"You said you're visiting your girlfriend?"
"Triton, I think you're intentionally ignoring this, but, we're not dating."
"But…you want to?"
"I don't even know if I want to."
"But, she has eyes? That work? She's not blind?" Triton asked me, trying—but not succeeding—to hide a grimace at the way I was struggling to fit into my shirt. He was giving me a very unimpressed look.
"And, she's, like, a female friend. One that likes you romantically. Are you married to the idea of wearing that?"
I ignored the judgmental look on his face as I struggled with my shirt again. I wasn't too sure about the second thing, but something told me that even if I corrected him, he'd just talk over me again.
"Yep."
According to Delta, the water here wasn't ordinary; it was infused with nutrients and latent energy designed to draw out the absolute best in anyone who lived beneath the waves. The Atlanteans had perfected it over millennia, ensuring their environment did more than sustain life—it enhanced it.
Delta explained that the water was part of the city's defense, in a way. Every drop was supercharged with trace minerals, magical properties, and elements I couldn't even pronounce, all calibrated to unlock latent potential in its residents. It wasn't just for show—Atlantis needed its people strong, sharp, and capable of protecting the city from the threats that lurked in the depths.
The water did more than keep you hydrated—it rebuilt you, constantly fine-tuning your body like a living machine.
So, even though I'd only been here a few weeks, my body already looked and felt way different. I was stronger, faster, and more resilient in ways I couldn't fully wrap my head around yet. My muscles felt denser, my reflexes sharper, and I'd caught myself moving in ways I didn't think I was capable of before.
But, that mixed with [Godly Constitution] was a real pain in the ass as far as fitting into my clothes went.
When I first got down here, I had stood at the measly height of 5'3. 5'3. Right now, I was standing at above 5'10. Just above. My scrawny frame just wasn't scrawny anymore. I was lean and honestly kind of shredded—the abs that had been starting to be just a bit visible were now pretty well-defined. My arms (even the still healing one) were toned, and my shoulders were built.
According to Triton, my back looked nice, too. He gave me some weird run-through on how cut my lower back looked, but I just took it in stride anyway.
"I just…can't fit…" I tried in vain to keep pulling the shirt over my body. This was probably the largest article of clothing I had, formally speaking, but it wasn't budging. It felt like I was trying to dress myself in a wet towel, or something.
I tugged a little too hard, and it ripped. Not just like a tiny little harmless rip in the fabric, but a water-enhanced complete tear down the middle. I held the two barely connected scraps of fabric in my hand, glaring at the shirt.
"Yeah, no, you're done for," Triton called out from my bed. "There's been a little wrinkle in your plans, eh, brother?"
"I'm sure it's fixable," I swear Triton flicked his finger, and the shirt finished ripping completely.
I groaned, but Triton clapped happily. He looked like that's what he'd wanted to happen from the very start.
"Oh, thank goodness! That rag finally ripped. Any longer, and I would've gone in and eviscerated it myself. Come on, little brother," Triton bounced off my bed, grabbing my shoulder. "My turn, now. I've got some clothes that'll fit. I think, anyway. You're a lot more ripped than I am. The ice cream here is just too good. And the cooks make the best fries. Where do fries even come from? I don't think we get potatoes down here. I know—I should start working out with you!"
I blinked—the man had just cycled through four different conversation points. I tried to focus on the most important one.
"Sure, thanks for the bailout. I train every day, so you'd have to devote a lot of time to that, but I'm game if you are."
"It's settled!" Triton yelled, completely disregarding the fact that it was like six in the morning. I think one of the naiads passing by my room yelped and dropped a tray of fruit that was probably meant for my stepmom. "Triton and Percy, hardcore training sesh, first thing tomorrow morning! Now, what sort of clothes do you want?"
"Well, I don't know," I replied lamely. "This, um, girl enjoys fancy stuff, but I don't, uh, know where she is right now, so to speak. She was planning on traveling this summer."
"Oh, like she likes traveling?" Triton hummed to himself as I followed him out of my room. We started walking through the palace, all the nereids and naiads looking at my bare chest like Christmas had come early. "That's cool."
Yeah, I supposed it was pretty cool. We walked in silence for a bit before Triton stopped us.
"Ah, here we are."
Triton's room, for lack of a better word, was decked. Whereas my room was sparse and limited—basically a hotel room, honestly—his was extra in every single way imaginable. No, really.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was that his room was easily over three times the size of mine. In the far-right corner, there was an NBA regulation-sized hoop, with a polished court that went up to half. Instead of the little semicircle at the half, there was a picture of Triton's face, and the court was a blue-green color scheme. There was an automatic ball machine, too—the ones that automatically get your rebound and shoot the ball back to you.
If that wasn't ridiculous enough, across from the court, he had a food court. There was one of those high-tech soda machines—you know, the ones at the movie theater that are touchscreen. The ones where you can pick the soda you want, the flavor, how much, how much ice, the caffeine—the works.
Next to that, he had a popcorn maker, a pretzel stand that was being magically operated, and a pizza oven that was constantly cooking. My jaw dropped when I saw that he had a slushie and an ICEE machine right next to each other. He also had a candy bar. Yeah. An honest-to-Zeus candy bar in his room.
Next to the candy bar, he had a real bar with so many alcoholic drinks that even I couldn't name more than a quarter of them. Shaking my head slightly, I turned to his bed, which was the size of four of my beds put together. Across from the bed, he had the biggest TV I've seen in my entire life, with a variety of gaming consoles hooked up at the bottom.
In the left corner, he had a gigantic desk with a glowing PC on it. I don't mean, like, RGB glowing—the entire PC was giving off an ethereal green glow.
"Ten thousand frames per second," Triton said proudly. "Dad had it made for me a while back."
"You must not lose any games," I joked, ignoring the slight feeling of envy I got the more I looked around his room. I wasn't expecting much but knowing that my dad still did this for one of his other sons and then gave me that hotel room made me feel a bit weird. "What's in that PC, anyway?"
"Eh. Some Hephaestus parts. You want a drink?" Triton said, floating over to his food court. "Ah, wait, you're going to see your girl. I almost forgot. Closet!"
THUD!
My jaw dropped again. Instead of a closet like I had, Triton's closet was just a door. I know, super exciting, oh, it's a door—just wait.