Lightning Reborn

The void between stars had never felt so cold.Alex Hazelwood gripped the plasma-forged hilt of his ancestral blade, watching enemy ships materialize from the darkness like hungry wolves emerging from a winter forest. His Grade 0 core pulsed with raw power—a heartbeat of lightning that had carried him through a thousand battles across the galaxy's edge. Today, something felt different. Wrong."Commander, we've got visual on the Demon Fleet," crackled Lieutenant Morrison's voice through the comm. "Fifty... no, wait—" Static. Then silence.Alex's jaw tightened. In thirty years of warfare, he'd learned to trust his instincts the way a sailor trusts the wind. Right now, those instincts were screaming.The Excalibur, humanity's pride and joy, groaned around him—a massive castle-ship that blended medieval architecture with cutting-edge star-drive technology. Gothic spires housed plasma cannons, and what looked like ancient battlements concealed shield generators powerful enough to level a moon. It should've been invincible. Should've been."Sir, they're not attacking." Morrison's replacement, young Corporal Hayes, sounded confused. "They're just... waiting."Alex moved to the bridge's observation deck, his armored boots echoing against steel that had been blessed by Earth's archbishops and forged in the fires of distant suns. Through the reinforced transparisteel, he could see them clearly now—the Ten Demons. Each commanded a vessel that defied both physics and good taste: twisted spires of dark metal that pulsed with their own malevolent life, ships that looked more grown than built."They're not here for a battle," Alex murmured, realization hitting him like ice water. "They're here for an execution."The largest ship—a monstrosity that resembled a cathedral turned inside-out—drifted closer. Alex recognized it immediately: Malphas, flagship of Demon Lord Andromalius. They'd danced this deadly waltz before, trading blows across the Centauri Nebula just three months ago. Back then, Andromalius had retreated when faced with Alex's overwhelming power.Today, he wasn't running."All hands to battle stations," Alex commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. Throughout the ship, alarms began to wail—a sound that had become humanity's anthem of defiance. "Deploy the Aegis Formation. Prime all cannons."But even as his crew scrambled to obey, Alex felt the trap closing around him. Ten ships. Ten Demon Lords. For the first time in his legendary career, he was outnumbered by enemies who could actually match his power.The communications array crackled to life, and a voice like grinding tombstones filled the bridge. "Alex Hazelwood, the Butcher of Bellatrix. The Lightning Saint. Humanity's precious little champion." Andromalius's laughter was the sound of dying stars. "You've been a thorn in our side for far too long.""I've been called worse by better," Alex shot back, drawing his sword. The blade sang as it cleared its sheath—literally sang, harmonizing with the Grade 0 core that powered his very soul. Lightning danced along its edge like eager serpents. "If you want me, come and take me.""Oh, we will. But first..." The demon's voice turned sickeningly sweet. "You should know that your precious Admiral Harrison sends his regards."The words hit Alex harder than any physical blow. Harrison—his mentor, his friend, the man who'd recommended him for the Lightning Corps when he was just a scared kid from the outer colonies. The man who'd somehow known exactly where to find him today, in this remote sector where no patrol should've been scheduled."You're lying.""Am I? Tell me, who gave you these coordinates? Who insisted you investigate the 'distress signal' in the Terminus Sector?" Andromalius's ship pulsed with dark energy. "Who made sure the Excalibur came alone, without escort?"The bridge fell silent except for the hum of failing systems. Around Alex, his crew—good men and women who'd followed him into hell and back—began to understand what he'd already realized. This wasn't a battle. It was an ambush. A betrayal."Sir?" Corporal Hayes's voice cracked like a teenager's. "Orders?"Alex closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of forty-seven years pressing down on him. He'd been fighting demons since he could hold a sword. He'd been humanity's shield, their lightning rod, their impossible hope made manifest. And now...Now he understood that sometimes, the real monsters wore human faces."Launch all fighters," he said quietly. "Full spread on the torpedoes. And Hayes?" He turned to look at the young man—barely old enough to shave, let alone die in the cold depths of space. "Whatever happens next, remember this: humanity's worth fighting for, even when humanity doesn't deserve it."The ten demon ships moved as one, a synchronized dance of destruction that spoke of careful planning and infinite patience. They'd been waiting for this moment—waiting for him to be isolated, vulnerable, betrayed by his own kind.Alex raised his sword, and the Excalibur became a star.Lightning erupted from his core, channeling through the ship's systems, turning every weapon into an extension of his will. Plasma cannons screamed defiance at the void. Missile batteries unleashed their fury in waves of white-hot death. For a moment—just one glorious, impossible moment—it looked like he might actually pull it off.Then reality reasserted itself with the cruel mathematics of war.Ten ships. Ten Demon Lords. Ten different elements unleashed in perfect coordination.Bael's ice turned his shields to brittle crystal. Paimon's fire melted through his hull like butter. Andromalius's darkness swallowed his lightning whole, turning his greatest strength against him. One by one, his systems failed. One by one, his crew fell silent.The bridge erupted around him, consoles exploding in showers of sparks and twisted metal. Alex felt his core cracking under the strain—the same core that had made him humanity's greatest warrior was now killing him from the inside out, burning through his body like acid.He stumbled, went to one knee, then forced himself back up. Even dying, even betrayed, Alex Hazelwood wouldn't kneel to demons."Is that all you've got?" he snarled, blood running down his chin. His sword still blazed with defiant light, though each pulse sent agony racing through his veins. "I've seen toddlers hit harder!"Andromalius materialized on the bridge—not holographically, but physically, his massive form wreathed in shadows that seemed to drink the light. Up close, he was even more terrifying: twelve feet of corded muscle and bone spurs, with eyes like dying suns."Brave to the end," the Demon Lord rumbled. "I respect that. It's almost a shame to kill you.""Almost." Alex spat blood. "But not quite, right?""Right." Andromalius raised his hand, dark energy coiling around his claws. "Any last words, Lightning Saint?"Alex looked around his ruined bridge, at the bodies of his crew, at the stars that would continue burning long after he was gone. He thought about Earth—green and blue and impossibly beautiful. He thought about the colonies he'd protected, the children who drew pictures of him in crayon, the poets who sang songs about his victories.Most of all, he thought about the betrayal. About Harrison's weathered face, the way he'd smiled when he'd handed Alex those fatal coordinates. About the political games and backroom deals that had led to this moment."Yeah," he said finally. "I've got something to say." He raised his sword one last time, lightning crackling weakly along its blade. "When I come back—and I will come back—I'm going to remember this. All of it."Andromalius laughed. "Come back? From where?"Alex smiled, and for a moment, he looked exactly like the cocky young pilot who'd first picked up a sword all those years ago. "Surprise me."The darkness took him.But in that final instant, as his consciousness faded and his core finally shattered, Alex Hazelwood felt something impossible: hope. Not the hope of rescue or reprieve, but something deeper. Something that whispered of second chances and cosmic justice.Something that promised this wasn't the end of his story.It was just the end of the first chapter.The Excalibur died with him, its death cry echoing across the void like a prayer. The Ten Demons watched their victory with satisfaction, already planning their next moves in the great game of war.None of them noticed the single spark of lightning that flickered in the darkness, impossibly bright and utterly determined. A spark that carried with it memories, knowledge, and an unbreakable will.Sixty years is a long time to wait for revenge.But some things—some people—are worth the wait.