I am in legacies

"AHAHAHA!" A smug, wicked laugh shattered the tense silence, reverberating through the dim chamber. "Now, now, don't look so terrified, mortals," the Necromancer sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Though I am THE Necromancer, ruler of death itself, I'm also known for being... reasonably diplomatic. So, here's the deal—hand over the knife, and I might consider overlooking the disgraceful insults you so foolishly hurled at someone of my stature.Just give up the knife, and everything will go back to being nice and boring for you lot. You can crawl back to this so-called safe haven for supernaturals and pretend you're still untouchable."

Hope's brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a tight line as the mockery and venom in his voice stung her pride. She didn't flinch, though. She never did. Meanwhile, Jacob stood frozen, his mind spinning in panicked circles.

Still thinking of what he might got himself involved with. I mean, he felt like he just walked into the season finale of some insane supernatural soap opera, and I'm the random extra who's going to get killed off in the first five minutes!

"This is Bullshit!" He groaned.

"I mean, call me paranoid but this shit feels like one of those drama with a super OP supervillain who's a freaking mad-genius and a fucken mastermind." Jacob's thoughts screamed at him, spiraling out of control.

"And what am I supposed to do?, team up with these bunch supernatural teens and, what, go fight for the greater good or some crap?"

" I mean, don't get me wrong but this is not ideal." He glanced at the others, taking in their expressions. "With what strength? the kids here ain't even 1% aware of their potential. Half of them don't even know what they're capable of! The other half are either too afraid of their own nature or just to fucken full of themselves to even care about the overall situations"

"And don't even get me started on that so-called headmaster—he's terrified of his own students."

"All of this equates to fucken disaster, and disaster equates to me dead!. I don't wanna die, I don't wann..." while Jacob was arguing with his thoughts, a sudden surge of dark magic flooded the room. The oppressive energy pressed down on him, putting his internal ramblings screeched to a halt, as the might of the magic pressure steal his breath as the Necromancer's voice cut through the air, sharp and venomous.

"THE BLOODY KNIFE, MORTALS!" the Necromancer snapped, his blackened nails extending grotesquely as he pointed them toward Dr. Saltzman.

Hope's voice rang out like a bell amidst the chaos, firm and unyielding. "ALFUKOH MOH!" she cried, releasing a powerful spell that slammed into the Necromancer, sending his body onto the cell wall.

His body hurtled back against the wall, a groan of pain escaping his lips as he slide down the wall, streaks of magic danced across his trembling body.

"Heh…heh…" A weak, trembling laugh spilled from the Necromancer, quickly spiraling into a manic cackle. "AHAHAHAHA!" His laughter grew louder, more deranged, the sound saturated with rage.

Who was he? The Necromancer. The ruler of death. The commander of life and its end. The monarch of the undead. And yet—yet!—here he was, reduced to this. Manipulated. Toyed with. Used as a pawn in someone else's game. Strings pulled tight, forcing him to dance like a fool.

Arghhhh…. He was soo angry, so so crazy mad that His anger boiled over, consuming him. He wished—no, willed—to unleash the underworld upon this realm, to let his army of the dead swarm this plane, rack havoc on it.

Let the so called supernatural order controllers, the so called NOBLE families feel the wrath of The Necromancer. Let them know what it means to provoke The Necromancer.

Jacob, meanwhile, stood paralyzed, his chest heaving as he tried to comprehend the wave of magic that had just swept through the room. He looked at the Necromancer, he felt this magic wave was different from regular magic spells, there was no spell configuration at all. It was like there 2 consciousness in the Necromancer's mind, yes his subconscious but now it was not his subconscious, at least not 100% his.

This was an ancient spell that was once used by the witches. The witches used to curse people by amplifying their deepest emotions until they consumed them. That's what this is.

A spell made to influence others by manipulating their emotions. The same spell used as an ancient curse to curse humanity to be destroyed their own emotions.

At least this one was used on a lesser level, used on his already itchy feeling to possess the knife.

But an ancient spell nonetheless and if ancient magic like this is in play…. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Fuck, what is happening here?!" Jacob just got chills run down his spine. Ancient magic, especially ancient curses are not children Playlist. This means some veteran dark witches are at play, someone with a serious major magic/curses experience, all of this equates to death. Fuck it, I still don't wanna die. I DON'T WANNA DIE YOU STUPID ANCIENT DARK FORCES!!!

"Hey, Necromancer, better watch it, next time I won't be this merciful" Hope cold voice yet still sexy come over.

The Necromancer groaned, dragging himself upright as dark magic flickered faintly around him. "Ooo..... Spare me your hollow feeble threats, daughter of Niklaus Mikaelson," he spat, his words filled with venom.

Hope's expression darkened at the mention of her father. Her gaze turned cold—colder than Jacob had ever seen. But oddly doing this doesn't really do her any good since the more she makes the cold face, the better and more beautiful, and alluring she becomes.

Hence it doesn't look like she's angry at all. instead of looking intimidating, the icy fury only seemed to enhance her beauty. If anything, it made her look untouchable, almost ethereal.

"How do you know my father?" she demanded, her voice like a blade slicing through the tension in the room.

The Necromancer grinned, his teeth bared in a feral sneer. "Oh, Hope Mikaelson," he crooned mockingly, "there's much I know. More than you could possibly imagine."