Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 386: Sweat And Bitter

Warlock Ch 386. Sweat And Bitter

The moment Damian stepped out of the training hall, the hallway felt colder—less like temperature and more like pressure. His clothes clung to him, damp from sweat and mana fatigue, the scent of burnt air and exhaustion trailing behind him as he made his way through the manor.

By the time he reached the living room, Cassius was already sprawled across the velvet-lined sofa with one leg hanging off the side and a crystal of darkwine in one hand. Two of the shadow servants knelt near the fireplace, their cloaks still damp from the city's shifting weather. Another figure in the corner flickered out of stealth, revealing a third servant.

Cassius looked up lazily. "You smell like sweat… and bitter."

Damian raised an eyebrow, wiping his neck with a half-used towel. "I just got back from training."

Cassius took a sip. "And?"

"I masked it."

Cassius made a face. "The sweat or the power?"

Damian tossed the towel onto a chair, slumping into one of the high-backed armchairs. "If I released everything, I'd have leveled your training hall. Again."

"Fair enough." Cassius sniffed his wine. "Would've preferred the destruction over the stink, though."

Damian smirked. "You're welcome."

"Alright, enough joking," Cassius muttered, sitting upright and gesturing toward the shadow servants. "Let's hear it. What do we have?"

"We observed activity near the west sanctum district. Ralvek's inner circle has pulled back from public spaces. Most of their movements have shifted underground—literally. Hidden pathways, teleport anchors, dimensional folds in merchant buildings. They're covering their tracks aggressively."

"There were three emergency meetings called today. No records were kept—no scrying allowed. They're scared," another servant said.

Cassius narrowed his eyes. "Scared of us?"

"Scared of something," the third servant said, stepping forward now. "Their paranoia has shifted focus. Internal purges have started. One senator was executed last night. They claimed it was due to treason, but the body was too clean. No torture. No interrogation burns."

Damian leaned forward. "That's damage control. They're tying up loose ends before it spirals."

Cassius swirled his wine thoughtfully. "They know something's coming."

"They also point all to you," one added. "But they don't have any proof. Your name keeps coming up in hushed whispers. Not Kaelan. Damian. The warlock. The witness. The variable."

Damian's brow twitched. "Which means the mask is slipping."

"And Aria?" Cassius asked.

"She hasn't spoken your name in public. She's kept her posture neutral. But her guards have increased. She's preparing for conflict."

Cassius sighed. "So basically, the entire city's in panic mode, half the senators are sharpening daggers behind their smiles, and everyone's praying they're not next."

"Essentially."

Damian ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly. "Did you find anything about the anomaly? The one Lysandra mentioned?"

The servant hesitated. Then nodded. "We believe the source is under the central archive vault. The mana concentration is unstable, layered with anti-detection glyphs and corrupted ley energy. Old magic. Possibly older than Haven City itself."

Cassius whistled. "Well. That sounds delightful."

The first servant stepped closer, producing a folded parchment. "We extracted a magic fragment from a guard's boot. Traces of blood, demon residue, and—this is important—fae binding script."

Damian blinked. "Fae?"

The second nodded. "And not just any fae. Royal-level constructs. It's messy. Old treaties are being broken, or worse… rewritten."

Cassius groaned, slumping back dramatically. "Why is it always ancient buried death magic mixed with political sabotage? Can't we get one week of normal assassination attempts?"

Damian took the parchment, studying the script. His eyes narrowed. "This… is foundational magic. Whoever's doing this isn't just experimenting. They're reweaving system laws."

Cassius drained his wine. "So. Giant eldritch conspiracy it is."

"I need access to the vault," Damian muttered.

The servant shook his head. "Impossible. Every entrance is locked under royal override. You'd need a direct key from the Sanctum High Tower or…" he trailed off.

"Or what?" Damian pressed.

"Or someone with blood access."

Cassius arched a brow. "You're suggesting a traitor on the inside?"

The servant nodded. "Or someone from the royal line who's gone rogue."

Damian's mind raced. That narrowed it down—badly. Especially since Selena's testimony had shifted more attention toward his circle than away from it.

Cassius stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeves. "Alright. So what's the move?"

"We wait," Damian said. "Until we know exactly what's brewing down there, I'm not making noise."

"And if the noise comes to us first?" Cassius asked.

Damian's gaze was cold. "Then we answer louder."

The servant bowed. "We'll return to monitoring the leylines. If anything shifts, you'll know first."

"Thank you," Damian said.

The shadow servants faded into the room's dimmer edges.

Cassius dropped back into his chair, stretching his arms wide. "So. You ready for the next storm?"

Damian glanced out the tall window, watching the clouds churn above the city, silver lightning flashing across the sky like distant claws scraping reality. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"No," he said quietly. "But I'll be standing when it hits."

Another presence shimmered into view—subtle, seamless. No noise, no flash. Just a slow ripple near the corner of the room as the fourth shadow servant materialized.

"Master," the servant said, voice cool and precise. "Forgive the delay."

Damian straightened immediately, eyes sharp. "What do you know?"

The servant didn't hesitate. "General Lysandra. She's not here as an observer, nor as a representative of neutrality."

Cassius stiffened beside him.

"She came," the servant continued, "for you."

The words landed hard.

Damian's expression didn't move, but something tightened in his jaw. "You mean she recognized me."

The servant nodded. "Yes, Master. Not as Damian. But as Kaelan. She has spoken your true name aloud—to her aide, at least once. She's not acting on orders from the dragon council. She came of her own accord."

Evelyn had entered from the hall, just in time to hear that. Her eyes narrowed. "So it's personal."

"And that's not all," the servant added, pulling a scroll. "She's also here for whatever the council is building. The anomaly. She traced its core vibration and recognized its signature as something forbidden."

Damian took the scroll slowly. "She thinks they're trying to use it."

"Yes, Master," the servant said.

Cassius exhaled long and low. "Well, that complicates everything."