AN: 4th part,

While Paul waited with Sally for Percy, he came to a realization as he watched the demigods clean away all of the major signs and damage of the fight. He realised new things entirely about this seemingly mythical world.

He realised that this new world was a scary, bloody, and unjust one. A world where powerful beings forced their children to fight for them, just because of their parentage. A world where little boys and girls just like the boy with the blond hair died every day, with resentment in their hearts.

And rightfully so, Paul thought, as he watched the demigods cart off their dead, tears streaming down all but a couple faces. And the faces that weren't marred by tears were stony, and cut off. They moved robotically, as if all they wanted was to curl up and cry but yet they were forcing themselves to be strong.

Paul shook his head, this is ridiculous was all he could think. These are kids and they've just fought a war and they're too scarred to even cry.

Not one of them looked over twenty, and they were forced to carry their sisters, brothers and loved ones dead bodies over to the vans so that they could be carted off to camp to be prepared for burning.

And where were the gods?

Yes, where were the immortal, all powerful beings responsible for this mess? Were they down here, on the streets, comforting dying friends?

Or trying to carry off dead sibling's without breaking down in tears?

Or going around, from fallen warrior to fallen warrior, as he watched one little girl, who couldn't have been older than 8 do, and pry they're weapons from their weapons from their cold, lifeless, and often bloody hands so that future generations could use them?

No, the gods were up on Olympus, safe and sound, already probably arguing pettishly about what rewards to dole out to the heroes.

And what about the heroes down here, he thought.

What about the kids who gave there all in the fight, who fought and fought and were prepared to die but just because they weren't commanders, because they were too young, or even simply because the gods only wanted to shine the spotlight on some of them. On the demigods who were children of the big gods, the demigods whose parents decided to bring them forward.

Oh yes, Sally and Percy had told him all about the gods, and their favoritism.

And what was the reward for these heroes?

What will happen to the hard workers, who are carting away their dead?

What rewards will the heroes who are scrambling around, desperately trying to manipulate the mist to fix the damages left by the war have?

Or the heroes who helped by moving mortals away from harm during the battle?

Or the medics who, though they were too valuable to risk in battle, without which this entire war would not have gone on?

Or the heroes, who fought and fought for Olympus, for their friends. And they fought so hard that in the end, they gave it their all.

They died unnamed, and unremembered, just like the little blonde boy. What happened to them? Who would honor them? Those who died without a big fanfare, who simply didn't dodge far enough to avoid that one enemy spear, or fought one monster to many, until their luck ran out. What would happen to their memory?

Paul shook his head as Sally pulled him inside the Empire State building, before now; he knew that this world was dangerous. He and Sally worried about Percy constantly.

But somehow, amidst the flying horses, and strawberry fields, somehow Paul had missed the hurt, and resentment. Somehow Paul hadn't seen the neglected look in the demigod's eyes. The look of being 17 years old, of knowing you were a demigod for 6 years, but also knowing that your parent didn't care enough to claim you. The knowing that at any moment, you could die. Knowing that this applied to all of your friends and loved ones as well. Knowing that no mere mortal could possibly understand all you've been through and that you still have to put up with their teasing and ridiculing regardless.

Paul had gone to teachers college; he knew enough child psychology to know that it wouldn't take long in these conditions before anyone would feel unloved and unwanted.

He couldn't even guess the emotional trauma all of these demigods were going through. He himself had tried not to kill any enemy half-bloods, but he hadn't been fighting for days on end, and he knew that the demigods who he fought with had been fighting so long, they had become desperate enough to kill.

It made him sick.

Sally was yelling at the security guard again, she'd been going off and on with him but Paul figured she need to. She needed to yell at someone.

He knew the feeling.