[UNDER HEAVY REVISION] After receiving an unexpected package from an unexpected sender, seventeen-year-old Amelia Kingston is thrown into the prestigious Olympian High. For someone whose life revolved around constant transferring to schools due to h...
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I looked around the space in front of me. There were rows and rows of seats at the bleachers on both sides of the place, and a wide, red rubber mat covered most of the floor.
"Where's everybody?" I asked as I scanned the empty gym. "This place is usually full of people."
"I cleared them out," he said smugly. "Perks of being the principal's son."
"Well, lucky you, you spoiled brat," I teased. "But where's Athena and Poseidon? I thought you three were going to teach me or something."
"They won't be joining us today. I told them I'm the one who's going to train you first," he said. "The three of us, as well as our mother, finally agreed that we'll let you join us in our next mission."
"Oh, that's great!"
Zeus walked towards me and started circling around, his hands behind his back. "But, of course, you'll have to get through a series of intense training for you to be prepared. It won't be much, since the mission will be a few weeks from now, but it'll be enough for you to know how to survive. I hope."
He stopped in front of me.
"Okay. . . What will you teach me then?"
Zeus went back from his initial position and took a huge duffel bag that I've noticed just now. He came back and let the bag go, revealing a bunch of. . .
"Are those weapons?" My eyes widened at the sight of the shining metal objects in front of me.
"Yep." He bent down to take out a familiar iron sword and inspected it closely. "I specialize in weaponry, particularly in close-range weapons. Like swords and stuff."
"Wow, that sounds. . . great," I said. "But shouldn't I start with basic things, like hand-to-hand combat or something like that?"
"Nope." Zeus gestured at the bag of weapons. "Okay, the first step of the training: Take your pick."
"Wait, what? I'll have to. . . choose?"
"I really can't force you to use a weapon that doesn't fit you," he said. "That will make it difficult for you to master it."
"But what if I don't know what I like?" I asked. "What if I choose a useless weapon or, or what if it's not—"
"Whoa, whoa. Just chill out, okay?" He patted my shoulder. "Just take a look at every weapon, feel them for a bit. If one of them gives you this— how can I say it— a feeling of. . . oneness, then it's the perfect one."
A feeling of oneness? That's kinda confusing.
"Okay, then." I squatted down near the bag and began rummaging through its items.
The first thing I saw was a wooden bow carved with slim curves along its edges. The bow's appearance reminded me of a certain silver bow that we lost a couple of weeks ago. Shaking the thought away, I set it aside and continued searching.
