Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 396: Adrenaline And Frustration

Warlock Ch 396. Adrenaline And Frustration freewebnøvel.coɱ

"Sounds about right," Cassius murmured, settling into the armchair opposite him. "And Commander Ryven?"

Damian's eyes narrowed. "More stubborn than I thought."

Cassius frowned, swirling the liquid in his cup. "You're not supposed to be throwing high class spells around town like it's confetti."

"Well, maybe someone should tell our enemy that," Damian snapped, then exhaled. He scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing at the dried streaks of river water and leftover ash that still clung to his skin. His body was drying up, sure, but his nerves? Still soaked in adrenaline and frustration.

Cassius sat across from him, casually sipping a cup of bitterroot tea like he hadn't just heard about his best friend being hunted through a mountain river by a dragon general with murder in her eyes. He gave Damian a long look, eyes gleaming with that trademark warlock sarcasm. "You done pouting?"

Damian grunted. "Maybe." He exhaled. "So, how about your mission?"

Cassius smirked. "Mine went fine."

"Yeah?"

"The target's dead."

Damian blinked. "Just like that?"

"No sound. No loud explosion. No river chase. No dramatic identity crisis." Cassius leaned back smugly. "Just a quiet slice through the shadows and poof—no more cultist envoy."

Damian cringed. "I feel personally attacked."

"You should," Cassius said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "The mission briefing specifically said 'settle this silently.' And yet… you're out here making fireworks."

"I said I'm sorry."

"You blew up half an alley."

"Okay, most of that alley was already falling apart."

"You set the river on fire, Damian."

"I was being chased!"

Cassius's smirk faded just a little, replaced with that calculating look he wore whenever things started getting serious. He set his drink down on the low table beside him.

"Alright," he said, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "About this dragon general… Should we start preparing for a war, then?"

Damian hesitated. "Honestly? I don't know."

Cassius raised an eyebrow.

"She said—get this—she just wanted to talk."

"And then chased you across the goddamn countryside?"

"Exactly!" Damian stood, pacing now, towel slung over one shoulder. "She said she wanted to talk, but the second I tried to dip out, she started launching attacks like I kicked her dog. I don't know what part of 'conversation' includes aerial pursuit and freezing half a river."

Cassius leaned back again. "So you didn't give her a chance to talk?"

Damian stopped mid-pace. "She was chasing me."

"Yes, I gathered that."

"She had a sword out! She was casting [Glacial Pursuit]!"

Cassius shrugged. "Maybe that's how dragons say hello."

Damian glared. "Oh, right. So next time, should I roll out a table mid-fight, pour some tea, and say, 'Would you like to talk, dear General, over biscuits and mild drowning'?"

Cassius smirked. "I mean… I'd pay to see that."

"Shut up."

Cassius stood now too, brushing his cloak aside. "Look, I'm not saying she handled it well. But… if she really wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here dripping in my study, would you?"

Damian crossed his arms, jaw tight. "…No."

"Exactly."

"She called me Kaelan," Damian said suddenly.

Cassius froze.

There was a long silence. Even the fire seemed to pause for a beat.

"…Right," Cassius muttered. "That's why you ran."

"I didn't—" Damian stopped himself. Then groaned. "Okay. Maybe. A little."

Cassius raised both eyebrows. "A little?"

"She knew who I was," Damian muttered, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "She looked me in the eye and said my name like it still meant something."

"To her, it might."

"And to the rest of the world?"

Cassius didn't answer.

Damian turned away, pacing toward the window. Outside, the mist still hung heavy over the forest, glowing faintly under the wards' protective veil. The trees beyond swayed gently in the breeze, like they were whispering secrets he wasn't ready to hear.

"I didn't want to be him anymore," Damian said quietly. "He—"

"He protected people," Cassius cut in. "He gave us time. He made hard calls."

"He ran."

Cassius's voice dropped. "And now he came back."

Damian turned around, eyes meeting Cassius's.

"You're not running anymore, right?"

"No," Damian said. "Not anymore."

"Then it doesn't matter what name they call you by. Kaelan. Damian. Hell, Wet Disaster. You're here. You're fighting. That's what counts."

Damian barked a short laugh. "Wet Disaster, really?"

"You brought that one on yourself."

They both chuckled, tension easing just a bit. Cassius walked over and clapped a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"So," he said. "What now?"

Damian sighed. "Now? I rest. I plan. And maybe figure out what the hell Lysandra wanted before the dragons decide to fry Haven to a crisp."

"And if she comes back?"

"I'll try not to light anything on fire."

Cassius snorted. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Damian smirked. "No promises. Just plans." He exhaled slow, watching the flames for a second before speaking again. "Anyway," he said, voice lower now. "She also said something strange."

Cassius arched a brow. "Stranger than a dragon general chasing you across a city for a 'chat'?"

"Yeah," Damian muttered. "She said I might be the only one who could stop it."

Cassius didn't respond. Just blinked slowly. Waiting.

"I don't know if it's a threat or a prophecy or just another piece of cryptic dragon bullshit," Damian went on, running a hand down his face. "But the way she said it… I don't know, man. It didn't feel like a warning."

"What'd it feel like then?" Cassius asked.

Damian leaned forward, elbows on knees, rubbing the side of his temple. "It felt like something from back then. You know… when I made the choice to kill the Demon King."

The silence that followed was heavy. Not because Cassius didn't understand—it was because he did. They'd lived it.

"You mean when Kaelan killed the Demon King," Cassius said carefully.

Damian nodded, jaw tightening. "Yeah. That one."

Cassius let out a humorless snort. "And instead they accused you of stealing his power."

"Yup," Damian muttered. "Next thing I knew, I was branded a traitor, war criminal, dark overlord wannabe. The works."

He leaned back, eyes locking on the ceiling like it held answers he never found.

"She said it the same way the council did, you know? Like I was meant to stop something. Back then, it was the Demon King. And this time…" He trailed off, frowning. "This time, I don't know. She didn't even say what it was."