Chapter 35 – "The Blood That Made Me"
The air screamed, as if the world itself was gasping for survival.
Kol's body lay sprawled, cold, broken in the mud, unmoving. But what had worn his skin—what had moved his hands and spoken through his voice—no longer needed him.
It had taken its true form.
That unknown shadow no longer required Kol.
It now stood tall, surrounded by an aura of ancientness, its eyes like burning stars. Its hands dripped with black blood, and its face... was no longer a stranger's.
It was Giuseppe Salvatore.
Yes, it looked as it once did, and yet, it was not the same. Its former human shape had shifted, swelled, and twisted by the power of the forgotten blood now coursing through its veins like raging fire. Its bones cracked with every movement. And each breath... was poison.
Stefan stared in horror. Damon couldn't breathe. Rebekah clutched Elijah's arm, and Klaus was frozen in place, his jaw clenched, his eyes widening in terror.
"Father…" Stefan whispered, as if saying the word itself was poison.
"No," Giuseppe answered with icy coldness. "I was never your father. Not truly. And especially… not his."
He slowly turned his head, his gaze shifting toward Alexander's body lying just a few feet away, a faint mist rising from the blood-soaked ground around him.
But in that moment—the sky split with light.
A booming explosion tore through the air, not from above, but from deep within the earth itself.
Alexander's hand suddenly shot up—grasping the soil—and pulled his body upward.
His scream wasn't from pain.
It was from being born again.
He rose to his feet, blood still dripping from the gaping wound in his chest. But his eyes... were no longer human. No longer cursed.
They glowed with crimson and gold… ancient, terrifying.
"…You," he said, voice low and trembling, as though it emerged from the depths of time. "You're the reason."
Giuseppe turned to him slowly, unafraid.
"And you," he replied, "you're the final mistake… that I'll correct."
The air around them cracked.
Damon stepped forward. "Alexander, wait—he's—"
"I know who he is," Alexander growled. "I've always known."
And he moved toward Giuseppe, slowly, without haste, without reckless anger. Every step carried the weight of centuries of pain.
"You hated me before I was born," he said, his voice sharp as a blade. "You saw a child… and said it was a mistake. And when you couldn't kill me with your hands, you cursed me with pain so deep… I forgot how to scream."
Giuseppe grinned wickedly. "And yet… look what I made. A killer. A demon. A shadow. You wouldn't have lived long. You were meant to burn."
Behind them, the silence of the battlefield waited to breathe.
Klaus stepped forward, his voice barely audible. "If we interfere now… we might die."
"So be it," Elijah said quietly.
"No," Bonnie interrupted. "No one crosses that circle. Not yet. Not until it ends. Not until one of them falls."
The barrier of forgotten blood shimmered in the air, ancient, absolute.
And within it… stood father and son, alone.
Alexander clenched his fist. "You cursed me, broke me, used me… and yet, I returned."
He stepped forward. "Not for revenge."
Another step. "Not for justice."
He was now inches from Giuseppe, his eyes burning like a storm.
"But… to end you."
Giuseppe bared his fangs—and the final battle began, between the maker and the made.
The first blow… was like thunder.
Alexander's fist collided with Giuseppe's jaw with such force that the shockwave shattered the barrier behind him, splitting the earth like glass, sending stones and soil flying. Giuseppe's head snapped to the side violently, but he didn't fall.
He smiled.
Then returned the blow.
His strike was like a train crash, Alexander's ribs bending beneath the impact, blood bursting from his mouth—yet he didn't retreat. He laughed—a mad, free, blazing laugh.
"You hit like a drunken ghost," Alexander growled.
Giuseppe roared—and lunged. Their bodies clashed like two meteors colliding in the sky.
They moved faster than human eyes could follow. Blood touched the ground before their fists met their targets. Trees around the circle exploded like brittle twigs, the ground beneath them crumbling, each blow thundering like cannon fire.
Outside the circle, everyone stood frozen.
"No one's ever fought like this before…" Elijah whispered, his voice laced with awe.
"This isn't a fight," Damon muttered. "It's a war."
Inside, Giuseppe hurled Alexander across the battlefield, his body crashing into shattered stones and torn earth.
"You're nothing without that curse," he spat with contempt. "I made you. And I can unmake you."
Alexander stood, wiping blood from his lips. "You didn't make me."
In a flash, he vanished—reappearing behind Giuseppe before he could turn—and drove his elbow into his spine, cracking it with a horrific snap. Giuseppe screamed, writhing in pain—but Alexander was already above him, raining blows down like hammers.
The ground beneath them collapsed.
And they fell.
Straight through the battlefield.
Into ancient ruins below—a forgotten temple of the bloodlines of old. Moonlight slipped through the cracks above, bathing the scene in pale blue mixed with crimson.
Giuseppe rose, coughing blood.
Alexander stepped toward him, each step splashing water and blood.
"You spent your life hiding your shame," he said, his voice soaked in restrained fury. "Pretending your sins were someone else's burden."
Giuseppe laughed, but it was a laugh choked with blood.
"You think killing me will make you a hero?" he coughed again. "You'll always be… a bastard weapon without a soul."
Alexander stopped.
A second of silence.
Then—his voice came, soft and deep: "I was cursed to be a weapon."
He raised his hand—his claws returned. His fangs shimmered in the moonlight.
"But now… I'm the executioner."
With a single step, he was on top of Giuseppe.
And the next minute was nothing but… destruction.
He struck him like a beast. Shattered his ribs. Tore his limbs. Not out of rage—but with precision. With deadly focus.
Giuseppe tried to resist. He even managed two strikes—one sinking claws into Alexander's shoulder, the other slashing his chest—but Alexander didn't stop.
He didn't hesitate.
He didn't bleed as he once did.
"My whole life I asked: why am I in pain?" Alexander said, as his hand closed around Giuseppe's throat. "And the reason… was you."
He slammed him into the stone wall with such force it cracked.
"And I forgive them. My brothers—for what happened. They didn't know about me after that."
Then another blow.
"But I do not forgive you."
Alexander lifted his father—no, the thing that haunted him like a nightmare—and looked directly into his eyes.
"Goodbye… old man."
And he drove his hand into Giuseppe's chest—and tore out what remained of the Heart of Forgotten Blood.
Beams of light burst from the wound.
And with one scream, the curse of blood died.
Giuseppe Salvatore turned to ash.
Alexander stood amid the ruins, breathing heavily, his body trembling—but victorious.
Above them, silence broke.
Stefan dropped to his knees.
Damon exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
And Bonnie whispered, "He's won…"
And for the first time in a century… Alexander was free.
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