Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 458: Power Built on rot Tends to Collapse Eventually

Warlock Ch 458. Power Built on rot Tends to Collapse Eventually

Damian didn't flinch. Didn't smile. He simply looked at the man, unreadable.

"So I heard," he said quietly, tone neutral. "A lot of things have been unraveling lately."

Tellwyn leaned forward slightly. "You don't seem… surprised."

Damian tilted his head, casually brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.

"I've learned not to be surprised," he replied. "Power built on rot tends to collapse eventually."

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"And some people," he added, eyes flicking across the empty seats, "were just standing a little too close when the structure gave out."

Tellwyn's mouth tightened. "Are you suggesting—"

"I'm suggesting," Damian interrupted smoothly, "that maybe if your house wasn't full of kindling, you wouldn't be so nervous around sparks."

There it was.

No confession.

No denial.

Just smoke where fire had already passed.

The tribunal shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Because whether or not he lit the match…

Everyone knew who walked out of the ashes.

Finally, Tellwyn gave a shallow nod. His voice came out low, almost brittle.

"…The charges have been cleared. The tribunal recognizes you as a warlock in full standing, not a criminal. You may return to Haven City without restriction."

The words echoed through the chamber like a reluctant confession.

But he wasn't finished.

His eyes shifted—nervous, cautious—to Aria.

"…And Aria Brightlight," he continued, slower this time, "the tribunal acknowledges that your actions, while unconventional, were not acts of treason. Your association with Kaelan Voidweaver has been… re-evaluated in light of recent events."

There was a long pause. One of the other judges leaned in and whispered something, but Tellwyn waved them off.

"You are not a criminal," he said clearly. "The charges against you are dismissed. However…"

Aria's jaw tensed. She already knew what was coming.

"…We cannot reinstate your position as a senator of the Magus Order."

Silence.

He added, almost like a defense, "Not because of guilt—but because your alignment with external factions, and your participation in this event as an independent, makes your reinstatement… complicated."

"Convenient word," Aria muttered.

Damian's eyes flicked toward her, but he didn't interrupt.

"We offer you honorary clearance," Tellwyn added quickly, "and full access to the central library and research towers. But you will hold no political seat."

Aria stepped forward slightly. "So you want me to teach and heal… but not vote."

A few tribunal members flinched.

"I'll take it," she said flatly, "not because I accept your terms. But because I have better things to do than sit in circles and pretend this room has power anymore."

Tellwyn didn't argue.

He simply bowed his head.

And no one—no one—dared to speak against her.

"There will be… further discussions. But this hearing is closed."

Damian stepped back. "Then we're done here."

He turned around—slow, deliberate—and walked away from the center of the room, not toward the guests, but toward the open door.

They didn't stop him.

Not this time.

As he passed by his so-called "guests," the Fae King stood up.

"We should talk soon," he said quietly. "About how we prevent this from happening again."

"We will," Damian replied.

Victoria smirked. "So diplomatic now. You really have changed."

Lysandra snorted. "He's still the same. Just cleaner."

Cassius winked. "Aren't we all?"

They left the chamber together.

No chains.

No curses.

Just silence in their wake.

Because the Tribunal knew now.

Damian Blackthorn wasn't a villain.

He was the reckoning they should've feared from the start.

The heavy doors closed behind them with a deep, echoing thud. The marble hallway beyond felt warmer somehow. Lighter. Like the weight pressing on their lungs all this time had finally lifted. The same runed torches burned along the walls, the same polished floor reflected the same pale blue glow—but now it didn't feel like a cage.

And waiting just outside, standing with her back straight and her fists clenched at her sides, was Selena.

She didn't rush in like a child. She held herself with restraint. But the moment Damian stepped out of that chamber—eyes calm, no blood on his hands, no cuffs on his wrists—she exhaled, stepped forward, and asked, voice tight and hopeful,

"How was it?"

Damian didn't even try to be dramatic. He just smiled faintly and said, "They said I'm not guilty."

And that was it.

Selena launched forward without a second thought and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug so fierce it actually made Cassius pause mid-step.

"I knew it," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I knew they couldn't break you."

He held her gently, but firmly. Just long enough to let her feel the truth. That he was still here. Still him. Still real.

A polite cough echoed from behind them.

Then a second one—less polite, more like a weaponized throat-clear.

Damian turned his head slightly to see the Fae King and Cedric standing just a few feet away. The king's brow was raised in that timeless, diplomatic "ahem" expression, while Cedric looked like he was trying very hard not to smirk.

Selena blinked, flushed crimson, and stepped back like she'd just realized she was hugging a public menace in front of royalty.

"S-Sorry," she muttered quickly, brushing imaginary dust from her robes. "I just—"

The Fae King raised a hand, silencing her. "I understand." Then he turned his gaze to her directly. "Selena."

She straightened. "Yes, Father?"

"Is this what you want?" His voice didn't rise or fall. It was calm. Measured. But there was something undeniably heavy behind the words. "To be with him?"

Selena didn't look away. Not once. "Yes."

The King nodded slowly, eyes unreadable. Then turned to Damian.

"And you? Will you take responsibility for what she chooses?"

Damian met the man's eyes without flinching. "I will take care of her. With my life."

That was when Cedric stepped forward with his usual dramatic flair, arms crossed and mouth tilted in a very un-princelike smirk.

"You better," he said. "Or I'll take that scroll back and send you to the land of the dead myself."