The courtyard fell eerily silent as Klaus stepped into view. His presence alone was enough to send a wave of terror through the ranks of wolves, their snarls faltering for just a moment as they realized the gravity of the situation. Klaus, the ancient hybrid who had ruled the supernatural realm with an iron fist for centuries, stood before them, his eyes burning with malevolent power.
He was taller than most vampires, his frame imposing and muscular, a perfect blend of his vampire and werewolf heritage. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and his eyes—those deep, blood-red eyes—swept across the battlefield with a calculating, predatory gaze. There was no fear in him, no hesitation. He had fought battles like this before and won them all.
A cruel smile spread across Klaus's lips as he addressed the wolves, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "So, you've come to die at my feet. How noble… and foolish."
