Michael had left the Mikaelsons to their own devices a decade ago. He had lived long enough to know that involving oneself in family drama especially immortal family drama was a catastrophic waste of time. It always turned ugly. It always ended in blood. And with that particular family, it always ended in betrayal dressed up as love.
Always and forever.
He almost snorted at the phrase as he moved through a slow, flowing form one he had learned centuries ago and long since forgotten the name of.
He knew them better than they knew themselves.
If it ever came down to survival, their survival, they would leave him dead without hesitation. They did not care about right or wrong, allies or debts. Only family. Only the continuation of their line. That was the truth beneath all their pretty words and fractured loyalties.
Michael had no intention of being caught in another family war.
Not again.
Especially not after the last time he'd merely defended himself against Kol and Mikael only for their immediate response to be rage, accusations, and wounded pride. He exhaled softly, lips twitching.
'Ah yes,' he thought dryly, 'how dare I not let them murder me.'
He shifted into another stance, weight settling, fire humming quietly beneath his skin.
It was during that wandering decade that he heard whispers passed through frightened mouths and newly turned throats that the Mikaelsons were on the run. Their father hunted them relentlessly, and they had taken refuge in a castle owned by Count De Martel in the south of France.
That, at least, made him pause.
Michael remembered the first time he had encountered one of those newly sired vampires. He had been… amused.
Apparently, Kol had grown bored and turned an entire village into vampires.
One of them unfortunate, enthusiastic, and profoundly stupid had crossed paths with Michael and attempted to feed on him.
The vampire hadn't made it within ten feet.
Michael had broken its neck without looking up from what he was doing at the time.
That, ironically, was how he had gotten his information.
Kol, it seemed, had been venting his frustrations to the fledgling, complaining about his brothers, his father, and the endless misery of being perpetually underestimated. The vampire had babbled everything once Michael pried open his mind, stress and fear loosening its tongue with ease.
Michael rolled his eyes at the memory.
He had extracted a lot of information from that one. Tested a spell or two. Confirmed a theory. Then burned it to ash.
After that, he decided to test his abilities on the rest of the newly turned vampires.
They hadn't lasted long.
In truth, he didn't need information about the Originals. He already knew what awaited them at that castle.
Klaus had turned a servant, Lucian Castle into a vampire.
Elijah, ever the architect, had turned Tristan into a manipulative, blood-sucking bastard with delusions of grandeur.
Rebekah, following close behind, had turned Aurora.
It was almost poetic and entirely predictable.
When Mikael arrived in southern France, the illusion shattered. The Mikaelsons fled once more, leaving their fledglings behind to face the consequences.
Elijah, in a rare moment of foresight, compelled the newly turned vampires to behave as their respective sires mirroring mannerisms, speech, and habits. The deception diverted Mikael's attention long enough for his children to escape.
'Clever.'
Michael acknowledged that much.
——————————————
Michael POV
I spent two years testing what I could do and how it affected the long awaited vampires.
Progress requires experimentation after all and understanding demands it.
And unfortunately for the supernatural world, I had a lot to experiment on.
Vampires and Werewolves.
Creatures that still clung to the lie that they were human.
I learned quickly that restraint was… necessary.
⸻
Physical Strength
My strength exceeds that of vampires, werewolves, and anything that still pretends to be human. That much was already proven when I overpowered Mikael but he had been a new Original then. Raw power without refinement. If I wanted a proper benchmark, I'd need to push further.
It wasn't immediately obvious just how wide the gap was.
The first time I restrained a vampire without meaning to, I realized I'd misjudged the margin badly. Bones break more easily than I remembered. Muscle gives way before the mind has time to register panic.
More interestingly, my strength increases in direct proportion to how much of the fire I let surface.
I don't need to transform fully.
Partial shifts are enough to tip the scales decisively. That is… useful.
⸻
Speed & Agility
Movement comes easily. When I choose to move, I am faster than the eye can track. Comparable to vampires occasionally faster especially over short distances especially when I raced after four different vampires to get results on how fast I truly am. Direction changes don't cost momentum. My body compensates automatically, like it already knows where I need to be.
There's nothing theatrical about it.
I am faster than transformed werewolves, who themselves rival vampires like Stefan and Damon. Compared to an Original, however… that remains untested.
I don't like unknowns.
⸻
Regeneration
Healing is fast.
Uncomfortably fast, if I'm honest.
Wounds close in seconds. Bone realigns and knits before shock can set in. Severe trauma takes minutes, not hours.
And I don't scar, unless of course I want it to
That fact bothers me more than it should.
⸻
Hellfire
This is where things become… interesting.
I control fire, but not ordinary fire. Mine feeds on imbalance. On death. On things that refuse to end properly. It burns hotter than supernatural flame and does not respect regenerative limits. Against vampires, it reduces them to ash in seconds.
When I burn without intending to kill, the damage doesn't heal. Ever. The wounds remain raw and painful like they're still burning long after the flames are gone. Werewolves react the same way.
The color remains consistent: blue edged with deep orange.
It also responds well to conscious control.
I can also burn through magic. That revelation had led my since been know but still it is a fact that makes me feel alot safer.
⸻
My immunity to fire came next. All forms of flame are irrelevant to me.
Normal fire.
Magical fire.
I haven't tested hellfire from external sources yet, I think I will be needed that bald headed demonic bastard Cade for that. But everything else passes over me without effect.
Standing inside an inferno feels… quiet and comforting even.
That should concern me more than it does.
⸻
Fire Projection, I wasn't sure this would work but it actually does and i tested this around a few days after reincarnating a thousand years ago. I can release hellfire through my hands, claws, or breath. It can ignite the environment or be focused narrowly, depending on how much control I'm exerting.
Uncontrolled emotion amplifies output drastically.
I learned that lesson once.
I will not repeat it.
When calm, the fire listens.
When angry, it answers first and asks questions later.
⸻
My Claws came next
During partial or full transformation, my fingers elongate into claws capable of cutting through enchanted materials… and boundaries.
Wounds inflicted this way don't heal cleanly. Vampires fare worse than werewolves. The damage burns internally, disrupting regeneration in vampires and slowing recovery in wolves.
It is not pleasant to watch but I did anyway.
⸻
Then came my bite
Jaw strength increases to the point where bone becomes brittle and most supernatural defenses fail under sustained pressure.
My bite is lethal to vampires which I had hoped for and they do not survive it. The only way to survive my bit is to burn the spot with my flames.
Werewolves, interestingly, do.
They change afterward. Subtly as a sort of bond forms, something instinctive and almost reverent. I've used this ability exactly twice.
That was enough to confirm a suspicion.
One I'm still not entirely comfortable with.
⸻
Transformation States
For this I have my passive State in which i appear human. My strength and durability remain elevated, subtle enough to hide. In this form, I can pass for a normal vampire.
This is where I live most of the time.
Then comes my Partial Transformation
Triggered by combat, emotional escalation, pure choice or perceived imbalance. My eyes along with my fangs coming out and my claws follows.
Full Transformation
This is when the cracks appear along my skin like cooling molten stone. This state offers the best balance between control and effectiveness.
My voice distorts. Layering over itself and the fire becomes constant.
⸻
Senses
My senses extend roughly a mile in all directions. But that's not the interesting part.
It was the fact that death announces itself to me. Recent deaths of supernaturals feel like pressure. Imminent ones feel like heat behind the sternum. Mass casualty events pull at me hard like gravity aimed inward.
And I can sense supernatural beings easily.
Vampires.
Witches.
Werewolves.
They stand out.
⸻
One final experiment. I let a vampire try to compel me and unsurprisingly Nothing happened. I felt the pressure at the backs of head but I ignored it. Compulsion doesn't work on me and that was a relief.
It also presented a problem.
Because immunity means limitation and limitations require solutions.
Which means I'll need to create something of my own, something that mimics compulsion.
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