Ryan entered the building and headed straight for the elevator, pressing the fourth-floor button with the same naturalness as someone who had already turned that path into a routine. The elevator ascended in silence, his reflection in the mirror revealing an expression that was too calm for someone who, weeks ago, only thought about blood and extreme stimuli.
The doors opened to a wide, well-lit hallway. At the end of it was the space he had personally ordered to be adapted since he moved there—well, when you're a millionaire, some renovations are much faster since he had hired a large team that did it in just a few days....
Huh? What was he talking about?
His personal gym.
Since he needed a suitable place to train his own body, he took steps to set up his own gym on the fourth floor of the building. Although the ideal would have been to do it on the first floor, given that the weights he used were truly concerning and could, under normal conditions, compromise the building's structure, he solved the problem in another way.
For that, he asked for help from Bonnie and her grandmother.
Bonnie ended up mentioning to her grandmother that he was a sorcerer, and after the two reunited, the woman grew quite fond of him, treating him with a surprising cordiality, even greater than during his childhood. So, when he explained the situation and asked for assistance, she didn't hesitate to help. She magically reinforced the building's structure and applied some additional protections through what was called "connective magic." Nothing extremely impressive or overly complex, since all the protections were linked to a powerful talisman that he himself had acquired at an auction. The barriers would only be destroyed if the talisman were broken, something practically impossible, considering that only he knew where it was hidden. Still, that was more than enough to ensure safety both during workouts and while he slept, and for him, it already made a considerable difference....
Obviously, he had to invent some excuses about not having learned to do any kind of Western magic and that he followed the tradition as a Shaman, ending up focusing on his own style of magic, which was reinforced by a pact that he wouldn't be able to use any other spell in exchange for an enhancement in it... He created an impeccable logic to use....
The relationship between Shamans and Witches is largely unknown in the original series, but considering their similar practices and the fact that Sheila is quite friendly, one can speculate that it's positive. Like witches, they share a very deep and spiritual connection with Nature, respecting its Laws, while invoking it to create the powerful Shamanic Hunter to oppose vampires.
As soon as he pushed the door open, the contrast was immediate. There was nothing generic or improvised in that place. The floor was reinforced, made to withstand absurd impacts, with thick rubber plates over treated concrete. The walls were thick, partially lined with dark steel, not for aesthetics, but out of necessity. There were fixed bars attached directly to the building's structure, dumbbells aligned on reinforced supports, and machines that clearly hadn't been designed for common human use.
Some weights easily exceeded what any conventional gym would allow. Plates marked with numbers that would make a professional bodybuilder question the sanity of whoever ordered them. Solid benches, bars too thick for normal hands, steel cables tensioned to the limit. Everything there existed to be used without restrictions.
Ryan left the book on a side bench and calmly rolled up his shirt sleeves before starting.
The workout began as always. No music, no distractions. Movement after movement, his body entered that almost automatic state he knew well. Each repetition was precise, controlled, as if he were sculpting something that already existed inside him.
While lifting weights that shouldn't move with such ease, his mind wandered.
He thought about his parents.
In the last month, he had spoken with both of them a few times over the phone. Not long or emotional conversations, but enough to align important things. He had convinced them to stay in Japan, using a tone that was too casual for something that, deep down, was a serious warning. With what Bonnie had seen, the possibility of an accident during a trip wasn't just paranoia.
During one of those calls, he had almost purposefully mentioned Sheila, comments about witches, Mystic Falls, and things that sounded absurd to any normal person. His mother's reaction wasn't one of surprise; in fact, she pulled into a conversation that was too serious to be had over the phone....
After pressing her a bit, the truth finally came out.
His mother was a witch.
Or rather... she didn't like to call herself that. She preferred the term shaman. Someone who was, in fact, capable of using true magic. Fortunately or curiously, she couldn't use [Cursed Energy], something he confirmed by feigning disbelief at the revelation and joking about it. His mother just explained that she used the traditional method of that universe. Not in those words, obviously, but the meaning was clear.
She then revealed another truth.
His father had never been exactly normal either.
He was a shamanic hunter who hunted vampires.
Their move to that city years ago hadn't been random, since the city needed his father to deal with several vampires, and after staying a few years to make sure none remained, they decided to return to Japan.
They allowed him to return to Mystic Falls because of some problems in Japan.
There, paradoxically, it was safer than staying there, where he could end up in danger, something that left complex thoughts swirling in his mind....
She also said that she had some books on magic in the building's basement and that he should study and learn, so he could know how to defend himself, something he did in the last few days, but as expected, he couldn't use the "conventional magic" of this world.
Still, that explained a lot.
When he was reborn in this world, the "Self-Insert" was done in a very detailed way, even his parents who should have been extras were powerful figures that could be used to explain his supernatural abilities; he really had good luck in that rebirth roulette....
Ryan drew in a breath while adding more weight to the bar, his thoughts organizing with the same cold logic as always.
He finished the last set with a slow and controlled movement, the heavy bar being returned to the support with a deep sound that echoed through the empty gym.
Finishing his set, he scanned the environment for a second, as if checking something he already knew by heart, then walked to a corner of the room. He picked up a towel folded with exaggerated care from a cabinet and a transparent water bottle, still cold to the touch from the fridge in the corner. He sat on one of the reinforced benches, his body slightly leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.
He opened the bottle and drank slowly.
The water went down almost tasteless, but refreshing enough to bring his mind back to the present. He closed the cap and set the bottle aside, running the towel over his neck and forearms before letting it fall onto the bench.
For a few seconds, he remained there, just opening and closing his right hand, feeling the contained strength in each movement. His current power was already more than enough not to worry about the Originals, Silas, or even the most powerful witches in that world. He probably wouldn't even need to expand his Domain to deal with most of the existing dangers there. After all, he was in the world of a TV series, and he possessed the full power of the King of Curses at his peak, added to Megumi's potential and Itadori's own.
For having become so strong and for his knowledge of this world, it was inevitable that that thought would arise.
The so-called "loneliness of the strongest."
A philosophy he had always considered a brilliant construct of Gege Akutami's mind... and that he now realized he shared in an almost identical way to Sukuna himself. Even if he was changing slowly in various aspects, that was something that would remain immutable.
Loneliness was not a tragedy, nor a burden to be overcome. It was a natural consequence. The apex of power created an inevitable abyss between the one who achieved it and everyone else. There was no room for equality, empathy, or belonging when the entire world became an extension of one's own will. He always thought that way, and it hadn't changed and wouldn't change; the difference was that in this world, he had real power and didn't need tricks to avoid being arrested or punished for his desires.
Now he understood the King of Curses even more; anyone who couldn't face him simply didn't exist on the same plane of reality. The loneliness of the strongest wasn't a price to pay, but irrefutable proof that he had transcended any common notion of existence. Being the strongest meant being free: free from moral duties, free from justifications, free even from the need to be understood...
Even if time transformed him in details, even if new experiences shaped nuances in his way of thinking, this core would remain intact.
At the top, there is no company.
There is only silence... and the absolute certainty of oneself.
Yes, the arrogance of the strongest was beginning to infect his thoughts.
Because he was the strongest....
Anyway, he was eager to use his strength to crush someone.
And that made him think about the Founders' Party.
The event was still a few days away, but Mystic Falls was already starting to enter that strange atmosphere of forced tradition and staged nostalgia. Banners would be hung, empty speeches would be repeated....
For him, it was obvious.
If the Salvatore brothers were going to do something, it would be there.
Not because it was strategically perfect, but because Damon simply never resisted a stage. Besides, he needed to recover something that belonged to him and was kept in the Lockwood house, something essential for his plan to free Katherine from that tomb.
As for Stefan, the reason was even more predictable. As a doppelgänger, he was inevitably drawn to Elena and wouldn't give up until he was by her side. Still, that didn't seem to affect Elena's disposition toward him... since she didn't feel the slightest attraction to that wimpy vampire, of course, that was because of him, right? He messed everything up by being with her....
Which raised an uncomfortable doubt: were the witches irritated with him for messing up the universe's balance?
After all, there was all that story about Silas and his beloved being the first immortals, the mortal versions that came after, and all that convenient mystical construction to justify that Elena and Stefan were destined to be together. A bunch of prophecies, shadows of the original couple, and "inevitable destinies."
All that cosmic nonsense to explain something that, deep down, seemed more like an imposition of the universe than a real choice....
Ironically, all that cycle ended up being broken when Elena got with Damon. The repetition that extended for centuries was interrupted, and now, he was the variable that broke the equation.
The reason?
In truth, not even he knew for sure.
And, to be honest, he didn't care one bit about it.
If "Nature" wanted to turn him into an enemy, he would take pleasure in destroying it and displaying all his cruelty. He was already nurturing ideas for an inevitable confrontation, not just against Nature itself, but also against the witches who called themselves guardians of balance.
After all, he was an "anomaly" in that world.
And he had no intention whatsoever of bowing down because of it.
Ryan closed his hand with a bit more force, the tendons standing out under his skin.
For now, the most important thing was to keep his girls safe; he had already given rings with vervain to Elena and Caroline. Neither of them could be hypnotized easily now, which already eliminated one of the favorite tricks of ancient and annoying vampires.
Still, that didn't solve everything.
Vervain doesn't stop fangs.
Nor speed.
Nor superhuman strength.
That was the real problem.
Ryan ran his hand over his face slowly.
He needed to make them strong enough to survive without depending on him every second.
Not to fight ancient vampires on equal terms, that would be unrealistic for now, but to resist, escape, buy time. To not be easy prey.....
His mind began to work at the same calculating pace as always, tracing possibilities, discarding the useless ones. But he soon pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he did with everything that didn't need to be resolved at that instant.
He stood up from the bench calmly, set the towel aside, and returned to the center of the gym. The workout resumed without ceremony. Heavy bench presses, squats that would make any common structure complain, bars being lifted and lowered with an almost artistic precision. Sweat began to run down his neck, his back, the defined line of his arms, dripping onto the reinforced floor without him slowing the pace....
When he finished for good, his entire body was covered in sweat, his breathing still steady, his heart beating at a pace too calm for someone who had just pushed his own physique to the limit. He ran his hand through his damp hair, breathed deeply, and, without any hurry, left the gym.
The elevator took him to the fifth floor.
The apartment was silent when he entered. The natural light had already disappeared from the windows, replaced by the soft glow of the streetlights outside. He dropped his backpack near the sofa, went straight to the bathroom, and let the hot water fall over his body.
The steam filled the room while he remained motionless under the shower, his muscles relaxing little by little. Scattered thoughts arose and disappeared without sticking. When he finished, he dried himself without haste and put on simple casual clothes: a dark t-shirt, comfortable pants.
Hunger came right after.
In the kitchen, he prepared something quick but well-made. While eating, he opened the notebook on the counter and started working. Charts, numbers, projections.
Financial movements calculated in advance. Investments being adjusted almost out of boredom.
Time passed without him noticing as he earned a few thousand dollars.
When night fell completely, the apartment was already illuminated only by the internal lights and the city outside. He closed the notebook, stretched his arms, and took a quick look at his phone; Caroline had just let him know she was ready to come over. He sent his location and explained the details about where he lived, then decided to quickly clean the house...
It didn't take more than twenty minutes for his company that night to arrive.
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