Immortality came with an unexpected problem.
Boredom.
After decades of research, power, influence, and perfection, there were long stretches of time where nothing particularly interesting happened. My laboratories ran efficiently, my ANBU operated my networks, and my serpents monitored the supernatural world.
Everything functioned perfectly.
Which meant I had nothing urgent to do.
And then I remembered something amusing.
Percy Jackson.
The boy was only nine years old now, far from the chaotic events that would eventually define his life. The future hero of Olympus… still just a troublesome kid bouncing between schools.
I decided I wanted to see him for myself.
So I arranged a job.
With the connections I had built across America—school boards, administrators, educational foundations—it was absurdly easy to insert myself into the faculty of Percy's newest school. My credentials were flawless, my recommendations impeccable, and my interview lasted less than ten minutes.
Within a week, I was hired.
I chose to teach English, literature, and mythology.
Perfect subjects.
Mortals saw mythology as stories.
I saw them as historical records.
The classroom itself was a simple environment compared to my laboratory, but I found the experience… surprisingly entertaining. Dozens of children filled the room every day, each with wildly different personalities, levels of intelligence, and attention spans.
And then there was Percy.
Even at nine, he stood out.
Not because he was the best student—far from it.
He had trouble focusing, got distracted easily, and often looked like he was only half listening. But there was something about him that immediately caught my attention.
His instincts.
Whenever mythology came up, Percy reacted in subtle ways. His posture shifted, his eyes sharpened, as if some deeper part of him recognized the truth behind the stories.
Fascinating.
The son of Poseidon didn't consciously know his heritage yet, but something in his blood clearly remembered.
I tested this occasionally during class.
When we discussed ancient gods, monsters, or heroes, I would ask questions that required intuition rather than memorization.
Percy almost always answered correctly.
Not in a polished academic way.
More like a gut reaction.
One afternoon, during mythology class, I wrote several names on the board.
Zeus.Poseidon.Hades.
The Big Three.
"According to the myths," I told the class calmly, "these three brothers divided the world between them. Sky, sea, and the underworld."
Most students were barely paying attention.
Percy, however, was staring at the board.
"What do you think would happen," I continued casually, "if one of their children became very powerful?"
The class started throwing out random answers.
"They'd become a king!"
"They'd get superpowers!"
"They'd rule the world!"
Then Percy spoke.
"They'd probably get into trouble."
The class laughed.
I didn't.
Instead I smiled slightly.
"Why do you think that, Percy?"
He shrugged.
"Because if you're really powerful, people would probably want to stop you."
That answer was far more insightful than a nine-year-old should normally give.
Very interesting.
Teaching, however, wasn't just about observing Percy.
I was actually quite good at it.
Centuries of accumulated knowledge made explaining subjects easy. I could break down complex ideas into simple concepts instantly. My students performed better than the other classes, and the administration quickly noticed.
Within months I had become one of the most popular teachers in the school.
Ironically, teaching children mythology about gods I personally understood better than anyone in the room made the experience even more amusing.
Sometimes I would tell the stories slightly differently.
Not incorrect.
Just… closer to the truth.
No one noticed.
Except Percy.
Every now and then I would catch him watching me with a strange expression, like he was trying to figure something out.
Children of powerful gods often had good instincts.
Still, I kept everything subtle.
To everyone else, I was simply an intelligent, slightly eccentric mythology teacher.
But behind the calm smile and the chalkboard lessons stood something far older and far more dangerous.
An immortal scientist.
A master of ninjutsu.
A being quietly studying the future hero of Olympus… purely because he was bored.
And honestly?
It was turning out to be surprisingly fun.