Klaus knew that Lissa was young and there was no way for her to actually understand what Klaus was capable of. Centuries of violence filled his blood. He was a Mikaelson and with him walked the name of a plague that vampires feared and the supernatural community whispered. He was a myth for a very long time to most and here in Everett there was no chance to show the world what sort of dominant creature he could be. The world was already ravaged. What sort of impact could he make against a world already on the brink of death?
“The dhampirs are nothing in comparison to what I can do. Or my family for that matter. We’re Originals, love. A thousand years of killing and taking what is ours. I am the first and most powerful hybrid. I can rip through their soldiers without them even realizing it. I can rip someone’s heart out and show it to them right before they give their last breath.”
Klaus felt himself feel a sense of satisfaction at his own words. A long time ago there was a lot of gratification when it came to ripping off someone’s head with just a swipe of his hand. Klaus could do it so easily. He had killed a few of these soldiers that way, their heads lopped off as if they were just plastic dummies.
“If you rather have your friends assist you that’s fine. You might just find me there anyway.” Klaus didn’t have to promise Lissa that he would stay out of it. Killing was killing in his book and if he had the chance to spill blood then there was no holding him back.