Hiss—
Hiss—
Hiss—
The sound of sharply drawn breaths echoed throughout the silent hall, slicing through the heavy air like needles.
One by one, every immortal in the room froze—paralyzed by a force far more terrifying than power alone: pure fear.
Eyes widened.
Limbs trembled.
So gripped the arms of their chairs just to remain upright.
Others couldn't. Their legs had already given out beneath them.
Because standing at the very center of this blood-soaked stage...
...was Alex.
And in his hand—held by the hair like a trophy of war—was the severed head of Aro.
The once-elegant, ever-dominant Volturi leader.
Now? Just a lifeless mask, lips still parted in a final, unspoken curse.
The headless body swayed on its feet for a mont longer, as if refusing to accept death.
Then it collapsed with a dull thud.
The sound shouldn't have been loud.
But to the gathered immortals, it hit like a gunshot.
---
"L-Leader Aro… is dead."
"Aro was… killed?"
"Even Aro… fell in seconds?"
Murmurs burst forth like a dam breaking.
Disbelief rippled through the crowd, each whisper more incredulous than the last.
This wasn't just another powerful elder.
This was Aro.
The longest-reigning monarch of immortal society.
The arbiter. The enforcer. The law.
Unlike Niklaus, whose title as "Strongest Supre" was more reputation than reality, Aro's strength was undisputed.
He ruled not by fear alone, but by power.
And yet—
He'd been executed.
Swiftly. Efficiently. Without fanfare.
---
"T-Too… terrifying."
The words escaped Edward Cullen's mouth before he even realized it.
His knees gave out, and he hit the floor hard.
But he didn't feel it.
His mind had already left him, gripped by dread.
His gaze stayed fixed on Alex.
This wasn't a Supre.
This wasn't even a vampire.
This was a monster in human form.
On his first day, Alex had not only asserted his dominance—
He had obliterated the ruling elite of the two most powerful immortal clans.
The sa clans that had ruled for centuries.
Now reduced to corpses and ash.
No wonder Alice had been so afraid.
She must have seen it. All of it.
---
Gulp.
Even Carlisle, calm and dignified Carlisle, found himself swallowing hard.
His fingers twitched against his robes.
Not out of fear for himself, but because he understood the magnitude of what had just occurred.
The world had changed.
In a single night.
Not through war.
Not through treaties.
Through one man.
And that man was still standing—calm, collected, untouched.
---
"So this… is the true power of a Supre?"
The whisper ca from Marcus, barely audible, as if speaking too loudly might offend the being before him.
He had fought Alex once.
Back when he thought power ant age or experience.
But this?
This wasn't power. This was sothing else entirely.
He looked at the carnage—Niklaus, Jane, Eric, Aro—all reduced to scattered corpses and broken myths.
He couldn't have defeated even one of them.
But Alex?
Alex had crushed them like ants.
---
Beside him, Victor and Alia stood motionless. Their faces were pale, their bodies rigid—but their eyes burned.
Not with fear.
With awe.
When Alex had first stood up to Niklaus and then Aro, they'd been terrified.
They had feared for their clan's survival.
Feared that Marcus's legacy would be buried in blood.
But now…
Now the Volturi were gone.
The Mikaelsons were gone.
And Alex?
Alex stood alone.
Victorious.
Victor trembled—not in terror, but in excitent.
This is what we swore fealty to.
This is our Supre.
Alia's lips curled into the faintest smile, her heart pounding with pride.
She had chosen right.
---
Thud.
Alex casually tossed Aro's head aside.
Like garbage.
It rolled once across the stone floor, then ca to a stop beside the ruined throne.
All eyes turned to him as he slowly raised his head.
His gaze swept across the hall like a blade.
---
"Now… does anyone else have a problem with being Supre?"
The words were soft.
But they fell like a hamr.
Silence.
Not a breath. Not a whisper.
When his eyes passed over them, every immortal bowed their head or looked away.
None dared et his gaze.
None dared challenge him.
Because they all understood now:
This wasn't a Supre chosen by lineage or favor.
This was a king forged by strength.
---
"The immortals gain another mighty Supre! A joyous occasion!"
A voice finally broke the silence—a clan leader from a minor bloodline, rising hastily and bowing deeply.
"Yes! A blessing for us all! Supre Alex, long may you reign!"
"Our clans would be honored to align ourselves with the Alex Clan!"
"Supre Alex, please grant us the chance to serve!"
The room exploded with flattery, panic-tinged and overly eager.
Leaders tripped over one another to speak first.
Elders who had remained silent during Niklaus' rampage now bent the knee without hesitation.
Because survival demanded it.
The Volturi were leaderless.
The Mikaelsons were shattered.
And Alex?
Alex wasn't just a Supre anymore.
He was the Supre.
The new apex.
A few, unable to stop themselves, wondered aloud:
"Could even Dracula have stood against him?"
It didn't matter.
Because whether he was stronger than Dracula or not…
The immortal world had a new ruler.
And his na was:
Alex.
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