Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 113: Reborn Warlock
Warlock Ch 113. Reborn Warlock
He could feel it. He had been Kaelan—a powerful warlock, yes—but also… something more. His past had been a complicated, tangled mess, but now it was making sense. All of it.
He lifted his gaze, managing a weak grin. His body was trembling with exhaustion, but he didn't care. He finally remembered who he was.
"I'm back… Cas…" he said hoarsely, the words coming out ragged and strained.
Evelyn, once she heard the words, her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Before Damian could say another word, she rushed to him, her hands trembling as she took his face into her palms.
"Kaelan…" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, as if trying to make sure he was real, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
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Damian felt her touch, the warmth of her skin against his. It grounded him in a way nothing else could. It was all coming back to him—the love they had shared, the battles they fought together, the life they built.
"Evelyn…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes fluttered, the last remnants of his strength giving way. He collapsed into Evelyn's arms, feeling his body give in to the exhaustion that had built up over the past few hours.
"I'm home..." His whisper was barely more than a breath as his world tilted and then darkened.
"Kaelan!" The last thing he heard was Cassius scream his name, his voice laced with a mix of fear and relief before everything went black.
His mind drifted into nothingness, but at that moment, he knew he had found his way back.
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Darkness swallowed Damian's consciousness, pulling him into a void that felt both eerily familiar and deeply unsettling.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in that strange, endless expanse. The void stretched infinitely around him, the space both suffocating and liberating. There were no walls, no floor, just an endless abyss of black and shimmering violet streaks that twisted like smoke. In the center of it all was the ancient artifact—his Mana Core.
He approached it cautiously, the faint hum of its power resonating in the air around him. The closer he got, the heavier the weight in his chest felt. The artifact hovered in mid-air, spinning slowly, its intricate sigils glowing faintly. His warlock crest was etched into its surface, along with the sigils signifying the pacts he'd made with his servants—Fenrith, Bloodwing Raven, Stoneback Golem, and Spectral Serpent.
Damian stared at it for a long moment, his hand hovering just above its surface. His chest tightened. This wasn't just any Mana Core. It was his Mana Core, the same one he had when he was Kaelan. The power radiating from it, the structure—it was unmistakable.
But something was wrong.
"This isn't how it should look," Damian muttered, frowning. His Mana Core wasn't supposed to have a physical shape like this. Mana Cores were formless, ethereal energy pools unique to each warlock, not solidified artifacts. Even when he was Kaelan, his Mana Core was no different from anyone else's. It had been raw energy, not this… thing.
He circled the artifact, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together. His memories of Kaelan were fragmented, incomplete, but certain truths stood out. He had learned like every other warlock—through grueling study, countless mistakes, and the occasional punishment for recklessness. His growth had been steady, not the meteoric rise he had experienced after being reborn as Damian.
"This doesn't add up," he muttered. His mind whirled, picking apart every memory he could access, every lesson he had ever learned. Warlocks couldn't be reborn. It was an immutable rule of their magic. Life, death, and the cycle between were beyond the grasp of even the strongest practitioners.
"Rebirth is impossible," he said aloud, trying to convince himself. But the evidence was staring him in the face. He had been reborn, and not just as any random being—he'd been reborn with the same Mana Core. And not just any Mana Core, but one that had somehow transformed into this artifact.
He took a step back, his heart pounding as the questions piled up in his mind. "Why do I still have my memories? Why do I still have my Mana Core?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the void. "Rebirth should strip me of everything. I should have been… someone else. Something else."
His gaze locked onto the artifact, its glow pulsing faintly as if it could hear him. A thought occurred to him, sharp and sudden.
"Unless… this thing is bound to my soul," he said, the words heavy with realization. He tilted his head, staring at the artifact with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
"Bound to my soul…" he repeated, the idea taking root. It wasn't impossible. There were legends of Soul Crystals—rare and forbidden creations that could bind a person's essence to something physical. But those were just stories. No mage had ever successfully made one, and even if they had, there was no record of it being tied to rebirth.
"Could it be?" he muttered. His mind raced, the puzzle pieces shifting but refusing to fit together. Soul Crystals were more than just rare—they were theoretical, their existence debated even among the most knowledgeable mages. They were said to bind the very essence of a person—their soul, their magic, their memories. If such a thing were real… it could explain why his Mana Core remained intact through his rebirth. Why his memories persisted.
"But how would I have gotten one?" Damian said, his voice rising with frustration. "Or made one?" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing as he tried to piece it together. "They're supposed to be impossible to create. Even if someone could make one, why would they use it on me?"
The artifact pulsed faintly, its glow steady and unyielding as if mocking his confusion.
"And why the hell do you look like that?" the artifact suddenly said, its voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain, as if it were more irritated by Damian's existence than anything else.
