Ares spent the rest of the day lost in thought. His recent conversation with the headmaster had sent his mind spiraling, forcing him to question everything.
But it wasn't the headmaster who made his mind spiral the hardest, it was the prince.
Did he know about the new curriculum? Is that why he gave Ares the letter of recommendation?
But if that were true—why?
Why would the prince want him to travel to the Wildlands? Or could it just be a coincidence?
After all, Ares hadn't even enrolled in the academy right away. How could the prince have planned something so far in advance?
Ares couldn't begin to understand the prince's motives. Ever since receiving that unexpected letter, he had found himself second-guessing everything—and everyone. Doubt came first now, trust a far distant second.
With a deep sigh, he pushed the thoughts away from his mind. Overthinking wouldn't help. What mattered now was the task ahead. Soon, he and his group would be leaving for the Wildlands, where they were expected to gain real battle experience in these war-torn times.
It wasn't long before exhaustion crept in and claimed him, and the boy drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He woke to a new day, then another, and another.
The days began to blur together, and before he knew it, the time had come—today, he and his group would leave the academy and travel to the outpost south of the Wildlands.
In the days before their departure, Ares had withdrawn from most of his classes. Instead, he spent his time training alone, avoiding theory lessons and, even more so, avoiding people.
Talking to kids his age—or rather, his apparent age—drained him.
They were far too childish and naive. However, he couldn't bring himself to truly blame them. After all, they were just children, unlike him.
He wasn't supposed to be here, not like this. He had reincarnated into this world with the mind of a young adult, and that separation—unseen but ever-present—made the gap between him and his peers feel like a chasm.
Ares took his time getting ready, lingering over the stack of letters from his mother. Some made him smile, bringing a fleeting warmth to his heart. Others were... less tender. Bordering on threatening, especially the ones where she practically forbade him from even thinking about going to the Wildlands.
He sighed as he read the last letter once again, regret flickering in his chest for ever telling her about the academy's new curriculum.
"That's what you get," he muttered to himself, folding the letter with care.
She had been the one to convince him the academy was the right path. And now? He was practically forced to head straight for the place she had forbidden him from ever going.
"Can't outplay fate," he muttered with a shrug, tucking the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Then, with a quiet breath, he stood up.
Finally ready to leave, Ares stepped out from the cozy warmth of his room and made his way toward the academy's main courtyard, where his group was scheduled to meet their supervisor.
The corridors were a blur of motion. Students brushed past him, racing back and forth in a frantic rush. With so many preparing to depart today, the usual calm had given way to chaos. The narrow halls were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the air buzzing with excitement, anxiety, and desperate pleas to stay.
Soon, he emerged into the wide-open courtyard, its ground paved with neatly laid bricks. Faculty buildings loomed on all sides, framing the space like silent sentinels. The scene before him was no less hectic—students clustered in noisy groups, hoisting bags, checking gear, or searching for their groups.
The overly crowded space made it nearly impossible to move. Still, after countless minutes of weaving through the sea of bodies, he finally saw a large banner held high above the crowd, the number 37 boldly displayed across it.
He made his way toward it, and as he approached, a familiar figure greeted him with a nod and a small smile.
"Selene," he recognized her instantly—the girl who'd helped him find the lecture hall on his first day.
And next to her…
"Must be Lucian," Ares thought, eyeing the lanky student standing beside her—the one who'd arrived even later to class than he had.
"And you are?" a voice cut in sharply.
Ares turned his head toward the sound. Two boys stood there, nearly identical down to the last freckle—same sharp jawline, same piercing gaze, and both with their heads held high.
"The headmaster's sons… were twins?!" The realization hit him like a punch to the chest. Somehow, that detail had never occurred to him, and now, here they were—looking at him like he'd just stepped in something foul.
Before he could respond, one of the twins spoke again, his voice carrying a faint edge of smugness.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Huh?" Ares blinked.
"Your name," the twin clarified, crossing his arms.
"Ares,"
"Ares... I'm sure you must know who I am?"
"Caelum?" Ares guessed, his tone uncertain. He only knew the names of the students in his group, not their faces… and even if he did, how much would that help with identical twins?
"What?! I'm Castor! C-A-S-T-O-R," the boy snapped, his voice rising.
Behind him, Selene giggled softly, covering her mouth as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
The irritation spreading across Castor's face only made her laugh harder.
"Yeah, yeah," Ares muttered, clearly unbothered by the drama. His attention shifted toward the man standing beneath the fluttering banner.
It was their supervisor.
A tall young man with dark brown hair stood with his arms crossed, light silver armour gleaming faintly in the morning sun. He looked composed, calm—and far too serious for someone about to lead a group of kids into the Wildlands.
"I see you're all here," the man said, his voice steady. "My name is Victor Highseor. I will be your supervisor. We will depart at once. Lingering here will only delay our journey."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and made his way toward the academy stables, which were just beyond the courtyard.
There, a massive caravan awaited them—its polished wooden frame reinforced with iron bands appeared sturdy and worn by countless journeys. Hitched to it were three colossal horses, their size nearly double that of any horse Ares had ever seen on Earth. Muscles rippled beneath their coats, and their hooves struck the ground with thunderous weight.
He lingered for a while, staring at the creatures before Selene's voice snapped him out of the trance.
"You okay, Ares?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah," he said, shaking himself from the haze.
Then, he hurried toward the caravan and climbed in carefully, the wood creaking beneath his light weight as he stepped inside.