I'll Curse Everything To My Liking

Droplets of blood trickled down Atlas Vain Wysrial's arm, leaking off before exploding into several particles on the unsymmetrical stone floor beneath him.

His shadowed eyes donned a face drenched in blood, and his pristine dark robes were ripped apart and tattered to mere shreds of what they once were.

Despite all of this, however, he stood with a confident stance--his fierce gaze piercing through the enigmatic figures sprawled out before him.

Only twenty meters in front of him within the vast cavern that they were in stood hundreds of men. Standing out from these men were 6 greater beings who exuded ruthless energy into the air.

These individuals were the sovereigns of the Origin Realm--the greatest realm known to mortals as of yet.

They varied in size and shape. One was bald and chubby, the Highest Principle Monk. Also known as the Corrupt Monk in private.

Another stubby limbed and long-bearded, the ruler of Dwarfs.

The Elven king, with a pale white complexion topped off by pointy ears; the Demon lord, Tundra Queen, and several other figures who did not resemble one another by the slightest stood at Atlas' front.

These figures had never stood on the same side before in the history of the Origin Realm, yet today was a unique situation.

Despite their rivalries and history-long feuds, they had all decided to temporarily abandon their hatred toward each other and direct their attention to one far more important goal.

It was to combine their powers and take down the magus who threatened the livelihoods of all those existing within the Origin Realm.

"Give up it now, you demon!" The bald one stepped forward, pushing his hand out in front of him, "No, you don't even deserve a name as terrible as that! You should be called cursed instead... yes, a Cursed Magus who has forsaken his will to live!"

The man dressed in a battered orange robe blabbered with anger as the giant red beads swirled around his neck and forearms clacked against each other.

"Silence, You fat bastard! Engaging in conversation with you only diseases my tongue!" Atlas shouted in retortion, as the lips of the bald man stammered and his legs stumbled backward.

"What incredible fool influenced you to conspire against me, Sorenhel Muspelheim! You lead these grubs into battle, so tell me--as their commander--the reasoning behind your crude decision!" Atlas roared, identifying the older man stepping forward, his eyes seething with hatred. 

"Do not speak my name, cursed fool!" The elder exclaimed in a fit of rage as his long beard billowed in the wind.

"The time for explanation is far gone! You have betrayed this realm and deserve nothing more than death!"

Another stepped forward, a man whose short stature failed to prove his true might. The king of Vamankain--land of Dwarfs.

"Why try to reason now, Cursed Magus, when you have already faltered in battle!?" His voice echoed through the cavern walls.

"The very blood which soaks this chamber all belongs to none other than you, while not a single drop derives from us! How weak you have become, crazed devil... had we known of this decline, we would not have dared to bring the entire power of the Origin Realm for your punishment."

The one dressed in orange stepped forward once again, his valor revived, "That's right! You have already lost!"

"Like I said before, shut your trap, baldy!" Atlas exclaimed, suddenly turning around as the sovereigns twitched in reaction to every movement he made.

Atlas' hands suddenly flew out to the sides, "You think you have defeated me?" At that moment, a smile suddenly crept across both sides of his face, as his eyes squeezed down tightly.

Atlas was no fool. Although these powers worked against him, he refused to have his goals thwarted so easily.

He had lived a life full of great upsets but never had these failures obstructed him in his path of domination.

This fact was not going to change now either. 

Atlas understood that he was hated by the world, as his sudden emergence in the Origin Realm sparked fear and uneasiness throughout it only a few hundred years ago.

Powers that upheld the structure of the world became nervous at the sight of the overwhelmingly strong man who climbed the ranks faster than many before him.

Knowing all this, he continued to expand his might with ambitious goals of one day ruling the strongest realm known to mortals.

When he first arrived in this realm, he knew neither what brought him here, nor why he existed. However, ever since the first hour of his birth, something was very clear.

Atlas was born with an insatiable desire--no, an obsession even; to conquer everything that met his gaze!

He began to chuckle through his grin, bewildering those staring at his back.

"To think... you thought you could end my reign this easily? Hmmhm~~hahaha!" He suddenly burst out into a peal of laughter, puzzling his opponents further.

"What nonsense do you bark, Cursed Magus!" The sovereign addressed as Sorenhel Muspelheim cried with confused malice fueling his tone.

"Look at the ground beneath me, fools! The pattern which none other than my own blood has created!" Atlas exclaimed in a ludicrous voice, as the puzzled sovereigns gazed closer at the ichor spread before them.

At that moment, their eyes slowly widened and their mouths went agape. Realization struck them like a sledgehammer as they looked at the enormous pentagram drawn before them.

"A Curse Ether Array!" Sorenhel yelled, "He had been creating it this whole time! Quickly, stop him from activating it!" He commanded as all 6 sovereigns rushed forward.

However, his orders were too late.

"Ten Thousand Wrath Palms." Atlas calmly spoke while facing away from the sovereigns who raced to get to him.

At that moment dozens of transparent purple palms no smaller than pick-up trucks summoned above Atlas before propelling toward the sovereigns with extreme velocity.

The palms didn't seem to stop summoning, thwarting the sovereigns in their efforts to reach Atlas.

"You can not kill me. I will always come back, for I am undying." With these final profound words, Atlas's dark-purple soul willingly exited his body like a wisp of energy.

As time seemed to slow down, all 6 sovereigns looked at this soul with utter desperation in their eyes. Their hard work had been for nothing. 

Hastily, the purple orb was absorbed into the Curse Array as the clumps of blood scattered on the floor glistened in a blinding light.

At once the light expanded into an explosion, blasting all signs of life out of this cavern and sealing it shut for thousands of years to come.

The grand powers that had forgotten of their own rivalries and joined to defeat this Cursed Magus had failed, and with that failure came about a drastic change in the course of fate itself...

*Woosh*

A boy abruptly jerked awake from his sleep in the middle of the night. He was drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

"That dream again…"