Part I: The Heat Wave
I crested the top of Half-Blood Hill and the heat hit me instantly. It wasn't just a warm summer breeze; it was a blast furnace. The grass was already smoking.
Below me, the scene was chaos.
Three figures were scrambling up the slope. I recognized Percy immediately—he looked taller, messier, and terrified. Annabeth was with him, clutching her knife. And behind them was... a mountain.
A guy. A massive guy in a tattered flannel shirt and jeans that looked like they were made of tent canvas. He was lumbering uphill, crying, "Hot! Hot!"
Behind them, tearing up the asphalt of Farm Road 3.141, were the Colchis Bulls.
They were nightmares of engineering. Eight feet high at the shoulder, made of overlapping celestial bronze plates that ground together like tectonic plates. Their horns were silver and polished to needle-points. Their nostrils glowed white-hot, venting jets of ruby-red flame that incinerated the "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood" sign instantly.
"Border patrol!" I roared, my voice amplified by the static in my blood.
I didn't stop running. I activated the piston on Thunderclap. HISS-CLICK.
Part II: The Crossing
"Val!" Percy screamed, spotting me. "Get back! They're fireproof!"
"Everything breaks if you hit it hard enough!" I yelled back.
I expected the Bulls to hit the magical barrier and bounce off. That's how it works. Monsters can't cross the property line.
But as the first Bull charged, it didn't bounce.
It pushed.
The air shimmered like a dying lightbulb. The barrier groaned—a sound like tearing metal—and the Bull stepped through. Its heavy bronze hoof sank into the camp's mud.
The tree was weaker than I thought. The invasion had started.
"Spread out!" Annabeth ordered. "Tyson, stay back!"
The first Bull targeted Percy. It opened its mouth—a hinged, mechanical maw—and unleashed a column of liquid fire.
Percy dove left. The fire torched a patch of strawberries.
I slid down the muddy embankment, coming in from the flank.
"Hey, Beefcake!"
The Bull turned its massive metal head toward me. Its ruby eyes clicked as they focused.
I swung Thunderclap.
I didn't aim for the head (too thick). I aimed for the front knee joint.
CLANG.
The impact shuddered up my arms. It felt like hitting a bank vault. The Bull stumbled, a dent appearing in its leg plating, but it didn't break. The bronze was enchanted, hardened by magic I hadn't accounted for.
"Sturdy," I grunted, backpedaling as the Bull snapped at me.
The second Bull roared and charged Annabeth. She was fast, but she slipped on the wet grass. The Bull lowered its horns, aiming to skewer her.
"Annabeth!" Percy yelled.
He uncapped Riptide, but he was too far away.
Then, the big guy—Tyson—did something insane.
He didn't run away. He stepped in front of Annabeth.
The Bull slammed into him.
I flinched, expecting to see the kid turned into paste.
Instead, Tyson caught the Bull.
He grabbed the horns with his bare hands. His feet plowed furrows into the earth as he slid backward ten feet, but he stopped the two-ton machine dead in its tracks.
The Bull blew fire directly into Tyson's face. A flamethrower blast at point-blank range.
"Tyson!" Percy screamed.
The fire cleared. Tyson was blinking, soot covering his face. His clothes were smoking, but his skin? Not a mark. Not even a sunburn.
"Bad cow," Tyson rumbled.
He wrenched the horns sideways.
SCREECH-SNAP.
He ripped the silver horn clean off the Bull's head.
I stopped fighting my Bull for a split second to stare.
Holy Hades, I thought. He's not just a big kid. He's a Cyclops.
Part III: The Weak Point
"Valerius!" Percy shouted. "The first one is flanking!"
My Bull had recovered. It ignored me and turned toward Tyson's exposed back.
"Oh no you don't," I snarled.
I couldn't dent the armor easily. I needed a soft spot. Beckendorf had taught me about automatons. Joints and exhausts.
I sprinted. I jumped onto the Bull's back.
The metal was searing hot. My boots started to melt instantly. The Bull bucked like a rodeo star, trying to throw me into the flames.
"Hold still!" I yelled, grabbing a steam vent with my gloved left hand.
My Styx arm flared. The cold energy poured into the machine, fighting the heat. The Bull shuddered, its internal gears grinding as the temperature dropped rapidly.
It bought me a second.
I saw a small access panel behind the head—where the spinal gears would be.
I raised my hammer. I didn't use the flat face. I turned it to use the spike.
"Open wide!"
I drove the spike down.
CRUNCH.
The spike punched through the thinner neck plating. I triggered the piston.
BOOM.
The explosive force drove the spike deep into the Bull's internal wiring. Sparks showered up like a fountain. The Bull went rigid, its eyes flickering from red to dead black.
It collapsed.
I rolled off before it crushed my legs, landing in the mud next to Percy.
"Nice mount," Percy panted. "You practiced that?"
"First time," I admitted, wiping oil off my face. "How's the other one?"
We looked over.
Tyson was holding the second Bull in a headlock. He was literally wrestling it to the ground. He punched it in the snout—a blow that sounded like a car crash—and the Bull's face caved in. It stopped moving.
Tyson stood up, holding the severed horn. He looked sheepish.
"Sorry," Tyson mumbled. "Did not mean to break toy."
Part IV: The Standoff
The silence on the hill was heavy.
Annabeth scrambled up, looking at Tyson with a mix of awe and... something else. Disgust? Fear?
"He's a Cyclops," Annabeth said, her voice tight.
"He's a friend," Percy said defensively, stepping next to Tyson. "He saved your life."
Campers started cresting the hill. Clarisse arrived first, spear in hand. The rest of the Ares cabin followed. They saw the smoking wreckage of the Bulls. They saw me with my new hammer. They saw Tyson.
"A monster!" one of the new kids screamed. "It crossed the line!"
Archers from the Apollo cabin nocked arrows.
"Hold fire!" I roared, stepping between the campers and Tyson.
The campers hesitated. They were used to listening to me now. I was the Siege Commander.
"He fought the Bulls," I said, pointing to the wreckage. "He saved Annabeth. Stand down."
"He's a Cyclops, Valerius!" Clarisse shouted. "They're enemies! They eat heroes!"
I looked at Tyson. He was trying to hide behind Percy, which was impossible because he was twice Percy's size. He looked terrified of the small teenagers with pointy sticks.
I walked over to Tyson.
He flinched. He saw the black glove on my hand. He saw the static in my eyes. He could smell the ozone.
"You're strong," I said, looking up at him.
Tyson blinked his single, large brown eye. "You... you hit cow with hammer. Loud."
"Yeah," I grinned. "We like loud."
I held out my hand (the right one).
"I'm Valerius," I said. "Nice to meet a guy who can take a flamethrower to the face."
Tyson looked at my hand, then at Percy. Percy nodded.
Tyson shook my hand. His grip engulfed mine. His skin was rough, like sandpaper, but warm.
"Tyson," he said.
"See?" I turned to the crowd. "He's cool. Now, someone explain to me how two Class-A automatons just walked right through Thalia's Tree."
Part V: The Failing Border
We gathered around the pine tree.
It was worse than I thought. The needles were yellowing by the minute. The ground around the roots was turning gray.
"It's poisoned," I told Percy and Annabeth quietly. "Snake venom from the deepest pits of Tartarus. I tried to slow it down with the weather, keeping it cold, but... it's dying."
"If the tree dies," Annabeth whispered, "the barrier falls. The camp will be overrun."
"Who did this?" Percy demanded, his fists clenched.
"We don't know," I lied. I had my suspicions. Luke. But I didn't want to say it yet.
Just then, the crowd parted.
A man in a prisoner's orange jumpsuit shuffled forward. He had crazy eyes and looked like he hadn't eaten in a thousand years.
Tantalus.
"Well, well," Tantalus sneered, looking at the dead Bulls. "Garbage on the lawn. And unauthorized guests."
He looked at Tyson with pure loathing.
"And who invited the beast?" Tantalus asked.
"He's my brother," Percy said.
The camp went silent.
Poseidon, up on Olympus, apparently decided now was the time to make it official.
Above Tyson's head, a holographic green trident appeared.
Hail Tyson, Son of Poseidon.
Clarisse gagged. "Gross."
I laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound.
"Perfect," I said. "Zeus has a tree. Poseidon has a Cyclops. We're just one big, happy, dysfunctional family."
I looked at Percy.
"Welcome home, cousin," I said. "We have a lot of work to do."
As the campers dispersed, whispering and pointing, I stayed back with Percy.
"You got taller," Percy noted. "And... darker."
He was looking at my arm.
"Winter was long," I said evasively. "So. Bulls. Cyclopes. Poison. What's the plan, Jackson?"
Percy looked at the dying tree.
"We need a cure," Percy said. "We need a quest."
"Good luck getting one," I warned, gesturing to Tantalus, who was chasing a butterfly that looked like a cheeseburger. "New management is insane. Literally."
I patted Thunderclap.
"But don't worry," I said. "While you figure out the politics, I'll handle the defense. Nobody touches this hill again."
I looked at Tyson, who was petting a burnt patch of grass, looking sad.
"And Percy?" I added softly. "Watch his back. People here... they won't understand him. They just see a monster."
"I know," Percy said.
"They used to look at me like that too," I said, turning away. "Because of the lightning. Strength scares people."
I walked back toward the cabins, the weight of the hammer comforting on my back. The band was back together. And just in time for the end of the world.