The Face of Death

Author's Note
I know I'm starting a bunch of stories, but I had this idea, and could not get it to fit in somewhere else. This one is going to stay as a one-shot though.

Setting
This is set during the Demigod Civil War. Demigod Zachery Rivereye, son of Posiedon, is fighting on the side of the Greeks. The battle is going well for him especially, until a surprising event threatens to change his life forever.

The Face of Death

Zachery was enjoying the battle. He kept spearing Romans with his two-handed trident. He laughed savagely. The Romans were no match for him. He was easily the most powerful demigod at Camp Half-Blood.

Zachery fought with vehemence that an outsider could not hope to comprehend. But he had a reason.

''Zachery was ten. His older brother, Wyatt, also a son of Posiedon, was walking with him through the strawberry fields. His brother grew excited, and decided to take him outside of camp boundaries. As they walked, a war cry rose from the surrounding woods. Wyatt tensed, and shoved Zachery behind him. Suddenly, a small party of kids in purple shirts with strange tattoos raided through, grabbed Wyatt, and. Before they got a hold of him, Wyatt shoved Zachery into Camp boundaries. Zachery began to cry.''

Ever since, Zachery had been thirsting for vengeance. Once the American Civil War flared into existance, he had been one of the main propagators for a chance at war against Camp Jupiter. Zachery had determined long ago that there was no reason for the Romans to keep his brother alive.

Shaking himself from the memories of the past, he parried a wicked blow. Snarling, he tackled the Roman, and stabbed him repeatedly until he was sure the life had left his body.

Suddenly, an arrow whistled past his ear. His blood pounding from his nearness to death. He had to keep up his guard. He spun around, and whipped a torrent of water toward his attacker. He went flying, finally hitting a tree, snapping his spine with a resounding crack.

Grinning with satisfaction, Zachery decided to delve into the main part of the carnage. He donned his helmet, and lowered the visor. He then went in search of a more worthy opponent.

Soon, he was splattered with blood. His foot crushed soggy bodies, but he did not mind. It was a chance at vengeance, against all the evil children barbaric Roman dieties who took his brother away from him. In this, he rejoiced in the blood of his enemies. He was sure Wyatt would be pround of him.

Zachery noticed a group of legionaires surrounding a tall person, most likely a leader of some sort. He decided to challenge him. If he could defeat him, the enmy forces would be in disarray.

Yelling, he summoned a nearby creek to swell up, and wash his protectors away.

When the stream cleared, the armored, helmed warrior remained standing, and most shocking of all, dry.

Another son of the Sea God, eh?

Glad he finally found a worthy opponent, Zachery charged. He had to defeat him. While the battle was going well, their side had still taken many casualties. He felt responsible, and had to end his battle surely.

His trident met with a gladius. He spun around to the left, but was tripped and flew to one side. Then his opponent tried to flank him, and pulled out his pilum, brandishing it. Zachery got up as he threw the pilum with deadly accuracy.

It was to late to dodge.

<p style="text-align: left; ">Zachery screamed with pain. The pilum had speared him through the shoulder. he snapped the point and handle off, but left the bulk of it inside to stop the bleeding.

<p style="text-align: left; ">He clenched his fists in pain, and continued attacking. Soon, both were exhausted. The enemy lept away, probably to recuperate by the river. Zachery grinned.

<p style="text-align: left; ">He dove into the river, and began propelling small stones and driftwood toward his attacker. He caught him by surprise.

<p style="text-align: left; ">Zachery then summoned a wave to wash him back onto land before the water could heal his injuries. He was bleeding profusely.

<p style="text-align: left; ">Zachery threw his trident. It was the only way he could end this. This time, his opponent, although weak, was ready. He raised his gladius.

<p style="text-align: left; ">The trident collided with the gladius, focing it back into his body.

<p style="text-align: left; ">Zachery ran up to fetch his trident. He had won.

<p style="text-align: left; ">As he pulled the trident from the corpse of his enemy, he was struck with a sudden curiosity about the identity of his skilled demigod. He wondered whether he had been at the kidnapping of his brother.

<p style="text-align: left; ">Zachery pulled the corpse's helmet off.

<p style="text-align: left; ">And he stared into the cold, unseeing eyes of his older brother.