Chapter 29: The Devil Has Risen
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Kol Mikaelson stood tall, his arm raised high, black magic swirling around his fingers like smoke on the verge of turning into fire.
Around him, destruction lay still: Klaus, broken and covered in blood; Elijah, gasping through torn lungs; Rebekah, barely able to lift her head; Damon and Stefan, their bodies trembling, yet their eyes still burning with an indomitable resolve—driven only by blind rage and bitter defiance.
Kol's voice rang through the air, echoing like an ancient curse resurrected from the depths of oblivion.
"This is the end. I will erase this place from existence. I will burn your names from history. You should never have—"
A laugh cut through the darkness of night.
A deep, savage, chaotic laugh.
Everyone froze in place.
Even the sky trembled.
Kol's magical glow flickered for a moment.
And from the far edge of the empty field, something moved.
Fast. Radiant.
A beam of unnatural energy surged toward them like a flaming meteor—no, like a storm shaped into a man.
Kol turned just as that force reached the center of the arena.
A blast of fierce wind erupted across the ground, trees shook, and the earth cracked beneath the impact.
A body rose from the crater left by the shock, steam rising from his shoulders, black veins pulsing with overwhelming power. His shirt was torn, his chest smeared with blood—but he wasn't bleeding like the others. His body glowed with a completely different energy.
His smile was etched with madness.
And his eyes blazed with black fury.
His voice shattered the silence like death itself had spoken.
"Miss me?"
It was Alexander.
He was back from the dead.
Not just alive... but fully awakened.
Kol staggered back, rage and disbelief battling across his features.
"This is impossible. I killed you—!"
Alexander tilted his head slightly and replied with icy calm:
"You tried. But it seems Bonnie had a few surprises. She ripped my soul from that pretty little ring and slammed it back into this body like a hammer to glass. Took her a while."
Bonnie had arrived as well, a smile on her face.
Alexander slowly flexed his fingers. The ground beneath his feet trembled.
"But I'm here now."
Kol curled his lips in disdain and sneered:
"So what? Another lamb led to slaughter?"
Alexander's grin widened—twisting into something feral, something unhinged.
"You don't get it, do you? I didn't come to save them. I came because you pissed me off."
Kol raised his hand and unleashed a massive wave of pure magic, destructive energy exploding from his palm.
It struck Alexander directly.
The ground split beneath him. Darkness flooded the arena.
Dust rose into the air.
Then—
A laugh. His laugh.
The dust began to settle—and Alexander was still standing.
Untouched.
And his smile? Wider than ever.
He whispered as he stepped forward:
"Oh... you're in trouble."
And so, the war began anew.
But this time... the storm had a name.
Alexander.
—
The scene was chaos.
No—it wasn't chaos.
It was wrath incarnate.
As if the gods themselves had descended to earth, merciless and enraged, turning their fury into an unstoppable flood.
And Alexander was at the eye of that storm.
He moved like fire meeting thunder—his body a blur of speed, his laughter booming across the sky like the cry of a mad king risen from the grave.
With every step he took, bones shattered.
With every swing of his arm, he tore through Kol's army like they were paper dolls.
Vampires, witches, werewolves—not one of them stood a chance.
And he wasn't angry.
He looked... joyful.
Pure joy... soaked in blood.
His face lit with the ecstasy of madness.
At the far end of the battlefield, Kol Mikaelson stood frozen, disbelief etched into his face.
His army was being wiped out in minutes.
Time spent planning, spells beyond counting, power gathered over centuries—all unraveling before his eyes.
And the creature doing it... was smiling.
The Salvatore brothers stood side by side, silent.
Damon, blood pouring from his mouth, one of his broken ribs piercing inward, yet he couldn't take his eyes off Alexander.
Stefan whispered:
"He's changed."
Rebekah stood beside them, clutching her wounded side.
"That's not the same man we saw before."
Klaus, meanwhile, stared at Alexander in awe, a faint smile breaking through the pain tearing at his chest.
"No. This is something else entirely."
But it was Bonnie who spoke the truth, her voice hoarse but steady:
"He's no longer cursed."
Everyone turned toward her.
She was watching Alexander as he carved his way through dozens of vampires like a hurricane of death, his body glowing faintly in the dark, fangs bared, eyes lit with untamed madness.
Bonnie said:
"Before I brought his soul back into his body, I removed the curse completely. The pain, the chains, the restraints—they're all gone."
Damon stepped forward, his face tense:
"But that doesn't explain what we're seeing. What is he, for hell's sake?"
Bonnie looked at him, reverence and grim awe in her eyes:
"He's no longer human. When I returned his soul... he made a decision."
Stefan blinked in surprise:
"What decision?"
Bonnie whispered:
"To turn. Alexander turned himself into a vampire."
Silence fell over them like a heavy shroud.
A cursed soul, brought back to life without chains.
A body fed on rage, magic, and time.
And now... risen with the power of immortal blood.
A vampire... without limits.
He wasn't a hybrid. He wasn't any other kind of strange creature.
He was a cursed human.
His soul had been split into pieces.
He had died.
Returned to life, the curse gone.
The fragments reunited in a single body, and that body fed on the energy of a vampire.
Alexander now was something far beyond their comprehension.
Kol screamed in fury and unleashed another wave of dark energy—but Alexander didn't flinch.
He caught it.
Held the magic in his palm, pulsing for a few moments... then it turned to smoke and vanished.
Alexander smiled at Kol, his eyes gleaming with deadly mockery.
"Your army is gone," he said quietly, "and now it's just you and me."
Kol stumbled backward, his steps unsteady.
Behind Alexander, the battlefield had become a massacre.
Blood flooded the ground.
Bodies lay scattered like withered autumn leaves.
Even the wind seemed afraid to blow too hard.
And Alexander didn't stop.
He kept walking forward.
Still smiling.
Still laughing.
Still... not finished.