There was a loud gong! The ink and screens disappeared quickly, and time seemed to flow normally. "I'll go with the espionage division," I answered confidently.
"Not bad, son," Poseidon complimented, standing up and brushing his shirt. "Let's get you started, then."
I raised an eyebrow but followed him as he left the room. We walked downwards, kind of near the entrance of the hall. I still find it hard to believe I'm underwater. It honestly feels so natural —I can't believe I haven't done this before! Well, like this, I mean. I've been swimming before. Obviously.
We stopped in front of a door. At first glance, it didn't seem particularly special—it looked almost identical to the door to my room, the same sleek, Atlantean design with smooth curves and intricate carvings. The only real difference was the sign affixed to the center, its bold, jagged letters reading: DO NOT ENTER.
Naturally, we entered.
The room beyond was dimly lit, but my eyes quickly adjusted to the low light. It was small, almost cozy, but not in a comforting way. It reminded me of a waiting room—functional, plain, and designed to make you sit still. A few mismatched chairs were arranged on a rug that looked like it was made from the pelt of some aquatic creature. The texture was smooth but faintly ridged, its shimmering gray-blue surface catching the faint glow of the room's odd lighting. In the center of the space, a low table sat cluttered with newspapers and magazines, their corners curling from what I assumed was years of neglect.
The headlines weren't in English—or any language I recognized—but the bold designs and chaotic layouts gave me the sense they were meant to be warnings rather than casual reading material. The light in the room came from a small, translucent jellyfish that floated lazily near the ceiling. Its soft, bioluminescent glow pulsed faintly, casting gentle, rippling shadows on the walls. The light was interrupted every so often by brief flashes of crimson that seeped through the slatted windows, likely from the red lights lining the palace exterior. The effect made the space feel alive, like the room itself was breathing in time with the jellyfish's slow, rhythmic movements.
Delta was sitting in one of the chairs. His left hand held a roll of bread, which he casually bit into between strokes of the blade he was sharpening in his right. The soft sound of steel scraping against stone filled the room, steady and methodical, almost like a heartbeat. As we stepped inside, Delta's gaze lifted, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine first, then sliding to my dad.
The faint shadows cast by the jellyfish flickered against his sharp features, giving him an almost predatory edge. Unlike most people I'd encountered here, Delta didn't bow. He didn't rise to greet us, either—not even when he saw Poseidon standing in the doorway. He simply sat there, unbothered, continuing to sharpen his knife as if a literal god hadn't just entered the room. There was something about him—an unshakable confidence that felt as solid as the blade in his hand. It wasn't arrogance, exactly. It was quieter, steadier.
Poseidon clapped my shoulder. "Delta, lad? I have a new cadet for you."
"My lord," Delta placed the bread and knife down. His cold eyes roved over me, and a thin smile hung across his face, I thought you would."
"Yes, well, I'll leave you two to it," Poseidon said, clapping my shoulder again. I got the vibe that he didn't like being down here too much. "See you in a few days for your first session, son. Try not to kill him, Delta."
"No promises," Delta said flatly.
Poseidon chuckled awkwardly and all but ran from the room.
"So, kid," Delta said, walking up to me. "You chose mine, huh? I get something to rub in all of the other commander's faces next time."
"I did," I answered, still using [Observe] on him. This guy's stats were off the damn charts! He was almost on a minor god's level of power.
"Well, you're crazy for it," Delta was back to munching his bread. He sheathed his knife and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Let's go."
Go where? Before I could ask, the wall adjacent to where we were standing shimmered, then simply vanished, dissolving into thin air. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral—showing any sign of surprise or weakness around someone like Delta wouldn't do me any favors. He might've been calm, but there was a sharpness to him that reminded me of Annabeth—like he'd pick apart anything I gave away and use it against me.
We stepped into what looked like an armory, though it was unlike any armory I'd ever seen. Rows of lockers lined the walls, resembling something out of a highend gym—if high-end gyms had lockers tall enough to tower over me and wide enough to fit three of me inside.
The room smelled faintly metallic, and the faint clink of steel echoed softly, the sound bouncing off the smooth, polished walls. Weapons were scattered everywhere. Swords leaned against locker doors, daggers were strewn across tables, and racks of spears loomed in the corners like silent sentinels. It was chaotic, but there was something deliberate about the disorder like every piece had been placed exactly where it was meant to be.
I glanced at one of the open lockers as we walked past, curious. It was empty, its interior lined with faint grooves and markings that hinted at something having been stored there for a long time. The emptiness seemed… intentional, like the locker was waiting for its owner to return.
"Now, your father's probably hoping I'll go easy on you," Delta said, his tone casual as he took another bite of bread. "But let's get one thing straight—I won't be doing that. In any capacity."
His words hung in the air for a moment, "Our division doesn't run field trips. If you want to stay here and learn, you'll need to pull your weight—go on missions, earn your keep. I don't have much use for an asset that doesn't work. Do you understand? There will be no special treatment here."
We came to a stop in front of the empty locker I'd noticed earlier.
Delta turned to face me fully now, his gaze sharp and unyielding, his demeanor calm but serious. "If you want out after hearing this, that's fine. I won't blame you. But, if you choose to stay, I'll need your best and nothing short of it."
Before I could respond, he snapped his fingers. A faint ripple of energy pulsed through the air, and suddenly, the locker wasn't empty anymore. Inside, an all-black suit of armor materialized, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light.
I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer. This wasn't like any armor I'd ever seen before. It wasn't made of metal, for one thing. Instead, the material looked like some kind of hide, textured with subtle ridges and faint patterns that shifted when the light hit them. It radiated a faint, almost imperceptible glow—so subtle that if you weren't paying attention, you might've missed it altogether.
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[Special]
{Drakonhide Armor}
[Description]: Drakons are giant, monster serpent-like creatures several millennia older than dragons. Their hide is incredibly resistant and can repel certain variations of magical attacks. This armor is [Special]. When equipped, this armor grants completely silent movement. Additionally, standing perfectly still in the shadows renders you temporarily invisible.
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