After wrapping up the final pieces of discussion with Marcus and the other elders, Alex didn't linger in the gloom of the castle.
Though the clan now bore his name… though every vampire within its walls bowed at his feet… Alex remained, in essence, human.
And being surrounded by blood-drinkers in a fortress that reeked of death?
It didn't sit right with him.
So once the business was finished, he stood, nodded once, and made his way toward the exit.
No grand speech. No ceremony.
Just action.
Marcus, Victor, and Amelia escorted him personally. No guards. No ceremony.
Just three elders—bowing deeply as Alex's car disappeared down the winding forest road.
Only when his silhouette vanished behind the last veil of mist… did they straighten.
---
"Marcus… our clan is finally rising!"
Victor couldn't contain himself.
His voice shook—not from fear, but sheer disbelief.
From the shadows of mid-tier mediocrity to the precipice of immortal dominance—it was surreal.
"From this day forward, the Corvinus Clan—no, the Alex Clan—will become the next Volturi."
He exhaled, eyes gleaming.
"It's unbelievable."
Amelia stood a few steps behind, her pale fingers curling at her sides as if trying to ground herself.
"But Marcus," she said after a pause, her voice measured but alert, "our governance system… it no longer fits."
Marcus's gaze sharpened.
She was right.
In the past, the three elders ruled in rotation. One awake. Two dormant.
A structure built for balance—and for survival during ages of clan stagnation.
But now?
That structure was obsolete.
The Alex Clan was no longer surviving.
It was ascending.
And that called for something stronger than tradition.
It called for evolution.
---
"Supreme, we've arrived."
While Marcus and the others debated legacy, Alex's vehicle slowed to a stop at the gates of the mutant base.
The tall black gates slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss.
Selene's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"Psychic energy… what a fascinating thing."
Alex sat quietly, fingers tapping against the car door.
He hadn't been relaxing during the drive.
He'd been experimenting.
What he'd felt during his battle with Jane and Eric had been a wake-up call.
Power wasn't enough—not when it could be bypassed entirely by mental intrusion.
If even Jane's relatively weak illusion of pain had slipped into his mind…
What would happen if he encountered someone truly formidable?
He needed more than resistance.
He needed control.
The other half of the Sacred Stone was still out there.
And now?
He wanted it more than ever.
---
"Aliens, Alex? Really?"
Mimic's voice greeted him before he even stepped fully into the underground command chamber.
She stood near a wall-length display console, arms folded, her tone half-exasperated, half-impressed.
"You've barely dealt with the vampire mess, and now you're inviting aliens into our base?"
Alex offered a half-smile. "Long story."
He scanned the room.
"Where are they?"
"The ugly one's in a reinforced holding cell. Vampire guards are keeping an eye on him."
She pointed toward the lower corridor.
"The other two—Number Six and Smith—are in the lounge. Emma and Raven volunteered to monitor them."
"Alex, welcome back."
Emma Frost appeared from the side entrance, arms relaxed, though her diamond-sharp gaze never left him.
"I have to say… you really know how to keep things interesting."
Alex chuckled.
"Let's just say fate enjoys throwing curveballs."
---
Aliens.
In America, the word belonged on cheap cable documentaries and late-night conspiracy podcasts.
Yet here they were.
Three of them.
Real, and dangerous—or at least, they had been, until Alex crushed them like soda cans.
---
"Emma, you've scanned them?" he asked.
She nodded.
"All three."
"The one in containment—the big, scaly one—is a Mogadorian. Species originates from a planet called Mogadore Prime. Militaristic, brutal, highly xenophobic."
"The other two—Smith and Number Six—are Lorien. Refugees from the planet Lorien."
She crossed her arms as she continued her breakdown, voice smooth as glass.
"Fifty years ago, the Mogadorians launched a full-scale invasion and wiped out Lorien's population. The few survivors have been fleeing across the galaxy ever since."
"Only nine of them matter—genetically and spiritually. Each one was paired with a Guardian."
"Twenty years ago, they came to Earth. Secretly. Quietly. Hoping to regroup."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"But the Mogadorians followed them."
She looked Alex in the eye.
"Until you got involved."
---
Alex slowly nodded.
The pieces finally clicked into place.
That's what Number Six was.
Not a vampire. Not a mutant.
A Lorien—one of the Nine.
---
"Will this cause us problems?" Mimic cut in, cutting through the weight of Emma's history lesson.
"In theory, yes," Emma said. "But the Mogadorians paid dearly for their conquest. They lost most of their elite forces. On Earth, their current numbers are… minimal."
She glanced at Alex.
"Hundreds, maybe. And from what I've seen of you, that's hardly enough to be called a threat."
Her tone turned faintly amused.
"After all, you wiped out a frontline squad like you were dusting furniture."
She didn't say it for praise.
She said it because it was true.
From the memories she had read—Smith's horror, Black Robe's panic—she knew.
Alex didn't just fight.
He overwhelmed.
Even to her—telepath, strategist, manipulator—it was staggering.
---
Aliens.
And they had been completely, utterly helpless.
---
"So that's how it is."
Alex folded his arms, exhaling slowly.
The Mogadorians were barely hanging on.
And based on what Emma shared, they'd likely spend decades chasing shadows—never realizing the Nine were being shielded by a monster in human skin.
Their Earth presence was insignificant.
Just like in the original timeline.
If this stayed on course, they'd still be chasing the Lorien fugitives in another twenty years.
That was enough time.
Plenty of it.
Alex smiled.
"Then they're nothing to worry about."
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