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Summary

His eyes glittered mischievously as he scanned the class, white teeth biting anxiously at his bottom lip. The presence I felt was him. The boy at the front of the classroom. Um, hi. I'm Leo. Try not to freak out, but I'm a god. Specifically, I'm a low-tier god; I represent pride and loyalty. I know, you're disappointed because I'm not the god of space or unicorns or anything cool. A lot of people get like that when I tell them. Now, I know what you're probably thinking: But Leo, how can you be seventeen if you're a god? Shouldn't you be, like, three hundred or something? You see, gods are reborn, aka reincarnated, aka whatever-you-wanna-call-it, so they unfortunately don't live to be over three hundred. I know, it's confusing. While it's true I'm a god, immortality isn't a part of the package. In reality, I'm basically just a meat shield for a god's essence. The original gods, the Olympians, made some stupid pact long ago to be reborn into human bodies so they wouldn't hold on to ancient grudges or something like that. Weird, huh? Now I'm stuck with some old guy's powers because he didn't wanna fight his siblings anymore. Plus, it didn't really help. Gods are turning against us every day, ones that aim to take over the world. They formed into a huge organization and are sort of causing fights everywhere. Ironic, huh?