Stefano's alter ego, miracle healer Guru Vasudeva Mahayana

THE GURU'S MASQUERADE – VASUDEVA MAHAYANA RISES

The Transformation – A New Face for Osiris Champion

The villa’s grand foyer shimmered under Antonio’s thrall-magic, the once-cozy Tuscan architecture warping into something sleek, clinical, yet mysteriously opulent. Marble floors polished to a mirror sheen reflected the soft glow of Himalayan salt lamps, their orange hues blending with the violet pulse of Stefano’s Osiris Ring. Bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes on Jungian archetypes and Lacanian theory materialized from thin air, their spines embossed in gold leaf. A massive oak desk, carved with intricate Sufi motifs, anchored the room—soon to be the throne of Vasudeva Mahayana, miracle worker, hypnotist, and (alleged) disciple of the legendary Dr. Yasser Horus.

Stefano stood at the center of the metamorphosis, his incubus flesh rippling, bones crackling as they reshaped. His olive skin paled to an ethereal alabaster, the middle-aged man's dark curls bleaching into platinum strands that cascaded like liquid silver to his shoulders.

"Damn... I look like a fucking twink."

His frame diminished, shrinking to a deceptively frail 1.73 meters, his muscles receding into an androgynous elegance that screamed otherworldly. The final touch—his eyes. The violet glow of the Ring seeped into his irises, staining them a haunting red, their pupils slitting like a serpent’s.

Maria watched, her hazel eyes wide, her voluptuous body swaying as she clutched a clipboard to her massive chest.

"You look… like an angel," she breathed, her voice husky.

Stefano—no, Vasudeva—smiled, his fangs retracted, Osiris Champion's new face a masterpiece of deceptive harmlessness.

"A fool’s face for a fox’s game," he purred, his voice higher now, softer, laced with the cadence of a man who’d spent years murmuring sweet nothings to broken minds. He shrugged on the flowing robes of a Persian dervish, the fabric whispering against his slender frame, the sleeves long enough to hide the Osiris Ring’s telltale glow.

Antonio crouched nearby, his green-skinned goblin form hunched over a stack of forged diplomas, his clawed fingers meticulously stamping each with "Vasudeva Mahayana – Certified Practitioner of Horus Method Hypnotherapy."

"Good thrall," Stefano murmured, patting the creature’s bald head. Antonio preened, his needle-toothed grin widening.

The clinic was ready.

The mask was donned.

Now?

The real work began.