Upon returning to Peverell Manor, I set my plans into motion, selecting the servants who will accompany me on my conquest of the world of *Legacies*. Three will suffice—each a prized specimen of supernatural power: the fierce vampire girl, the relentless werewolf girl, and the enigmatic centaur girl. They are to be my instruments, my envoys, my claim upon this new domain.
Before departure, they bid farewell to their families. Their mothers, wise in the ways of ambition, do not weep but rather charge them with a mission—expand their bloodlines, bring more members into their fold, and prove their worth in my service.
I leave behind my personal court, a collection of powerful witches bound to me: the Black sisters, Queenie Goldstein, the seventh-year witches swollen with my progeny, Harriet, Delphina, the dual incarnations of Lily Evans—both young and old—the former Minister of MACUSA, and the enigmatic Leta Lestrange. Each of them remains behind, their loyalty unquestioned, their purpose clear.
With everything prepared, I guide my chosen ones into my personal world, where my other conquests unfold before me. I survey them like a deity watching over his dominion.
In *Avatar*, my influence tightens its grip. Elsa and Katara's grandmother mold the next generation of waterbenders, shaping them into warriors under my command. General Iroh, spared from the treachery of his own kin, now dedicates himself fully to the training of firebenders, his wisdom unknowingly serving my ends.
The leader of the air nomads bends tradition to my will, training the young women of the tribe. Clarisse, my enforcer, hones them with military precision, preparing the Fire Nation princesses, Katara, Yue, and the chosen leader of the airbenders. Even Ty Lee, her sisters, and Mai fall into step, their skills sharpening for the inevitable conflicts to come.
I shift my gaze to *Naruko's* world, where Kushina and Tsunade orchestrate the unification of the clans, overseeing the delicate assimilation of the Hyuga. That world is stable for now—I need only watch and wait until the Chunin Trials, where my hand will steer the course of fate.
Then, there is *DC's* world, my island thriving under my unseen rule. The warriors train relentlessly, their hands calloused from the hunt, their minds sharpened like blades. Egyptian goddesses now walk among them, merging their divine power with the mortal strength of my chosen ones. But the game is far from over. The wish-granting gem of the dark god has yet to surface, and when it does, Cheetah will rise—and Atlantis will fall into my grasp.
In *Marvel's* world, Mar-Vell's ambition takes form—a spaceship, a gateway to the cosmos, the first step toward something far greater. But my focus is elsewhere. I already know where Bruce Banner hides, where his quiet existence masks the beast within. A team of my spies is dispatched, shadows moving unseen, their orders clear: watch his family, learn his weaknesses, and wait for the perfect moment. Meanwhile, in *Disney's* domain, new realms have surfaced—fresh lands to claim, new stories to rewrite in my image.
But for now, my attention shifts to *Legacies.*
I summon the maids I've chosen for this mission, their loyalty absolute. Turning to Isa, I give my command—open the portal at the precise moment when Hope Mikaelson meets Landon Kirby for the second time. A church, an exorcism, and a confrontation that will alter the course of their lives. I will be there to shape it.
The portal swirls to life, and we step through. Time bends around us. We arrive just moments before Hope reaches the church. Landon is already there, stepping outside, slipping his headphones on, oblivious to what's about to unfold. As we approach, he notices us, surprise flickering across his face. "Who are you?" he asks, suspicion lacing his voice.
I offer only a smile—calm, composed, yet carrying an undercurrent of something he cannot place. "We're here to help a friend in trouble."
My maids remain behind, watchful sentinels as I advance. The church doors, chained shut, stand between me and my objective. A minor inconvenience. With a single powerful kick, the chains shatter, the door crashing open just as a car pulls up. Mr. Saltzman steps out with Hope, their faces marked with confusion at the unexpected presence of outsiders. Their questions die on their lips as a low, menacing growl echoes from within the church.
I turn my gaze inward. There, in the dim light, stands a massive black wolf, almost human in size, primal fury radiating from him. Raphael.
A slow smile tugs at my lips. Without hesitation, I shift—a silver wolf, towering over him, radiant with a power far beyond his own. The transformation is unnecessary, but I do it anyway. A display. A warning.
Raphael lunges, all instinct and rage. I wait, unmoving, watching the raw aggression in his movements. Then, in a blur of motion, I strike. My massive paws connect with his skull, sending him hurtling backward. He collapses, unconscious before he even hits the ground.
Beside me, my werewolf maid shifts into her wolf form—sleek and gray, nearly matching Raphael's size. But she isn't here for battle. She moves closer, rubbing against me, releasing thick waves of mating pheromones into the air. A silent declaration, a claim. I acknowledge her with a glance before signaling her to return to human form.
Then, my eyes lock onto Hope.
Even from here, I can feel it—the surge of desire she tries desperately to suppress. Her vampire side, dormant for now, reacts instinctively to the pheromones in the air, but she fights against it, masking it with magic.
Calmly, I return to human form, my maid following suit. With a flick of my wrist, adamantite chains snake through the air, wrapping around Raphael's unconscious body. I pull him toward me effortlessly.
Dr. Saltzman rushes forward, checking Raphael's pulse. Hope stands frozen, eyes locked onto me, her mind racing. And Landon? His expression is priceless—his face twisted in pure disbelief, as if trying to process the insanity unfolding before him.
A slow, knowing smile spreads across my lips.
Dr. Saltzman is the first to break the silence, his gaze sharp with suspicion. "Who are you?" he demands.
I offer a slow smile, tilting my head slightly. "Manners first, Mr. Saltzman. Introductions before interrogations, wouldn't you agree?"
Alaric hesitates but relents. "Fine. I'm Alaric Saltzman, and this is my student and protégé, Hope Mikaelson."
"Well met, Mr. Saltzman," I reply smoothly. "I am Ryan Theos Morningstar. These are my servants—Amelia, a vampire princess; Eleonore, a centaur; and Brooke, an Alpha werewolf."
Alaric's eyes flick between us, processing my words, before he continues, "Alright, Ryan. Now that introductions are out of the way—where exactly do you come from?" He glances around warily. "We should leave before we talk. I don't want more people discovering the supernatural world."
I arch a brow. "And where, exactly, would you like to discuss this, Mr. Saltzman?"
"My school," he says, standing a little straighter. "I created it for kids like you—werewolves, witches, vampires. Though I have to admit, I've never encountered a centaur before." His gaze lingers on Eleonore, curiosity battling with skepticism.
I chuckle. "You'd be amazed at what exists in this world."
Alaric frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I say, taking a step closer, "that the supernatural is far greater than you imagine. Witches, werewolves, and vampires believe themselves to be the only creatures that matter. But there are far older, far stronger beings hidden in the shadows—forgotten myths that never truly faded."
Alaric exhales, rubbing his temple. "It sounds like we have a long conversation ahead of us. And by the way, I hope a powerful werewolf like you can keep my pack in line at school. They tend to be... unruly."
A smirk tugs at my lips. "I'm not a werewolf at all. But we'll get to that later. For now, we should move—before the humans wake up."
He doesn't argue. There's just enough space in the back of the van for us, and we pile in. As we drive toward the Salvatore School, I remain quiet, but my presence alone dominates the air. Subtly, I let my pheromones seep into the space, saturating it with an intoxicating aura. Hope shifts uncomfortably beside me, her breath a little heavier. My maids, attuned to my influence, respond instinctively.
We stop at a gas station a few hours later. A simple breakfast—mundane, almost amusing in contrast to the power simmering beneath the surface. Hope pretends not to notice the tension, but her pulse betrays her.
Then, finally, we reach our destination.
The Salvatore Boarding School for the Young & Gifted looms before us, its halls teeming with creatures who believe they are the pinnacle of the supernatural. They have no idea how small their world truly is.
As we step out, two girls approach—twins, mirror images of each other yet distinct in presence. Josie and Lizzie Saltzman.
Gemini witches. Dangerous in their own right, gifted with the ability to siphon magic from creatures and places alike. But they remain blissfully ignorant of the dark fate awaiting them. At 21, they will be forced into a deadly ritual—the Merge. One will consume the other. One will cease to exist.
They don't know.
But I do.
And as I meet their eyes, I smile.
Because knowledge is power. And power is mine to wield.
At first, Josie and Lizzie are excited about Raphael—another lost soul, another puzzle piece in their school's carefully curated sanctuary. But then their attention shifts to me, and their expressions falter. Their eyes widen, bodies stiffen. It's instinct, primal and undeniable—the impact of my pheromones, thick from being locked in the van for hours.
Alaric notices their discomfort immediately. His brows furrow, assessing the situation, and with a clipped nod, he redirects them. "Why don't you two take Raphael on a tour? Show him around, introduce him to the others."
They hesitate, still locked in my presence, but obey. I watch as they lead Raphael away, still dazed, their enthusiasm tempered by the unshakable awareness that something is different about me. I send my maids with them, ensuring they don't get any ideas.
With them gone, Alaric turns back to me, his suspicion still lingering. He gestures for Hope, Landon, and me to follow him. "Let's talk in my office."
I allow this part of the story to unfold as it should—there are events I have no need to interfere with just yet. Landon's role must progress naturally. The first of three artifacts must be activated. The dragon must be found.
As expected, they summon MG, a vampire, to erase Landon's memories. It doesn't work. When he resists, they take a more forceful approach—knocking him unconscious and locking him inside one of the werewolf cages, awaiting the full moon. A necessary step in his awakening.
And then, with Landon secured, all eyes turn to me.
Alaric leans forward, gaze sharp. "Now," he says, voice low and steady, "what are you?"
I pause, considering my answer.
Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, I decide to tell them the truth.
Or at least... part of it.
-
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A/N : New Fanfic - Resident Evil with Devil Fruit
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