Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 389: Manaless Commander [Part 2]

Warlock Ch 389. Manaless Commander [Part 2]

Just for a second—walls bowing, metal groaning under pressure, light warping around the void's heart.

Commander Ryven Halden stumbled back with a sharp grunt, barely keeping on his feet. His barrier talisman cracked and hissed at the edges, overstrained but still holding—for now. The void pressure made every movement feel like wading through wet cement, his body sluggish, his breath stolen.

But the mercenaries?

They moved.

Fast.

Professional.

Even under pressure.

Two of them, pinned by [Dark Chains], triggered their contingency charms. Crimson runes flared beneath their boots as their backup enchantments kicked in.

Limit Release (Rank A)

The chains snapped—but not fully. Their bodies burned with silver tattoos now glowing under their armor, the force of their magical enhancements pressing back against the weight of Damian's skill.

"Eyes on all angles!" barked the squad leader. "He's not gone—he's here. I want barrier domes now!"

The backup caster raised a gauntlet and slammed it to the ground.

Field Dome (Rank S: Casted)

A shimmering wall flared up, cutting the void energy just enough to give them space to breathe. It wasn't stable—it shuddered at every pulse of the rift—but it bought them seconds. And seconds were everything.

"Where the hell is he?!" one of the mercs yelled, scanning with his arc-lens. "I'm not seeing anything! No heat, no aura trace!"

Ryven wiped blood from his lip and snapped a mana crystal, tossing it into the air.

Detection Pulse (Rank B: Activated)

A pulse of blue light rippled out, sweeping the alley.

Nothing.

But they all felt it.

Something brushed against their minds. Cold. Slow. Intentional.

"He's near," Ryven growled. "He's watching." He readied another talisman and nodded at the squad leader. "If we see movement, we attack together. We flush him out, now."

The squad spread, careful, tight formation. Their eyes scanned rooftops, walls, windows. Even the fog.

Especially the fog.

It wasn't normal anymore. It clung to their ankles, too thick, too quiet.

Suddenly—movement.

A flicker of shadow across the eastern rooftop.

"Left flank!" someone shouted.

Three mercs reacted instantly, breaking into a sprint. Boots slammed against stone. Arcane blades drawn. Their movement blurred with speed spells, their shadows trailing behind like smears of smoke.

They reached the rooftop in seconds—only to find nothing.

Just a wall scorched by a recent spell, and a bloodstain that didn't belong to any of them.

"Dammit—he's toying with us!" the squad leader snarled. "He wants to bleed us without showing himself!"

And it was working.

The battle turned into a hunt. One-sided. Nerve-wracking.

Every time they shifted positions, someone else got clipped. A talisman fizzled. A rune broke. A weapon shattered on impact with nothing.

One by one, their advantages unraveled.

And Ryven… he fought anyway.

No magic of his own, but he moved with purpose, coordination. His talismans were high-grade—multi-layered scripts woven into blood-drawn scrolls, probably a black market commission. He threw one behind him mid-dash.

Magnet Seal (Rank A: Triggered)

An explosion of magnetic force pulled in everything nearby—stones, weapons, even fog—and left behind a scatter of noise and chaos. Just enough to cover his retreat.

"He's funneling us!" Ryven shouted as he leapt down a narrow stairwell leading into the courtyard. "He's setting us up!"

"No shit!" one of the others snapped, sliding down beside him.

But they couldn't retreat now.

Because one of theirs was already down.

The youngest mage in the squad was still somewhere in the void-flooded section of the alley. Last they saw him, his arm was limp, and his barrier charm shattered across his chest like broken glass.

"We have to pull him out!" the squad leader yelled.

"Too late!" shouted the flame-wielder behind her. "If he's in that rift, he's gone!"

"No one gets left behind!" she screamed back, voice cracking with fury.

They moved again—down the winding path behind the councilor district. A maze of old stone alleys and dead-end courtyards, all filled with fog.

And through it all…

The culprit remained unseen.

His presence came in flashes. A ripple in the air. A glint in the mist. Once, a low whisper—too soft to catch.

And then the commander caught something.

Not sound. Not sight.

Instinct.

He spun and hurled a talisman behind him with all the force he had.

It hit something.

And for the first time… the shadow shimmered.

A silhouette.

A blur.

A man in black.

And then it was gone.

But the talisman detonated.

The force blasted Ryven back into the alley wall, hard enough to crack stone.

He slumped forward, coughing blood.

But he was alive.

More importantly—he'd touched something. Felt something.

"He's not invincible," Ryven spat.

The squad leader helped him up, her eyes wide. "You hit him?"

"Only the edge," Ryven gasped, holding his ribs. "But I felt it."

And that changed everything.

The hunt was no longer blind.

Now it was personal.

"Light the torches," the squad leader ordered, her voice cold. "We're burning this bastard out."

One of the mercs raised a hand.

Flares of Truth (Rank S: Casted)

Six golden torches ignited around the sector, burning bright and fast. Fog hissed and withdrew like a living thing.

But there—just for a heartbeat—at the far end of the courtyard…

A figure.

Not fleeing.

Not hiding.

Just watching.

And Ryven saw the faint glow around his hand. The black-and-red light flickering, forming a spear of pure nightmare flame.

"RUN!" Ryven shouted.

But it was too late.

[Infernal Javelins]

The courtyard exploded with black fire.

Walls melted. Stone cracked. The sky itself seemed to burn.

The javelins had left a trail of molten destruction across the alleyway. The explosion hadn't just scorched the ground—it warped it, charred it, turned it into something unnatural. A black crater now split the courtyard in two, glowing faintly like a wound too deep to heal.

Ryven Halden rolled behind what remained of a stone bench, gasping for air, his barrier talisman finally reduced to smoking fragments. He wiped the soot and blood from his face, spitting dust and trying to focus.

He was alive.

But barely.