The vampire couldn't even move when he tried to back away.
His body simply refused to respond.
The pressure in the air wasn't physical, yet it was crushing, as though something invisible had positioned itself behind him and decided that, in that space, only one will mattered. The predatory smile he had worn seconds earlier froze into something tense, almost irritated.
He released Vicki's neck, letting her body drop gently onto the leaf-covered ground.
Very slowly, the vampire turned his face.
Ryan stood just a few steps away, hands in his pockets, posture far too relaxed for someone who had just interrupted an attack. The distant firelight from the clearing didn't reach that part of the woods, yet his green eyes still reflected an alert gleam — cold, calculating, curious in exactly the right measure.
He recognized the aggressor instantly.
Damon Salvatore.
Now, why would he come all the way into this forest to interrupt the meal of a sociopathic vampire who, to make matters worse, also had a brother with a deeply rooted hero complex? To anyone who knew him even a little, the answer would seem strange at first glance. After all, there was nothing he enjoyed more than women, and just moments earlier he had been accompanied by three genuine beauties he fully intended to take to bed.
So why abandon such a pleasant situation to confront a crawling worm?
The answer was simple.
He just wanted to have a little fun…
Nothing seemed more pleasurable to him at that moment than crushing the pride of an arrogant vampire, toying with him before sating his own thirst, and reminding him — in the cruelest way possible — which of the two was the true predator.
He had been waiting for this opportunity since the very instant he was reborn into this world. An old, patient desire, carefully cultivated over time. And then Damon simply showed up at his doorstep, like a gift delivered on a silver platter.
Given that, why not take advantage?
It would be an unforgivable waste to let such a chance slip away.
Though, to be fair to himself, he admitted: he had come to the party already expecting this might happen. In that context, calling it "destiny" was perhaps too much of an exaggeration — planning sounded far more honest…
"Well, well…" Damon broke the silence, raising his eyebrows theatrically. "That's bad manners, you know? Showing up like this without warning."
Ryan tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to Vicki on the ground before returning to Damon.
"Funny." The voice came out calm, almost bored. "I was just thinking that you're the one with zero manners, doing that kind of thing to such a fragile girl…"
Damon sighed as though genuinely offended and raised both hands in exaggerated surrender.
"Easy. Easy." He smirked sideways. "You got it all wrong. That was just innocent boyfriend-girlfriend playtime. Fake blood. Little scare. She's got a weak heart for that kind of thing…"
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"Boyfriend?" He flicked a quick glance at Vicki before locking eyes with Damon again. "As far as I know, her boyfriend is Tyler Lockwood."
For one exact second, Damon looked genuinely shocked.
His mouth opened, eyes widened… and then the smile returned, exaggerated to the point of being fake.
"What?"
He placed a hand over his chest.
"You're telling me I'm the side piece in this story?"
Ryan let out a short, humorless laugh.
"No." He took one step forward. The pressure in the air increased almost imperceptibly. "I'm saying you're an idiot with terrible taste in excuses."
Damon finally seemed to realize something was deeply wrong. The mocking smile flickered and fell almost immediately — he had always been the type who didn't lose his "sexy" composure easily. Still, something inside him truly cracked the moment the boy whose name he didn't even know took another step closer.
The pressure in the air surged abruptly. It wasn't direct physical force, but something far worse: an absolute presence, a silent authority that crushed any impulse to react before it could even form.
Instinct screamed at him to run.
His heart — an organ he had ignored for over a century — seemed to skip a beat. Then another. And the feeling that crawled up his spine wasn't anger, excitement, or even curiosity.
It was dread.
Pure. Raw. Unmistakable.
He frowned, more irritated with himself than anything else.
Fear?
How ridiculous.
He had never felt it before. Not when he was turned. Not when he killed for the first time. Not even when facing vampires far older and more dangerous than himself.
And yet…
The air felt too heavy to breathe.
The green-eyed young man was close now. Close enough for Damon to notice details he had missed before: the absolute calm in his movements, the complete absence of haste, as though the situation required zero effort. Those green pupils weren't glowing with rage or pleasure — which, somehow, made everything even worse.
They were cold. Indifferent.
Like the eyes of a predator that had already decided the prey's fate and was merely watching out of habit, not necessity.
Damon let out a low, hoarse laugh, breaking the heavy silence like someone finally accepting the joke.
"Alright… alright." He shook his head slowly, dark eyes regaining that familiar irritating cynicism. "I admit it. That wasn't my best excuse."
He took a step to the side, cracking his neck as though his own body were shaking off uncomfortable tension.
"The truth?" His smile widened, revealing fangs already beginning to emerge. "I'm a vampire. And I was feeding."
Damon's gaze slid to Vicki on the ground and then back to Ryan, now loaded with pure annoyance.
"And I hate — I really fucking hate — when someone interrupts me right at the good part."
The air around them seemed to tremble slightly as he took another step forward, this time with clear intent. The provocation had almost completely vanished, replaced by something rawer, more primal.
"And to make it worse…" His voice dropped, venomous. "You saw me. Saw too much. If the Council finds out I'm the vampire in the area, my return to Mystic Falls is going to be very problematic. So blame your bad luck for running into me and your courage for provoking me at the wrong fucking time…"
It was at the very end of the sentence that Damon moved — body coiled like a bow about to snap. He wasn't the type to back down from some random human, no matter how strange the boy seemed. With a low growl, he launched forward in a blurred rush, right hand extended like a claw, aiming straight for Ryan's chest to rip the heart out in one swift, lethal motion — the kind of strike he had perfected over decades…
But before his fingers could touch the shirt, Ryan moved his arm with casual precision, catching Damon's wrist mid-air as though swatting an annoying fly. The grip was absolute; bones creaked under the pressure without apparent effort. Ryan's green eyes gleamed with cold amusement that made Damon's eyes widen in genuine shock, his pale face frozen in disbelief. How? The thought flashed through his mind, fast and confused, body immobilized mid-attack…
Before he could pull back or counter, Ryan twisted slightly and delivered a straight kick directly into Damon's stomach. The impact rang out like muffled thunder, raw force crushing ribs and pulverizing internal organs in an explosion of blinding pain.
"AAAARGH—!"
Damon flew backward like a ragdoll, body smashing through thin trees that snapped in half with dry cracks, hurtling dozens of meters before tumbling across the damp earth, coughing up thick, dark blood, chest convulsing as he choked on his own fluids, collapsed lungs desperately fighting for air that wouldn't come, vision blurring with pure agony.
"Khk… khk… hrrghhh…"
The wet sound of blood being coughed up, mixed with the suffocating gurgle of lungs struggling for air, sounded like the most beautiful melody to the human boy's ears.
Ryan appeared like a ghost in front of Damon, foot planted firmly on his ruined chest, pressing down with enough weight to crack more bones, but not enough to kill. He smiled slowly, genuine pleasure curling his lips, green eyes shining like those of a predator who had just found a brand-new toy.
"No, no, no. You don't get to die from just that. Not when it's finally getting fun. You're officially obligated to be my toy and entertain me for the rest of the night, so dying right now is strictly forbidden."
Damon, coughing up blood in spurts that stained the leaves around him, managed to lift his face just enough to spit out a sarcastic remark, voice hoarse and wet, but still carrying that unshakable narcissism that defined him.
"Ah, I know I'm pretty. But you're not my type, kid. You think you can… play with me? I'm the toy that bites back, you know?!"
Ryan laughed quietly — a simple but icy sound — and raised two fingers in a small, casual gesture. An invisible cut appeared from nowhere, slicing cleanly through the air and shearing off Damon's left ear in one precise motion. The chunk of flesh fell to the ground like discarded trash.
"AIIIHHHH— FUCK—!"
Damon screamed, raw and animalistic, the sound echoing through the woods. His hand flew to the side of his face as blood sprayed, blue eyes wide with shock and rage, body convulsing under the human boy's foot.
"You were supposed to dodge that properly…" Ryan commented lightly, almost amused, as though correcting a clumsy child. The smile on his lips widened as he watched the vampire suffer, sadistic pleasure evident in his far-too-relaxed posture.
For some reason, this was even more entertaining than he remembered. There was something profoundly satisfying about witnessing the suffering of worms destined to crawl beneath his feet. That had always been the role of the weak: convenient entertainment for someone like him.
Before Damon could retort, Ryan grabbed the collar of his jacket with one hand, lifting his body as though it weighed nothing, and hurled him hard against the nearby trees.
"Ughk—! Hrrngh—! AHH—!"
Damon crashed into thick trunks, the impact shattering old wood in an explosion of splinters and cracks. His body ricocheted and rolled across uneven ground, more bones breaking, wounds tearing open as he spat blood and dirt, pain radiating like fire through his entire being.
Ryan appeared like a ghost beside him, materializing from nowhere right where Damon lay on all fours, coughing blood and choking, one hand still pressed to the torn-off ear, face twisted in humiliated fury, blue eyes burning with pure hatred, his narcissistic ego crushed under the weight of reality — he, the immortal vampire, reduced to this by some random human.
Rage bubbled. The desire for revenge boiled like poison. But his body betrayed him — too broken, too weak to stand immediately.
"FUCK— AAAARGHHH— YOU SON OF A BITCH—!" Damon spat more blood while screaming, growling low as he tried to rise, but Ryan casually stepped on his hand, crushing the fingers with an audible crack, pinning him to the ground like an insect.
Ryan tilted his head, the smile never leaving his face.
"Ready for another round?"
Damon snarled, forcing his shattered body to obey the sheer force of hatred. Something inside him screamed that this was impossible — no human should move like that, let alone toy with a vampire as though he were a wounded animal. Still, he attacked. Vanished in a dark-blue blur, reappearing at Ryan's right with claw-shaped hand aimed at his throat.
Ryan simply wasn't there anymore. He appeared about two meters away from where he had been. Frustrated, Damon moved again, coming up behind him, spinning for a low strike. Nothing. Ryan had already taken two steps sideways, as though following a silent song only he could hear.
"Come on…" Damon growled, accelerating even more, attacking in rapid sequence. Right. Left. Elbow. Knee.
Ryan moved between the blows with absurd lightness — twisting his torso, tilting his head, sliding his feet across the damp earth like he was dancing. Every attack passed centimeters away.
Close enough to be humiliating.
Far enough to be useless.
"Are you trying to hit me or waltz with me?" Ryan asked, voice serene, almost affectionate.
Damon released a scream of pure frustration.
"SHUT UP!"
He charged again, faster, more desperate — a skillful flurry of punches and claws that would have made any other vampire proud.
Ryan's smile only grew wider. And then, right in the middle of one particularly furious rush, he finally decided to hit back — using a bit of boxing he had learned during his time in the military, just for fun…
The first punch came like lightning.
Straight to the center of Damon's face.
The impact was so violent his head snapped back with an audible crack. The nose exploded in blood and shattered cartilage.
"NGHAA—!"
Before he could recover, the second punch landed — a right cross that smashed the left cheekbone. Bone gave way with a wet snap. Skin tore.
"GRRRAAHH—!"
But screaming didn't help. Ryan didn't stop.
Third strike — a fast jab to the already swelling eye. The socket collapsed. The eyeball sank slightly, vision bursting into white-hot pain.
"AIIIHH— FUCK—!"
Fourth — a left hook to the temple. The skull rattled. Blood leaked from the remaining ear.
Fifth — a brutal uppercut to the chin. More teeth flew, spinning through the air like macabre confetti.
"KHAAARK—!"
Sixth, seventh, eighth — a perfect, merciless boxing combination, each blow heavier than the last. Damon's face became an unrecognizable ruin: nose smashed, cheeks split open, lips torn, eyes nearly swollen shut, thick rivers of blood pouring down his chin and neck.
He staggered, arms hanging limp, legs trembling.
Ryan paused for a second, admiring his work.
"Look at you…" he murmured, almost tenderly. "You're a total wreck. I think you need a doctor! I hit your face so many times it's literally unrecognizable!"
The smile on his face as he said it was enormous.
Damon tried to say something — probably another cocky remark — but only a wet, pathetic gurgle came out. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own legs, instinct finally overpowering his shattered ego.
Run, or he would definitely die…
He turned and ran — or tried to. It was more of a desperate, limping stagger, body screaming in protest with every step.
Ryan watched for two seconds.
Then clicked his tongue, disappointed.
"Leaving already? Who gave you permission?" He raised his right hand, fingers spread. "Dismantle."
There was no warning. No dramatic sound.
Damon's left leg simply… detached.
From mid-thigh downward, flesh and bone were sliced as though an invisible blade had passed through in slow motion. The limb fell to the ground with a wet thud, still twitching reflexively.
Damon face-planted with a scream that tore through the entire night.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH— FUCK— MY LEG— AAAAHHHHH—!"
He rolled onto his back, hands clutching the spurting stump in rhythmic gushes, his already ruined face now a mask of absolute agony, eyes wide, mouth open in a continuous, hoarse scream that grew steadily weaker.
Ryan walked slowly over and stopped beside the writhing body.
He tilted his head, observing the scene with genuine interest, watching Damon convulse on the ground for a few seconds, head slightly cocked like someone studying an interesting experiment.
"Vampires…" he commented, almost in a lecturing tone, as though giving an informal class. "You guys can regenerate from practically any kind of damage. Broken bones, destroyed organs, torn flesh. Impressive."
He took another step forward, stopping right beside the severed leg still lying a few meters back. Ryan gave it a quick glance, then looked back at Damon.
"That's why you're perfect for entertainment."
The smile widened slightly, but there was something cold behind it.
"But, if my memory isn't failing me…" He tapped his chin, pretending to think. "To regenerate a lost limb, you need the actual limb. Put it back in place… and then wait for regeneration to do the rest."
Ryan shook his head slowly, sighing in mock disappointment.
"Unfortunately, you're not Deadpool." He let out a short, nasal laugh. "No limbs growing back on their own, no matter how badly you want it."
Damon, trembling on the ground, face destroyed, contorted in pain and confusion, managed to turn his head enough to look at him. His voice came out hoarse, broken, mixed with the gurgle of blood.
"W-why…" He swallowed hard, chest convulsing. "Why are you doing this…?"
The blue eyes, even injured and swollen, still carried something between disbelief and outrage.
"We don't even have beef… I don't even know you."
Ryan remained silent for a moment.
Then smiled.
But this time the smile wasn't merely cruel. It was worse.
The green eyes slowly began to glow, the color shifting into a deep, metallic red — unnatural, reflecting the faint distant firelight like heated blades.
He leaned forward slightly, looking down at Damon.
"Beef?" Ryan actually laughed now — low, relaxed, as though he'd heard a particularly good joke. "I'm not the type who needs grudges or reasons to do what I want. I value my pleasure above everything. I'm pretty selfish, you know?"
He spread his arms slightly in an almost casual gesture.
"If I want to kill, I kill."
"If I want to eat, I eat."
"If I want to fuck, I fuck."
The smile grew wider, almost satisfied.
"That's how I live."
Damon felt a shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with physical pain. This wasn't anger. It wasn't revenge. Nor was it twisted justice.
So that was it? He was going to die simply because this human boy desired it?
What kind of monster was this?
The realization hit harder than any blow. Vampires without humanity were still something he could understand — they didn't care about anything or anyone and lived only for themselves, but in theory they could still be saved. There was a return. There was regret. There was a thin thread that could pull them back to something human — a "switch" that could bring them back.
But the thing standing in front of him…
A completely malevolent human who consciously enjoyed the suffering of others had no redemption. There was no switch to flip. That cruelty wasn't a deviation — it was his essence…
And that was far worse.
Ryan straightened up. The red glow in his eyes pulsed once more before softening and returning to green.
"But…" he added, as though deciding to be generous. "If you really need an explanation."
His gaze turned cold again.
"It's because you attacked me first."
Damon broke with those words, because he understood that the monster in front of him would happily kill him!
His body shook uncontrollably, shoulders jerking as he dragged himself a few centimeters backward, leaving a trail of blood on the earth. His breathing came in short, disordered sobs, each inhale burning like fire in his damaged lungs.
"W-wait…" The voice came out broken, high-pitched, unrecognizable. "I-I'm… I'm sorry…"
He swallowed hard, spitting blood immediately after.
"I… I didn't know… I won't do it again, I swear… never again. Never." The blue eyes, once full of sarcasm and arrogance, were now wide, glassy, filled with pure panic. "I'll never come near you again. Never. I'll leave Mystic Falls, I'll disappear, I'll do whatever you want—"
Ryan tilted his head as though listening to something curious… then frowned.
"Hmm." He touched his chin, thoughtful. "I don't know…"
He took one step forward.
"It's hard to trust someone so ugly."
Damon shuddered.
Ryan crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to the vampire's ruined face, studying him with clinical interest.
"I mean…" he continued, voice almost amused. "Look at you. Crooked nose, missing teeth, eye practically falling out… You really think someone like that deserves trust?"
He let out a short, low, cruel chuckle.
"If I were you, I'd say anything to keep breathing too."
Damon started crying.
There was no more dignity, no pose, no joke. Only broken sobs and absolute despair.
"P-please…" he stammered. "I don't want to die… I… I promise—"
Ryan sighed loudly, exaggeratedly, like someone bored.
"Ahh…"
Then he raised two fingers into the air, as though asking for silence.
"Enough."
The smile vanished.
"The moment you started begging, it got boring."
Damon froze.
The terror in his eyes turned into absolute understanding. There was no way out. There never had been.
Ryan straightened up, the two fingers still raised, ready to finish it.
That was when something struck him from the side.
A hard, sudden impact.
Stefan Salvatore appeared like a blur, shoulder slamming into Ryan in a desperate, vampire-powered shove filled with pure panic.
"Leave my brother alone!"
Ryan didn't move a single centimeter.
The push simply… died against him, like a wave crashing against a sea wall.
Ryan slowly turned his face toward Stefan, expression neutral, almost curious.
"Hmm? Look who showed up…"
Before Stefan could react, Ryan twisted his hips and delivered a dry, direct kick straight into his abdomen.
The impact was brutal.
"UGHH—!"
Stefan was hurled backward, flying several meters before crashing violently into the ground, rolling and coughing blood, body arching in pain as he struggled to draw air.
Silence.
Now both brothers lay before him.
Damon — mutilated, crying, trembling.
Stefan — gasping, injured, trying to force himself up.
Ryan observed them for a moment.
Then smiled.
But it wasn't a simple smile of amusement.
It was interest.
He walked slowly until he stood between the two, hands back in his pockets, posture relaxed, completely in control.
His green eyes gleamed faintly.
"Things just got a lot more interesting."
_______________________
(A/N: This chapter existed solely to show Ryan's more "Sukuna-like" side. The intention here was not to portray a hero, nor someone morally justifiable, but to expose, without any filter, how cruel, dominant, and predatory he can be when he decides to have fun. This is Ryan in his rawest state: someone who enjoys tormenting his enemies, who takes pleasure in crushing others' pride, and who sees suffering as entertainment whenever it suits him.
As the story progresses, he will change or at least learn how to restrain this side of himself. That doesn't mean he'll become kind, nor that this facet will disappear easily. Quite the opposite: it's deeply rooted, hard to erase, and, to be completely honest, unlikely to vanish entirely. Ryan will always enjoy playing with those he considers "worms." The difference is that, over time, he'll become more selective about whenand with whom, he unleashes that monster.
At the beginning of the chapter, I deliberately wanted to evoke that Sukuna vs. Jogo vibe, along with the two girls in Shibuya, that sense of absolute presence, instinctive fear, something that simply should not exist there. That's why Damon was internally scared shitless. But, as we all know, he's more arrogant than fearful, so his ego spoke louder… and the result is right there.
Now, a question for you all:
What do you think Ryan should do with Stefan?
Finally, just to clarify something for those familiar with The Vampire Diaries:
Vampires can indeed regenerate lost limbs if they reattach them, as shown when Enzo lost his hand. If the limb is not reattached, they remain permanently without it.
The Originals, however, are a different matter altogether. They are essentially indestructible. In his current state, Ryan wouldn't be able to do much against them, as he's still too weak in comparison. That will change. He will train, grow stronger — and when he finally meets the Originals… that's when the rules of the game truly begin to change.
Thanks to everyone who read this far — and feel free to theorize, because the next decisions will matter.
Did you enjoy the chapter? Then you should know that over on my Patreon you can read up to chapters ahead for just 5USD! And yes—for that price, you also get full access to all of my content. That's right: cheaper than a snack… and with way more drama, action, and guaranteed emotional damage.
The link is right below. See you there!
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Thank you so much for your support — you make all of this worthwhile.)