Chapter 30: The Final Reckoning
Silence reigned over the battlefield.
Everyone—vampires, witches, Klaus's werewolf followers, the Originals, the Salvatore brothers—stood frozen like stone statues, staring into the shattered heart of the arena, where two titans faced each other amid blood and ash.
Kol Mikaelson, cloaked in centuries of black magic, radiated a twisted aura of dark power, wrapped in ancient sorcery that Kai had bestowed upon him.
His eyes blazed with fury, and the air around him pulsed with raw, unstable energy on the verge of erupting.
And on the other side… stood Alexander.
Reborn. A new being.
No longer cursed. No longer broken. No longer human.
Kol shattered the silence with his voice:
"You have no idea what you've done to yourself by turning. You think that makes you strong?"
Alexander answered only with a slow, savage smile, his chest rising and falling with an untamed force.
"No. But I think you're about to find out what true strength really is."
And the battle ignited like a bolt of lightning.
Kol struck first—vanished and reappeared midair, launching a magical explosion that nearly split the earth in two.
But Alexander caught it with one hand and slammed it into the ground behind him as if it weighed nothing.
Kol didn't stop.
He blinked behind Alexander and stabbed him with a dagger charged with white oak ash and black salt. It pierced Alexander's left side, tearing through ribs and muscle. A deep grunt escaped him—but he didn't fall.
Instead, he turned and punched Kol square in the chest with a thundering fist, sending him flying across the field like a doll tossed by a storm.
Kol recovered midair and landed on his feet with a roar:
"I killed you once. I'll do it again!"
Alexander roared back, blood dripping from his side:
"You killed a broken man... and I'm no longer that man."
He moved again—this time faster than even the Originals could track.
One moment he was standing, the next he was above Kol, claws sunk into his back, fangs glinting in the dark.
Kol screamed and turned, blasting Alexander with a storm of magical fire that lit up the earth as if a sun had exploded in the heart of the night.
And when the smoke cleared...
Alexander was kneeling, coughing blood.
Smoke rose from his back where the magic had struck.
His skin was scorched, and his right arm hung limp, barely attached to his body.
The Salvatore brothers stared in stunned horror.
Stefan whispered:
"He's losing..."
Rebekah said in a shaky voice:
"Kol's magic... it's too strong."
But Klaus said nothing.
His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, his jaw rigid—but his eyes... held a pain deeper than words.
Kol now stood, breathing hard, but smiling:
"You fought well, bastard... but it's over."
He raised his hand, summoning one final spell—an enormous blast of all the power he had left.
The sky cracked.
The earth shook.
Then...
A sound.
A faint, broken, choking sound.
Laughter.
And not just any laughter—it was hysterical, uncontrollable, savage laughter that knew no fear.
Everyone turned.
Alexander was still kneeling—head lifted toward the sky, laughing.
Mad. Unchained. Free.
His body broken, skin burned, veins blackened by poison...
And yet he laughed, like someone who had finally tasted freedom after a lifetime in chains.
"Is that all?" Alexander muttered, lifting his head, blood dripping from his mouth, his right eye swollen shut.
"Is that all you've got?"
Kol's smile vanished.
Alexander growled as he forced himself to stand:
"You think you've won? You think tearing my body apart is enough?"
He stepped forward. Then again.
Limping. Bleeding. But rising.
"I've lived in torment for centuries," he whispered, "and fought shadows in my mind that would've turned you to ash. You think this pain means anything to me now?"
His gaze locked onto Kol's.
"I was born in the dark, Kol... and now... I live in it."
The wind howled.
The sky churned.
Kol stepped back.
Alexander was still smiling.
And that sound returned—the one no one would ever forget.
The laugh of a ruler... reborn.
Kol Mikaelson, trembling, stared at Alexander with emotions he hadn't felt in centuries:
Fear.
But Alexander stood tall. Bleeding. Burned. Unshaken.
His right arm, broken and deformed, snapped back into place with a bone-shattering crack. The sound echoed like the drums of hell.
Above them, dark clouds swirled like vultures of death, groaning beneath the weight of the war below.
Kol spat blood as he snarled:
"You were supposed to die."
Alexander tilted his head slightly, eyes glowing with something not of this world.
"I did."
Then he vanished.
Kol barely blinked before Alexander's fist collided with his face—thunderous and merciless.
Kol flew through the air, smashing trees and rocks as if they were paper.
The Originals gasped.
Damon clenched his jaw:
"He's not even trying."
Stefan's voice was a whisper:
"He's becoming... something else."
Kol rose again, magic swirling around him, his face bloodied, chest heaving with ragged breaths.
"I'm still the ruler!" he shouted. "You're just a failed curse turned mistake!"
Alexander walked forward slowly, step by step, each one pounding like a war drum.
"No..." he murmured, voice low, "I'm no longer cursed."
Kol unleashed everything—fire, lightning, blood magic, screams that tore through the air.
The sky bled.
Winds tore through trees.
The earth cracked.
But none of it... was enough.
Alexander emerged from the heart of the magical firestorm, his skin scorched, but his expression unchanged.
That cold, deadly smile still on his lips.
He grabbed Kol by the throat.
"You wanted a monster?" he whispered. "You made one."
Then, with a roar that shook the heavens, Alexander slammed Kol's body into the ground, carving a crater into the stone.
Then he did it again. And again.
Blood sprayed.
Bones shattered.
Kol screamed in unbearable pain.
But Alexander... did not stop.
He didn't stop... until the earth itself seemed to beg for mercy.
Then, standing above Kol's crushed body, he lifted him by the throat for all to see.
His voice was calm. Final. Sacred.
"You wanted the world to remember your name?" he whispered. "Now... they'll remember only mine."
Then he dropped him to the ground like a broken doll, kneeling beside him.
"I am the curse you feared.
The wrath you summoned.
The blade you sharpened."
He leaned closer, voice a whisper now:
"I am him."
Kol coughed blood, so broken he was barely recognizable.
His lips trembled.
"Wh... who are you now?"
Alexander rose, tall and unyielding.
"I am everything you should have feared... and more."
Then, turning his back on Kol, he looked to the crowd—to his brothers, to Klaus, to Elijah, to those who came to fight.
A beam of light split the sky above them.
Alexander was not just reborn.
He had been chosen by pain, forged by death, and crowned by fire.
He was Alexander.
And the world... would never forget him again.