{Chapter: 354 Cursed Warrior}
The Mangog exploded in a blinding flash of devastation. Blood, sinew, and flesh were hurled in all directions, painting the air in crimson as the entire fighting arena convulsed violently under the force of the blast.
Chunks of the battlefield were blown apart—shattered stone, torn metal, and scorched soil flying like shrapnel.
"I wonder if it can pull itself back together this time," William said with cruel anticipation, his grin twisted and vicious. "I was looking forward to round two. This just wasn't enough."
The pieces of flesh and gore scattered across the arena began to shimmer. Each fragment slowly dissolved into golden light—glowing like fireflies in the gloom.
William tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. "Hmm. No good. It can't fuse again. That's disappointing... I was ready to destroy it again."
The countless golden specks started to drift through the air, drawn to a single point. They twirled and spiraled, trying to reform—pulsing, resisting entropy.
But it was useless.
Despite the sheer number of lights, despite the desperate effort to come together again, the fusion never occurred. The golden lights danced in vain, swirling in confusion.
Boom!
Suddenly, the cluster of light imploded, bursting apart with a shockwave of raw force. From that chaotic dispersal, each flickering light transformed—shifting and reshaping into warriors.
One after another, bodies materialized in the sky. It was like a rain of fallen gods.
Thousands of Asgardian warriors—tattered, broken, their forms barely intact—plummeted from the sky and crashed into the earth. Their bodies layered upon one another, forming a grotesque mountain of the dead that blanketed the arena floor.
None rose.
Not one remained whole. Limbs were missing, spines twisted, helms shattered and fused into ruined faces. It was carnage.
William's gaze swept across the slaughtered field. He exhaled with a sneer. "What a tragedy for Asgard," he murmured. Then he chuckled—low, dark, growing into a full, wild laugh. "I like it. Hahahahaha!"
Outside the crumbling arena, Odin led his personal guard and the dark elves in a last desperate push, blades clashing and magic burning across the battlefield.
The sound of combat echoed in every direction.
Then Odin's eyes caught the horror within the arena. He froze, his expression tightening into silent fury.
The Allfather raised Gungnir to the sky. His voice thundered with sorrow and reverence. "You gave your lives for Asgard. Your sacrifice shall be remembered beyond the stars. You are immortal... in glory!"
He clenched his jaw, but his grief was buried beneath the weight of duty.
Back in the heart of the arena, William stood amidst the devastation. His eyes—lit with unnatural gold and viridian flame—narrowed. A manic energy surged from his body, erupting in a pillar of green and gold light.
His aura roared with power. The ground cracked beneath him.
"Ahhhhh!" William's cry tore through the air like a shockwave. "This cursed cage... you thought it could hold me?!"
He shot upward like a blazing meteor of emerald and gold. With his fists clenched and his body aflame with power, he smashed into the force field of the arena—a towering dome of energy woven by ancient runes.
Bang!
The impact rattled the skies. The massive energy barrier trembled and rippled from the collision, quaking under the force of the blow.
A crack began to form, faint at first—then spreading like lightning through a stormy sky.
Crash!
The entire barrier shattered with the sound of a world breaking. Light exploded outward in jagged shards as the magical dome disintegrated like fragile glass under overwhelming force.
The fragments of the barrier weren't just inert—they pulsed with unstable energy. And when they collided—
BOOM! BOOM!
The resulting explosion consumed the entire arena. The light was blinding, the heat beyond mortal comprehension. Everything within was swallowed.
Odin's eyes went wide. He staggered back slightly, overwhelmed not by fear—but by awe.
"That... that barrier was forged from the roots of Yggdrasil itself," he muttered. "And he destroyed it like it was nothing... What kind of monster is this?"
The dark elves and Asgardian guards paused, unable to look away as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently.
Massive cracks split the battlefield. Chasms opened wide as entire battalions fell screaming into the abyss.
When the dust settled, silence reigned.
A crater had been left in the aftermath—a monstrous wound upon the world. It stretched over 3,000 meters in diameter and plunged more than 500 meters deep. Smoke continued to curl upward from its center, staining the heavens with black.
As for the bodies of the fallen Asgardians… nothing remained. Not bones. Not ash.
Only molecules, scattered to the wind.
"Hahahahaha! I'm out!" William's voice thundered from the heavens like a god mocking the world. "Did you see that, Odin? You thought you could trap me with your pathetic barrier? Eat shit!"
A swirling sphere of blinding green and golden light spiraled from the sky like a fallen star, its descent whistling through the air with terrifying speed.
BOOM!
The impact shattered the battlefield.
The moment it struck, the entire area erupted with explosive force. A shockwave of green-gold fury swept out in every direction, vaporizing debris, rupturing the ground, and flinging Asgardian guards and dark elf warriors like rag dolls through the sky.
"AHHHHHH!" William roared upward, arms wide as the last trails of fire curled off his form. Ripples of pure energy blasted outward from his body in violent pulses, tearing apart the air itself and forming a dead zone of vacuum nearly a hundred meters in radius—no one could breathe, move, or stand near him.
As the final flicker of green flame burned away, William lowered his arms, flexed his fingers, and casually cracked his neck.
A sharp snap echoed across the smoking battlefield.
Then he raised a single finger.
"Who's next?" he sneered, voice dripping with malice. "Who else?"
All around, silence fell. Warriors from both sides froze mid-fight, terror etched into their faces.
Even the Dark Elves—hardened killers who had waged war across galaxies—were shaken to their core. This... thing had appeared out of nowhere, turned the tide of battle into chaos, and yet he didn't seem allied with Asgard.
On the bridge of a hovering dark elven warship, Malekith, the ancient ruler of the Dark Elves, narrowed his blackened eyes at the projection hovering before him.
"This abomination," he muttered, his voice cold and sharp as obsidian. "Where did he come from? He dares to interfere with my rebirth? He will ruin everything."
Behind him stood a towering figure clad in dark armor, his body a living weapon, his face concealed beneath a fang-toothed helm.
"Worry not," came the deep, gravelly voice of Algrim, Malekith's most loyal general. "Anyone who dares to stand in our way... I will tear them apart. Bone by bone."
Malekith turned toward him, a rare flicker of emotion crossing his face—almost reverence.
"You will become the final Cursed Warrior," he said solemnly. "The last of our sacred weapons."
Algrim stepped forward without hesitation. "I am ready. I will burn out my life if it means victory for our people... for you, my king."
Malekith drew out a jagged, glowing crimson stone from his robes. It pulsed with dark light—a fragment of the Aether creation, transmuted and condensed over a thousand years. It radiated malevolence.
"This is no ordinary power," Malekith whispered. "This cursed stone, born of the Aether's chaos, will twist your form into a god of destruction. You will live only for a few days... but in that time, not even Thor will rival your might."
Algrim nodded without fear. "Let them come."
He turned and leapt from the ship, plummeting to the battlefield like a meteor of vengeance.
BANG!
The ground cracked beneath his landing. Asgardian guards instinctively raised their weapons—only to watch, horrified, as Algrim raised the cursed stone and crushed it in his hand.
The moment it shattered, a dark red fire burst from the fragments, crawling across his body like a plague. It melted his armor, fused to his skin, and engulfed him in a hellish blaze.
"ROAAAAR!" Algrim howled in agony and fury, his screams echoing as his body twisted and grew, bones snapping and reforming beneath his skin.
He dropped to his knees, hammering the ground as the transformation consumed him.
When he stood again, he was no longer Algrim.
He was Kurse—a nightmare in flesh.
His body, blackened like obsidian, pulsed with power. His size had doubled. Veins of dark red energy surged beneath his skin like lava, and his very presence warped the air.
Without warning, Kurse unleashed a massive shockwave, hurling back the guards who had dared approach him. They slammed into walls and stone, crushed like brittle twigs.
William turned to face this new arrival, intrigued. He grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with anticipation. "Well, now this is getting fun."
Overhead, a boom of thunder echoed.
From above, Thor descended, Mjolnir in hand, his armor gleaming with battle-wear and divine might.
He didn't look at William.
His focus was solely on Kurse.
"Another monster?" Thor spat, voice hard and controlled. "Good. I needed something to hit."
He swung Mjolnir over his shoulder and charged, lightning dancing along the hammer's surface.
"I can't beat him," he muttered with a glance at William. "But you? You'll do just fine."
Kurse turned, the ground cracking beneath his footsteps as he met Thor's charge head-on.
The next battle was about to begin—and it would shake the heavens of Asgard.