noveldrama
Chapter 75: He Just Called Me Poor in 101 Languages
Chapter 75: He Just Called Me Poor in 101 Languages
Warlock Ch 75. He Just Called Me Poor in 101 Languages
"So, basically, they just have to deal with it?" Damian asked, half-joking.
Cassius let out a low chuckle. "Precisely. The few who manage to adapt usually drop their sense of entitlement fairly quickly. The others… they either leave, give up, or wind up failing. Miserably."
Damian shook his head, impressed by the brutal honesty of it all. This was a place that didn't bow to money or influence; it respected strength, skill, and integrity. In a way, it was almost liberating. Here, he couldn't rely on social advantages or shortcuts—he'd have to earn his power, prove himself through sheer ability. The thought was daunting, but also thrilling. This world offered a chance to be something more, something real.
"But…" Cassius's voice broke the silence, this time deeper, carrying an edge that hadn't been there before. Damian glanced up, seeing Cassius's expression shift into something sharper, his gaze fixed on him with a kind of severity that made Damian's stomach tighten.
"Leaving this place doesn't mean they will forget that this world exists," Cassius continued, his tone laced with a serious warning. "You know about the… other warlocks, don't you? The ones who steal Mana Cores to strengthen themselves?"
Damian nodded, his throat suddenly dry.
Cassius's gaze didn't waver as he continued, "They usually target mages like the ones I told you about. Whether their Mana Cores are strong or not, it doesn't matter. The weak are prey to the strong here. Once they return to the Nullis world, where the eyes of authority are fewer and weaker, if they're lucky, they'll only lose their Mana Core."
Damian felt a chill spread down his spine as he absorbed Cassius's words. "And if they're not lucky…?"
"If they're not lucky," Cassius said, his voice hard, "they'll lose more than that. Their lives… or maybe the lives of those around them."
The words were heavy with a cold, brutal truth that made Damian's stomach twist. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Cassius's unblinking gaze. The idea that he could return to the Nullis world, only to endanger himself and others, was something he hadn't even considered. Here, magic was a means of survival, but there? If he left, he'd be a target in a world with no real way to protect himself.
"So… once someone's awakened their Mana Core, going back isn't really an option, is it?" Damian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Not if they want to stay alive," Cassius replied, his tone unyielding. "For those who cross back into the Nullis world, they either become hunted or become hunters themselves. It's a dead end. And there's no place there for people who wield true power."
Damian was silent. The Nullis world, the place he'd grown up in, suddenly felt distant. Alien. He hadn't realized it before, but there really was no way back. He'd thought of visiting, maybe dropping in on his friends now and then, just to stay connected to his old life. But it seemed he'd have to bury that idea, at least until he was stronger. This wasn't a choice he could unmake. Stepping into this world as a mage meant shutting the door on Nullis for good.
Cassius continued cooking, his attention fixed on the pan in front of him. The smell of the behemoth steak filled the room, rich and enticing. He didn't look up as he spoke, "Let me guess…" he said, his tone almost amused. "You're thinking about visiting your friends. Or whoever it is you left behind."
Damian cleared his throat, not expecting Cassius to pick up on that so easily. "Kinda," he admitted. "But… I'm not planning on going back, not for good. Don't worry. I know what's out there. I've seen the kind of power people have here. I watched Malthus, uh… flatten an entire building with one hit. So yeah, I get it."
Cassius nodded approvingly. "Good," he said, his tone carrying a finality that didn't invite argument. "Now sit down. Your food's almost ready."
Damian felt his shoulders relax. He pulled out a chair and sank into it, grateful for the break. He'd barely settled in before a plate floated gracefully in front of him, guided by Cassius's telekinesis. The behemoth steak was perfectly seared, resting atop a bed of lightly charred vegetables, its juices pooling in a small, mouthwatering puddle beneath it. Damian's stomach growled once again just looking at it.
Meanwhile, Cassius was busy making himself a cup of tea. Not just any tea, Damian could tell, but some special brew. The pot and cup hovered around Cassius, following him as he moved to the table. When he finally sat down, they landed gently in front of him, settling as if by routine.
Cassius noticed Damian's hesitation and frowned, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "What are you waiting for? Eat."
Damian looked up. "Where's… your steak?"
Cassius raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild annoyance. With a quick snap of his fingers, the teapot poured hot tea into his cup, the warm steam rising between them. "It wasn't me who scrambled around the training room today," Cassius said, not hiding the amusement in his voice. "I don't need it."
Damian shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't help but feel a little bad about indulging in a meal this grand by himself. Behemoth meat wasn't cheap; he knew that. Growing up in an orphanage had taught him to share, to be mindful of food and resources, and here he was, about to devour a prized cut of meat while Cassius went without.
"You know," Damian began, trying to find the right words, "this is… a big piece of meat. What if we split it in half? I mean, it's kind of expensive, so maybe—"
Before he could finish, Cassius's gaze sharpened, and he snapped his fingers with a suddenness that made Damian flinch. In response, the fridge against the wall swung open, revealing a freezer filled to the brim with thick cuts of behemoth meat, each one neatly packed and ready to cook. There had to be a fortune's worth of steaks in there, more than Damian could have even imagined.
Cassius's eyes bore into him with a stern look. "Eat."
'Yup, he just called me poor in 101 languages,' Damian cringed internally.