Theseus took a step back.
Not because he was exhausted—he wasn't. Not because he was scared—he refused to be. But because his brain was still trying to fucking process what had just happened. His water dragons—destroyed. His weapons—dodged like he had thrown paper planes. His spatial lifts—shattered by sheer montum.
And Parker? Not a scratch. No weapons, no magic, nothing but raw, violent elegance. Just a man, outpacing gods with nothing but his fists and a goddamn attitude.
Theseus inhaled sharply, his pride screaming. He had underestimated this man. But he would not go down humiliated.
His eyes slid shut, body sinking into stillness. Then the waters turned gold.
Another mistake!
Parker's face twisted. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. That golden fucking shine.
The sa shine.
The sa goddamn gold.
"Poseidon, your son will pay for your sins first before I get my hands on you!" he seethed. That was the only thought that flickered before he moved.
And Theseus never saw him.
One second, Parker was standing there. The next? The wind broke apart. Theseus' ears popped, the air fucking howled—
BAM.
Parker was above him, his fist already swinging.
The mont it connected with Theseus' skull, his entire face caved inward. Skin compressed, bones buckled, his cheeks rippled like water, his neck twisted at a sick angle. His feet exploded downward—straight into the concrete, buried up to his fucking knees.
The road cracked apart like glass. Streetlights bent backward like they were caught in a hurricane. And in the eye of it all—Theseus stood, neck crooked, vision swimming.
Parker was still mid-air. And he was already twisting.
His heel whipped through the air—
And snapped into Theseus' chin.
Teeth fucking exploded. A wet, gritty spray of blood burst from his mouth, the impact blasting him out of the concrete like a launched missile. Both of them shot into the air, but Parker was still faster.
A first—a punch to the chest. The sound was disgusting, a deep, aty impact as ribs collapsed inward, and Theseus' body folded.
Second—a gut punch. Hard, brutal. Parker's fist sank deep, Theseus jerked forward, air escaping his lips in a strangled, ugly gasp.
Third—an uppercut to the face. A direct, clean shot that snapped his head back, sending him hurtling downward again like a teor.
The ground lost.
When Theseus hit, the road disintegrated. A fucking crater exploded outward, cracks spiderwebbing half a block in every direction. Dust, rubble, and the last remnants of his water magic—gone.
Parker landed like a ghost.
No sound. No effort. Just pure, fluid motion.
And then he ran.
A streak of power and speed. His shoes screeched against the road, the sheer force of his acceleration shattering the pavent beneath him. In a blink, he was at the crater's edge, skidding downward, sliding over the loose debris like he was surfing through Hell.
His foot ca up.
And connected.
Right under Theseus' chin.
A final, rciless snap, hi neck twisted and shattered like a weight of the world had just snapped his neck!
Theseus was no more.
Parker rolled his shoulders, his muscles still thrumming with power, and looked down at Theseus' crumpled body with pure, unfiltered disgust. Not anger. Not even hate—he had no beef with this guy personally.
Just disappointnt.
But damn, Theseus had fucked up.
Not once. Not twice. Three tis. Well, technically, just two. Because the others? Out of his control.
One—wrong place, wrong ti. The dude had been at the right place at the right ti, but against the wrong fucking person. Parker wasn't in the mood.
Two—bad fucking genetics. Not his fault. But still. He was Poseidon's son. That alone was enough to put him on Parker's shit list.
Three—persistency. The guy just didn't know when to quit. Parker had already decided to leave. But Theseus? Oh no. He had to be one of those unwavering, never-back-down, "go big or go ho" types. So Arican. Well… more Greek, but sa energy.
What a sha.
Parker exhaled through his nose and looked into the distance. At nothing. Because it didn't matter what direction he looked—the gods were watching.
Poseidon was watching.
His brothers were watching.
The Olympians, all sitting in their golden little palace, whispering to themselves, their divine egos bruised.
Parker's gaze sharpened. His jaw clenched.
"This is for Chione," he muttered.
Then he did the most humiliating fucking thing a demigod could ever experience. That's when Parker's lips curled, a slow, almost amused smirk spreading across his face. Oh. He knew exactly what he was about to do.
He took a step forward. Then another. And then, with deliberate fucking pettiness, he bent down, grabbed Theseus by the hair, and dragged his lifeless body across the asphalt.
Scraping. His. Face. Against. The. Road.
Like a damn mop.
The Olympians were definitely watching now.
Poseidon? Oh, he was gonna be losing his goddamn mind.
Parker stood in the wreckage, his body humming with quiet rage, his breath steady despite the sheer destruction surrounding him. The street? Fucked beyond recognition. The pavent had been torn apart like cheap paper, a massive gash splitting the road in two, separating one side from the other like so divine wound. Sparks flickered from broken streetlights, chunks of debris smoldering in the distance. And in the middle of it all?
The first Olympian Champion to die.
Parker exhaled sharply through his nose, gaze dropping to the ruined body at his feet. His fingers curled into tight fists, but his voice, when it ca, was calm. Dangerous.
"Poseidon."
The na left his lips like a curse.
"You took sothing from ," he said, voice low, lethal. "Sothing that was mine." His teeth clenched, jaw flexing as that ugly, sickening mory flashed through his mind—the golden glow, the way Chione faded, vanished, was erased like she never fucking existed.
His breathing was asured, but the rage? It simred. Boiled. Seeped into his bones.
"You took sothing important," he continued, his tone tightening. "Sothing that belonged to . You thought that was it? That I'd just—move on? Shrug it off? Like it wasn't a big deal?" His lips curled into sothing cold. "No. That's not how this works, old man."
"Golden One—you're next."
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