Being reborn is not quite as nice as you'd think. You'd need to literally be born again, which Percy now has at the top of the list of the worst things that have ever happened to him.
He was left covered in blood, smelling like something that crawled out of hell, and regretting not asking the goddess to make sure he'd be non-sentient till he was one hundred years old.
The whole process was like getting pushed out of a collapsed bouncing castle. But so much more cramped and bloody.
For the first few months, he couldn't even see past his own hand, his body was unbearably heavy and completely out of his control.
His hearing was pretty okay though, but the words seemed to get gargled by either his tiny little ears or his pea-sized brain.
He woke up one morning feeling a collective pity for all babies. No wonder the little terrors cried all the time and shit themselves.
Percy did the same things when random loud sounds erupted from nowhere and he couldn't tell who or what his parents were.
He was completely defenseless and incapable of even caring for himself.
This is worse than hell!
Satan—Nyx—must have been cackling in her endless realm of darkness and evil, watching Percy shit himself when a cup fell from a table.
He felt the urge to scream a line from a certain god of war at the sky in frustration.
But Someone came over to pick up Percy, interrupting his thoughts, and even though they might have been trying to be gentle, their huge hands and metal-like grip horrified him.
He started crying even though he saw a somewhat familiar face through the haze of his vision.
The person was dark-haired and had a manly face, so Percy could only hope this was just his father. And not some random guy that broke into a house to eat a baby.
He felt a cold surface against his back.
Ohh, is this the plate?
"Unhand me, vermin," Percy tried screaming. "I'll have you know babies don't taste good. Don't ask me how I know that. Cause I don't."
But of course the only sounds he could make were incoherent babbling. His throat was too underdeveloped, he guessed.
The cold sensation began to surround his entire body and before he knew it something cold was touching his face.
Arghhh, even worse than eating a baby! He's bathing me in cold water! You heartless rogue! Did your mother not love you as a child?!
He struggled against the massive hands wrapped around his body, crying to make sure whoever this guy was knew he didn't like this.
"Please bear with me, Perseus," the man said in a voice that sounded like it was underwater. "I can't heat up water like mommy."
Ok, so this was is my father.
Percy did his best to bear with the painful stings of the cold water and tried listening to his voice more closely.
"She went back to her father's duchy. He's pretty angry with us. But don't worry, if anyone comes to try and kill us, I'll cut them into shreds."
His father spoke in a baby voice to try and appease his queasy son, but the violence he threatened sounded strange in that tone.
Motherfucker, why are you talking about slaughtering people in front of your son? Don't you know any good nursery rhymes?
His father continued speaking in that squeaky baby voice the whole time.
"Aren't you a good boy! You are so well behaved… a bit too well behaved. I hope you aren't stunted mentally."
Percy turned to the voice, trying to put on his best "Really, bro?" face. What type of talk was this?
"Oh, you can hear me, can't you? Your hearing is getting better so quickly. I'm sorry about what I said, Perseus. I'll love you even if you're a bit slow. Dio is my best friend, and he's an idiot. He's also your godfather, we'll meet him when things are safer."
Motherfucker, pick better people to be godfathers to your kid! Especially with how much you talk about fighting and killing.
If you die tomorrow, I don't want to have to live with an idiot. I hate stupid people.
His wordless rant was interrupted by his father towelling him down. His hands were gentle as can be, but it was still terrifying to be the smallest thing in a world of giants.
The more he thought about it though, the more dread he felt.
He had just gotten to this world and he was already in danger from day one. This was not a good way to start.
Has Nyx never heard of a growth curve? You never start with problems that the agent is unable to solve.
Whatever was happening with his parents was slowly being pieced together.
His mother was the child of a duke and she was in some conflict with her parents over the man she had chosen to marry and their child.
But it still sounded strange to him.
Did they seriously have to send assassins after a single father and his defenseless child?
There had to be some way to resolve this disagreement peacefully. Percy suspected the resolution was either his mother leaving behind this family or…
Actually there was no other or. If this family was strict enough to have a baby killed, Percy suspected their demands were non-negotiable.
He suddenly felt bad for his mom. She was out there arguing for the right to love the man she wished to and have the child she gave birth to.
Some things never change no matter where you reincarnate.
But his dad was in an even stranger situation. One where Percy felt pity for him, but was also annoyed by his constant talking.
The man had been left alone in this house for months now, and Percy was the only person he could talk to.
Percy was laid on the bed, his father lying beside him as he spoke.
"You'll be master of Arete, just like your daddy when you grow up. Don't tell mommy this though, she wants you to be a Spiritmancer. But all that stuffy old stuff is for nobles. We carve our path forward with steel."
Motherfucker that sounds strangely ominous, don't tell your child that. Also what's your freaking name, so I don't constantly have to call you motherfucker.
Wait… he's actually a motherfucker…
His father's voice snapped his attention back. He spoke in a disappointed tone.
"I should temper my spirit since nothing seems to be happening today too..."
Motherfucker, why are you hoping people attack us? You're too hasty to use your sword! That's exactly what got us into this situation.
That double entendre was something only he could appreciate unfortunately…
Percy focused his eyes as hard as he could, he needed to see what his father was doing. What did it mean to temper your Spirit?
What was the difference between a master of Arete and one of Spiritmancy?
For the first time he saw his father, and it was terrifying.
He was a tall, well-built man, covered in painful scars. His hair fell down his back, black as midnight, and sharply cut.
He was staring at a sword in his hands, his eyes were a steely grey that were narrowed in a glare that could cut steel. He raised the sword over his right arm.
Is he going to commit sucide?!
Percy tried to sit up and reach for the sword, but this body was out of his control.
Then his father ran his sword over his bare skin once, tightening his jaw. When the blade left his skin, he was unharmed, but he didn't look pleased by this.
So he ran the blade over his bare skin a couple more times and soon he was able to cut his skin. The red blood dripped down against the floor, and Percy's father watched it with a satisfying smile.
He turned and found his son watching in horror.
"Don't worry about it, Perseus. I'm all right. I have been worried about protecting you so much that my spirit became too hard."
Percy was more concerned with the man's mental health than his hard spirit… whatever the hell that was
But he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't very fucking interested in how that worked.