**Date:** 1200 A.D.
**Location:** England, the town of Batley.
Screams and chaos filled the town as crowds of people surged out of it like the tide.
On one strange, cursed night, many lost their families and loved ones—without even knowing what had happened.
The noble **Copley family**, rulers and rightful protectors of the city, had been wiped from existence in a single night, their entire castle reduced to rubble.
Even worse, the environment surrounding the town had been utterly destroyed—forests burned to ash, trees uprooted, and the once-beautiful hills lay shattered into ruin. The harbor too was obliterated, leaving behind nothing but silence.
It was as if a natural catastrophe had swept through.
Three days passed, and the news spread like wildfire across England—followed by countless rumors.
---
### Three days later, in the **County of Lancaster**
The County of Lancaster was part of northwestern England.
It was an important center of **feudal power, agriculture, fishing, and trade** across the Irish Sea.
Lancaster was a **feudal agricultural region**, relying on:
* Farming (especially wheat and barley).
* Raising sheep for **wool production**, England's most profitable trade of the time.
* The trade of **salt and coal**, which also flourished near the coasts.
There were also **small fortified villages** surrounding the castles, where peasants lived under the protection of nobles, working the land in exchange for safety.
---
### **Lancaster Castle**
The castle was vast and magnificent—many times larger than the Copley family's castle.
Inside the throne room stood an ornate wooden throne, upon which sat a heavyset man with a rough appearance and sharp, cunning eyes.
It was **King John**, ruler of the County and Duchy of Lancaster.
John's expression was dark and grim when he heard the news of the destruction of one of his towns—**Batley**.
"**Amon!!**" John roared furiously.
A figure suddenly appeared before him with unnatural speed and knelt on the floor.
"Yes, my lord King John?"
John stared coldly at his servant and said, "Have you discovered what happened in Batley?"
Amon lowered his head. "Yes, my lord, I have. And I must tell you—the news has spread throughout the entire supernatural world."
John snorted angrily. "Spit it out."
Amon kept his head bowed. "A great conflict took place between one of the seven original werewolf packs—the **Pack of Paxon**—and the **Original family of vampires**, my lord. This battle, three nights ago, triggered a chain of events that led to the destruction of the city, the fall of the Copley Castle, the surrounding environment, and even the harbor itself."
John's eyebrows rose sharply. "**The Original family?!** You mean they were hiding in Batley all this time?!"
He slammed his hand down on the armrest of his throne in rage.
Amon flinched but continued, "My sources confirm that the Originals had been hiding in Batley for the past century, my lord, and that they had established a powerful organization there known as **The Strix**."
"An organization?! Are you saying Batley was a nest of vampires?!" John roared, smashing the throne room table with his fist.
**BOOM!**
The table split clean in half from the force of his strike.
Amon trembled, remaining silent.
After venting his anger, John turned back to his servant and said coldly, "Your words make no sense, Amon! A battle between the Originals and the Paxon Pack could not have happened! Three nights ago, the moon wasn't even full! And even if it were, the werewolves would never dare attack the Original family! **William Corvinus** may be many things—but he is not a fool!"
Amon replied humbly, "I thought the same, my lord, but my sources confirm that the Paxon Pack used a **powerful ancient spell** that allowed them to double their strength, control their transformations, and gain a chance to defeat the Originals."
John raised an eyebrow. "An ancient spell? Where did the Paxon Pack acquire such a thing?"
"I do not know, my lord," Amon answered. "That detail remains unknown—but there are suspicions that the spell originated from **East Asia**."
"Hmmm… interesting." John leaned back on his throne. "You said the battle triggered a chain of events that destroyed Batley. What were those events—and who won the conflict?"
Amon lowered his gaze. "My sources confirm that **the father of the Originals** appeared in the middle of the battle. He annihilated both the Strix vampires and the entire Paxon Pack. Then he pursued his own children and attempted to kill them—during which he destroyed the town, the harbor, and the nearby hills and forests."
John's eyes widened in horror. "**The father of the Originals?!**" His face twisted with rage.
"The **Destroyer**," he muttered bitterly. Then shouted, "That damned, insane wretch! He's destroyed countless towns across England because of his ridiculous family drama!"
Amon bowed his head again. "My sources also say the Destroyer was injured, my lord. He was seen screaming in pain, covered in many wounds."
"Tch! That deranged monster has been wounded countless times through the centuries! Everyone rejoices, thinking his end has come—but he always rises again as if nothing happened!"
John's voice was filled with disgust and fury. He finally sighed tiredly and said, "Gather a full report of the damages and human losses, Amon. Bring it to me within two days."
"As you command, my lord." Amon vanished in a blur of speed.
John exhaled and looked out the throne room window in exhaustion. *Where are you, King Arthur?* he thought bitterly. *Your people suffer devastation at the hands of monsters, and you are nowhere to be found.*
Then he called for his servants to prepare a bath—he hadn't bathed in three days. These had been very hard days indeed.
---
### **Meanwhile, with Michael**
"**Aaaahhh!!!**" Michael roared in fury, slamming his fist into the ground.
He rose unsteadily, surrounded by the corpses of an entire caravan of merchants—drained of their blood so he could recover from the effects of the Nemeton.
Michael looked toward the ruined town of Batley and cursed himself—his children had escaped him once again.
What enraged him most was that he had been so close to killing Klaus; he had placed the **white oak stake** directly over his heart—but **William** interfered at the last moment.
Worse still—the white oak stake was now lost.
Michael turned toward the remains of the Paxon Pack's compound and stormed off in fury to retrieve his weapon.
---
### **Meanwhile, with Tristan and the Strix**
The surviving members of the Strix, along with **Tristan** and **Shen Min**, had gathered five hundred miles from Batley. They had been running nonstop for three days to stay clear of the Mikaelsons.
Tristan stood before his loyal followers and shouted,
"**Strix!** You have all seen Elijah's weakness for yourselves! He betrayed and abandoned you—sending you to die! But I will not! From this moment on, **the age of Elijah is over!** A new era for our great order begins now!"
"**Long live Lord Tristan! Long live Lord Tristan!**" the Strix shouted with fervor.
Tristan turned to his right and smiled. "So, you've finally decided to join us, Aya."
Indeed, **Aya** stepped out from between the trees, gazing deeply at him.
"I owe you an apology, Tristan. Elijah was exactly as you described him. He was…"
She paused, unable to finish.
"The word you're looking for is *coward*… and *traitor*," said **Shen Min** coldly beside her.
Aya sighed and said nothing.
Tristan smirked. "It's alright, Aya. You were fooled by Elijah's noble façade. But in truth, Elijah is the most dangerous monster among them."
He turned away, a wide smile spreading across his face.
"My plan worked… finally! The Strix are mine."
---
### **Meanwhile, with Michael again**
Michael was drenched in blood from head to toe, the burning ruins of the Paxon Pack's compound smoldering behind him.
He emerged slowly from the flames, holding a **white oak stake** in his hand.
He stared at it in confusion—it wasn't *his* stake, yet it was undeniably made of the same sacred wood.
The only explanation he could find was that the werewolves had **replicated the white oak stake through magic**.
He searched for any other copies—or his original—but found nothing.
And in a fit of rage, he **burned the entire Paxon compound to the ground**, showing no mercy—men, women, or even children.
Michael cursed himself once again. There might be more than one White Oak stake capable of killing him in this world now, but he truly didn't care. He lived only for revenge. And once he got it, he would kill himself—if he could find another White Oak stake.
After that, Michael headed toward his children's mansion, hoping to find a clue that would lead him to them. After only a few seconds of superhuman speed, he arrived. Michael looked at the charred remains of what had been a grand mansion just three days ago. He began searching through the ashes for clues, and after half an hour of digging, he found something intriguing.
He found the corpse of his eldest son,
Finn.
Finn's body was gray, with several veins protruding across his face and body. A strange silver dagger was pierced through his heart.
"Finn… what did they do to you?" Michael muttered to himself, looking down at his son's corpse with a sorrowful expression. Then he lifted the body and carried it toward the harbor, intending to hold a traditional Viking funeral.
After some time, Michael placed Finn's body into a small wooden boat. He stared at it indifferently, wondering how something could have killed one of his children without a White Oak stake. Finn's corpse looked truly dead—yet he had been immortal. The only way to kill one of his children was with the White Oak stake, the very one Michael himself had carried. What had happened?
Finn had never been close to his siblings, but Michael had never expected them to kill him. Or perhaps his children had grown far more savage over the centuries than he thought. Michael also wondered if this was the same fate that had befallen his youngest son, Sol, whom he hadn't seen at all during his long night of hunting his family.
Michael grasped the dagger lodged in Finn's chest and pulled it out. He examined it, but it appeared to be nothing more than a silver dagger. How could something like this have killed one of his immortal offspring? Perhaps it was enchanted with some kind of spell.
He would make sure to examine it later in detail. For now, his main concern was what to do with Finn's body. Finn might have been a disappointment, but he was still of Michael's blood. His corpse deserved at least to be burned. What puzzled him was why his children hadn't already done so. Why would they leave a rotting corpse behind?
Michael sighed and prepared to ignite the small boat and send it out to sea—a Viking's farewell, just as his own parents had been sent into the afterlife. The truth was, he didn't feel sadness anymore. He had lost too much—Freya, Henrik, Esther. There was nothing left to feel.
He placed the body down and was about to search for a torch when he noticed something—the wound in Finn's chest was slowly healing. That was only possible if Finn wasn't truly dead. Perhaps the dagger hadn't killed him, but merely placed him near death. That would explain why the dagger had been left in his chest—otherwise, he would've healed and awakened.
Of course, that didn't answer why his children had done this to Finn. Michael decided to wait for his son to wake up and ask him directly. He carried Finn to a nearby inn that had survived the destruction he had caused at the harbor.
He brought Finn to an empty room upstairs, dropped him onto a bed, and pulled up a chair to sit. Michael was not a man who enjoyed waiting, but if there was one thing he had learned during his long life, it was the value of patience.
After a few minutes, Finn suddenly gasped and sat up, raising his arms as if to shield himself from being stabbed again.
Confused, Finn looked around—and nearly screamed when he saw his father.
"Hello, my son," Michael greeted him.
"Father?! What the—?!" Finn shouted in terror, falling off the bed and backing away to the wall.
Michael looked at him with a wide grin then said.
"We have much to discuss,"
---
Meanwhile, 300 miles away from the town of Batley.
Near the coastline, an army of vampires was diving into the depths of the ocean, searching for something powerful and important.
A figure stood atop a hill, watching them with a wide smile. The man had black hair, green eyes, and handsome features—it was
Lucien Castle.
"We've found what you were looking for, my King," Siri's voice echoed behind him. Lucien turned toward her with a grin.
"Then let's go, Syrella," he said. "It's time to claim our new weapon."
Lucien descended the hill toward the shore, where his army was pulling something from the depths. It was the corpse of a vampire—gray-skinned, with dark veins spread across its entire body. But what set it apart was the **silver dagger** embedded in its heart.
Lucien's eyes widened in excitement as he looked at the body.
Hahahahaha!
"With this powerful weapon, I, Lucien Castle, shall ascend"!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His laughter echoed across the entire shore. For he had just gained something that could change the balance of power forever.
---
At that same moment, in a dark and secret place…
Several hooded figures stood together—around **twenty-five of them**.
"One of the seven *original packs* has been wiped from existence in a single night!!" roared the representative of the **Malrow Pack** in rage.
"You've gone too far this time, vampires! This means WAR!!" shouted the representative of the **Crescent Pack**, once known as **the Labonir Pack**.
"The vampires did nothing!" yelled the vampire representing **Klaus's bloodline**, furious. "It was the Mikaelsons and their personal drama that destroyed the Baxson Pack!!"
"Are the Mikaelsons even human?! They're cursed vampires who've caused countless deaths among us!" barked the representative of the **Red Claw Pack**.
"Calm yourselves!" shouted another vampire, representing **Elijah's sire line**, trying to keep the peace. "The Mikaelson family doesn't care what happens to our kind as a whole!"
"I agree with war!" growled the representative of the **North-East Atlantic Pack**—the same pack from which Klaus and his true father descended. "Two centuries ago, Mikael himself nearly annihilated us, just as he did to the Baxson Pack three days ago! It's time for revenge!"
"If you start a war with us, you'll go extinct," said the vampire representing **Finn's sire line** coolly, as if stating a fact.
"Hah! The joke's on you! We'll be the ones to wipe *you* out and cleanse this world of your kind!" yelled the **Silver Fang Pack** representative furiously.
"That's enough!" shouted one of the witches, a representative of the **Twelve Great Covens**, interrupting the growing chaos.
This place was the **Triad Council**, a gathering of representatives from the three great races—**witches, vampires, and werewolves**—to preserve peace and settle disputes diplomatically instead of waging endless wars.
But time and again, the **Mikaelson family** had jeopardized that fragile peace through their destructive actions toward both witches and wolves.
And three days ago, they had done something unforgivable in the eyes of the werewolves—they had annihilated one of the **seven original packs**, the **Baxson Pack**. The council was now meeting to address the crisis and prevent total collapse.
"We're here to discuss matters far more urgent than the Baxson Pack!" shouted the vampire representing **Rebekah's sire line**. "We're here to discuss *Malivore*!"
"To hell with Malivore! Who cares about that clay monster?! We're here to declare war and withdraw from this council!" roared the representative of the **Nightshade Pack** angrily.
"Yes! To hell with Malivore! We, the werewolves, declare war on you vampires from this day forth! We withdraw from this council!" shouted the **Red Claw Pack** representative.
"No! Please don't withdraw! Think of the consequences!" pleaded the vampire representing **Kol's sire line**. "If you do this, we'll never be able to deal with Malivore! And if you start a war with us, all our centuries of work will be for nothing!"
"To hell with you and your kind!" screamed the **Malrow Pack** representative.
"Listen to me, we must—" began the vampire representing **Sol's sire line**, but he was cut off by the **North-East Atlantic Pack** leader.
"We?! There is no 'we'! There's only YOU!"
"So be it then! It's WAR!!" shouted the vampire representing **Hela's sire line** furiously.
"Please reconsider!" cried another witch of the Twelve. "Don't do anything reckless!"
"We came here in peace," said the vampire representing **Finn's line** coldly. "But the wolves have been barking like rabid dogs the entire time. It's over—it's war."
"Yes, it's settled! Now tell us, witches—which side are you on?!" demanded the **Crescent Pack** representative.
The witches looked at him, then spoke in unison:
"We shall remain neutral. We will not intervene in this war."
"Fine. That's good enough. Let's go—we have a war to prepare for!!" shouted the werewolves as they stormed out of the chamber.
"We should go too," said the vampires, following suit.
The witches sighed deeply. "Those fools don't see the greater danger looming over us all," one of them muttered.
Another witch asked, "What should we do about Malivore? It's out of our control now—and it's devouring every supernatural creature except vampires, werewolves, and witches!"
"We must act!" said another. "If Malivore keeps consuming at this rate, it will grow powerful enough to devour the entire planet—including us!"
A witch with a British accent cried, "England is in ruins because of Malivore! King Arthur and his sorcerer Merlin are being hunted by it! The kingdom has fallen into chaos!"
Another witch agreed, "Yes, England has fallen into civil war after the disappearance of Arthur and his royal knights! And with Merlin gone, demons from the *Zero Dimension* have begun invading our world more frequently!"
A male warlock added, "The demons have grown bolder—they destroyed an entire city in France last week! We must stop Malivore before it devours King Arthur himself!"
Another warlock asked, "But how? Malivore is now so powerful that *even Zeus himself* was forced to flee and hide!"
Silence fell across the chamber at the mention of Zeus and the Olympian—who had abandoned the mortal world, leaving it to the mercy of the Zero Dimension demons out of fear of Malivore.
Then the High Priestess of the Twelve Great Covens spoke:
"I have an idea—a way to stop Malivore, to seal the Zero Dimension forever, and to keep the demons from crossing into our world again. But we must act quickly. We must find all the **Nemeton trees** in the world before it's too late."
The room fell silent again.
"We've only found three Nemeton trees," said one witch, "four remain."
A warlock added, "It took the combined help of vampires and werewolves just to find those three! Now that they've left the council, it could take centuries to find the others! The Nemeton trees have consciousness—they keep hiding and moving! How can we find them on our own?!"
Once more, silence filled the room.
Finally, the leader of the witches said softly,
"I… I don't know. Give me time to think."
The chamber grew still again, and though no one spoke, they all knew one terrible truth deep down—
They had no time left.
---------------
Phewww!! Finally!!! The flashback about the Corvinus and Mikaelson families is over!! We're officially back to the main storyline!!! Finally, we'll get to see Scott, Alex, Elena, David, Derek, Dayton, Melissa, and most importantly—we'll see Stiles again!! Finally!!
At first, I planned to write the entire story of Marcus Corvinus, but then I realized it would take at least **40 chapters!!** I'm not joking!! So, I decided to divide this long flashback into several parts—and this was just **part one!!**
I know this didn't answer the questions like *"What exactly are the Lycans?"* and *"What makes them different from other werewolves?"*—but let's be honest, I don't need a flashback to explain that!! Those things will naturally become clear as the story progresses!! Ahh, I was so dumb!! 🤦🏼♂️ But hey, we learn from our mistakes!!
And honestly, I really enjoyed writing this flashback!! This was only the first part!! And here's a fact I didn't include in the chapter because I didn't want to make it too long: **Marcus Corvinus is still alive!!!🔥⚡️** Tada!! ✨️
We'll see him again in the next flashback, and he'll be mentioned and hinted at frequently even in the main chapters—because guess what?! **Marcus is the legendary werewolf!!** A historical figure who even **terrified Klaus Mikaelson himself!! ☠️**
---
Now we're in an interview with our hero, Marcus.
(**Author: A**, **Marcus: M**)
**A:** Tell us, Marcus Corvinus, how did it feel to be the focus of the entire flashback? Or at least… I tried to make you the focus?
**M:** Damn you!! Damn you and your kind, you cursed author!! You made me suffer so much!! You destroyed my beautiful life!! You made Klaus kill my wife right in front of me!! And then you—
**A:** Aaand cut. Well… that didn't end well, so let's move on to our next guest—Alexander Gilbert himself!! The main protagonist!! (**Alexander: Ax**)
**Ax:** "Main protagonist," my ass!!
**A:** Whoa, whoa!! Calm down, Alex!! You're only thirteen!! Watch your language!!
**Ax:** What kind of "hero" shows up in the first five chapters and then disappears for twenty?! What's wrong with you, you cursed author!! Can't you make me a cool teenage protagonist with a system and a harem and unbeatable powers?!
**A:** Uh, no, I can't do that. Those kinds of stories are overused and cliché. I wanted to write something a little different, so you—
**Ax:** Damn you!! Everyone wants a harem story!! Come on, readers, shout with me!! HAREM!! HAREM!! HAREM!! HAREM!!
**A:** Boo-hoo-hoo!! No harem!! Never, Alex!! And don't push me, or I'll make you single till the end of the story!!
**Ax:** A single protagonist?! Are you insane?! You'll lose all your readers!!
**A:** No, I won't! My readers are very supportive!!
**Ax:** Then why don't they comment, huh?! I mean, 125k views and only ten comments?! Where's the support?! I don't see it!!!
**S:** *Pffftt!!!* He got you there, buddy!!
**Ax:** Who the hell are you?!!
**S:** I'm Mr. S!!
**Ax:** Mr. S? Wait… I know that voice!! Damn it, STILINSKI!!
**S:** Oh crap, I gotta run!! Bye!!
**Ax:** Get back here, Stiles!! I swear I'll beat you up!!
**A:** Hey!! Nobody messes with Stiles!!
**Ax:** Damn you, author!! And damn you—
**A:** Aaand cut!!
**A:** Phew!! That was intense. I wonder why my characters are always so mad at me?
**Sc:** You wonder?!
**A:** Oh, hey, Scott! How's it going?
**Sc:** Not great!! You made my life worse and more complicated than my *Teen Wolf* version!!
**A:** Well, technically, your life is still fine. You haven't died yet, sooo...
**Sc:** Wait, what?!!
**A:** Oops!! Big spoiler!! Cut the stream!! Cut the interviews!!
**Sc:** No!! Wait!! What do you mean I haven't—
**A:** Aaand cut!!
**A:** Okay, forget you ever read that, guys!! 😅
---
Now for an important announcement:
There won't be any new chapters until the end of **December**, because my **midterm exams** are coming up, and I want to focus on studying.
If anyone has questions, feel free to leave them in the comments.
That's all for now—goodbye!! 🫡👋