[Authors Note: I know many want to skip to Justice League/ Superman part. But I want to take it slightly slow, but not too slow. He will recruit Morgana Pendragon (Merlin)..etc.]
The training chamber echoed with the sound of clashing wood as Aleksander's staff cracked against Yan Sen's, only to be effortlessly redirected.
Aleksander came in fast—his movements sharp, controlled, and relentless. He shifted his footing smoothly and spun into a low swipe meant to take Yan Sen's legs out from under him.
Yan Sen barely moved.
A single step back, timed perfectly, let the attack pass through empty air. With fluid ease, he brought his own staff—a long, dark straight-shafted weapon marked with worn carvings—down at just the right angle to intercept Aleksander's next thrust.
Thwack. The weapons collided. Aleksander pushed forward. Yan Sen held firm with just one hand.
"You're rushing too much," Yan Sen said calmly, without breaking eye contact.
Aleksander growled under his breath and pivoted. He came high now, trying to feint with the left and strike with the right. The move was sharp, smart, unpredictable.
Yan Sen parried both without flinching, his staff spinning around in a controlled blur, catching the side of Aleksander's weapon and guiding it harmlessly away. He barely shifted his weight, yet each movement was precise—engraved through decades of battle discipline.
Aleksander stepped in quick and close, trying to break the rhythm. He struck low, jabbed twice at the ribs, then came overhead with a crushing strike.
Yan Sen moved like water.
He ducked beneath the high swing, twirled his staff behind his back, and tapped Aleksander on the shoulder with a soft thump—marking the clean counter that would've ended the exchange if it were real.
"Too predictable."
Aleksander stepped back, breathing heavier, but not defeated. His grip tightened. "You're not even trying."
Yan Sen tilted his head slightly, raising his staff into a defensive stance. "That's the point, isn't it?"
Aleksander launched forward again, faster this time—taking a risk, turning into a wild flurry of strikes. The heavy end of his staff sliced through the air, whistling as it moved in quick succession. Left, right, spin, strike—it was a barrage.
Yet Yan Sen remained calm. He spun his staff once, then again, turning his body with minimal effort, deflecting the blows with quiet certainty. His eyes were never on the weapon—they were on Aleksander.
Then, with a short movement, Yan Sen stepped inside Aleksander's guard, hooked his staff underneath, and twisted. Aleksander's arms locked for half a heartbeat before the staff popped free from his grip and landed on the ground with a clatter.
Silence followed. Aleksander stood, arms out, breathing hard. Yan Sen lightly tapped his own staff against the floor twice.
"You're improving," he said with a ghost of a smirk. "But don't aim to win against me. Aim so I have to try."
Aleksander picked up his staff, nodding silently, eyes burning with resolve. The lesson was absorbed, if not yet mastered.
Yan Sen raised his staff again, effortlessly dropping into stance.
"Again."
As the final crack of the staff faded and the dust thinned in the air, Aleksander lay sprawled on the ground, chest heaving. Sweat clung to his skin, his arms twitching slightly from the strain of the relentless sparring. He stared up at the high ceiling of the training hall, blinking back exhaustion, body aching from every deflected strike.
Not far from him, Yan Sen stood as calm and composed as ever. His staff was tucked neatly behind him, arms folded, not even a bead of sweat visible. His breathing hadn't changed from the moment Aleksander had launched his first strike.
Aleksander let out a low groan, half frustration, half respect. "One of these days—" he wheezed.
"That day will come," Yan Sen replied, his voice measured. "But not yet."
Footsteps approached. Luda appeared at Aleksander's side, her presence soft but steady. "You look like you tried to wrestle the mountain," she said, crouching and offering him a flask of water.
Aleksander took it without hesitation, nodding gratefully. He gulped half of it in seconds, then sat up slowly, wiping his face on the back of his arm. "Felt more like the mountain wrestled back. Barely moved but flattened me either way."
Luda smiled faintly, then glanced toward Yan Sen. "That's how you know he's still holding back."
She stood again, brushing some chalk dust off her robes. It was still strange to her—watching from this side of the training circle rather than behind the safety of a protective seal. But the choice had been made.
She was now Aleksander's second student.
The ancient burden that once chained her soul—the seal that anchored to Upnir —had finally gone. Her family had insisted she continue not just her studies but her future, following in Aleksander's path. To them, Yan Sen wasn't just a teacher. He was something more—almost a myth. A guardian, a sorcerer... perhaps even a demigod. They believed Luda's destiny would be shaped under his guidance, just as it had begun shaping Aleksander's.
Yan Sen watched Luda closely, his expression steady but his eyes full of intent. "I will teach you," he said, voice calm but carrying through the hall. "Not just witchcraft, but Onmyodo,magic—the arts of Hindu and Buddhist exorcism, and more. You need to be prepared for every kind of demon and spirit that might challenge us."
Aleksander, still finishing his water, gave a wry grin and interjected, "Add ancient gods to that list, too."
Luda turned to him in surprise, brows raised. Aleksander's tone grew serious as he briefly recounted their encounter with Bagul—the hungry presence, the sense of dread, shadows that even the strongest wards barely held back. His words painted enough of a picture for Luda's eyes to widen, awe and unease flickering across her face.
Yan Sen's posture remained relaxed, a hint of a smile touching his lips as he watched Luda absorb the gravity of it all. "Don't worry," he assured her, voice gentle but certain. "Once your training is complete, you'll be able to face gods and monsters without fear. Both of you will."
The air in the training hall seemed to still, tension replaced by anticipation. Candlelight caught the edges of ancient scrolls and gleamed off the carvings in Yan Sen's staff. For a moment, Luda felt the weight of both destiny and possibility settle onto her shoulders.
Aleksander capped his flask and nudged her gently. "Trust him. I did—and look where it's gotten me."
Luda managed a shaky breath, her awe giving way to determination as Yan Sen nodded for her to ready herself for the next lesson.
While he tutoring Luda, he once again sensed intrusion. Yan Sen had been irritable lately. Without offering much explanation, he looked at Aleksander and said, flatly, "I'll be back soon."
While Luda was confused, Aleksander nodded silently as Yan Sen stepped through the shimmering portal of the House of Mystery. Wanting distance, Aleksander walked out into the open field beyond the chapel's edge. He took a breath, narrowed his eyes into the horizon, then shouted into the still air.
"Come out, you three. I know you've been snooping around me."
The wind stilled. Shadows coalesced, and then they appeared—The Three.
They arrived as they always had, shrouded in mystique, their appearances subtly shifting based on the goddesses they represented. But despite their fluid forms, some things never changed.
The Maiden was youthful—a brunette with large brown eyes and flowing light hair.
The Mother, more reserved, bore streaks of gray within her rich brown hair. Her presence felt grounded.
The Crone stood hunched, ancient and sharp-eyed, with frail frame and silver-whispered hair like spider silk.
They were not just women. They were legends—goddesses, witches, Fates. Known across worlds and pantheons as the Moirai, the Norns, the Furies. The embodiment of fate, judgment, and punishment. And now, here they stood—physical and real—threads of power shimmering invisibly around them.
The Maiden tilted her head. "You are not from this world."
The Mother stepped forward. "You are an anomaly."
The Crone's voice was colder, sharper. "You meddle with Fates we have already woven."
Yan Sen thought of Aleksander and Luda, his arms crossed. His lips curled into something between annoyance and mockery.
"You mean I gave my two students the right to shape their own future? Imagine that," he said casually.
The Crone's gaze narrowed. "You are violating ancient laws."
Yan Sen let out a dry laugh. "I don't care."
That response struck deeper than it should have. The Three stiffened.
They had judged devils, humbled gods, made even the Endless walk gently around them. They had punished those who broke divine law, driving madness into the hearts of cosmic beings. Yet now, someone was so arrogant and rude toward them. It annoyed them.
But a whisper in the deepest part of themselves said one thing plainly—this wasn't someone they should have provoked.
Still, bound by their roles—and perhaps an arrogance born of millennia—the Fates reached toward their judgment.
Too late.
But just as they were about to pass judgment, Yan Sen loosened a fraction of the seal that bound his true nature
The air cooled. The sun seemed to dim.
For brief second a veil of pure void seeped from him—shapeless and immense. At its heart, glowing red eyes stared from the darkness, watching them without emotion. The rest of his form could not even be processed by their minds, only felt—a fragment of it pushed against reality like a weight that did not belong.
The Maiden gasped.
The Mother's hands trembled.
The Crone fell first, knees hitting the ground with a ragged breath.
Then all three followed, panting, sweating, eyes wide with fear.
Yan Sen's voice was low, cutting like a blade into silence.
"Do not try to twist the fates around those close to me. I will erase you all. I'm sparing you one reason only—because you're still useful."
The Three said nothing. They couldn't. They simply nodded, eyes fixed downward.
The Maiden—voice small, trembling—finally asked, "What are you?"
Yan Sen's tone turned quiet… measured.
"I represent the End of All Things. I stand outside the endless cycle—beyond entropy, beyond gods, beyond fate itself. I am where everything goes when there is nothing left."
He raised his hand once more in dismissal.
"Now leave."
And just like that, they vanished.
Back in the hollow chambers of their twilight realm, the Three materialized—collapsed into chairs or crumbled to the floor, breathless.
The Mother spoke first. "We should never have angered that monster."
The Maiden's voice wavered. "He didn't kill us because we're still useful to him."
The Crone didn't look at either of them. She stared into the shadows of the room, whispering, "From now on, we do not interfere with anything that carries his thread."
No disagreements followed.