The Godslayer's Path

'Kyros! Kyros!' The sharp voice of Instructor Darius rang through the lecture hall. 

'Are you sleeping again?'

Kyros woke up with a start, blinking rapidly as the sunlight streaming through the tall windows momentarily blinded him. He sat upright, his pale face flushing as whispers filled the room. The other students smirked or exchanged amused glances, all too familiar with this scene.

'Huh?' Kyros muttered, his voice barely audible. He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Rows of wooden desks, students in polished academy uniforms, and a chalkboard inscribed with glowing magical runes filled the room. Everything felt… off. It wasn't the battlefield he'd last seen.

'What happened?' he thought.

'I thought I died.'

Instructor Darius's glare could have sliced through steel. The man's imposing figure loomed over Kyros, his arms crossed and his boots clicking menacingly against the stone floor as he approached. 

'Do you think this is a place to nap and spout nonsense?' 

'You may find yourself kicked out of the Olympian Sanctum Academy sooner than you think!'

The room fell silent, every student now watching the scene unfold. Kyros tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

'Kicked out?' he asked, his tone laced with mock innocence. 

'But, Instructor, wouldn't that deprive the academy of its most promising student?'

A wave of stifled laughter rippled through the room. Darius's face darkened, his jaw tightening.

 'Promising? If you spent half the effort on your studies that you do on your arrogance, you might actually live up to that claim.'

Kyros leaned back in his seat, feigning a yawn. 

'I'll take that as a compliment, Instructor. After all, you didn't deny it.'

The room erupted into laughter this time, the students unable to contain themselves. Darius's hand slammed against Kyros's desk, silencing the crowd instantly. 

'Out!' he shouted. 

'If you're so keen on being a disruption, you can spend the rest of the day cleaning the training grounds. Perhaps some physical labor will remind you of the discipline this academy demands!'

Kyros's smirk faded slightly. He glanced at the polished academy uniform he wore and sighed.

'Cleaning duty, huh? Well, at least it'll give me some fresh air. This lecture was suffocating anyway.'

As Kyros rose from his seat, he caught a glimpse of the girl seated a few rows ahead. Alethea Astera, with her silvery hair tied neatly behind her head and her piercing blue eyes focused on him, shook her head ever so slightly. There was no malice in her gaze, only a mixture of exasperation and curiosity.

'Great,' Kyros muttered to himself. 'The most brilliant student in the academy thinks I'm a fool. Just what I needed.'

The sun hung high in the sky as Kyros made his way to the training grounds, a vast expanse of dirt and stone bordered by towering statues of the Gods. Each statue seemed to judge him with unblinking eyes, their cold expressions a reminder of the divine presence that loomed over this world.

'So, this is my life now,' Kyros mused, picking up a broom that looked like it had seen better days. His body felt weak, frail even. Every movement required more effort than he was accustomed to. 

'How did I go from a warrior feared by Gods to this?'

As he swept the grounds, fragments of memories began to surface. He remembered the battle against the divine armies, the moment he broke through the barriers of the mortal realm and entered the divine. The faces of the Gods—their fear, their rage—were etched into his mind. And then, the flash of light. The pain. The darkness.

'Why am I here?' Kyros muttered under his breath. 'Why now?'

'Talking to yourself already? That didn't take long.'

Kyros turned to see a tall boy with a muscular build and a smug grin approaching. It was Cassian, one of the academy's top students and a vessel-in-training for a Lesser God. Cassian's uniform was spotless, and his golden hair practically gleamed in the sunlight.

'Let me guess,' Cassian continued.

'Darius finally got tired of your antics and sent you out here to do something useful for once?'

Kyros leaned on the broom, eyeing Cassian lazily.

'And here I thought the Gods had already sent their finest to oversee us. Imagine my disappointment when it turned out to be you.'

Cassian's grin faltered for a moment before he laughed.

'You've got a sharp tongue for someone who's barely passing his classes. Maybe you should focus on surviving the academy instead of making enemies.'

Kyros shrugged.

'Enemies? You? Please. That would imply I take you seriously.'

Cassian's expression darkened. He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a threatening tone.

'Careful, Kyros. Some of us have the power to back up our words.'

Kyros's eyes narrowed, his smirk returning.

'Power, huh? Let me guess, you're going to throw some sparks around and call it divine grace? How original.'

Cassian's hands clenched into fists, but before he could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.

'Enough.'

Both boys turned to see Alethea standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her gaze sharp. 'The training grounds aren't your personal arena. Save it for the sparring matches.'

Cassian took a step back, his confidence faltering under Alethea's scrutiny.

'Of course, Alethea,' he said smoothly. 'I was just reminding our friend here of his place.'

Alethea's eyes shifted to Kyros, who gave her a mock salute with the broom.

'My savior. Truly, I am blessed.'

She sighed, clearly unimpressed.

'Just get back to work, Kyros. And Cassian, don't you have better things to do?'

Cassian hesitated before walking away, muttering under his breath. Alethea lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on Kyros.

'What?' he asked, leaning on the broom again. 'Come to lecture me too?'

'No,' she replied, her tone measured. 'I just find it strange. You act like you don't care, but there's something about you that doesn't add up. Who are you, really?'

Kyros's smirk faltered for the briefest of moments.

'Just a student trying to make it through the day,' he said lightly. 'Nothing more, nothing less.'

Alethea studied him for a moment longer before turning to leave. 'If that's true, then prove it. Start taking things seriously.'

As she walked away, Kyros watched her, a flicker of intrigue crossing his mind.

'Interesting,' he muttered. 'Maybe this life won't be so boring after all.'

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Kyros sat alone on the training grounds. The air was cool, and the statues of the Gods cast long shadows across the dirt. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint traces of power within him. It was there, buried deep, but it was a mere fraction of what he once had.

'I'll get it back,' he vowed silently. 'Every ounce of it. And when I do, the Gods will regret ever crossing me.'

A sudden chill ran down his spine, and he opened his eyes. The shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, and a faint, mocking laugh echoed through the air. Kyros stood, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.

'Who's there?' he demanded, his voice steady despite the unease creeping over him.

From the shadows emerged a figure clad in dark robes, their face obscured by a hood. 'Kyros Polemistes,' the figure said, their voice low and resonant. 'The Gods know you're here. And they are watching.'

Kyros's eyes narrowed.

'Good. Let them watch. It'll make their defeat all the more satisfying.'

The figure chuckled, their presence fading into the darkness.

'We shall see.'

Kyros stood still for a moment, the tension lingering in the air. He smirked, his resolve hardening.

'Let the games begin.'