I stood on the marble platform, staring at the three thrones, at the beings who had plucked me from death and thrown me into this impossible place. For the first time in… I don't even know how long, I felt like I had been given the chance to breathe. Not because the air was any better, not because the sky held any color that didn't feel borrowed from some distant dream—but because I had a chance to be something more than I'd ever been.
Ravanna floated closer, her golden presence filling the space, her eyes softer now, though they still held the weight of a thousand universes. "Before you can step into your new life, Perseus Jackson," she said, her voice gentle but unyielding, "you must understand the balance you bring, the debts you have paid, and the paths that lie ahead. We cannot simply return you to the world as you were. You must be prepared."
I swallowed, trying to force my throat to work. "Prepared for… what?" I asked.
Chaos's purple flames flickered around him as he leaned back in his throne, smirking like he knew some joke I hadn't yet heard. "For life, kid. Again. But this time… you're not just walking into another battlefield with a gun and training scars. This is bigger. Way bigger."
Order sighed, the deep blue light around him pulsing with quiet energy. "We're not talking about simply reincarnating you. We are talking about shaping you, placing you where you will matter the most."
Abyss merely nodded, his tendrils of shadow coiling and recoiling in silent anticipation. "And before you go, we need to examine what you have done. Your life, your choices. Everything."
I froze. Examine my life? My choices? Did they even realize…? "You mean… my crimes?" I asked.
"Yes," Ravanna said, her voice calm, but each word struck me like a hammer. "And the good. Both are necessary. Karma is not given lightly."
I laughed, humorless and bitter. "Karma? You're serious? I barely survived the world I was in, and now… now you're talking about cosmic bookkeeping?"
Chaos chuckled, the sound like crackling fire. "You're going to need to get used to cosmic book keeping. And interdimensional paperwork. Welcome to the club, kid. I've got a whole stack of forms I could make you fill out."
I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to focus, but the enormity of this place, the aura of power surrounding them, and the memory of dying in Madrid pressed on me like a physical weight. "Fine," I muttered. "Let's… let's go through it. Whatever you need."
Ravanna's eyes softened slightly. "Good. We will start from your earliest days, moving through your choices, your sins, and your acts of courage. It will not be easy to face. But it is necessary if you are to become Perseus Jackson."
"Perseus Jackson…" I echoed, tasting the name like it was foreign and mine all at once. I had heard it before, somewhere distant in memory, but… no. I had never read the series. Not much of a reader. My life hadn't allowed it. Books were luxuries in the ashes. Stories were… stories for the privileged.
Order exhaled, his glow deepening. "You haven't read the stories, which is fortunate. But that does not matter. We will provide you all the necessary information." He raised a hand, and suddenly my mind was flooded with images, histories, and knowledge, a torrent of information about the world of Percy Jackson. Gods, monsters, heroes, quests, the camps, the prophecies, the battles of Olympus and Tartarus—all of it. I staggered, blinking rapidly as the universe of knowledge settled in my mind.
Chaos's grin widened. "See? That wasn't so bad. Now you know what kind of circus you're stepping into."
I collapsed to one knee, my brain spinning. "Holy… hell. That's… that's a lot. I didn't… I didn't even know half of this existed."
Order's voice was patient, almost fatherly. "Knowledge alone is not power, Perseus. You must also understand why you are being placed in this life. You are not simply a reincarnation of yourself. You are being given a unique convergence of fate, capability, and circumstance. This is why you are becoming Perseus Jackson."
Ravanna's golden light pulsed as she explained. "In this reality, the son of the Big Three is needed to restore balance. But not the one you have read of, not the one the stories tell. This is a version… forged by necessity. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—drunk on mortal indulgence—fathered a child with Sally Jackson. That child is you. That child will carry the blood of all three gods, a rare convergence that could tip the scales of fate in this world."
I felt my stomach knot. "Wait… wait, hold on. I'm… their… son? All three? That's… insane."
Order shook his head. "Not insane. Necessary. And… fortunate. You have earned enough karma to be reborn with perks uncommon even among those we reincarnate. Most receive basic abilities, guidance, or minimal enhancements. You, Perseus, will be given options to shape your existence beyond the ordinary."
Chaos leaned forward, flames flickering. "Speaking of options." He reached into the space beside him and drew forth a deck of cards. Not ordinary cards—they shimmered with infinite colors, patterns shifting like galaxies inside them. The deck seemed… endless. Billions of cards, stacked in a way that defied reality. He spread them before me, lying them face down.
"Draw a card," Chaos said with a sly grin. "See what your destiny will allow."
I hesitated, feeling like I was about to gamble with something far bigger than life or death. But then I realized… what choice did I really have? I extended a hand and drew a card. The moment I flipped it, a burst of light unfolded before my eyes.
"Endless Development," a voice explained—a soft female tone, resonant with warmth and wisdom. "This card grants its bearer the ability to constantly grow, learn, and evolve without limitation. Skills, intelligence, and strength can expand indefinitely, adapting to every challenge, every threat. But it requires dedication, insight, and resilience. Not a gift, but a tool."
I blinked, processing. "Endless… development? So I can keep getting stronger?"
"Potential without end," Order said, his tone measured. "But strength alone does not make a hero. Your character, your choices, your heart—these remain your true instruments."
Chaos smirked. "Pick another."
I reached again, feeling my pulse hammering in my ears. The second card turned over: Shadow Monarch. The air around me shivered.
"What… what is that?" I asked.
Ravanna's eyes glinted. "It is from another world, one very different from this. It grants dominion over shadows and darkness, both in combat and strategy. It allows you to manipulate perception, concealment, and strike where least expected. But beware—its power is tied to the mind and will. Those who cannot control it are consumed."
I swallowed hard, already imagining the possibilities—and the dangers. "Okay… that's… that's a lot. I've got two cards now. One for growth, one for shadows… that's insane."
Chaos laughed. "You think that's all? Nope. One more card."
I reached for it with a trembling hand, and as it flipped, the words Fate Immunity burned into my vision. "Fate… immunity?" I whispered.
"Yes," Order said. "You are immune to predetermined fate, prophecy, and certain forms of cosmic manipulation. The universe cannot force you into a path, nor can it rewrite your choices entirely. This is exceedingly rare, even among those we rebirth. You have… been extraordinarily lucky."
I laughed nervously. "Lucky… yeah, that's one word for it. Lucky to be dragged across worlds, made into a weapon, and now… given all this?"
Ravanna's golden light pulsed gently. "Luck, perhaps. But also the result of your choices. Your life, your karma, has earned you the right to step beyond the ordinary."
Chaos gathered the cards, and they dissolved into glittering sparks that disappeared into the void. "That's it. Your gifts are set. Your tools for the next life are in place."
Ravanna gestured toward my right, and I noticed a wooden door, simple yet strangely out of place in the celestial platform. It seemed to grow in the distance as I approached, as if it had been waiting for me all along.
"Once you pass through that door," Ravanna said, "your rebirth begins. Perseus Jackson will awaken in the world that awaits him. Everything you have learned, everything you have been… will guide you through it."
I swallowed hard, staring at the door. "And… if I step through, there's no turning back?"
Ravanna smiled softly. "No. Only forward."
<---->
I thought I knew what waking up in a new life would feel like. I pictured it: a bed, soft sheets, maybe sunlight filtering through blinds. Something obvious. Something that screamed, you're alive again.
Instead… I woke up drooling on a desk.
I blinked, panicked, trying to process the world around me. The air smelled faintly of chalk dust and stale pizza—smells that made my stomach twist. My head throbbed as I lifted it, and the room came into focus: fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, motivational posters peeling off the walls, and a faint hum of students whispering. I was in a classroom. Junior high, if the smell of anxiety, body spray, and cheap perfume meant anything.
I froze, my past life crashing back in flashes. Hours of drill, simulations, running obstacle courses, dodging gunfire, memorizing tactical protocols… all the training, all the discipline, came rushing back. My body moved before my mind fully caught up, scanning the room with the precision of a soldier. Desks were arranged in neat rows. Windows lined the left wall. There were posters of historical figures, fractions, and some motivational slogan about "success starts here."
I focused. Where was I? How had I—what was happening? Then it clicked: math. Algebra. Whiteboard. Numbers. Symbols. This was… a classroom. And if I was here, seated, sleeping on a desk during math… that meant she was here too.
My stomach sank.
The math teacher stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. Leather jacket. Short, sharp hair. Arms crossed. Eyes like daggers. Alecto. That name whispered through the back of my mind, piecing itself together: one of the Furies, one of the monsters I had faced in the stories I'd been fed by Order. She was here, disguised, waiting for me to remember.
She snapped.
"Hey! Sit up! This isn't a nap time for preschoolers!"
I jerked upright instantly, adrenaline spiking, old habits kicking in. Posture straight. Shoulders back. Eyes forward. The voice of a drill sergeant echoed in my mind, telling me to obey, to focus. I muttered, "Sorry, Mrs. Dodds," trying to sound as normal as a former weapons-grade prototype could.
She snorted, clearly unimpressed. "You'd better be sorry. Now, get up and answer the question on the board."
My heart hammered in my chest, a familiar rhythm. I rose slowly, trying to appear casual, though every muscle in my body tensed like it always did before combat. My eyes flicked to the board. Algebra. Complex, layered equations. Fractions within exponents. I had done calculus in my head during survival drills. Numbers, patterns, logic—they were weapons just as sharp as any rifle.
I took the marker, and my voice, steady and precise, started explaining the steps.
"First, we isolate the variable by moving the constants to the other side. Then, we factor in the coefficient, and—" I scribbled out each step carefully, narrating the logic, my voice a monotone echo of years spent giving commands, breaking down strategies, analyzing situations. "Once simplified, we substitute the expression back into the original equation, ensuring balance on both sides. And there, X equals three-fifths."
I handed the marker back. My movements were calm, almost fluid, like I'd rehearsed this a thousand times.
Mrs. Dodds grunted, a low, reluctant acknowledgment. "Correct. Go back to your seat."
I turned, moving down the aisle, and that's when the room really hit me. The students. All of them staring, some wide-eyed, some whispering. Like I was some alien specimen that had just materialized in their midst. But most of them were background noise—except two.
A red-haired girl, her gaze sharp and calculating, glared at me like I'd interrupted her life's entire rhythm. Nancy Bobofit. I remembered the name somehow, somewhere. Mischief in her eyes, teeth clenched. Trouble. The kind that could sour a classroom.
And then, a young man with crutches. Grover Underwood. Hesitant, nervous. But something in his eyes—something careful and watchful—made my instincts tingle. Survivor instincts. Friend or foe? Hard to tell in this world, but my gut said he was… important. Somehow.
I slid into my seat, posture rigid, scanning for danger and opportunity all at once. Mrs. Dodds tapped the chalkboard impatiently.
"Jackson, settle. And keep your hands to yourself. I don't need a repeat of today's performance."
I nodded, fingers drumming lightly on the desk. My mind, still sharp from past life experiences, began to catalog everything: room layout, exits, student positions, potential threats, teacher mood, lesson patterns. A normal teenager's classroom was now a battlefield in a way only I could see. Every whisper, every glance, every scratch of pencil against paper—it was all information. Data. Strategy.
As Mrs. Dodds droned on about quadratic equations, I felt it: a strange, buzzing sense of potential. This was my new world. No bombs, no fire, no death squads—but that didn't make it safe. Not yet. Not while monsters and gods still moved behind the veils of normalcy.
I glanced at Grover. His crutches were more than they appeared—his gaze held secrets, and something about him whispered that he wasn't entirely human. Just a feeling. A gut instinct, honed over years of instinctive survival.
And Nancy Bobofit… she wasn't important right now. But the way she smirked, muttering under her breath, told me she would be trouble sooner or later.
I shifted in my seat, the chair creaking under me. "Alright," I muttered to myself, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, the first real one since the platform, since Ravanna. "New life. New battlefield. Let's see how this plays out."
The bell hadn't rung yet, the day had only just begun, and already I knew: school wasn't going to be boring. Not with gods, monsters, and the weird sense that my past life was still whispering in my veins.
I took out my notebook, pretending to follow along with Mrs. Dodds. But my mind wasn't on equations. It was on survival, adaptation, strategy. Because if I had learned one thing from being A.D.A.M.-N.01… it was this: the world didn't wait for anyone. And neither would I.