Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 237: Unfair World

Warlock Ch 237. Unfair World

The Demon King's voice grew more agitated. "You don't know what you're messing with, Kaelan! You're playing with forces that could—"

"Yeah, yeah, 'forces that could destroy me,' blah blah blah," Damian interrupted, rolling his eyes. "We've been over this, haven't we? If you're going to keep giving me the same old warnings, at least come up with a new line."

Without waiting for a response, he placed both hands firmly on the artifact. The moment his palms made contact, the void around him shifted violently, the dark expanse trembling as if caught in an earthquake. The sigils flared with blinding light, and then—suddenly—everything turned white.

Damian blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden change. Gone was the endless void, replaced by… a scene.

He found himself standing in the middle of a dimly lit underground room. It wasn't the grand hall he had seen moments ago—no thrones, no banners. Just stone walls, low ceilings, and an overwhelming sense of familiarity. A faint, flickering light from enchanted lanterns illuminated rows of shelves filled with magical supplies—mana crystals, glowing potions, cauldrons simmering with unknown substances, and stacks of ancient tomes bound in leather.

Damian frowned, his eyes scanning the room. Somehow, he knew this place. He didn't need to think about it. His body reacted instinctively, like muscle memory kicking in after years of disuse. His fingers brushed against one of the shelves, his gaze lingering on a dusty tome with strange glyphs on its cover.

"This place…" he muttered, taking a slow step forward. "This is where I used to hide."

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. This was the underground workshop where he—Kaelan—had spent countless nights practicing forbidden spells. Not for power, not for glory, but because he didn't have a choice. Because back then, he had been fighting a battle not just against the world, but against himself.

He glanced around, memories flickering at the edges of his mind. This place wasn't just a workshop—it had been his refuge. His prison. The place where he had desperately tried to contain the Demon King's soul and power, the force constantly clawing at his mind, trying to take over.

"Yeah… that's why they wanted to kill me and take my power," Damian muttered bitterly. He could feel the familiar weight in his chest—the pressure, the pain that had haunted him back then. His hand instinctively moved to clutch his chest as the rush of anger hit him, sharp and sudden.

The anger wasn't directed at anyone in particular. It wasn't personal. It was… primal. A raw, burning urge to destroy. To see blood. To watch the world burn around him.

"Khh!" he grunted, staggering slightly as he propped himself against the cold stone wall. His breathing grew heavy, his vision blurring slightly as the urge grew stronger.

And then, just like in the past, the voice came.

"You are angry, Kaelan."

It wasn't the Demon King trapped in his mana core—this was different. This was an echo, a memory of the Demon King's voice, taunting him from deep within his mind.

"They are hurting you. Just kill them. This world is unfair. Just kill them. Create a new world with me."

Damian clenched his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to block out the voice. "Shut up!" he hissed, his fingers digging into the stone wall.

But the voice didn't stop. It grew louder, more insistent, feeding the killing urge building inside him. The desire to lash out, to destroy everything around him, was becoming unbearable. He felt it pulsing in his veins, demanding release.

"Just kill them."

The Demon King's echo laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that made Damian's blood boil. He glanced down at his hands and froze.

The sigils tattooed across his body were glowing. Dark, crimson lines spread across his skin, pulsating with demonic power. These weren't ordinary tattoos—they were a complex magical formation he had carved into his own flesh. A seal, designed to contain the Demon King's soul and keep it from taking over completely.

But now, the seal was straining, the power within threatening to break free.

"Dammit…" Damian muttered, his voice trembling with frustration. He could feel the darkness clawing at him, trying to take control. His breathing grew ragged, and for a brief moment, he wasn't sure if he could hold it back.

The urge to kill was overwhelming. It didn't matter who. Anyone. Everyone. He just wanted to see blood. To hear screams. To—

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

"No," he growled, forcing himself to focus. "Not again."

He closed his eyes, concentrating hard as he placed his hands over the glowing sigils. He could feel the heat radiating from them, the dark energy pulsing beneath his skin. Gritting his teeth, he poured his mana into the sigils, forcing the demonic power back down.

It wasn't easy. The Demon King's power was strong—stronger than it had been in a long time. But Damian was stronger too. He had learned how to fight back, how to control it. Slowly, steadily, he forced the sigils to dim, the crimson glow fading as his mana flowed through them, neutralizing the surge of dark energy.

After what felt like an eternity, the glow faded completely. The killing urge subsided, leaving only a lingering sense of exhaustion in its wake.

Damian leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as sweat dripped down his face. His heart was still racing, but at least now it was manageable.

"That's why I left Cassius and Evelyn…" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was afraid I'd kill them."

It wasn't something he liked admitting, even to himself. But it was the truth. Back then, when the Demon King's power had first started to overwhelm him, he had made the decision to distance himself from the people he cared about. Not because he didn't trust them—but because he didn't trust himself.

He had seen what that power could do, how it could twist his mind and turn him into something he didn't want to be. And the thought of losing control, of hurting Cassius or Evelyn—or anyone else—had terrified him.