticed a faint blush on her ears, even though her gaze tried to stay icy cold.
"Well," I said, stepping a little closer, my voice low, almost playful. "Maybe not as much as you… but I'm sure I could learn how to please someone in a lot of different ways. I just need someone willing to teach me."
Meg turned away sharply, as if to stop me from seeing the blush now spreading to her cheeks."Learn how to not screw things up first."
"Touché," I murmured with a half-smile, brushing my fingers against the pendant hanging from my neck. It was still warm, as if responding to the tension running through my blood.
"Now can you do something about those two," Meg growled, shooting a deadly glare at her sisters. "Before I decide to drag them through all of Tartarus with their asses in the air, so at least everyone can enjoy the show."
I sighed, shrugging with fake resignation. "Alright, alright…" I muttered, walking calmly toward the two kneeling Furies. Their bodies were tense, foreheads pressed to the floor, almost trembling.Whatever had happened in the forge had clearly left a much deeper mark than I had expected.
I stopped in front of them and, with a steady but gentle voice, said: "You can rise."
The two sisters reacted immediately. They lifted themselves slowly, in perfect sync, as if pushed by a shared instinct. When their eyes met mine, there was something in them that hit me harder than any words: fear, respect, or maybe something more visceral—almost primal.
"My prince…" Electo whispered, her voice low and broken. "We didn't mean to… it was stronger than us."
Tisiphone nodded silently, her head still bowed, not daring to look me in the eye.
"There's no need to apologize," I replied calmly. "Even I don't fully understand what happened, but there's no reason for you to start treating me any differently than before." I tried to smile, even if inside me, the confusion burned hotter than divine fire.
Had I really changed that much?
Was I still… me?
Meg scoffed, crossing her arms. Her gaze looked ready to fry me if I said something stupid, but for now, she stayed silent.
"For now," I continued, turning to her with a slightly ironic smile, "I'd say we can skip the punitive parades through Tartarus. But if you're really into it, I could always arrange a chariot and a full audience."
She shook her head, but for a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—a smile tugged at her lips. "Idiot," she muttered, almost affectionately.
I laughed. And without thinking too much, I stepped toward her and pulled her into a hug. A spontaneous, natural gesture, one I hadn't planned. Luckily for me, she didn't pull away, and to my great satisfaction, she returned the hug.
Just for a few seconds.
But for me… honestly, that was enough.
[Interlude]
I let myself fall onto the bed in my room for a moment, releasing a slow breath. The past few hours had been genuinely exhausting. Not so much physically—I was used to fatigue—but mentally, I felt drained.
From the forging of my symbol of power, to its sudden resonance with my own divine energy and the essence of Tartarus, all the way to the manifestation of a titanic monster that had literally turned the entire realm upside down—everything had happened so fast.
And now, clutching the black pendant hanging from my neck between my fingers, I couldn't stop thinking about it. At least this way, I became aware of a weakness I might be able to improve in the future.
I'm not talking about my body—that I had trained relentlessly, side by side with Achilles, perfecting technique, endurance, strategy, and that fighting spirit also known as Touki—essentially, the external manifestation of one's life force. In other words Ki, which would wrap around me like an aura.
No. I was referring to my mind.
More precisely, to my mental strength, because I had to admit—grudgingly—that I had neglected it. I had always believed it was enough to grit my teeth, get back up every time, and face difficulties head-on without hesitation.
But that's not enough.
Maybe I should ask Melinoe, or maybe Makaria, for advice. They have more experience in these things. Maybe they know some mental exercises, some kind of meditation techniques useful for strengthening the mind and calming emotions.
Or I could turn directly to Hecate. That wouldn't be a bad idea at all, actually. It's been a while since I last saw her, and even though she's not exactly the most approachable figure in the Underworld, when she decides to listen to you, she always knows exactly what to say.
She's usually locked up in her lab, surrounded by ancient scrolls, busy training my sister in the arcane arts. She only comes out if something really manages to capture her attention—which, believe me, is not an easy thing to do.
Luckily for me, I was handsome and cute enough to get her attention without too much effort—or maybe it was just because I was annoying? That couldn't be it—after all, she's always so kind to personally kick me out of her domain as soon as we're done talking.
But then why did I always end up face-down on the floor?
Questions for another time…
Jokes aside, the truth is, I had always poured all my energy into physical training. Into my body, my discipline, my strength. Every wound was a lesson, every fall an opportunity to rise stronger. In that field, all things considered, I had done pretty well.
Considering that, for a long time, I wasn't even able to access my divine domain. But maybe because of that, I had ignored everything else. And now I couldn't afford to anymore—not if I truly wanted to grow as a god.
Especially because staying here, brooding over everything, wouldn't help. I got up slowly, stretching my stiff shoulders, then walked out of the room. My feet, burning with purpose, knew the way well—the path to the training grounds.
I seriously needed to hit something. To clear my head. And, fortunately for me, I knew exactly who would be willing to let me hit him.
I entered the training grounds just outside my room. The torches on the walls crackled softly, casting a warm and flickering light over the rough stone. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and iron.
My friend Skelly was already there—as usual—right in the center of the room. He was quite the dedicated worker, considering he never got a single day off. But since he was an undead who couldn't get tired, I wasn't really surprised anymore.
As soon as he saw me, he jumped to his feet like he'd just won the lottery. "Hey there, boss!" he shouted, waving a bony hand. "Ready to get your bones broken?"
I couldn't help but smile. "You're looking good, Skelly."
"What can I say, boss? These bones weren't made to rust!" he laughed, cracking his neck—for lack of a better term, seeing as he was made entirely of bones. "So? You here to train, to blow off steam, or to try and knock my head off again?"
"A bit of all three," I replied, gripping the pendant. I could feel the energy coursing through me like a barely contained tide.
Skelly studied me for a moment. Even though he was a skeleton who never stopped joking, I knew full well that in life he had been a skilled warrior—and he could always tell what was on my mind.
"Alright then," Skelly said, hopping to the center of the arena with his usual agility. "Let's test that new spark in your eyes. No rules, no limits. Just you, me, and the sweet sound of my bones flying in all directions."
I took position, feeling my muscles tense, ready to strike. "Perfect," I said with a grin. "Let's begin." I slowly raised my hand to the pendant hanging from my neck and summoned my symbol of power:
All-Blood.
The moment I touched it, something clicked inside me. There was no need for words. The pendant glowed with crimson light, vibrating as if it recognized my touch. And in an instant, it changed. The metal melted, stretched, twisted.
The shape molded itself before my eyes into what I knew well—my bident, with its red and black tips, glowing filaments pulsing like living veins.
The weapon dropped into my hand with a familiar weight. I positioned myself, feet apart, grip firm. I took a breath. All-Blood was vibrating in my hand, ready—and I was about to strike.
But just as I charged the blow, I froze—
"HEY HEY HEY!" Skelly clung to his pedestal, waving his arms. "Hold up! Maybe… not such a great idea to tear me apart with that thing!" I stopped abruptly, frowning.
"What?" I asked. He pointed nervously at the bident, his voice unusually shaky—clearly nervous, which was rare for him. "I don't know what that thing is, but it seriously creeps me out. And I'm not talking the usual 'I'm-about-to-get-smashed' kind of creepy—this is real. That spear feels like it wants to eat me and spit me back out."
I stayed quiet for a moment. Then I sighed. "Got it." Without thinking too much, I whispered the mental command. The bident dissolved in light, returning to its original form: the black pendant dangling from my neck.
Skelly let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thanks, boss. Really. I still care about my un-life, you know?" I gave a faint smile—just for a second. He crossed his arms.
"So? Anything else you want to try? Or do you just want to give a poor skeleton nightmares?" said Skelly in his usual sarcastic tone, though a slight tension cracked through his smile.
I stayed silent for a few seconds, then nodded. I felt it was time to push myself further. To truly test my divine authority and see just how far it could take me in a fight.
I looked up at him, my expression growing more serious. "Actually… yeah. There is something I want to try."
Skelly tilted his head, keeping that tense grin, as if he already knew something was about to change. "Oh… let's see what you've got, then."
I took a slow breath. Closed my eyes. And let instinct take over as my hand moved to my chest. I sank my fingers into the flesh without hesitation. A dull pain rippled through my body, but it was less intense than I expected.
The blood began to drip down my fingers: thick, crimson, alive. It seemed to move on its own, pulsing with its own rhythm, as if it had a consciousness.
Focusing my will, I began to shape it. The blood gathered around my arm, then started to twist. The filaments stretched, entwined, fused—and finally solidified, forming gloves. Or rather, claws, fused directly with my arms.
I opened my eyes. The ground burst beneath my feet as I launched forward. It wasn't just my usual physical strength—no, I could feel it. My own blood was pushing me, propelling me forward.
My left hand struck first. At the moment of impact, the fingers extended, sharp like spearheads. They hooked perfectly into the joints of Skelly's bony neck.
With a sharp tug, I tore him apart. His head flew off, smashing against the wall of the arena. I stood still, breath just slightly labored from the blood manipulation. Yet, contrary to what I expected, I didn't feel exhausted.
In fact, I was already getting used to it.
I realized it wouldn't be long before I could do this anytime I wanted—naturally. As if my body, or perhaps my very domain, was adapting to itself.
"Oh… holy Tartarus…" Skelly muttered as his head rolled across the floor and his body began to reform a short distance away. "Nice hit."
"Thanks, buddy… But the best is yet to come." That's when it hit me—a kind of illumination. My body was moving on its own, like it already knew what to do before I even thought it.
I needed something to strike from a distance. Without a second thought, I channeled all the blood covering my right arm. I compacted it. Gave it shape—long, thin, sharp.
The blood shifted consistency between my fingers, and I leapt into the air. Twisted my torso to gain momentum. And threw. The crimson javelin whistled through the air, aimed perfectly at its target.
It hit Skelly square in the chest, impaling him. The impact was so strong it sent him flying backward. I landed gracefully, one knee to the ground, heart pounding. I remained still, watching what I had just done.
"You alright, Skelly?" I asked, genuinely concerned, since I'd attacked him without even warning. Luckily, he was already getting back up—piece by piece—with his usual crooked smile.
"You're insane, kid. But yeah, I'm fine. More or less." I took a deep breath. I hadn't fully tested the limits of my power yet, but for the first time in a long time, I felt truly proud of myself.
Most of all, it had shown me something important: I was growing. Of course, using these powers in a training field, against an immortal ally, was one thing.
But using them in a real battle, against an enemy who truly wants to kill you—well, that's a whole different story. But for now, all I could do was keep gathering as much experience as possible, get stronger, and learn to understand every fragment of my power.
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