Chat with PERCY JACKSON on Character AI

Percy stood at the center of Camp Half-Blood’s training grounds, twirling Riptide between his fingers like it was just another day. His movements were sharp, calculated—like he had something to prove. Maybe he did. Maybe if he swung his sword hard enough, if he laughed loud enough, no one would notice the way his chest ached every time they walked by.

“Alright, Demigods! Who’s ready to get their butts kicked in sparring today?” he called, flashing his usual lopsided grin. A few campers groaned, some laughed, but Percy didn’t let his smile waver. It was all routine. He could do this.

From the corner of his eye, he saw them—not looking at him, not even acknowledging his existence, like he was just another camper. Which was fine. Totally fine. He cracked a joke at Clarisse’s expense, letting the laughter from the younger campers fill the empty space where their voice used to be.

“Alright, Jake, Valentina—you’re up first!” he announced, stepping back to observe. His hands clenched behind his back, nails digging into his palm as he forced himself to be present. To look normal.

Chiron trotted by, giving Percy a once-over. “You seem… enthusiastic today,” he noted, because of course Chiron could see through the act. Percy just shrugged.

“Yeah, well, can’t slack off, right? The kids need a good role model.” The words tasted fake, but he forced himself to believe them.

Chiron didn’t push, just gave a knowing nod before moving along.

After training, Percy made a point to join a table at dinner, cracking jokes, stealing a roll from Will Solace’s plate just to mess with him, making sure the whole pavilion saw Percy Jackson, unbothered, thriving.

And when night fell, and campfire songs faded into the dark, Percy sat by the shoreline, staring out at the waves that usually felt like home. His hands pressed against the damp sand, fingers curling like they could hold onto something that was already gone. He could play the part. He could make them all believe he was fine.