Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 424: Catastrophic

Warlock Ch 424. Catastrophic

The weight of it.

The cost of it.

"If they moved him," he said quietly, "we'll burn down whatever's between us and wherever they took him."

She nodded, eyes shining.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

He turned, grabbing his cloak from the rack and tossing it over his shoulders. His coat was already enchanted to resist basic elemental spells, but with the way the air tasted tonight? He wasn't taking chances.

Victoria hefted her glaive over her shoulder with a grin.

"Let's go ruin someone's night."

"Preferably several someones," Evelyn added lightly, slipping a thin black dagger into her boot.

Cassius just sighed and stretched lazily. "Gods, I miss being a hermit."

Damian smirked at them—his people, his crazy, chaotic little warband.

"Move out," he said simply.

They slipped into the night like wraiths.

Silent.

Deadly.

The crimson moon lit their path like a bleeding eye.

[System Update]

Quest Progression Unlocked: [Infiltrate the Central Archive Vault]

Objective: Locate Prince Cedric and Sir Alric.

Secondary Objective: Identify traitor factions.

Bonus Objective: No fatalities among team members.

Reward: ???

Penalty: Catastrophic.

The city itself felt wrong as they moved through it.

Too quiet.

Too tense.

Even the usual back-alley rats had disappeared.

The closer they got to the vault district, the thicker the magic became—pressing against Damian's skin like invisible hands, trying to slow him down, confuse him, make him doubt.

The defensive spells layered around the Central Archive were insane.

Even Lysandra had warned him. 'No one gets in clean. Not without paying in blood or favors.'

Damian's steps never faltered.

Behind him, his team moved like shadows.

Every breath was measured. Every heartbeat counted.

They reached the outer gates just before midnight.

And standing by the wrought-iron fence, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly gold under the blood moon— Was Lysandra.

Waiting.

She caught his gaze and smiled—a slow, dangerous baring of teeth.

"You're late," she drawled.

Damian just grinned back at her, heart hammering in his chest.

"Good," he said. "Wouldn't want to start the apocalypse early."

And with that, the warlock, the witch, the vampire queen, the dragon general, and the fae princess stepped together into the dark—

Toward the vault.

Toward the blood-red sky.

Toward whatever hell waited inside.

Damian's boots crunched against the old stone path leading up to the outer perimeter of the Central Archive.

Ancient ivy choked the cracked walls, but the magic here was alive—humming low and dangerous beneath the surface, like a sleeping beast stirred by their presence.

The main entrance loomed ahead, towering wrought-iron gates engraved with countless warding runes. Above it, the blood moon glared down, making every edge sharper, every shadow deeper.

They gathered in the last patch of cover before the open approach—an abandoned merchant's fountain, long dried up and half collapsed.

Damian crouched low behind the broken marble lip, cloak brushing the cracked stone, and scanned the terrain with quick, practiced sweeps of his gaze.

Cassius was already muttering under his breath, weaving small detection spells into the air.

Victoria leaned casually on her glaive, her eyes half-lidded but watchful.

Evelyn traced lazy patterns on her thigh with a fingertip, her mana faint but ready.

Selena stood stiffly, one hand hovering near her sword, the other clenched at her side.

Lysandra, for her part, stood like she had all the time in the world—arms folded, weight balanced, golden eyes half amused, half calculating.

Damian exhaled and turned toward her.

"Alright, General. What are we looking at?"

Lysandra tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the towering vault structure.

"The wards were reinforced recently," she said in a low voice. "Old magic. Twisted. Not pure fae work anymore. Something darker mixed in."

Damian grimaced.

"Charming."

"And," she added, glancing sideways at him, "there's been unusual activity here since yesterday. Increased mana spikes. Movement inside."

"But Cedric?" Damian pressed, voice tight.

She shook her head once.

"Still unknown. He could be inside. Or already moved."

Damian swore under his breath.

Behind him, the air shifted.

The shadows rippled—and one of Damian's shadow servants emerged, kneeling low with head bowed.

"My lord," it rasped, its voice a dry whisper that barely disturbed the air.

Everyone immediately turned toward it, tension snapping taut.

Damian leaned forward, voice low and sharp.

"Report."

The shadow lifted its head slightly, hollow eyes gleaming.

"I managed to breach the perimeter... undetected."

Damian's heart hammered in his chest.

"And?"

The shadow paused—then said words that sent a chill down Damian's spine:

"Prince Cedric is inside the vault. He has not been moved."

Damian let out a slow breath of relief—small, bitter, because it wasn't over.

But then the shadow continued, its voice dropping even lower.

"They are preparing a ritual," it said. "They intend to use his blood... to raise something."

Silence slammed down around them like a dropped blade.

Damian's fingers twitched at his side, mana crackling faintly at the edges of his control.

"What are they raising?" Cassius asked, voice grim.

The shadow shook its head once.

"I could not see. But the magic... it reeks of old power. Forbidden things."

Damian closed his eyes for a second, piecing it together in his mind.

Fae blood.

Royal blood.

Ancient vault magic.

It wasn't just about Cedric.

It was about unleashing something.

Something old.

Something they weren't ready for.

He opened his eyes, steel hardening in his gut.

"We move now," he said.

Victoria's grin sharpened.

"Finally."

Evelyn tucked her book into her coat and flexed her fingers.

"About time."

Selena just nodded, her face pale but set like carved stone.

Lysandra cracked her knuckles, the faint shimmer of dragon magic igniting in her aura.

Damian stood fully, cloak whipping slightly in the cold night breeze.

"Formation C," he said crisply. "Cassius, Victoria—front breach. Evelyn—disrupt wards. Selena, you're with me. Lysandra, you—"

He hesitated a beat.

"—do whatever the hell you want."

Lysandra smirked, pleased.

"Good boy," she said, patting his shoulder mockingly.

Damian rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

You didn't order a dragon.

You unleashed it.

He turned back to his team.

"Keep it fast. Keep it dirty. No warnings. No survivors among the enemy."

Five nods.

No fear.

Only resolve.

Damian drew his weapons—his short enchanted blade in one hand, his free hand already crackling with gathered mana.

[Spectral Surge]

[Shadow Step]

The world blurred around him, the air distorting slightly as his body surged with temporary speed and sharpness.

The vault gates loomed ahead, heavy and defiant.

And with a sharp breath, Damian whispered:

"Go."

They moved.