Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 261: Show Some Respect!

Warlock Ch 261. Show Some Respect!

When Damian opened his eyes, he was back in the living room. The faint hum of the magic formation beneath him had dulled, its glow fading as the energy dissipated. He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping his knees as he steadied himself. The air was still, except for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the corner.

He let out a long breath and stood, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. "Well," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, "that was… something."

The Demon King’s voice echoed in his mind almost immediately. ’Something? That’s all you have to say after our little chat? Unbelievable. The arrogance of this generation…’

Damian’s lips curved into a smirk. "Still annoying as usual," he said aloud, stretching his arms above his head. He glanced toward the kitchen. "And arrogant as usual. You’d think after all this time, you’d figure out your place."

’Arrogant?’ the Demon King growled, his voice heavy with indignation. ’I’m not arrogant! I’m a Demon King, you insolent child! Show some respect!’

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," Damian muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he made his way to the kitchen. "You still sound annoying. It’s the same every time."

’I’m not annoying!’ the Demon King shot back, his tone bordering on petulant. ’And don’t blame me! If you hadn’t done this to me—if you hadn’t bound me like some lowly beast—I wouldn’t have to keep complaining in your head!’

Damian scoffed, grabbing a teapot from the counter and filling it with water. "You wish. You can keep yelling at me all you want, but it won’t change a thing. I’ve got your power, and you’ve got… well, nothing."

’Nothing?’ the Demon King bellowed, his voice echoing so loudly in Damian’s mind that it made him wince. ’You have no idea what I’m capable of, do you? No idea what you’ve imprisoned in that pathetic little artifact of yours.’

Damian set the teapot on the stove and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Capable of what, exactly? Ranting in my head? That’s your big skill set now?"

The Demon King growled low, like a predator about to pounce. ’Mock me all you want, warlock. But you’ll regret underestimating me.’

"Oh, I’m sure I will," Damian said dryly, reaching for a mug. "Eventually. Maybe. But for now? I’m the one in charge. And you?" He tapped his temple with a finger, smirking. "You’re just a voice in my head."

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The Demon King didn’t respond immediately, which Damian took as a small victory. He poured himself a cup of tea once the water boiled, savoring the warmth as he took a sip. "Ah, much better. See? Simple pleasures. You wouldn’t understand."

’Simple pleasures?’ the Demon King finally said, his tone incredulous. ’You’re gloating about tea? TEA?’

"Good tea," Damian corrected, grinning. "Don’t knock it till you try it."

’You’re insufferable,’ the Demon King muttered, his voice quieter than usual but still laced with his usual disdain.

Damian rolled his eyes, reaching into the cabinet for a mug. "And you’re loud. Can’t you tone it down for once?"

’Loud?!’ the Demon King barked. ’You think this is loud? You haven’t heard me at full power, mortal!’

Damian snorted as he filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. "Full power? Please. I’ve got you locked up tighter than a scroll in an ancient library. Your so-called ’full power’ is nothing but a bedtime story now."

There was a beat of silence before the Demon King scoffed. ’If I weren’t trapped in your mana core, you wouldn’t dare speak to me like this.’

"Probably not," Damian admitted, grabbing a teabag and plopping it into his mug. "But here we are. You’re trapped, I’m free, and I get to mock you all I want. Guess life’s unfair, huh?"

The Demon King grumbled incoherently, and Damian smirked to himself, stirring sugar into the tea. He could almost feel the demon’s frustration crackling through the air. It was oddly satisfying.

"You know," Damian said, leaning casually against the counter, "for someone who claims to be all-powerful, you’re really good at whining."

’Whining?!’ the Demon King growled. ’How dare you reduce my righteous complaints to mere whining! I am expressing my legitimate grievances, you insolent—’

"Yup. Whining," Damian interrupted, taking a sip of his tea. The warmth spread through him, and he sighed contentedly. "Textbook case of it, really."

The Demon King fell silent, the air growing uncomfortably still. For a moment, Damian thought he’d finally gotten a moment of peace, but then—

’You wouldn’t last a day in my position,’ the Demon King muttered, his tone quieter now, almost… pouty.

Damian blinked, lowering his mug. "Wait…" He frowned, his brow furrowing. "Are you sulking?"

’No, I’m not!’ the Demon King snapped, though his voice cracked slightly.

Damian’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You totally are." He set the mug down, crossing his arms. "Oh, this is rich. The mighty Demon King, sulking like a kid who lost their favorite toy."

’I am not sulking!’ the Demon King insisted, though his tone was anything but convincing. ’I am merely… reflecting on my predicament.’

"Uh-huh." Damian tapped a finger against his chin, feigning deep thought. "Reflecting, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?"

’I can hear you mocking me,’ the Demon King grumbled.

"Good," Damian said with a chuckle. "Wouldn’t want you to miss out on this moment of humility."

There was another beat of silence before the Demon King sighed heavily. ’Fine. Believe what you want.’

Damian paused, his smirk softening as he leaned against the counter. "Wow, you really are sulking," he said, more gently this time. "I almost feel bad."

’Almost?’ the Demon King echoed, his tone flat.

Damian grinned. "Yeah, almost. But then I remember you’re an ancient, power-hungry demon and the sympathy just kind of… evaporates."

’You’re impossible,’ the Demon King muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damian tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly. He couldn’t see the Demon King, but for some reason, he could vividly imagine him sitting cross-legged in the void of his mana core, arms crossed, a pout on his regal, demonic face. The thought was absurd—and oddly amusing.

"You know," Damian said, picking up his mug again, "if you want me to take you seriously, you might want to stop acting like a brat."