The three days before classes officially commenced stretched before Alexios like a blank scroll awaiting inscription. After so long playing the role of servant—constrained by schedules and orders—the sudden freedom to determine his own activities felt almost disorienting.
"Three days to prepare," he mused, examining the Academy materials Athena's attendants had left. "Three days to establish my foundation before the true game begins."
He spread the map across his desk, studying it with strategic precision. The Academy's layout revealed itself as a masterpiece of divine architecture—not merely beautiful but functional, designed to channel and contain various forms of supernatural energy. Training grounds situated to minimize collateral damage from novice godlings.
Libraries positioned along ley lines to enhance cognitive abilities. Dormitories arranged according to divine affiliation rather than random assignment.
"Clever," he acknowledged, noting how the transitional area where his quarters were located formed a buffer zone between servant spaces and true divine accommodations. "Hierarchy built into the very stones."
His finger traced potential patrol routes, emergency exits, blind spots in what appeared to be observation points. Old habits from his previous existence as a rebel against Olympus—always mapping escape routes, always identifying vulnerabilities.
"First objective," he decided, tapping the map decisively, "complete reconnaissance of accessible grounds. Learn the territory before the battlefield becomes crowded."
Next, he examined his class schedule with equal attention. As Athena had warned, it reflected his ambiguous status—neither servant nor acknowledged divine offspring. Basic combat training rather than the specialized classes offered to known demigods. Fundamental divine theory instead of advanced applications. History and protocol where others would study cosmic manipulation.
"The curriculum of an outsider," he noted with a wry smile. "Perfect for remaining underestimated."
Most notably, his evening hours remained entirely unscheduled—unlike higher-status students who received specialized twilight training in their hereditary powers. Those empty hours represented opportunity: time for his own clandestine development, away from watchful divine eyes.
"Now," he whispered, standing to stretch his increasingly powerful frame beneath its illusory disguise, "to make the most of these three days."
*
Dawn found Alexios already awake, his body requiring less sleep as divine essence continued strengthening his mortal shell. He dressed in the neutral gray Academy attire—deliberately ordinary, designed to mark him as present but unimportant in the divine hierarchy.
"Gray," he mused, examining his reflection in the small mirror above his washbasin. "Neither black nor white. Neither servant nor god. Fitting."
Aphrodite's pendant hung against his chest, its opalescent rose catching early light in shimmering patterns. Beside it, concealed but ever-present, the Forbidden Time artifact pulsed with its own subtle rhythms. Two talismans, two timelines, converging in his singular purpose.
The Academy grounds lay quiet in early morning light, most inhabitants still preparing for the influx of divine students. Perfect for unobserved exploration. Alexios set out with purposeful stride, his bronze token granting access to general areas without question.
He began with the training grounds—the spaces where physical combat and elemental manipulation would be taught. The main arena stretched vast and imposing, its floor composed of material that shifted subtly beneath his feet, adapting to provide optimal resistance for various fighting styles.
"Responsive terrain," he noted, crouching to examine the surface more closely. "More advanced than in my timeline. Interesting."
Surrounding the central space, equipment racks held training weapons of every conceivable design—some recognizable from mortal warfare, others so alien they defied categorization. All crafted with divine materials, capable of channeling various forms of supernatural energy without disintegrating.
Alexios lifted a simple training sword, testing its balance. Though designed for novices, it carried enchantments to respond to the wielder's innate abilities.
"Let's see what you make of me," he murmured to the weapon.
As his fingers closed around the hilt, the blade hummed with uncertain energy—pink lightning briefly dancing along its edge before subsiding into confused neutrality. Like Athena's diagnostic circle, the enchanted weapon couldn't properly categorize his unusual divine signature.
"Good," he noted with satisfaction, returning the sword to its rack. "Confusion is protection."
He continued his exploration methodically—the elemental training chambers where young gods practiced controlling their inherited powers; the meditation gardens where prophetic abilities were cultivated; the obstacle courses designed to test speed, agility, and quick thinking under pressure.
Each space revealed both opportunity and challenge. His unusual status would limit official access to many specialized training areas, but his growing power and centuries of experience—albeit from another timeline—would allow him to progress far more rapidly than expected once classes began.
By midday, he had mapped the eastern quadrant of the Academy in both physical steps and mental notes. Time to explore the social heart of the institution.
*
The Great Hall stood as the Academy's central gathering place—a magnificent space where students would take meals, receive announcements, and engage in the complex social dance of divine hierarchy.
Massive tables of polished redwood arranged in concentric circles, their positioning clearly indicating status—innermost for the highest-ranking divine offspring, outermost for lesser demigods and special cases.
Alexios noted a small table in the furthest ring, separated slightly from the others. The space assigned to him, no doubt—not quite servant, not quite acknowledged student. Isolation disguised as accommodation.
"Predictable," he murmured, running his fingers along the table's edge. "Keep the unknown quantity observable but separate."
A young nymph approached, her willow-green hair flowing like living branches around her face. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but suspicious. Clearly, few wandered the Great Hall during preparation days.
"Just familiarizing myself with the layout," Alexios replied with the perfect balance of deference and confidence. "I'm a new student—Alexios."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh! You're the... um..."
"The unusual case," he supplied with a self-deprecating smile. "The servant elevated to student status. Yes, that's me."
She relaxed slightly, curiosity overcoming caution. "I'm Melina, assistant to the dining coordinator. You're the first student to arrive, you know. The others come with much more... ceremony."
"I imagine they do." Alexios gestured to his assigned table. "Hence my special accommodations?"
Melina had the grace to look embarrassed. "Those arrangements come from above. I don't question divine decisions."
"Wise policy," he agreed. "Perhaps you could tell me about the typical dining protocols? As a former servant, I understand service procedures but not student expectations."
The simple request—and the opportunity to explain something to someone else—dissolved the last of her reservations. For the next hour, Melina guided him through the complicated social choreography of Academy dining—which gods received offerings first, which families traditionally sat together despite ancient rivalries, which foods were ceremonially significant versus merely nutritional.
"Fascinating," Alexios commented, memorizing details that might prove useful for future navigation of divine politics. "And where do instructors sit?"
"The raised dais," Melina pointed to an elevated platform overlooking the circular arrangement. "Goddess Athena takes the central position when she attends, which isn't often. Day-to-day oversight falls to the lesser immortals who serve as primary instructors."
"And who are they this term?" he inquired casually.
Melina launched into an extensive explanation of the teaching hierarchy—minor gods responsible for basic combat training, specialized nymphs overseeing elemental instruction, ancient heroes teaching history and strategy. Most were names Alexios recognized from his previous timeline, though their positions sometimes differed.
"—and combat fundamentals are under Achilles this term," she concluded. "He comes every few years."
Alexios stiffened imperceptibly at the name. Achilles. One of the few heroes he hadn't encountered in his original timeline—the legendary warrior had already fallen before Alexios rose to prominence.
To learn from a figure of such mythic significance would be both opportunity and challenge.
"Thank you, Melina," he said with genuine appreciation. "Your knowledge has been invaluable."
She blushed green, her nymph heritage showing in the chlorophyll rising to her cheeks. "It's nothing. Good luck with your studies, Alexios. You seem... different from what I expected."
"I get that a lot," he replied with a smile that revealed nothing.
*
The Academy library occupied the entirety of the northern quadrant—not a single building but a complex of interconnected chambers, each dedicated to different branches of divine knowledge. Unlike mortal libraries with their linear arrangement of information, this collection existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously, volumes sometimes shifting position based on the reader's need rather than fixed categorization.
Alexios approached with appropriate caution. Divine libraries contained knowledge that could literally melt unprepared minds or ignite spontaneous transformations in readers who absorbed concepts beyond their evolutionary capacity.
At the entrance, a figure sat so still he might have been mistaken for a statue—an ancient satyr, his goat legs tucked beneath him, his weathered face bearing the unmistakable marks of one who had read too deeply of forbidden knowledge.
Milky eyes turned toward Alexios despite apparent blindness.
"First visitor of the season," the satyr observed, his voice like parchment sliding against stone. "And an unusual one at that. Neither fish nor fowl, neither god nor mortal. Interesting."
Alexios bowed respectfully. "I seek permission to browse the general collections, Elder. My token grants basic access."
The satyr extended a gnarled hand. "Let me feel it. Bronze tells me more than eyes ever could."
Alexios placed his Academy token in the ancient palm. The satyr's fingers closed around it, his expression shifting through confusion, surprise, and finally something approaching amusement.
"Curiouser and curiouser," he muttered. "The Goddess of Wisdom plays a deep game with you, young one. Or perhaps it plays with her. Hard to tell which is the piece and which the player."
"I don't understand," Alexios said carefully.