Warlock Ch 191. He Thinks He Can Turn Into His Puppet
The whole thing was nagging at Damian like an itch he couldn't scratch.
"Right… she barely ntioned her husband either," Damian muttered, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. "I an, sure, maybe she doesn't want to rember it. Losing soone like that has to suck. But… if everything's tied to him, wouldn't she at least say sothing? Even a na?"
He let out a frustrated groan, standing up and pacing the room. His boots thudded against the polished floor as his thoughts raced. "What are you hiding, Victoria?" he muttered under his breath. "And why the hell can't I rember any of it?"
His hand drifted to his head, scratching at it even though there wasn't an itch. It was more like a reflex, a physical outlet for his ntal frustration. "Damn it!" he snapped, his voice echoing in the empty room. "Why is my mory so fragnted? This is really freaking troubleso!"
He froze mid-step, the pieces starting to shift in his mind. No… Thinking about it again, this didn't seem like sothing he would've chosen. Sure, he opted for rebirth, but did that an losing critical mories was part of the deal? Or was it sothing else entirely? Sothing… darker?
"That demon king," he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His fists clenched at his sides. That damn demon king's soul, sealed inside him like so kind of cursed roommate, could easily be part of the problem.
"Maybe he's covering sothing up," Damian mused aloud, the idea clicking into place. "Sothing he doesn't want to rember. Or maybe…" His voice dipped, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe he's afraid I'll access my full power."
The thought made his blood run cold, but only for a mont. Then he scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Or maybe he thinks he can turn into his puppet."
He laughed, low and sharp. "Yeah, good luck with that, buddy. You don't know how stubborn I am."
Still, the idea nagged at him. The pieces weren't adding up, and he hated not knowing the full picture. He thought back to the dream he'd had the night before—Kaelan's past with Evelyn. That had been sothing real, sothing he'd rembered. But lately, the mana core's mory fragnts felt more like random puzzle pieces, less and less important or coherent.
Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I'll just ask him," he muttered. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, though the demon king wasn't exactly a chatty roommate. Still, he had to try.
Closing his eyes, Damian took a deep breath, letting his awareness sink inward. The world around him faded, replaced by the endless void of his subconscious. The darkness was thick, almost tangible, but he knew where to go. His steps felt lighter here, less constrained by the laws of reality, as he approached the glowing presence of the mana core.
It floated in the void like so ancient artifact, pulsating with power. Its surface was etched with intricate sigils, more of them than he rembered seeing before. The core itself looked… newer sohow. Sharper. As if it had been re-forged or strengthened since the last ti he'd been here.
"Okay, you," Damian said, crossing his arms and glaring at the core. "What's the deal? You're hiding sothing, and I'm not leaving until I get answers."
There was no imdiate response, but Damian didn't expect one. He stood there, waiting, his frustration simring just below the surface. Finally, a low, rumbling voice echoed from the core, dripping with disdain.
"Why do you disturb , boy?" The core's voice was as grating as ever, a mix of arrogance and malice.
"Because you're screwing with ," Damian shot back. "My mories are a ss, and I'm pretty sure you have sothing to do with it."
"Your mories are your own problem," the mana core replied, his tone dismissive. "Do not bla for your weakness."
"Bullshit," Damian snapped. "You're hiding sothing. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. Every ti I get close to a fragnt, it slips away, like it's being blocked. So, I'll ask you again: what the hell are you hiding?"
The core pulsed faintly, its sigils glowing brighter for a mont. "You are not ready to know," the core said, his voice tinged with condescension. "Your power is incomplete, your resolve weak. You would not survive the truth."
Damian laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence. But guess what? I'm not going anywhere until you start talking."
There was a long silence, the void around him seeming to grow heavier. Finally, the demon king spoke again, his tone darker, more serious. "The truth you seek will destroy you."
Damian's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Try ."
"You wish to know why your mories are fragnted?" the core asked, his voice low and rumbling. "It is not by my hand, but by the nature of your rebirth. You carry two souls, boy—yours and mine. The clash of our existence fractures the mind, distorts the past."
"That's convenient," Damian muttered. "And the real reason?"
The core pulsed again, almost angrily. "You assu too much. The truth is simple: you are weak. Until you are strong enough to wield the full power of the mana core, your mories will remain incomplete. This is not a punishnt. It is survival."
Damian clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "And what about you? What's your angle in all this? You're just hanging out here, waiting for to fail so you can take over?"
The core's laughter echoed through the void, cold and mocking. "You overestimate your importance. If I wished to take control, you would already be mine. But I have no interest in ruling a broken vessel. Prove your worth, boy. Only then will you understand."
Damian gritted his teeth, his anger flaring. "You think you can dangle this over and get away with it? Newsflash: I'm not your puppet."
The core dimd slightly, as if unimpressed. "Then go, boy. Struggle as much as you like. It makes no difference to ."
Reviews
All reviews (0)