Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives

Chapter 90: Power is The Key

Warlock Ch 90. Power is The Key

Damian's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest like he'd just run a marathon. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, as he realized he was slumped over his desk, a heavy book beneath his cheek. He was back in his room, the soft morning light filtering through the window. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing hard, his mind still reeling from the clash.

He swallowed, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline, the demon's sneer still fresh in his mind. He could still feel the strange, almost foreign warmth of the light he'd wielded, the way it had surged through him. But it was just a dream… right?

Damian sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead as he tried to process it. "A warlock… who wields the power of light?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "How is that even possible?"

He looked down at the book on his desk.

'Light magic?'

That had never even crossed his mind. Warlocks didn't use light—it was practically a rule, a law of magic itself. Warlocks wielded shadow, darkness. Light was… well, light was the opposite of everything a warlock was supposed to be. Yet here he was, vividly recalling the feeling of that power, the way it had burst from his hand and clashed with the demon's darkness.

Damian slowly pushed himself up from his desk, stretching out his stiff shoulders and cracking his neck. Once he moved, a blanket slipped from his shoulders, falling to the floor. He blinked, looking down at it, realizing it hadn't been there before he'd dozed off.

'Evelyn…'

A small smile tugged at his lips. He bent down to pick it up. It had to be her; she'd probably come in after he'd knocked out over his books and, in her quiet way, made sure he was comfortable. He turned toward the bed, and sure enough, there she was, asleep under the covers, her dark hair spilling over the pillow in a tangled mess.

For a moment, Damian thought about heading to the kitchen to make her some food, like he had yesterday. But as he watched her, he felt something shift in him. He wasn't particularly hungry, and for some reason, the idea of cooking didn't appeal to him. Instead, he folded the blanket, setting it aside, and slipped into bed beside her.

Settling down next to her, he found himself staring at her sleeping face, taking in the soft rise and fall of her breath, the peaceful expression she wore in sleep. It was like… He was trying to search for a piece of peace from it.

Eventually, he turned his gaze to the ceiling, his thoughts wandering back to the dream. The whole thing felt so vivid, so real, but he knew it had been a dream… or at least, that's what he kept telling himself. Still, it left a strange sense of curiosity nagging at him.

Could it really be connected to him, to something within him? It didn't make sense, but he couldn't deny the feeling, the certainty that this dream was showing him something more, something he was meant to uncover.

"It might have something to do with the power inside me…" he murmured under his breath, barely aware he'd spoken the thought aloud.

It was just a guess, sure, but a part of him was convinced there was truth to it. There was something hidden inside him, something waiting to be unlocked, and the more he grew, the closer he got to unraveling it. Power was the key—that much seemed obvious now. Maybe Cassius and Evelyn had been right all along. Maybe there really was something he had to find on his own, a truth buried so deep that even they couldn't see it.

"So, power is the key, huh?" he thought, letting the words settle in his mind. Whatever it was he needed to find, whatever this light inside him meant, he'd only get closer to it by growing stronger. No shortcuts, no easy answers—just raw, unrelenting strength.

The bed shifted beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts as Evelyn moved closer, her hand brushing against his arm. He felt her body lean into his, and before he knew it, she had wrapped her arms around him. He glanced down, surprised by the gentle way she held him, like she'd been searching for comfort even in her sleep.

She murmured something, her voice so soft it was barely more than a breath. He couldn't make out the words, but he noticed the faint glisten of moisture at the corner of her eyes, tears that had formed without her even knowing.

Gently, he lifted a hand, brushing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tear. She shifted again, murmuring his name softly. "Damian… Don't go… Don't leave…" Her voice was laced with something he couldn't quite place—fear, maybe, or something deeper, something she'd kept locked away.

He didn't know what she was dreaming about, but he could guess. She clung to him like she feared he'd disappear, her face pressed into his shoulder.

For a moment, he just lay there, caught off guard by how much she seemed to need him right now. He'd always thought he was the one who leaned on her. But here, now, the roles felt reversed, like she was the one silently asking for reassurance.

He lowered his head, letting his voice fall to a soft whisper. "I won't go…" The words slipped out without a second thought.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. She seemed to relax, her breathing evening out. He felt his own heart steady, the simple act grounding him.

His mind turned back to his goal. He needed to get stronger, and fast.

'Wait…' he mused, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face, 'I can get stronger by doing 'that' with her, right?'

Slowly, his hands drifted along her side, fingers tracing the curve of her back. She murmured something, still half-asleep, and he took it as a good sign, letting his hands wander a bit more boldly. His pulse quickened.