Atlantis’ Legacy : The Magical Awakening

Chapter Four: The Legacy of Blood and Cursed Magic

In the dark dawn facility and an unknown time

Darkness enveloped the facility, its decaying walls trembling under the weight of the suffering that permeated it. The anguished cries of children echoed through the corridors, a constant reminder of the horrors within. This place was not just a prison—it was a breeding ground for pain and negative energy, a perfect soil for the birth of cursed entities.

Ares sat in the corner of his cell, his back resting against the cold wall, eyes fixed on the metal restraints around his neck, wrists, and ankles. These cursed collars suppressed the flow of magic within him, preventing his body from utilizing its full potential. And yet, he was not entirely powerless.

Innate Magic: The Legacy of Blood

From the moment he became aware of the magical world, Ares had understood the fundamental nature of innate magic. It was entirely different from common magic, which the majority of sorcerers used—shared techniques passed down and developed over generations. Innate magic, however, was something far rarer, an inheritance ingrained in the bloodline.

Innate magic was not common. It was a rarity possessed only by an elite few, families who had preserved these abilities for generations. Some of these powers were insignificant—mere trivial abilities like enhanced night vision or minor regenerative properties. Others, however, were devastatingly powerful, abilities capable of shaking the world itself, such as the Creation and Manipulation of the Peverell family or the Hundred Eyes of the Lovai bloodline.

Yet even with this inheritance, there were no guarantees. A child born to parents with innate magic could be born without any special abilities at all, while another might inherit something monstrous.

Most importantly, no one could possess more than one type of innate magic. Even if someone carried the legacy of two powerful bloodlines, only one ability would ever manifest.

But… Ares was the exception.

Ares: The Child of Two Magics

He had always known he was different. He possessed the Hundred Eyes, the inheritance of the Lovai family—an ability that granted him unparalleled analytical prowess. He could break down anything before him into its core components—magic, weaknesses, material composition, energy flow—nothing escaped his perception.

But alongside this, he also carried the power of the Peverells: Creation and Manipulation. Through this, he could create anything from nothing, as long as he had enough magical energy, shape existing materials, alter properties, and even reconstruct reality itself.

However, in this place, with these cursed restraints choking his power, he could only access a fraction of what he was truly capable of.

Cursed Spirits: Manifestations of Malice and Despair

With the overwhelming negative energy saturating the facility, the emergence of cursed spirits was inevitable. These entities were born from hatred, fear, and despair.

This place was a graveyard of tortured children, their suffering accumulating, condensing, and giving birth to creatures of pure malevolence.

Common magic could weaken them but never truly destroy them. The only way to exterminate them was through innate magic or cursed tools—weapons imbued with magic strong enough to sever their existence at its core.

At first, weaker Grade Four and Grade Three spirits began appearing. They were dangerous, but not an immediate threat to Ares. However, he knew there was something worse lurking in the shadows—a Grade Two cursed spirit.

And when it emerged, true terror would begin.

The Attack Begins

One night, as the prisoners drifted in and out of restless sleep, tormented by hunger and pain, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the facility.

At first, the inmates assumed it was just another child being dragged off for experimentation.

But then… the screams multiplied.

Followed by the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart.

Then came the inhuman growls.

The silence of the facility was shattered.

Doors were slammed open, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridors, panic and terror spreading like wildfire.

Cursed spirits.

The foul stench of blood and malevolent energy thickened the air as dim lighting revealed twisted forms—dark entities with grotesque, elongated limbs, hollow eyes, and mouths filled with jagged, dripping fangs.

"Shit…" Ares muttered under his breath as he observed from behind the iron bars.

He knew this was inevitable.

The question was not if, but how he would deal with it.

The Unleashing of True Power

Some of the guards recoiled in fear, while the facility leader—a man who commanded terror within these walls—stepped forward.

His innate ability was not the most powerful, but it was still fearsome: "Decaying Touch"—with a single touch, he could turn any organic matter into dust.

He reached for one of the Grade Four spirits, and with a simple touch, the creature disintegrated into black ash.

But he failed to realize this was just the beginning.

A child's shriek pierced the air as a Grade Three spirit burst through a wall, leaping onto a nearby guard and tearing him apart in an instant, leaving nothing but bloodied remains on the floor.

Ares did not move.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment—then slowly reopened them.

A brilliant violet glow pulsed in his irises.

The Hundred Eyes had activated.

Everything became clear.

The flow of energy, the weak points, the attack trajectories, the potential escape routes—he could see it all.

"If I don't move now, this will become a massacre."

Despite the magical restraints suppressing most of his power, he could still adapt.

He took a deep breath and manipulated what little magic he could access. He compressed the air, forming razor-sharp blades of condensed wind—a mere fraction of the true Creation and Manipulation magic of the Peverells, but it would have to suffice.

"Your main goal isn't just to survive. It's to remain undetected."

With that thought in mind, he launched himself forward.

With precise movements, he dodged the attacks of the cursed spirits, slicing through them with surgical precision. Each attack was calculated, each step perfectly placed.

One strike, one kill.

The creatures dissolved into wisps of dark mist.

But even then, he knew—this wasn't enough.

The End of the Beginning

Ares stood in the middle of the corridor, his breath steady despite the carnage around him.

This had merely been a test.

The Grade Two cursed spirit had yet to reveal itself—but he could feel it watching. Waiting.

When this night ended, a new chapter of the struggle would begin.

And he would be ready.

End of Chapter