Part of their problem was Percy. He fought like a demon, whirling through the defenders’ ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling undertheir feet, slashing with his sword instead of stabbing like a Roman would, whacking campers with the flat of his blade, and generally causing masspanic. Octavian screamed in a shrill voice—maybe ordering the First Cohort to stand their ground, maybe trying to sing soprano—but Percy put astop to it. He somer saulted over a line of shields and slammed the butt of his sword into Octavian’s helmet. The centurion collapsed like a sockpuppet.