Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 149: Not Normal

Warlock Ch 149. Not Normal

The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts. What bothered Damian even more wasn't just the traces of divine energy—it was the other anomaly. His Mana regeneration.

"My Mana's at 87%," he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Which doesn't make sense. I've been training all day, Evelyn. By all accounts, I should be drained, or at least hovering around 50%. But no—87%. And stable."

Evelyn's frown deepened. "Stable is good, isn't it?"

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"Sure," Damian replied, his tone tinged with frustration. "Except it's too stable. Too fast. This isn't normal."

"You think it's the artifact?" Evelyn asked, her voice careful but curious.

Damian picked up his fork again, staring at his plate as if the answers might be hidden there. "I guess. That's the only thing that makes sense lately. But throwing all the blame on something I can't explain…" He hesitated, his grip tightening on the fork. "It feels irresponsible. Like I'm one of those people who just pointed at me and called me a criminal without ever asking why."

He shoved a bite of food into his mouth, chewing mechanically. After a long pause, he muttered, "It sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

Evelyn's expression softened, and she leaned forward slightly. "No, it doesn't," she said firmly. "It sounds like someone trying to figure out a mess they didn't create. If the artifact's involved, then blaming it isn't pathetic—it's logical. But you need more than guesses, Damian. You need answers."

Damian snorted softly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Answers. Right. Got any spare ones lying around?"

Evelyn chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "Sorry, fresh out. But I do know one thing—you'll figure it out. You always do."

Her confidence in him was oddly reassuring, even if he wasn't sure he deserved it. He nodded, finishing his meal in silence.

Later, after dinner, Damian hauled his heavy bag upstairs to his room. His arms strained under the weight, and he couldn't help but grumble as he kicked the door open. "Seriously, who is the sadistic mentor who gives this many books to his tired apprentice?"

Cassius, apparently. The answer was always Cassius.

He dropped the bag onto his desk with a loud thud, the impact causing a small dust cloud to puff into the air. Unzipping the bag, he began unpacking the books, stacking them into a neat but intimidating tower on the desk. Each tome was thick, worn, and absolutely brimming with advanced magical theory.

Damian cringed as he eyed the stack. "I love books," he muttered to himself, "but not like this. Not this much. And definitely not all in one night."

He pulled out the last book and placed it on the pile, stepping back to take in the sheer size of it. It loomed over him like a judge ready to sentence him to hours of academic misery.

"I hate it," he said bitterly, a faint, sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "But I know I need it."

There was no way around it. If he wanted to take Victoria's mission—and survive—it wasn't just about power or skill. It was about knowledge. And knowledge, unfortunately, was buried in these ridiculous tomes.

Damian sighed, dragging his chair over and collapsing into it. He rested his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands as he let out a long, tired exhale. "Just endure it," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. "You got this."

With that, he grabbed the first book from the stack, its leather cover creaking faintly as he opened it. The dense script stared back at him, each line a wall of text that demanded his full attention. He focused, letting the words and diagrams pull him in, his mind sharpening as he tapped into his Mana to aid his concentration.

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In the kitchen, Evelyn wiped her hands on a dish towel, her mind elsewhere. She knew Cassius had loaded Damian up with another mountain of books tonight. It wasn't a hard guess—Cassius operated with one speed. Relentless. And while Evelyn respected the man's knowledge and dedication, she couldn't help but frown at how hard he was pushing Damian.

The sound of water boiling on the stove brought her back to the present, but her thoughts still lingered on Damian.

'He hasn't even been a warlock for a week,' she thought, shaking her head slightly. 'He's already Rank B, but… is it too fast?'

It wasn't that she doubted Damian's abilities. She knew better than anyone how capable he was. His rebirth had given him a second chance, and even without all of Kaelan's memories, he had instincts and power that most warlocks could only dream of. But that didn't mean he was ready. Power and instinct weren't enough to navigate this world—not when it was full of betrayals, politics, and enemies who thrived on exploiting weakness.

She stirred the pot absentmindedly, her brow furrowing.

'The more he gains as a warlock, the closer he gets to… 'She didn't finish the thought. She didn't want to. But the shadow of Kaelan's fate hung over her. Damian's rebirth was his choice, his path. She had to respect that. Yet the fear lingered. What if history repeated itself?

"No," she murmured aloud, shaking her head as if to dispel the thought. "That was his choice. His path."

Still, none of them truly understood why Damian had chosen to be reborn. What was the driving force behind it? What did he hope to accomplish? The questions gnawed at her, but they remained unanswered. Damian himself didn't seem to know.

Evelyn let out a sigh, her gaze drifting to the pantry. If she couldn't stop Cassius from pushing Damian, she could at least help him in her own way. She opened the pantry, her fingers deftly selecting a handful of herbs and ingredients. She was going to make Dawn's Vitality again. It wasn't a cure-all, but it would help ease Damian's exhaustion and sharpen his focus. If nothing else, it was her way of supporting him without interfering.