Leonidas—the original one—stared at his past self, walking through the castle. His steps were light and his expression lighter, as if the world was free of problems.
How far away from the truth that was. If anything, the world was full of problems, far too many problems, but they didn't matter to him; after all, he hadn't even awakened yet.
His cerulean gaze tracked his past life walking out of the castle and boarding a carriage. He knew where he would head, after all, this all had happened once before.
Vermillion Academy, the place of dreams.
Leonidas had studied there for a year himself, and it certainly lived up to its name. The academy was made by his grandfather after the Gods had died, 50 years ago.
From that point onwards, every year, without fail, it would produce some of the best warriors in the entire world, and it was also the place where Leonidas had gotten his own dream from.
