Order was the first to speak. "Do you wish to fight this futile battle, or will you surrender? I can't let you free, but perhaps one day we can come to an accord. I know you hate this world much. You have a chance to see its end. What do you say?" She spoke, with a tone that seemed cautious, if not respectful. Percy simply shook his head in answer. "I may dislike Earth for the most part, but in spite of all that has happened and all I stand for, I can't simply let the world go. Besides," Percy added, a grin full of malice forming. "Your power calls my name. I think I shall claim it." Order narrowed her eyes, but before engaging in battle, she spread her arms wide. Her aura billowed out wide, extended as far as it could go. Percy stepped one foot back, bracing himself against the floor, holding as arm up as though sun was shining in his eyes.

He heard Order's voice from what seemed a far distance. "The world is closed off to only us now. No petty, weak Olympians to interrupt, no demigods to watch you die, not a single being to admire this duel. Prepare yourself, the designer of the galaxies is here to bring your demise." Percy finally stood up straight, his eyes no longer squinting. He sensed the slowly approaching opponent of his, but something seemed different. When he made out her figure, his eyes widened dramatically. The being seemed to be wreathed in white light, her face the picture of confidence, a sword in both hands that seemed perfectly balanced. They were engraved with ancient markings, most of which he couldn't read, but one he managed to translate from Greek. Σειρά. Order. He had no time to do anything else, as he drew Riptide with a smooth motion and put the blade in position to stab straight forward. However, before he could make a move, he had been pierced by a sharp edge, and he watched as it was driven through his stomach. He looked at the tip with morbid fascination. When he looked up where his enemy previously was, he saw nobody. Evidently, they had flashed behind him.

Percy rolled and kicked out, dropping to the ground in a fast motion. He didn't make contact with anything, but he saw as Order leaped backward to avoid falling down. With the sword dislodged from his gut, Percy raised back up, before springing backward, feeling numb. Order looked on as he did so, her head tilting to the side ever so slightly. Before her eyes, the wound shut itself, and a look of detachment overcame her expression. She closed her eyes, willing her essence to conjoin with the weapon she held and that which was on the ground. With a few words whispered from her lips, the swords started to glow much as she did. Order suddenly felt much weaker, like a piece of her had been taken.

Percy looked at his opposition, shock on his expression. She had separated her power, channeling her essence into a weapon so it could harm him. He saw her stumble slightly indicating the loss of vitality that resulted from such an effort. He looked at his beloved sword, seeing that it already was flaring with a dark aura, tentacles of shadow extending from the hilt he held and darkening the considerable brightness that was shown throughout the camp he fought in. He felt like pure shadow himself. But when one of the tentacles got close to Order, she stabbed it quickly, resulting in a screech of pain from Perseus. He was on a knee, rising slowly, a hateful glare trained onto Order.

With a cry, he flew at her, sword pointed at Order's own. She mirrored what he did, a shout of anguish emerging instead. Before they met, they both melted into their respective elements, Percy into a dark, black and red darkness and Order into a bright, pure white. They emerged, swinging their blades in a deadly dance, the ringing of each collision echoing for miles. Light each connection with the other blade caused the opponent to lose energy, damaging them in superficial ways.

A thrust was parried and returned, only to be met with a hard chop as the two stayed a close distance. No dent was made on the two weapons from the power imbued in each. But neither character could outmatch the other, every attempted jab and slice met with another block, or a kick. Each of the fighters had no sense of form, battling as if the sword was meant to be wielded by themselves. Order rolled backwards and took hold of the sword she had impaled Percy with earlier, hoping that duel wielding the blades would turn the tide. She also expended more energy into increasing her aura and bearing down on Percy's own, hoping to entrap him or otherwise suffocate the person of the dark. Not to be outdone, Percy let out a roar and bid his element to press onto the encroaching light as best it could, meeting it in the middle and pressing the brightness back onto the person whom had attacked him. As this happened, Order trapped Riptide between the two blades she wielded, forcing a test of strength between the two beings, sweat pouring down Percy's face, Orders' expression not changing from a pure blank disconnection. Percy felt as she forced him down, bringing him to a single knee as her sword crept its way to his throat. He had just felt like he'd gotten a good hold on the competition when she disengaged, slicing at his chest. He cried out as the blade made contact, cutting deep, and Order left it there to wreak as much havoc as possible. Attempting to get away, she flashed to a safe distance.

Percy refused to go out like that.

Shadow traveling with as much effort he could, he found himself beside the embodiment of perfection, his sword already ripping into her arm. Pain crossed her face before she yelled and a wave of force sent Percy flying, where he crashed into a wall that he didn't see before. A groan escaped his mouth as the weapon inside him slowly slid out, leaving a gaping wound, black blood soaking his clothing. He felt more numb than before, as if the shadows were leaving him, stripping his body of the only thing he had. Standing up with a mountain of determination, Percy rose to his full height, lifting his head to see Order sprinting at him as fast she could with her lack of health. He pulled Riptide out of his pocket, blood spattering his arm as he did so, and attempted to protect himself. Order slammed into him, his blade sinking into her, hitting vital organs. With the one arm she had left, Order returned the favor as best she could, only managing to scratch the surface of his skin. With a look of utter agony, she dissolved into the light she had created, seeming to vanish entirely. The cage of light Percy had been entrapped in faded around him, leaving him standing in the midst of Camp Half-Blood, just before the cabin of his father. He sank to the ground, his breath coming in short gasps, hand pressed to his chest, resting his back against the door of his former home. His vision seemed to blur, as demigods ran by before seeing him, and stopping, almost like they couldn't believe their eyes. His ability to absorb the power of other beings had failed, as he felt none of the usual return of health from his slaying Order. Instead, he felt even worse, like he was fading. With a poof, Nemesis appeared beside him, but he couldn't tell if she was real or he imagined her presence. Many more demigods appeared, some of which he recognized. Annabeth herself had made an appearance, tears falling freely. Before he could see anymore, he averted his eyes, coughing up blood.

When he looked back up, he was met with the eyes of his lover, who leaned in to kiss him, taking advantage of the last moments he had. He heard what seemed like a lot of loud gasps, but he didn't process any of it. His vision dimmed further than ever. Blackness seemed to cover his eyes, and in a few seconds he could no longer see. A look of regret flashed onto his face before he closed his eyes.

Percy Jackson died.

Chaos looked up from his position in Tartarus, seeing the most powerful, loyal, and terrifying demigod in history take his last breath. He mourned the loss of this person. Nobody had ever been so worthy of the power bestowed on them. Despite the corruption his friends had caused, Percy was a good soul. The best soul.

He would never be heard from again, but he had made a lasting impact.

One could only hope, that in some afterlife, Perseus was living his best life.

The immortal, undying being had truly fallen.

In any known shape or form, Perseus was gone.