"Elder Victor! Elder Amelia!"
The names echoed through the vast ceremonial hall, now transformed from a battlefield into a banquet of reverence and celebration.
The inauguration was officially complete. The tension had broken—at least for now—and the event transitioned into a grand feast. A show of diplomacy and hospitality, meant to ease tensions among the clans and reward those who had come from great distances.
But the air had shifted.
No longer merely formal.
Now… it was reverent.
Marcus, Victor, and Amelia moved among the guests, their every step followed by dozens of eyes. Their faces, once stern with caution, now radiated a composed pride.
Once, they had been the overlooked elders of the Corvinus Clan—just three of many among the web of ancient lineages.
They were the architects of the Alex Clan.
And immortals who had once scorned them now bent their heads in greeting.
Even Supremes, figures who once stood aloof with timeless arrogance, approached them now with caution in their eyes and smiles practiced to perfection.
Not long ago, Marcus had been regarded with wary respect. After all, he was the son of Alexander Corvinus and no weakling. Among lesser immortals, he was already a giant.
He had been just another name. A relic of an older generation. Not worth their attention.
Victor and Amelia had it worse.
Transformed by Marcus, they were viewed as second-generation elites at best. Supremes rarely looked their way—unless to sneer.
Now, they were untouchable.
Backed by Alex, they had become gatekeepers to power itself.
Even ancient Supremes stepped lightly around them, their pride carefully tucked away.
"Supreme Alex! Supreme Alex!"
If the elders were honored, Alex's treatment was nothing short of worship.
As he sat at the head of the banquet, dozens of immortals approached, heads bowed, eyes cast down. Their voices were quiet, almost trembling.
Just hours earlier, many of these same figures had whispered doubts—scorned him, mocked him, ignored him entirely.
Now they had seen him in action.
They had seen him obliterate Niklaus, Jane, Eric, and Aro—legends in their own right—without so much as breaking a sweat.
That was a revelation.
For the immortals, the conclusion was inescapable:
As long as Alex lived, he stood at the absolute pinnacle.
And unlike mortals, immortals didn't wither with time.
Even Marcus's bloodline, mid-tier by comparison, had endured for millennia.
What did that mean for Alex?
His reign could last for thousands of years.
And in that time… who would dare defy him?
He wasn't a Supreme anymore.
He was a myth taking shape—a living legend whose name would one day eclipse Dracula himself.
Later, after the guests had departed and the echoes of celebration faded, the elders gathered in the council chamber.
"Supreme, fifteen clans—the Cullens, the Odells, the Morpheus—have extended formal invitations for you to visit their territories."
Marcus spoke with respectful clarity, holding out a list etched into silver parchment.
Victor and Amelia stood at his sides, eyes gleaming with fire.
Out of the seventeen invited, only two had not extended offers.
Because Alex had killed their leaders.
Eager to swear loyalty. Eager to secure peace. Eager not to be next.
It was, without question, an unprecedented show of submission for a newly founded clan.
"I don't have time for that. Handle it yourselves."
Alex's response was as curt as it was expected.
He didn't need to entertain every offering hand. He didn't need to be diplomatic.
He was the balance now.
Marcus inclined his head, not the least offended.
For someone of Alex's caliber, such dismissiveness wasn't arrogance—it was authority.
"Supreme, there is… another matter."
Marcus hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing.
"With the Mikaelson Supremes gone, their clan stands leaderless. The seat is vacant. Your decision?"
Alex turned to him slowly, eyes half-lidded.
Marcus didn't hesitate now.
"If we don't, someone else will."
His tone was pragmatic, without emotion.
The Mikaelsons' influence spanned continents. Their strongholds, their libraries, their wealth, their armies—left rudderless.
To leave them alone was to leave power on the table.
That was the answer he wanted.
Ruthlessness wrapped in logic.
He would need their assets soon—for the next phase.
For the nation he would build.
A homeland for those who didn't belong.
A haven for outcasts.
Then, almost casually:
"Also… locate the remaining six members of the Volturi Guard. Report to me when they're found."
"Supreme… you intend to—?"
Alex didn't look at him.
"The Volturi have outlived their purpose."
He had already decapitated their leader and butchered two of their elite.
Even expecting it, Marcus couldn't help the rush of awe that followed.
The Volturi weren't just powerful—they were foundational.
They were law. Order. Tradition.
They were dust waiting to be swept away.
He wouldn't just shake the old world.
He intended to remake it.
Victor and Amelia exchanged a silent glance.
What they felt was no longer just loyalty.
This wasn't just the rise of a new Supreme.
It was the birth of a new era.
Pride clashed with something else.
A shadow at the back of his mind.
His thoughts drifted to his younger brother—William.
The one who had always been kept in chains by vampire hierarchy. Always viewed as inferior.
Now, under Alex's rule, Marcus knew…
William's fate would soon be decided.
"I need to understand where the Supreme stands on werewolves."
Marcus clenched his fists behind his back.
There was only one way to find out.
Only one chance to secure William's future.
He would have to ask.
For 60 advanced chapters, visit my :
https://.com/Twilight_scribe1