# Chapter 2: Approaching the Hero Nico woke early the next morning, the excitement of his successful attempt with Percy making it difficult to sleep. He dressed quickly in the dim light of the Hermes cabin, careful not to disturb the other campers still sleeping around him. He remembered what Grover had told him about Percy's routine. If the son of Poseidon trained before breakfast, Nico needed to be there to observe him. To learn more about the mighty demigod and continue building his influence. Nico walked through the quiet camp, the morning air cool against his skin. Only a few early risers moved about, tending to chores or heading to training areas. He made his way toward the arena, hoping to catch Percy alone. He heard the sounds of combat before he saw anything - the distinctive clang of metal on metal, the grunt of exertion. Nico approached quietly, not wanting to announce his presence just yet. Standing at the entrance to the training arena, Nico froze, his breath catching in his throat. Percy moved across the sand with fluid grace, fighting against three animated training dummies at once. His bronze sword, Riptide, flashed in the early morning sunlight as he parried and struck with incredible speed. Percy wore only a simple tank top and training shorts, both already damp with sweat. His muscles rippled with each movement, powerful and defined. Even from a distance, Nico could see the concentrated expression on his face, those intense blue eyes focused entirely on his opponents. Nico found a spot on the bleachers where he could watch without being immediately noticed. He sat down and simply observed, mesmerized by Percy's skill and strength. One of the training dummies thrust its sword toward Percy's chest. The son of Poseidon sidestepped, caught the dummy's arm, and used its momentum to flip it over his shoulder. Without pausing, he spun to block another attack from behind, his movements almost too quick for Nico to follow. Percy's golden curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his tank top clung to his chest, outlining every perfectly defined muscle. Nico swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The mighty demigod looked even more impressive in action than he had sitting peacefully by the lake. After dispatching the last dummy with a powerful sweep of his sword, Percy paused, breathing heavily. He pushed his wet hair back from his face and turned, finally noticing Nico on the bleachers. "Oh, hey!" Percy called, his face breaking into a friendly smile. "You're up early." Nico stood, trying to appear casual as he walked down to the arena floor. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd check out the training facilities." He gestured to the fallen dummies. "That was amazing. I've never seen anyone fight like that." Percy shrugged, but Nico caught the pleased look in his eyes. "Just practice. I've been doing this for a few years now." He wiped his face with a towel hanging on the arena wall. "You want to try?" Nico looked at the sword in Percy's hand, then down at his own skinny arms. "I don't think I'd be very good." "Everyone starts somewhere," Percy said, walking over to a rack of practice weapons. He selected a shorter, lighter sword and held it out to Nico. "Here, this one might work better for your size." Nico took the sword, immediately surprised by its weight. He struggled to hold it steady, which didn't escape Percy's notice. "Two hands might be better for now," Percy suggested, stepping closer. "Here, let me show you." He moved behind Nico, reaching around to adjust his grip on the sword. Nico froze, hyperaware of Percy's chest pressing against his back, those strong arms guiding his smaller ones. He could feel the heat radiating from Percy's body, smell the salty scent of his sweat mingled with something uniquely Percy. "There, that's better," Percy said, seemingly oblivious to Nico's internal panic. "Now try a basic swing—just from your shoulder, not your wrist." Nico attempted the movement, but the sword wobbled in his grip. Percy's hands immediately covered his again, steadying them. "I'm curious about your water powers," Nico said, trying to distract himself from their proximity. "How do they work exactly?" Percy stepped back, giving Nico space to practice his swing. "It's hard to explain. I just feel this connection to water. It responds to my thoughts, my emotions." He picked up a water bottle from the side of the arena and uncapped it. With a gesture of his hand, the water rose from the bottle and formed a small trident in the air. "That's incredible," Nico said, genuinely impressed. "Can you control all liquids, or just water?" "Mostly just water," Percy replied, letting the liquid return to the bottle. "And seawater works best. I can also breathe underwater, talk to horses and sea creatures, and create small earthquakes sometimes." Nico nodded, absorbing this information. Knowledge was power, especially when it came to understanding Percy's abilities. "No wonder everyone thinks you're so amazing." Percy laughed, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I don't know about 'amazing.' I'm just doing what I can with what I've got, you know?" "Can you show me more?" Nico asked, setting down the practice sword. "Of your water abilities, I mean." Percy looked around the arena. "Not much water here, but..." He concentrated on his water bottle again, and this time the water formed a miniature whirlpool in mid-air. "I can create hurricanes when I'm near enough water. Saved my life a couple times." Nico watched in fascination. Each demonstration only confirmed what he already knew—Percy Jackson was extraordinarily powerful. Breaking through his mental defenses would be a challenge, but one that Nico felt increasingly committed to. "We should probably head to breakfast," Percy said, checking the time. "But we can continue our translation thing after lunch, right?" Nico felt a thrill of satisfaction. Percy still remembered their arrangement—his suggestion had held firm. "Yeah, absolutely. I appreciate the help." As they walked toward the dining pavilion together, Nico stole glances at Percy's profile. The perfect jawline, the confident set of his shoulders, the way his curls caught the morning light—everything about him radiated power and beauty. And soon, Nico thought, all of that would be his. --- During breakfast, Nico made sure to sit where he could see Percy at the Poseidon table. He watched as other campers approached the hero, asking for advice or simply chatting. Everyone wanted a piece of Percy's attention, and the son of Poseidon gave it freely, smiling and joking with each person who approached him. Nico picked at his food, formulating his next move. He needed to continue building rapport, establishing himself as someone Percy would want to spend time with. The hypnotic suggestions would work better if Percy already liked him, already trusted him. After breakfast, Nico approached Percy as he was leaving the pavilion. "Hey, that sword technique you showed me earlier was really helpful. Would you mind showing me a few more moves sometime?" Percy smiled, those blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sure thing. I'm teaching a combat class right now, but you could join if you want." "I'd like that," Nico said, falling into step beside Percy as they walked toward the arena. The combat class consisted of about a dozen campers of various ages, all looking eager as Percy entered the arena. Nico hung back, feeling out of place among these more experienced demigods. "Alright, everyone pair up," Percy called out. "We're practicing defensive maneuvers today. Remember, a good defense is just as important as a strong attack." The campers quickly found partners and spread out across the arena. Percy walked among them, demonstrating techniques and offering corrections. Nico watched, admiring not just Percy's skill but also his patience as a teacher. After giving instructions to the last pair, Percy noticed Nico standing alone at the edge of the arena. He jogged over, his expression concerned. "Sorry, I should have realized you wouldn't know anyone yet. Want to partner with me for the demonstration?" Nico nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "If you don't mind." "Not at all," Percy said, grabbing two practice swords from the rack. He handed one to Nico. "We'll take it slow. Just try to block my attacks, okay?" Percy moved with deliberate slowness, telegraphing each strike to give Nico time to respond. Even so, Nico struggled to lift his sword quickly enough, the weight of it making his arms ache after just a few minutes. "You're doing great," Percy encouraged, though Nico knew he wasn't. "Try shifting your weight more to your back foot when you block. It gives you better stability." Nico attempted to follow the instruction, but in his concentration, he misjudged Percy's next strike. The practice sword connected with his shoulder, not hard enough to injure but enough to sting. "Sorry!" Percy immediately lowered his weapon. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine," Nico said, rubbing his shoulder. "Just not very good at this." Percy studied him for a moment. "Combat isn't everyone's strength. What are you interested in? Maybe there's another area where you'd excel." The question caught Nico off guard. He hadn't expected Percy to show such genuine interest in his abilities and preferences. "I'm not sure yet. Still figuring things out." Percy nodded understandingly. "Take your time. And don't worry about being perfect at everything. Even the best heroes have weaknesses." For a brief moment, Nico felt a twinge of guilt. Here was Percy, being kind and supportive, while Nico plotted to manipulate his mind. But he pushed the feeling aside. What he wanted—needed—was Percy himself, and no amount of guilt would change that. "Thanks, Percy," he said quietly. "For being so nice to me." Percy clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, we've all been the new kid. I remember how overwhelming it was when I first got here." He glanced at the other campers, who were still practicing in pairs. "I should get back to teaching, but why don't you stick around? You might pick up some tips just by watching." Nico nodded and retreated to the bleachers, content to observe for now. He watched as Percy moved among the campers, correcting stances and demonstrating techniques. The hero's movements were fluid and powerful, his body a perfect machine of muscle and coordination. By the time the class ended, Nico had formulated his next approach. He waited until the other campers had dispersed before approaching Percy again. "That was really informative," he said. "You're a good teacher." Percy wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. I try my best." He looked at Nico curiously. "You still up for that translation thing after lunch?" "Definitely," Nico confirmed. "But I was wondering... could you show me that disarming technique you used earlier? The one where you twisted your opponent's sword away?" Percy hesitated, glancing at the sun's position. "I've got a few minutes before I need to meet Annabeth. Sure, I can show you." He led Nico back to the center of the arena and handed him a practice sword again. "Okay, hold your sword up like you're going to attack me." Nico did as instructed, struggling to keep the heavy blade steady. Percy stepped closer, placing his own sword against Nico's. "Now, the key is to create leverage," Percy explained. "You catch their blade with yours, twist, and push. Like this—" In one smooth motion, Percy executed the maneuver, sending Nico's sword clattering to the ground. The movement brought them chest to chest for a brief moment, and Nico caught his breath at their proximity. "Sorry," Percy said, stepping back. "Did that too fast. Let me show you more slowly." He retrieved Nico's sword and handed it back to him. This time, he moved through the technique at a fraction of the speed, explaining each step. Nico tried to focus on the instructions rather than on Percy's face so close to his, those blue eyes intense with concentration. After a few demonstrations, Percy insisted that Nico try the move himself. "Go ahead. I'll hold my sword loose so you can disarm me." Nico attempted the technique, but his smaller arms lacked the strength to execute the twist properly. Percy adjusted his grip, his hands warm on Nico's wrists. "You need to use your whole body for this, not just your arms," Percy instructed. "Pivot with your feet, use your hips for power." Nico tried again, putting more of his body into the movement as Percy suggested. This time, he managed to knock Percy's sword slightly off-center, though not out of his hand. "Better!" Percy encouraged. "You've got the basic idea. It takes practice, though." He checked the time again. "I should go meet Annabeth now, but we'll practice more later, okay?" "Sure," Nico said, trying not to show his disappointment at the mention of Annabeth. "I'll see you after lunch." Percy jogged off toward the cabins, leaving Nico alone in the arena with the practice sword still in his hand. He swung it experimentally, trying to mimic Percy's fluid movements, but his arms quickly tired from the weight. The contrast between them couldn't have been more stark—Percy with his natural strength and skill, and Nico with his scrawny arms and awkward movements. But soon, with Morpheus's gift, none of that would matter. Power wouldn't be determined by physical strength but by mental control. And in that arena, Nico intended to be the victor. --- When lunchtime arrived, Nico made sure to sit at a spot on the Hermes table that gave him a clear view of Percy at the Poseidon table. Throughout the meal, he watched as Percy ate alone, occasionally glancing up to wave at friends passing by. Nico didn't approach during lunch—it was better to wait for their arranged meeting afterward. Let Percy come to him, as he'd been instructed to do. Each small success would build toward greater control. After finishing his meal, Nico hurried back to the Hermes cabin. He needed to prepare for Percy's visit, needed to ensure everything was perfect for his next attempt at influence. The cabin was mostly empty, with most campers still at lunch or heading to afternoon activities. Nico sat on his assigned sleeping bag in the corner, pulling out a random book he'd found on a shelf. It would serve as the "Ancient Greek text" he'd invented as an excuse to meet with Percy. He hadn't long to wait. Just as he'd finished arranging himself to look casually studious, the cabin door opened and Percy walked in. "Hey," the hero called, spotting Nico in the corner. "Ready to tackle that translation?" Nico looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh, yeah. Thanks for coming." Percy crossed the cabin and sat down on the floor next to Nico's sleeping bag. "So where's this mysterious text?" Nico handed him the book, opened to a random page covered in Greek letters. "It's this passage here. I can make out some words, but I'm getting stuck on the syntax." Percy took the book, his brow furrowing in concentration as he studied the text. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window caught in his golden curls, creating a halo effect that made him look almost godly. "This is about the ancient heroes," Percy said after a moment. "See this word here? It means 'glory' or 'honor.' And this section is talking about the trials they faced." Nico leaned closer, pretending to follow along. In reality, he was studying Percy's profile—the strong line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated, the fullness of his lips as he silently mouthed the Greek words. "You know," Nico said casually, "I saw you training this morning before anyone else was up. You're really impressive with a sword." Percy glanced up, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, you saw that? I like to get some practice in before the day gets busy. Helps clear my head." "The way you moved..." Nico shook his head in admiration. "It was like watching a dance. So powerful and precise." Percy's cheeks colored slightly at the praise. "Thanks. It's just practice, honestly. Years and years of practice." "And natural talent," Nico added. "Don't sell yourself short. I bet you could beat anyone at camp in a fight." Percy laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I don't know about that." Nico filed this information away—more knowledge about Percy's capabilities and potential weaknesses. "Still, you must be in the top three at least." "Maybe," Percy conceded, turning his attention back to the book. "Anyway, this passage here is talking about a hero who descended to the underworld to rescue someone he loved. Orpheus, I think, though the text doesn't name him specifically." The irony wasn't lost on Nico—a son of Hades reading about journeys to the underworld. "Have you ever been to the underworld?" he asked, already knowing the answer from camp rumors. Percy's expression darkened slightly. "Yeah, a couple of times. Not somewhere I'd recommend visiting." He closed the book, looking thoughtful. "Actually, there's something familiar about this text. I think I've seen it before in the camp library." Nico tensed, worried that his ruse might be discovered. "Really? That's weird. Like I said, I just found it in my backpack." Percy shrugged. "Maybe Chiron put it there for you. He likes to match campers with reading materials that might relate to their godly parents." He studied Nico's face. "Still no idea who yours might be?" Nico avoided Percy's gaze. "No clue." "Well, I'm sure you'll be claimed soon," Percy said encouragingly. "The gods promised to recognize all their children by the time they turn thirteen. How old are you?" "Twelve," Nico answered truthfully. Percy nodded. "Then it shouldn't be long." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Nico couldn't help but stare at the strip of tanned skin revealed as Percy's shirt rode up. "I've got some free time this afternoon. I was planning to do some more training if you want to join me." This was perfect—exactly what Nico had hoped for. More time alone with Percy, more opportunities to build trust and influence. "Sure, I'd like that. Though I'm not much help as a training partner." Percy grinned. "Don't worry about it. We'll find something you're good at." They left the Hermes cabin together, walking toward the training areas. Percy led them not to the main arena but to a smaller practice field near the edge of the forest. "Fewer people here," Percy explained. "Less pressure." The field contained various training equipment—target dummies, a rack of different weapons, an obstacle course, and a small water reservoir that Nico suspected was specifically for Percy's use. "Let's try something different," Percy suggested. "Maybe sword fighting isn't your thing. How about archery?" Nico agreed, and Percy handed him a small bow from the weapon rack. The son of Poseidon demonstrated the proper stance and grip, then stepped back to let Nico try. Nico nocked an arrow, pulled back the bowstring as Percy had shown him, and released. The arrow flew wide, missing the target entirely and disappearing into the underbrush. "That's okay," Percy said quickly. "No one gets it their first try. Let me help you with your stance." He moved behind Nico again, adjusting his elbow and shoulder position. Nico was acutely aware of their height difference, of how Percy's chest pressed against his back, of the strength in those hands as they guided his smaller ones. "Try again," Percy instructed, stepping back. Nico took a deep breath and fired. This time, the arrow at least hit the edge of the target, though far from the center. "Better!" Percy exclaimed. "See? You're improving already." They continued with archery for a while, Nico gradually hitting closer to the center of the target. Percy was endlessly patient, offering encouragement and adjustments without ever making Nico feel inadequate. After about an hour, Percy suggested they try something else. "Let's see how you do with a javelin. Sometimes it's easier than archery for beginners." He selected a lightweight javelin from the rack and demonstrated the throwing technique. Percy's muscles rippled as he launched the weapon, sending it soaring across the field to embed deeply in a target dummy. "Your turn," he said, handing Nico a similar but smaller javelin. Nico tried to mimic Percy's stance and movement, but his throw fell short, the javelin clattering to the ground several feet from the target. "Almost," Percy said, retrieving the weapon. "Try putting more of your body into it. Use your legs for power, not just your arm." Nico tried again with similar results. After several attempts, all ending in failure, he sighed in frustration. "I'm just not good at this." Percy studied him thoughtfully. "Different people have different strengths. Maybe yours isn't in direct combat." He glanced around the training field. "How about we try the obstacle course? Agility and speed are just as important as strength in a fight." But even there, Nico struggled. His smaller size should have been an advantage in squeezing through tight spaces, but his lack of physical conditioning meant he tired quickly, unable to complete the course Percy navigated with ease. As they took a water break, Nico couldn't help comparing their physiques. Percy's muscular arms and broad shoulders, the defined abs visible through his sweat-soaked tank top—everything about him radiated power and vitality. In contrast, Nico's skinny arms and chest seemed almost childlike. "You're in incredible shape," Nico commented, gesturing at Percy's physique. "I can't even imagine being that strong." Percy took a long drink from his water bottle. "It's just years of training, that's all. Plus, the ADHD most demigods have makes us naturally active." He glanced at Nico's slim frame. "You'll build muscle as you train more. It just takes time." Nico doubted he'd ever approach Percy's level of physical perfection, but it didn't matter. His power lay elsewhere—in Morpheus's gift and his own determination. "I should probably give up for today," Nico said, deliberately sounding discouraged. "I'm just holding you back from your real training." "Don't be so hard on yourself," Percy insisted. "Everyone starts somewhere. And besides—" He broke off, his attention caught by something over Nico's shoulder. "Looks like someone else wants to train." Nico turned to see Clarisse, daughter of Ares, approaching with her spear in hand. The tall, muscular girl nodded to Percy, her expression challenging. "Jackson," she called. "Ready for a real workout? These newbies aren't going to give you any challenge." Percy grinned, the competitive light in his eyes unmistakable. "Sure thing, Clarisse. Just let me put Nico through a few more paces first." Clarisse snorted, eyeing Nico dismissively. "Don't waste your time. That one's no warrior." She gestured toward the main camp. "I'll be at the arena when you're ready for a real fight." After she'd walked away, Percy turned back to Nico. "Don't listen to her. Clarisse is... well, she's a daughter of Ares. Combat is their thing." "She's right, though," Nico said quietly. "I'm not a warrior like you." Percy looked uncomfortable. "Being a hero isn't just about fighting. It's about heart, about doing what's right even when it's hard." He studied Nico for a moment. "Tell you what, I'll go a few rounds with Clarisse, and then we can cool off at the lake afterward. How's that sound?" Nico tried not to appear too eager. The lake would be perfect—quiet, isolated, and Percy would be in his element near water. "Sounds good. I'll just watch you guys train for a bit." Percy grinned and turned toward the arena. "Let's go then. Clarisse hates to be kept waiting." Nico followed, already anticipating the next phase of his plan. As they walked, he observed Percy's confident stride, the way other campers looked at him with admiration as they passed. Everyone wanted to be near Percy Jackson, to bask in his heroic aura. Soon, Nico thought. Soon it would be Percy desperate for his approval, his touch. All he needed was patience and opportunity. Nico followed Percy through the camp, trying to match the hero's confident stride as they approached the main arena. Even from a distance, he could see Clarisse pacing impatiently, her electric spear Maimer—nicknamed "Lamer" by the other campers—gripped tightly in her hand. As they drew closer, Nico noticed that a small crowd had gathered on the bleachers. Word of a sparring match between Percy Jackson and Clarisse La Rue had apparently spread quickly. Several Ares campers sat together, their expressions eager for their cabin leader to put Percy in his place. A group from the Apollo cabin lounged casually in the front row, likely hoping to witness injuries they might later treat. "Took you long enough, Jackson," Clarisse called out as they entered the arena. Her eyes flicked dismissively to Nico. "Done babysitting the runt?" Percy placed a reassuring hand on Nico's shoulder. "He's not a runt, he's new," he said evenly. "And I told him he could watch us train." Clarisse snorted. "Whatever. Just don't expect me to go easy on you because you've got an audience." Percy smiled, that confident grin that made Nico's heart race. "Wouldn't dream of it." He turned to Nico. "You can sit over there," he said, pointing to an empty spot on the bleachers. "This shouldn't take too long." Nico nodded and made his way to the indicated seat, acutely aware of the curious glances from the other campers. He settled in, his eyes never leaving Percy as the son of Poseidon removed his tank top, revealing his perfectly sculpted torso in all its glory. Percy tossed his shirt aside and uncapped Riptide, the pen expanding into his three-foot-long celestial bronze sword. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin as he prepared for combat. Across the arena, Clarisse leveled her spear, its tip crackling with electricity. "Ready to get zapped, Prissy?" Percy spun Riptide in a casual circle. "Ready when you are, Clarisse." They began circling each other, feet shifting cautiously in the sand. The audience grew quiet, tension building in the air. Then, with a guttural war cry, Clarisse charged. She thrust her spear directly at Percy's chest, but he sidestepped with fluid grace, pivoting on his heel as the weapon passed harmlessly by. Before Clarisse could recover, Percy brought Riptide down in an arc toward her shoulder. She raised her spear just in time to block, the weapons meeting with a resounding clang. Nico leaned forward, transfixed by the display. Percy moved like water itself—flowing, adapting, powerful yet graceful. His muscles tensed and flexed with each movement, his body a perfect machine honed by years of combat training and quests. Clarisse pushed Percy back with brute strength, then swung her spear in a wide arc. Percy ducked beneath it and rolled forward, slashing at her legs. She jumped over his blade and countered with another thrust. The electric tip grazed Percy's shoulder, causing him to wince as a small shock ran through his body. "First blood to me, Jackson," Clarisse taunted. Percy didn't respond verbally. Instead, he renewed his attack with increased intensity. He feinted left, then struck from the right, forcing Clarisse to scramble to block. The pace of combat increased, their weapons becoming blurs of motion as they traded blows. From his seat, Nico could see sweat beginning to form on Percy's brow, running in rivulets down his chest and back. The hero's golden curls darkened with moisture, sticking to his forehead as he fought. Every movement highlighted the definition of his muscles—the powerful swell of his biceps, the tight cords of his shoulders, the perfect symmetry of his chest. The fight continued for several minutes, neither combatant gaining a clear advantage. Clarisse relied on strength and aggression, while Percy countered with speed and technique. They knew each other's fighting styles well, each anticipating the other's moves. The crowd watched in appreciative silence, occasionally gasping at particularly close calls or impressive maneuvers. Nico barely blinked, afraid to miss a single moment of Percy in action. This was the mighty demigod at his finest—powerful, skilled, his body a testament to his heroic status. Finally, Percy saw an opening. As Clarisse lunged forward with her spear, he stepped inside her guard instead of retreating. Before she could adjust, he caught her spear shaft with his free hand and twisted it, simultaneously bringing Riptide up to the base of the spear's head. With a powerful flick of his wrist, he severed the electric tip from the shaft, rendering Maimer useless. In the same fluid motion, he swept Clarisse's legs from under her. She fell hard onto her back, and before she could recover, Percy placed the tip of Riptide against her throat. "Yield?" he asked, breathing heavily. Clarisse glared up at him, fury and reluctant respect mingling in her expression. "Fine. I yield." Percy stepped back and offered his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Clarisse took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, most impressed by the display of skill from both fighters. "Good match," Percy said, clapping Clarisse on the shoulder. She scowled but nodded. "You got lucky with that disarm." Her eyes narrowed. "Next time, bring your A-game from the start instead of showing off for your little fan." Percy laughed, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "Whatever you say, Clarisse." He walked over to where he'd left his tank top, his body glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun. Every inch of him radiated power and vitality—from his broad shoulders to his defined abdominals to his strong legs. He grabbed the shirt but didn't put it on, instead using it to wipe the worst of the sweat from his face and chest. Nico forced himself to look away, afraid his intense staring might be noticed by the other campers. When he looked up again, Percy stood in front of him, still shirtless and breathing heavily from exertion. "Ready for that swim?" Percy asked, a drop of sweat falling from his chin onto the sand. Nico nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He followed Percy out of the arena, acutely aware of the envious glances from other campers who wished they were the ones accompanying the hero. They walked in companionable silence toward the lake, Percy's bare skin drying in the warm afternoon air. Once they'd left the more populated areas of camp behind, Nico ventured a comment. "That was amazing," he said. "The way you disarmed her at the end." Percy grinned, running a hand through his damp curls. "It's a technique Chiron taught me years ago. Comes in handy." "You made it look easy," Nico said admiringly. "Fighting someone like Clarisse." Percy shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in a ripple of muscle. "Clarisse is tough, but predictable. She always goes for power over finesse." He glanced at Nico. "Everyone has a fighting style that plays to their strengths. You'll find yours eventually." Nico doubted that. His strength would never be in physical combat—not like Percy's. But that didn't matter. His power lay elsewhere, in Morpheus's gift and his own determination. They reached the lake, its surface gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. Without hesitation, Percy walked to the end of the wooden dock and dove in, his body cutting cleanly through the water. He surfaced several yards out, shaking water from his hair. "Come on in!" he called. "The water's perfect." Nico sat at the edge of the dock, removing his shoes but keeping the rest of his clothes on. "I'll just watch for now," he replied. "I'm not much of a swimmer." Percy nodded and began swimming powerful laps parallel to the shore. Nico watched, mesmerized by the sight. In the water, Percy was even more impressive—moving with preternatural speed and grace, his muscular body visible just beneath the surface. Occasionally he would dive deeper, staying under for impossibly long periods before bursting back to the surface. After about twenty minutes, Percy swam back to the dock and pulled himself up in one smooth motion, water streaming from his body. He sat next to Nico, dangling his feet in the lake. "Feel better?" Nico asked. Percy nodded, looking completely refreshed despite the intense sparring match and swim. "Always do after being in the water. It's like a recharge." He closed his eyes, tilting his face toward the sun. Droplets of water clung to his eyelashes and traced paths down his chest, highlighting every curve and definition of his muscles. Nico swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away. "It must be nice," Nico said after a moment, "having a power like that. A connection to something." Percy opened his eyes, turning to look at Nico. "You'll discover your own powers soon enough, once you're claimed." Nico bit his lip, deliberately projecting vulnerability. "What if... what if my godly parent doesn't want me? What if that's why I haven't been claimed yet?" Percy's expression softened. "That's not how it works. Sometimes it just takes time." He studied Nico's face. "You're worried about fitting in here, aren't you?" Nico nodded, seizing the opportunity to build the emotional connection he needed. "I don't really fit in anywhere. After my mom died, it was just me and my sister for a while. And now..." He trailed off, letting Percy fill in the blanks of his fabricated backstory. "I'm sorry about your mom," Percy said quietly. "I know how tough that can be. My mom's still alive, but there were times I thought I'd lost her." He hesitated, then asked, "What happened to your sister?" Nico looked down at the water, feigning grief. "We got separated. I don't know where she is now." This was the perfect approach—building sympathy, creating a bond through shared experiences of loss and isolation. The more Percy cared about him, the more susceptible he would be to Nico's influence. "Hey," Percy said, placing a strong arm around Nico's shoulders. "We'll figure it out, okay? Camp Half-Blood is good at finding demigods. If your sister's out there, we'll find her." The weight of Percy's arm sent a thrill through Nico's body. The hero's skin was still damp from the lake, warm and firm against Nico's shoulders. He leaned into the touch, allowing himself to appear small and vulnerable. "Thanks, Percy," he whispered. "For being so nice to me when no one else is." Percy squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "That's what friends are for. And you'll make more friends here, I promise. It just takes time." They sat like that for a while, watching the sun begin its descent toward the horizon. Percy kept his arm around Nico's shoulders, offering comfort to what he believed was a lonely, grieving child. If only he knew the truth—that Nico's loneliness was entirely focused on his absence, that his grief was only for the time they'd spent apart. Eventually, Percy removed his arm and stood up. "We should head back for dinner soon. You hungry?" Nico nodded and got to his feet. Percy grabbed his still-damp tank top from where he'd left it on the dock and pulled it on, the fabric clinging to his chest and emphasizing every muscle. As they walked back toward the dining pavilion, Nico felt a surge of satisfaction. The day had gone better than he could have hoped. He'd seen Percy in action, witnessed firsthand the power and skill that made him such a celebrated hero. And more importantly, he'd strengthened their connection, laying groundwork for the influence he would soon wield over the son of Poseidon. Just before they reached the dining area, Percy spotted Grover waiting near the entrance. "Hey, you go on ahead," he told Nico. "I need to talk to Grover about something." Nico nodded but didn't immediately enter the pavilion. Instead, he circled around to approach from a different angle, positioning himself behind a nearby statue where he could overhear Percy's conversation with the satyr. "Hey, G-man," Percy greeted his friend. "What's up?" Grover bleated softly. "Nothing much. Just wondering where you've been all day. Annabeth was looking for you." Percy ran a hand through his hair, which had mostly dried during their walk back. "I was training, then had a match with Clarisse." "And let me guess," Grover said with a knowing smile, "you were with the new kid again?" Percy nodded. "Nico, yeah. He watched the match, then we went to the lake." Grover raised an eyebrow. "You've been spending a lot of time with him. Annabeth's starting to get jealous." Percy laughed. "Of Nico? Come on, he's just a kid who needs help adjusting to camp. Besides, he's probably the weakest demigod I've ever seen. Can barely lift a sword." The words hit Nico like a physical blow. He pressed himself closer to the statue, not wanting to miss a word. "Seriously," Percy continued, "I've been trying to get rid of him all day, but he follows me around like a lost puppy. What am I supposed to do, tell him to get lost? He doesn't have any other friends here." Grover frowned. "That seems harsh. Even for the weakest demigod." Percy sighed. "I know, I know. I don't mind helping him out, really. It's just exhausting sometimes, you know? Having to slow down everything for him, explain everything. But someone's got to do it, and apparently, that someone is me." The satyr clapped Percy on the shoulder. "That's why you're the hero, man. Always looking out for others." Percy smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well, heroism has its price. And right now, that price is babysitting duty." He glanced toward the dining pavilion. "Come on, let's get some food. I'm starving after that match with Clarisse." The two friends walked into the pavilion, leaving Nico alone with his thoughts. He leaned against the cool stone of the statue, processing what he'd heard. Weakest demigod. Trying to get rid of him. Babysitting duty. Anger rose within him, hot and sharp. So that's what Percy really thought of him—a burden, a charity case, someone to be pitied rather than respected or desired. But instead of discouraging him, the overheard conversation only strengthened Nico's resolve. Soon, Percy Jackson would regret those dismissive words. Soon, he would understand just how powerful Nico di Angelo truly was. The mighty hero thought himself so superior with his physical strength and combat skills. He had no idea that true power lay in the mind. And Nico would show him—would make Percy experience firsthand. At night, while preparing his sleeping bag in the crowded Hermes cabin, Nico reviewed the day's events. His progress with Percy was significant—he'd built trust, established an emotional connection, and witnessed Percy's abilities firsthand. The hypnotic influence was taking hold, slowly but surely. But he needed patience. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither would his control over Percy Jackson. The son of Poseidon's mind was strong, his will powerful. Breaking through those barriers would take time and careful effort. Still, Nico smiled in the darkness. He was on the right path. Soon, very soon, the mighty hero would be in his power, he will have his body every night. For now, though, Nico would bide his time, building his influence night by night, suggestion by suggestion. The greatest victories, after all, were those achieved through patience and cunning rather than brute force. And in that arena, Nico di Angelo was unmatched.