Franks's POV

As I stared up at the Emperor's Box, I could feel my hands quiver. My skin felt sweaty and I itched to grab my bow so as to shoot six arrows into the monster's skull. One for each demigod – including Percy – plus a spare to put where his monstrous baby-maker hid.

Looking around at our small group, I felt the little courage I had had mustered up within the past few minutes shrivel up into something small and useless. I couldn't fight my friends – even if I wanted to.

Out of the four of us, I was the least experienced – and the only one with a long-range weapon. I was a single Roman fighting against three Greeks who knew each others fighting styles, which was both an advantage and a disadvantage. They didn't know what I could do, I didn't know what they could do.

But I know what they have done. What they have accomplished.

I relaxed my posture and sighed out, letting the tension drain out of my face. I had to do this, for the quest, for Rome. Even if I wasn't calm or ready, I needed to act like I was. A weakness is something your enemy can exploit, in the words of Lupa, Do not show them any weakness, Zhang.

"Competitors, Creatures and Spirits alike!" the leading monster spoke with a malicious snarl, "The first task begins momentarily!"

I forced my breathing to stay steady, unlike Piper's hitching breaths. I could not show any weakness. For Rome.

"... a series of events that challenge the capabilities of respectable monsters – and the low-life scum known as demigods. The first task assesses fighting style and ability, the survival instinct that allows monsters to survive against the odds." a shadow crossed the monster's face, "And so, the first task:

"As the common mythological lore of old states, 'each competitor must show their qualities that match those of a belief, no matter the situation'. So, this battle determines the chosen path of competitors... and show whom may be the most powerful. A fight until only one stands – a free-for-all."

Despite already knowing the truth, I gulped. I had to fight my friends, and not just for show... or to practice.

This was the real deal.

I looked at my friends and then to myself, inspecting my hands as possibilities ran through me. There were several things I could do, but none of them matched any of the beliefs. Still, it would have to do...

"Half-Bloods, your first trial starts now! Fight!"

I looked as my friends charged one another, and in that moment I took off, flying high into the sky as I shrunk into a hawk. I needed to see their techniques before I stepped in – Romans didn't fight without a plan.

So I made my plan: observe, then attack.