NOVEL NEXT Chapter 39: You Cannot Escape Your Fate
Warlock Ch 39. You Cannot Escape Your Fate
He trudged upstairs, sandwich plate in one hand and the stack of books in the other. His muscles still ached from the day's training and errand-running, but the thought of finally relaxing—at least for a moment—pushed him forward. He dumped the books onto the small desk in the room, carefully balancing the plate next to them before glancing longingly at the bathroom door.
'First things first.'
He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his shirt, and stepped into the bathroom, twisting the shower handle until the water roared to life. The sound was oddly soothing. The hot water streamed over him, washing away the grime and fatigue. He felt the tension in his muscles start to ease, but his mind was still spinning, running over everything Evelyn had told him.
Centuries of life? Flying without a staff? Living on Mana?
It was like everything he'd ever dreamed about magic as a kid was actually real, but the reality was somehow heavier. There were consequences, dangers, and responsibilities he hadn't even considered.
As the water splashed across his skin, Damian glanced down at the back of his hand—and froze.
His warlock mark.
It had changed!
He blinked, staring at it for a moment, then raised his hand closer to his face, inspecting it under the bathroom's dim light. The mark, which had been fairly simple before, had expanded. It was more intricate now, more detailed, with strange symbols creeping up his skin. And right there, in the middle of it, was the unmistakable image of the three-headed wolf he'd seen on the artifact in his dreams. Alongside it was a strange symbol—something that looked like it could be a witch's mark, though Damian wasn't sure.
He traced the edges of the mark with his finger.
'What the hell…'
His thoughts immediately jumped back to the dream—the artifact's voice, the chaotic memories, the feeling of something ancient and powerful lurking inside of him. He shuddered, the bitter taste of dread rising in his throat. "That artifact thing… is really inside of me, isn't it?" he muttered under his breath. It wasn't a real question, but a confirmation for himself.
The mark wasn't just a coincidence. Whatever this was, it was tied to him now. The thought made his chest tighten. The dreams hadn't exactly been pleasant, and there was a part of him that didn't want to know what it all meant. Didn't want to dig any deeper into whatever was happening inside him.
But there was another part of him, the part that couldn't stop wondering, that was morbidly curious. Like the dream was only the beginning, a clue to something much bigger—something that would change everything. Something that hadn't been finished.
He clenched his jaw, memories of the dream creeping back into his mind. The artifact's voice, deep and ancient, echoing inside his skull.
"You cannot escape your fate, Damian. You were never meant to run."
He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. He couldn't get caught up in this—not now. He had training to focus on. He needed to get stronger, faster. There was no time to lose himself in speculation or fear. That Malthus guy was far more immediate. And if Damian didn't get stronger soon, the next time Malthus targeted him, he wouldn't just be flattening buildings—he'd flatten Damian too. And this time, Evelyn might not be there to save his ass.
Damian let out a slow breath, pushing his hands through his wet hair, trying to ground himself. 'Focus. You need to focus.'
He turned back toward the stream of water, letting it pour over him. But even as the warmth spread through his muscles, his thoughts kept circling back to the mark on his hand. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was tied to something important—something he wasn't ready to face. But there was no use obsessing over it now. He had to stay sharp, get through his training, and figure it out when the time came.
Still, a shiver of unease ran down his spine. 'What if I never figure it out?'
After what felt like an eternity under the water, Damian finally turned off the shower, grabbing a towel and drying off as he walked back to the room. He caught a glimpse of the books stacked on his desk and groaned again.
Cassius and his damn books!
He had no doubt they were filled with crucial knowledge, but that didn't make the prospect of reading through them any more appealing. As much as he wanted to learn, the idea of sitting down and pouring over ancient texts felt like the least exciting part of becoming a warlock.
He threw on some clean clothes and sat down at the desk, flipping open the first book in the stack. "Alright," Damian muttered to himself, "Here goes nothing."
The moment he looked at the page, ancient text filled his vision—twisting symbols and arcane runes that didn't look like any language he'd ever seen. He blinked, his brow furrowing. 'What the hell is this?!'
He closed the book, glancing at the cover, half-hoping that Cassius had made a mistake and handed him some advanced-level warlock textbook meant for someone way more experienced. But nope, there was nothing there except the plain title. No "beginner's guide" or "advanced manual," just a simple title in a language that felt as old as time.
Damian groaned, slumping back in his chair. "I'm so dead..." he muttered under his breath. This was worse than studying math lessons in high school—the ones he'd barely passed and always hated. At least with math, there were formulas, steps he could follow. But this? This was like trying to read hieroglyphs.
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. 'Okay, okay, just give it a try. It can't be that bad, right?' He told himself that if he could survive carrying a month's worth of groceries, he could survive reading a book. Besides, Evelyn and Cassius had both been clear—this was important. So, Damian gritted his teeth and opened the book again, determined to give it a real shot.
To his surprise, as soon as he focused on the words, something strange happened. The symbols—the runes—started to make sense. It wasn't like he understood them right away, but somehow, it felt familiar. Like his brain was unlocking a language he didn't even know he had in there.