The Ancient One stepped back from their little group with the kind of serene expression that people usually reserved for perfectly balanced spreadsheets or watching their enemies fall into very deep holes. Behind her, the golden portal spun into existence like reality's most expensive special effect, its edges crackling and sparking with enough interdimensional energy to power a small city—or, knowing the Ancient One's sense of humor, possibly delete one from existence.
The air around them hummed with power so intense that the nearby trees started doing that thing where they looked like they were having second thoughts about growing so close to a cosmic hotspot. Harry had to admit, after twelve months of training at Kamar-Taj, he still found the whole "casually tearing holes in space-time" thing pretty impressive. Not that he'd ever tell the Ancient One that. She already had enough of an ego.
"My work here is complete," the Ancient One said, her voice carrying that particular tone that meant she was either deeply satisfied or planning something that would give everyone involved trust issues for the next century. Probably both, knowing her. Her pale eyes—which always seemed to see about seventeen different futures simultaneously—settled on Harry with what might have been pride if you squinted and ignored the part where she looked like she was mentally calculating the probability of him accidentally breaking physics again.
"Harry's education in cosmic responsibility has provided him with the theoretical framework necessary for..." She paused, and Harry could practically see her internal autocorrect working overtime. "Well, whatever adventures naturally talented legendary heroes tend to attract when they're released back into environments as dangerous as, say, a high school cafeteria."
Harry folded his arms and tilted his head, giving her his best 'really?' look—the same one he'd inherited from his father Loki, though hopefully with less genocidal undertones. "So basically, you're saying I've graduated from Cosmic Babysitting 101, and now it's time for me to figure out how not to terrify teachers who think the height of magic is making rabbits appear from hats and butchering Latin pronunciations?"
The Ancient One's lips quirked in what, for her, passed as a grin. For anyone else, it would have been barely noticeable. For the Ancient One, it was practically a standing ovation.
"Precisely," she said with the kind of satisfaction that suggested she'd been waiting months to deliver that particular comparison. "Also, do remember the protocols we discussed. Interdimensional incidents require paperwork filed in triplicate, cross-referenced by cosmic jurisdiction, and notarized by at least two witnesses who haven't been driven insane by exposure to eldritch mathematics. Do try not to reshape local physics during routine classroom activities. Some professors find that sort of thing..." She paused meaningfully. "Disruptive."
Before Harry could come up with a suitably sarcastic response—and he'd been working on several good ones—Jim's voice exploded inside his head like a marching band made entirely of caffeinated cheerleaders.
"PAPERWORK!" Jim's mental voice practically shattered the sound barrier of Harry's skull. "Sweet, merciful, bureaucratic paradise! We've reached the promised land, Harry-boy! Finally! FINALLY! Someone who understands the sublime art of proper documentation! Do you have ANY idea how beautiful this is? We're talking organization by dimensional frequency AND temporal sequence! Color-coded filing tabs that probably glow in the dark! Alphabetized cosmic anomalies with little labels written in fonts that hurt to look at directly! OH MY VARIOUS GODS, I'M SO HAPPY I COULD CRY IF I HAD TEAR DUCTS!"
Harry rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn't fall out. "Jim, you're literally a magical staff. What could you possibly file? Complaints about grip maintenance?"
"EXCUSE ME?" Jim's voice reached frequencies that shouldn't have been possible without causing brain damage. "I am the GUARDIAN of order! The CUSTODIAN of chaos! The BRINGER of properly collated forms with watermarks that prove their authenticity! You don't just file things, Harry—you CRADLE them! You alphabetize their very SOULS! You organize them with the kind of loving care usually reserved for endangered species! And don't even get me started on those new enchanted staplers they've got at Kamar-Taj—they bite, but in a GOOD way! Like tiny metal piranhas of productivity!"
Beneath Harry's feet, Aether—his loyal flying cloud and possibly the only genuinely innocent member of their bizarre little family—puffed up with what could only be described as indignant agreement. The cloud let out a delighted *whoooooosh* that somehow managed to convey both "less paperwork" and "more flying around doing fun cloud things" in a single, crystalline note.
Harry reached down and patted Aether's fluffy surface, which felt exactly like touching the world's most comfortable pillow, if pillows could fly and had personalities. "See, Aether gets it. Paperwork is the enemy of all things good and righteous in this world. Give me a nice monster to fight over a filing cabinet any day."
"PAPERWORK IS CLOUD CUDDLES FOR THE BRAIN!" Jim shrieked, and Harry was pretty sure the staff was somehow doing mental jazz hands, which was both impressive and deeply disturbing. "It's intellectual comfort food! It's—"
"It's giving me a headache," Harry muttered.
The Ancient One, who to her credit was acting like she couldn't hear the epic philosophical debate currently raging inside Harry's skull—though knowing her, she probably could and was simply choosing to ignore it for the sake of everyone's sanity—took a step closer. Her expression had that unreadable quality that meant she was either about to impart profound wisdom or tell him something that would completely ruin his day. With the Ancient One, those two things weren't mutually exclusive.
"Kamar-Taj will continue to monitor for any unusual cosmic disturbances that might require your attention," she said in that voice that suggested she already knew exactly what those disturbances were going to be and had probably scheduled them in her day planner. "However, I suspect your greatest challenges will involve learning to blend into ordinary society. For someone of your... colorful parentage, normal student life may prove to be the most difficult battlefield you've yet encountered."
Harry snorted, a sound that was equal parts amusement and impending dread. "Translation: don't blow my cover by accidentally summoning dragons during math class or turning the cafeteria food into actual food. Got it."
Aether bobbed beneath him in what was clearly wounded pride, as if the very idea of being excluded from math class dragon-summoning was a personal insult to clouds everywhere.
The golden portal behind the Ancient One expanded like reality was being unzipped, revealing glimpses of her sanctum beyond—impossible architecture where stairs went sideways just to prove they could, bookshelves that had apparently never heard of gravity and weren't planning to start caring about it now, and at least six different magical experiments that looked like they were one sneeze away from turning the entire building into a smoking crater. Harry had spent enough time there to know that the smoking crater thing wasn't even in the top ten of possible catastrophic outcomes.
"Farewell, young Sorcerer," the Ancient One said, and her tone carried the weight of about twelve different meanings, most of which Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to think about too hard. "May your adventures be educational, your diplomatic incidents be minor, and your paperwork be filed in a timely manner."
Harry flashed her a grin that he'd inherited from both sides of his family tree—Loki's mischief and Artemis's dangerous confidence rolled into one expression that had already gotten him into more trouble than he cared to count. "Don't worry about me. If I cause an interdimensional crisis, I'll at least make sure it's entertaining enough to get good reviews."
"OHHHHH, BURN!" Jim howled like a sports commentator who'd just witnessed the greatest comeback in the history of professional sass. "Ten points for style! Twenty points for delivery! The crowd goes absolutely WILD! Ladies and gentlemen, that's why they call him the MONKEY KING! He doesn't just fight monsters—he ROASTS them first! Somebody call the fire department because that comeback just scorched the entire MULTIVERSE!"
The Ancient One arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow—the kind of eyebrow that could probably cut glass if properly motivated—and stepped through her portal with the casual grace of someone who had mastered the art of dramatic exits centuries before Harry was even born. The portal snapped shut behind her with a sound like reality finally unclenching its jaw after holding its breath for too long.
For exactly three seconds, the clearing went quiet. Peaceful. Normal.
Then the lingering hum of dimensional energy hit, and every compass within a five-mile radius immediately gave up on life and started pointing toward whatever dimensional coordinates felt most convenient.
Harry patted Aether's cloudy surface affectionately. The cloud was warm and comforting, like a hug made of the finest possible weather. "Well, buddy, looks like it's just us again."
"US?" Jim's voice cracked like a teenager going through puberty, except louder and with more dramatic flair. "US?! Did you just forget about the MAGICAL BEST FRIEND currently attached to your hand? Hello?! I'm literally the reason you have any dramatic flair in battle! Without me, you're just a good-looking demigod with parental issues, amazing hair, and the kind of smile that makes people do stupid things!"
Harry considered this for a moment. "Still a better resume than 'loudmouthed magical stick with a filing fetish.'"
"SAVAGE!" Jim shrieked with pure delight. "Absolutely SAVAGE! And you know what? I respect it! That's my boy! My beautiful, sarcastic, impossibly handsome boy! Bringing the heat like only the son of Loki and Artemis can! I'm so proud I could burst into rainbow sparkles!"
"Please don't," Harry said quickly. "Last time you did that, it took three days to get all the glitter out of my hair."
Across the clearing, Artemis had been watching the entire exchange with the kind of expression that suggested she was mentally taking notes for future embarrassing story opportunities. Now she clapped her hands together with divine finality, and every Huntress in the vicinity immediately snapped to attention like they'd been activated by some kind of immortal warrior woman Pavlovian response.
"Right then," Artemis said, her voice carrying the kind of authority that made mountains consider relocating when she asked nicely. "I believe it's time to test the practical applications of your new capabilities under actual field conditions."
The words 'field conditions' hit the assembled Huntresses like the starting gun at the Olympics. Instantly, they transformed from a group of casually dangerous immortal teenagers into something that resembled a special forces unit crossed with a nature documentary about apex predators. Silver eyes sharpened, scanning the forest with the kind of intensity usually reserved for hunting things that could bite back. Hard.
Every leaf rustle got catalogued. Every shadow analyzed. Every subtle shift in wind direction noted and cross-referenced with possible tactical advantages. If you'd never seen immortal warrior women go from 'casual conversation mode' to 'time to hunt something that probably has too many teeth,' it was like watching a pack of very polite, very deadly wolves suddenly remember they were wolves.
"A hunt?" Harry asked, already feeling his own senses expand outward like some kind of cosmic radar system. His awareness stretched through the forest, mapping terrain and cataloguing potential threats with the kind of automatic precision that twelve months of training had burned into his nervous system. Trees, rocks, small animals, bigger animals, things that were probably animals but moved wrong, things that definitely weren't animals and were trying very hard to pretend they were—all of it registered in the back of his mind like a constantly updating tactical display. "Or are we talking more of a scavenger hunt situation? Because I should warn you, I'm terrible at scavenger hunts. I once spent four hours looking for a 'red thing' and came back with a fire truck."
Artemis's lips curved into a smile that was ninety percent maternal pride and ten percent the kind of divine mischief that usually ended with someone learning a very important lesson about hubris. "A hunt, my dear son. Twelve months of theory and controlled practice exercises are quite enough. Now we discover what happens when the Monkey King takes his cosmic education out for a proper field test."
"FIELD TESTING!" Jim's mental voice didn't just break the sound barrier—it grabbed the sound barrier, threw it to the ground, and tap-danced on its remains while singing show tunes. "YES! YES! FINALLY! Real-world application of theoretical knowledge! Authentic tactical scenarios with actual consequences! We're about to go FULL SEASON FINALE! Cue the dramatic lighting! Cue the orchestral soundtrack! Cue the slow-motion montage of Harry looking impossibly cool while doing impossible things! This is going to be MAGNIFICENT!"
Harry sighed, a sound that contained approximately six different types of exasperation and at least one note of genuine affection. "Jim, you need to calm down. You sound like a game show host who's been mainlining espresso and sugar packets."
"EXACTLY!" Jim bellowed with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated cheerleader. "Except with fewer consolation prizes and more COSMIC EXPLOSIONS! This is the moment, Harry-boy! This is what we've been training for! No more practice swings, no more safety nets, no more 'let's try that again but with less property damage!' This is GAME DAY, baby!"
Aether, apparently caught up in the general atmosphere of excitement, began doing little loops around Harry's shoulders, puffing happily like a golden retriever made of the world's most comfortable fog. The cloud's movements were so enthusiastic that Harry had to resist the urge to check if Aether had somehow developed a tail to wag.
"Good boy," Harry said, reaching up to ruffle what passed for the cloud's head. "At least one of you knows how to be excited without shattering windows in three different dimensions."
"Normal excitement is for NORMAL people!" Jim proclaimed with the kind of grandiose declaration usually reserved for conquering heroes and Broadway leading men. "We are EXTRAORDINARY! We are LEGENDARY! We are—oh, wait for it—about to file this entire adventure under 'Epic Wins That Will Be Talked About for Centuries!'"
From across the clearing, Phoebe stepped forward with the kind of brisk efficiency that suggested she'd already mentally organized the entire hunt into color-coded categories with appropriate sub-headings. Her dark hair caught the afternoon light, and her expression had that focused look that meant she was probably running seventeen different tactical calculations simultaneously.
"What parameters are we working with here?" she asked, pulling out a tablet that definitely hadn't existed five seconds ago and definitely wasn't running on any kind of technology that would make sense to most people. "Threat level assessment? Required skill applications? Specific learning objectives? Because if you want comprehensive evaluation metrics, I can draft a performance rubric with quantifiable success indicators."
Harry stared at her with the kind of admiration usually reserved for people who could do complex math in their heads or fold fitted sheets properly. "Phoebe, you're literally trying to turn my monster hunt into a standardized test."
Phoebe didn't even blink. "And your point is?"
"I... actually don't have one," Harry admitted. "That's either really impressive or really terrifying."
"Why not both?" Phoebe asked with a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring but came across more like 'I have contingency plans for your contingency plans.'
Artemis tilted her head, considering the question with the expression of a teacher who was trying to decide whether to assign the easy homework or the kind that would make students question their life choices. "Integration," she said finally, the word carrying weight like a dropped anvil. "Combat effectiveness, strategic thinking, diplomatic solutions, cosmic awareness—all of it working together as a unified system under genuine pressure. Not simply a monster fight, but a scenario that requires the full range of legendary capability."
Across the clearing, Zoe Nightshade's dark eyes lit up like someone had just announced that Shakespeare was being performed by a cast of very attractive, very talented actors who also happened to be really good at stage combat. Her silver-streaked hair caught the light as she stepped forward, practically glowing with enthusiasm.
"Verily," she said, and Harry could practically hear the italics in her voice as her Shakespearean speech patterns kicked into high gear, "I have heard whispers most intriguing from the northern territories. Creatures of unusual nature, requiring approaches both delicate and bold. Tales speak of beasts that challenge not merely sword and bow, but wit and wisdom alike."
Atalanta groaned in the way that suggested this was a regular occurrence, but her green eyes were sparkling with barely contained excitement. "Here we go with the 'verily' and 'most unusual' nonsense. Next she'll be talking about 'quests of great import' and 'challenges worthy of legend.'" She slung her bow across her back with practiced ease, the movement smooth and economical. "But if we're talking about something that actually needs the full legendary treatment, I've got exactly the thing. Been saving it for the right moment."
She reached into what appeared to be a perfectly normal hunting pack—which was definitely bigger on the inside because Harry had watched her pull enough gear out of that thing to outfit a small army—and produced a folded document bearing official seals that practically screamed 'government bureaucracy with above-average supernatural problems.'
"MACUSA's been filing reports," Atalanta announced with the kind of grin that meant somebody else's problem was about to become their adventure. She unfolded the document with a flourish that would have made a stage magician proud. "Or, to quote their official terminology: 'Request for advanced magical intervention by qualified personnel with specialized expertise in unconventional threat management and interdimensional incident resolution.'"
Harry barked out a laugh that echoed through the clearing. "Translation: 'Help, we broke something weird and now we need someone who doesn't panic when magic stops making sense and physics takes a coffee break.'"
"UNCONVENTIONAL THREAT MANAGEMENT!" Jim's voice somehow achieved new octaves of excitement that probably violated several laws of physics. "That's it! That's our new team slogan! We're getting matching jackets! With sequins! And maybe some of those little LED lights that blink in patterns! Oh, oh, oh! Can we get embroidered patches? Please say we can get embroidered patches! I have SO many ideas!"
Harry's emerald eyes glittered with silver flecks—a side effect of his cosmic education that made him look like he had tiny stars in his irises. "Jim, if you ever put sequins on anything I'm associated with, I'm dropping you into the first active volcano I can find. And I'll make sure it's a really deep one."
"SAVAGE!" Jim howled with pure delight. "The Monkey King strikes again with another devastating burn! Somebody call the fire department because Harry just INCINERATED his own magical weapon! And I love every second of it! That's my boy! My beautiful, ruthless, impossibly witty boy!"
Aether puffed up even more, rising slightly under Harry's feet as if volunteering for whatever mission was about to unfold. The cloud's enthusiasm was infectious—like having a pet made entirely of good weather and positive attitude.
"Easy there, buddy," Harry said, patting Aether's surface. "We haven't even figured out what we're hunting yet. But yeah..." He looked around at the assembled group of legendary figures, cosmic entities, and magical disasters waiting to happen. "Unconventional threat management does sound exactly like our kind of fun."
From the edge of the clearing, a sound like a small earthquake with personality issues announced the arrival of Fluffy, the three-headed dog whose personality was somehow even more complex than his anatomy. Each massive head moved with surprising coordination, like a boy band that had spent decades perfecting their choreography and now performed it without thinking.
"Sounds promising," said Ricky, the leftmost head, his voice carrying the kind of dry British sarcasm that could wither flowers at fifty paces. His dark eyes sparkled with the particular brand of mischief that came from having decades of experience in making people question their life choices through the strategic application of brutal honesty. "The lad's got cosmic citizenship now, haven't you, Harry? Let's see if he can actually use it in a forest without tripping over a particularly aggressive squirrel or accidentally turning a butterfly into an interdimensional portal."
"Educational field testing under genuine operational conditions!" Simon declared from the middle head, his enthusiasm so pure and infectious that it was like being hit with a ray of concentrated optimism. "This is the real thing, isn't it? The big leagues! Nothing says 'comprehensive magical education' like fighting actual monsters while your mum watches and takes notes for your permanent record!"
"From a pedagogical standpoint," Stephen added with the kind of precise diction that suggested he'd been a professor in a previous life and old habits died hard, "this represents the crucial practical validation phase of Harry's educational development. Controlled training scenarios are no longer sufficient for assessment purposes. Only genuine stress-testing under authentic field conditions will determine whether his integrated capabilities can perform effectively under pressure."
Harry raised an eyebrow, a gesture he'd inherited from his father and perfected through months of dealing with beings whose idea of normal conversation involved words like 'pedagogical' and 'stress-testing.' "So basically, you're saying it's time to throw me in the deep end and see if I sink, swim, or accidentally invent a new branch of physics that makes everyone's head hurt?"
"Precisely," Stephen said with the satisfaction of someone whose point had been understood exactly as intended. "Although statistically speaking, there's also a significant probability of biting being involved."
"Lovely," Harry muttered, but he was grinning. After twelve months of training, the idea of facing a real challenge—something that wasn't designed by the Ancient One to teach him specific lessons at carefully measured intervals—was actually pretty exciting. "Just once, I'd like to fight something that doesn't have more teeth than a dental convention."
"Where's the fun in that?" Atalanta asked with the kind of grin that suggested she'd never met a dangerous situation she didn't want to poke with a stick.
Artemis beamed at the assembled group, her silver eyes glowing with the kind of maternal pride that somehow didn't clash with her aura of divine hunter who could probably take down a small army before breakfast. "Perfect. Zoe, Atalanta, Phoebe—I want you to find us something worthy of testing the Monkey King's capabilities. Something that requires creativity, strategic thinking, diplomatic solutions, and..." Her smile took on a slightly dangerous edge. "Perhaps an explosion or two. For educational purposes."
The three Huntresses exchanged glances that managed to hold an entire tactical conversation in the space of about three seconds. If you'd never seen immortal warriors conduct high-level strategic planning through nothing but eye contact, it was like watching the world's most efficient and deadly version of charades.
Phoebe straightened, already pulling out additional tablets and what appeared to be a folding chart table from somewhere in her gear. "I'll handle the preliminary scouting and threat assessment. Parameters, equipment loadout recommendations, terrain analysis, risk evaluation—consider it done."
"And I'll handle the fun part," Atalanta said, her grin widening as she adjusted her bow. "I've got a lead on something that should definitely qualify as 'interesting' by our standards."
"Verily," Zoe proclaimed, twirling an arrow between her fingers with the kind of casual skill that made it look like a majorette routine if majorettes were deadly accurate with projectile weapons, "ordinary is not a word that e'er attends upon the company of Artemis's Huntresses. We shall find thee a quarry most worthy of thy legendary status."
"Translation," Harry said dryly, "you're about to bring me something that bites harder than Ricky on a particularly sarcastic day."
"Oi!" Ricky barked, his massive head turning to fix Harry with a look of wounded pride. "I don't bite people. I just insult them until they regret being born and question every decision that led them to this moment."
"HA! Oh, that's RICH!" Jim's voice boomed through Harry's skull like surround-sound comedy hour. "Ricky's got Ricky Gervais mode fully activated, Simon's practically waving invisible pom-poms, and Stephen's over here filing mental reports like he's the bloody IRS with fur! This is the best supporting cast since—oh, I don't know—the Muppets Take Manhattan, but with more potential for cosmic disasters! I LOVE it!"
Harry smirked, emerald eyes dancing with silver-flecked mischief. "Jim, you're one to talk. You've been screaming about 'FIELD TESTING' for the last ten minutes. You sound like a motivational speaker who's been hitting the energy drinks too hard."
"EXACTLY!" Jim bellowed with shameless pride. "Because this is THE MOMENT, Harry-boy! We're not talking about practice swings in the training room anymore! This is GAME DAY! This is the CHAMPIONSHIP! This is—oh, if I had actual lungs instead of mystical energy patterns, I'd be hyperventilating right now from pure excitement!"
Aether zipped in a delighted loop around Harry's shoulders, leaving a trail of sparkling golden mist that smelled faintly of summer afternoons and the kind of perfect weather that made people want to have picnics. The cloud's movements were so enthusiastic that Harry was starting to wonder if clouds could actually get adrenaline rushes.
"Good boy, Aether," Harry said, reaching up to ruffle the cloud's substance like it was the softest fur imaginable. "At least one of you knows how to be excited without sounding like you're announcing the apocalypse."
"Normal excitement is for NORMAL people!" Jim proclaimed with the kind of grandiose declaration that belonged in a superhero movie. "We are EXTRAORDINARY! We are LEGENDARY! We are about to embark upon adventures that will be talked about in taverns and coffee shops across seventeen different dimensions! Let's be EXTRA! Let's be FABULOUS! Let's file this entire adventure under 'Wins So Epic They Need Their Own Category!'"
Phoebe was already walking toward the treeline with the kind of purposeful stride that suggested she had a mission briefing prepared in her head and possibly laminated for easy reference. "We'll scout the situation, assess the parameters, and identify a monster that matches our curriculum requirements."
"Curriculum requirements?" Harry snorted, shaking his head. "What is this, Monster Fighting 101? Should I be worried about getting graded on style points?"
"Oh, there will definitely be grading involved," Phoebe called back over her shoulder without breaking stride. "Pass or fail. No retakes. No extra credit."
Atalanta's grin turned positively predatory. "And trust me, you want to pass on the first try. Failing this kind of test usually involves digestion."
"Metaphorical digestion?" Harry asked hopefully.
"That would depend entirely on what we find," Atalanta replied cheerfully.
Zoe struck a dramatic pose with her arrow, looking like she was auditioning for a production of Hamlet directed by someone with a serious archery obsession. "Fear not, young prince of monkeys and mischief! Though ordinary may flee from our presence, adventure shall surely embrace thee with arms both welcoming and possibly tentacled."
"And there she goes again," Atalanta muttered, but her tone was fond. "Full Shakespeare mode. Don't encourage her, Harry. Last time someone encouraged her, she spent three hours explaining the symbolic significance of her arrows in iambic pentameter."
But Harry was grinning now, emerald eyes gleaming with silver flecks that seemed to catch and reflect light that wasn't actually there. He leaned back on Aether, looking every bit like someone who'd been waiting his entire life for exactly this moment—which, considering his heritage and education, was probably accurate.
"Fine," he said, spreading his arms in a gesture that managed to be both welcoming and slightly challenging. "Bring me something interesting. Just remember—if it turns out to be an enchanted garden gnome with anger management issues, I'm never letting any of you live it down."
"OHHHHH, SAVAGE BURN!" Jim whooped like a sports commentator who'd just witnessed the greatest comeback in the history of professional athletics. "Absolute ROAST! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, beings of various dimensional origins—THAT is why they call him the Monkey King! He slays monsters with his weapons, but he slays SOULS with his WORDS! Tip your waitresses, check your life insurance policies, and remember to file all burn reports in triplicate!"
Fluffy's three heads all groaned simultaneously, creating a harmony that sounded like a very large, very tired barbershop quartet.
"I honestly don't know how you live with that staff in your head," Ricky muttered, shaking his massive head in what might have been sympathy. "The constant noise alone would drive me to violence."
Harry's grin widened. "Easy. I insult him more creatively than he insults everyone else. It's all about maintaining the proper power dynamic."
"And I LOVE every second of it!" Jim yelled with pure, unfiltered joy. "It's called healthy banter, Ricky! Look it up! It builds character! It strengthens bonds! It provides entertainment for everyone within telepathic range!"
"It provides headaches," Artemis said, but she was smiling as she said it.
As Zoe, Atalanta, and Phoebe disappeared into the forest with the kind of coordinated efficiency that suggested they'd done this sort of thing before—possibly quite recently—Harry felt that familiar thrum in his veins. The one that said an adventure was about to crash into his life like a monster truck rally colliding with a philosophy convention.
Aether bobbed beneath him, practically vibrating with excitement, leaving little puffs of golden mist that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.
Yeah, Harry thought as he watched his mother's Huntresses vanish into the woods to find him something appropriately dangerous to fight, this was going to be fun. Educational, certainly. Dangerous, probably. Likely to result in property damage and confused government reports, almost definitely.
But fun? Absolutely.
After all, what was the point of being a cosmic Monkey King with divine parentage, twelve months of mystic arts training, and a magical staff with the personality of a caffeinated game show host if you couldn't treat every monster fight like the universe's most exciting field trip?
"Right then," he said to the clearing in general, settling back on Aether with the confidence of someone who'd been trained by the Ancient One and lived to tell about it. "Let's see what passes for 'worthy of the Monkey King' around here."
"OH, THIS IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD!" Jim practically sang in his head. "I can feel it, Harry! Something big is coming! Something with teeth and attitude problems and probably way too many eyes! This is going to be LEGENDARY!"
"It better be," Harry said, patting Aether as the cloud did a little anticipatory wiggle beneath him. "Otherwise, I'm going back to Kamar-Taj and telling everyone that the great Artemis sent me to fight something boring."
"You wouldn't dare," Artemis said, but there was a challenge in her voice that suggested she was already planning something that would definitely not be boring.
Harry's grin was pure Loki mischief crossed with Artemis confidence, with just enough of his own personality thrown in to make it uniquely dangerous.
"Try me," he said.
And in the distance, something roared.
---
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