Marcel Gerard could only watch as Rebekah tore through the werewolves.
With every passing second, the feeling in his chest grew worse.
Not because she was powerful.
He had always known the Originals were powerful.
The problem was that this didn't look like strength.
It looked like a difference in species.
The werewolves attacked.
Rebekah ignored them.
The werewolves surrounded her.
She walked straight through them.
The werewolves fought.
She erased them.
The gap was so absurd that Marcel felt a knot forming in his stomach.
"This doesn't make any sense," he muttered.
"What doesn't?" Joshua asked.
"Klaus."
Joshua raised an eyebrow.
"What about him?"
"Once, he told me that any vampire over six hundred years old would be an interesting fight."
The three of them watched Rebekah crush another pack of wolves.
"That sounds like a lie now," Joshua said.
"Exactly."
Marcel never took his eyes off the battlefield.
"I've killed vampires that old."
"More than one."
"And none of them looked capable of doing this."
Thierry remained silent for a few moments.
"Maybe because they could die."
Marcel frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it."
Thierry folded his arms.
"An ancient vampire can be unbelievably powerful."
"But a wooden stake still kills them."
"Tearing out their heart still kills them."
"Decapitation still kills them."
"One mistake still kills them."
Joshua nodded.
"And old vampires are arrogant."
"Very arrogant."
Marcel started to answer automatically.
"Yeah, but—"
Then he stopped.
A memory surfaced.
An ancient vampire.
Laughing at him.
Toying with him.
Dead because of a trap.
Another memory.
Another ancient vampire.
Even older.
Confident.
Distracted.
Dead.
Another.
And another.
And another.
All of them the same.
All convinced they were above him.
All treating Marcel like an inconvenience.
Never a threat.
His expression slowly darkened.
"Maybe..."
Joshua looked at him.
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe I never won because I was better."
Silence fell.
"Maybe I won because they never took me seriously."
Thierry didn't answer.
Because the theory made too much sense.
Then another memory surfaced.
A blonde vampire.
A bar.
Marcel remembered that night perfectly.
He remembered being disrespectful.
Treating her as if she were insignificant.
Just another vampire.
Nothing special.
Then Klaus had arrived.
And what happened afterward had never made sense to him.
Until now.
Klaus hadn't gotten angry at the woman.
He hadn't threatened her.
He hadn't treated her like a subordinate.
If anything...
He had looked almost embarrassed.
Like a father apologizing for a child's behavior.
"Forgive him."
Marcel could still remember Klaus's tone.
Calm.
Respectful.
Sincere.
As though that woman's opinion genuinely mattered.
At the time, Marcel had found it strange.
Now it felt unsettling.
"There's something else," Marcel said.
Joshua and Thierry looked at him.
"After that night, Klaus told me something."
"What?"
A chill ran down Marcel's spine.
"He said I got lucky."
"Lucky?"
"He said I got away with it that time."
Thierry frowned.
"Because of the blonde vampire?"
"No."
Marcel shook his head.
"Because of her husband."
Silence.
"The same vampire who threw me through several trees."
"More than once."
Joshua blinked.
"That guy?"
"That guy."
Marcel remembered perfectly.
The strength.
The speed.
The effortless way he had been overwhelmed.
And worse...
He remembered what happened afterward.
When he had asked the Originals who that vampire was.
The answer immediately came back to him.
Rebekah.
Sitting casually in a chair.
Completely relaxed.
"You're only alive because he didn't want to waste time fighting Klaus."
At the time, Marcel had dismissed it as exaggeration.
Now...
Now he wasn't so sure.
Because Rebekah didn't praise people.
Especially not outsiders.
Especially not potential enemies.
Yet she had said it as though it were obvious.
As though that vampire could genuinely stand against Klaus.
Maybe not win.
But fight.
Survive.
Endure.
Something Marcel was beginning to realize was absurdly rare.
"Wait..." Joshua said slowly.
"You're saying the Originals themselves believed that guy could fight Klaus?"
"I think so."
"That's impossible."
"Is it?"
Marcel looked back toward Rebekah.
The werewolves were still dying.
No chance.
No hope.
Not even slowing her down.
And suddenly a horrifying thought entered his mind.
Maybe he had misunderstood everything.
Maybe those ancient vampires he'd encountered weren't exceptions.
Maybe there were more.
Many more.
Ancient vampires.
Powerful vampires.
Experienced vampires.
Vampires so old that they viewed Marcel the same way Rebekah viewed those werewolves.
As something incapable of threatening them.
And if that was true...
Marcel felt his blood run cold.
Because it meant that his city.
His army.
His kingdom.
Everything he had built.
Could disappear overnight.
Not because of the Originals.
But because of vampires he didn't even know existed.
Vampires old enough to be treated with genuine respect by the Mikaelsons themselves.
And for the first time in many years, Marcel Gerard realized that perhaps he had never truly understood who sat at the top of the food chain.