Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives

Warlock Ch 423. Prepare for The Battle

Damian pulled his hood low, the streets whispering past him as he Shadow Stepped and weaved his way back toward Cassius's mansion. His heartbeat was steady. His mana flow even. His mind?

A coiled storm.

He couldn't afford second-guessing anymore. Not tonight.

The barrier perimeter shimmered faintly as he approached, its weave recognizing him—and now, humming even deeper when it touched the dragon sigil branded onto his mana.

Cassius's barrier accepted the mark without resistance.

'Good,' Damian thought grimly. 'One less thing to worry about.'

The moment he stepped inside, he caught it—the buzz of activity, the faint scent of Evelyn's potions and freshly charged mana crystals.

Everyone was moving.

Preparing.

Not just him.

All of them.

He felt the slight pull of shadow magic and turned his head just in time to see one of his shadow servants emerge briefly from the wall, bowing low before vanishing again.

'All clear.'

Damian exhaled slowly, pulling back his hood.

The mansion wasn't silent, but it wasn't chaotic either.

It was... focused.

Cassius leaned against the far wall near the shelves, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. His long coat looked even more ragged than usual, and the faint flicker of active wards around his wrists said he was ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Victoria sat nearby, meticulously sharpening her glaive, the blade catching the lamplight like silver fire. She was humming under her breath—something low and lilting and just a little bit bloodthirsty.

Evelyn was sprawled in an armchair across from her, reading an ancient tome so casually it almost looked lazy—if he ignored the crackling static of pent-up mana dancing around her fingertips.

And Selena...

Selena stood by the staircase, dressed in lightweight battle gear, her hair braided tightly down her back, twin short swords strapped at her hips.

Her face was set.

Calm.

Unshakable.

But when her eyes met his, Damian saw the flicker of worry buried deep behind the steel.

He smiled slightly at her, nodding once.

She nodded back, her shoulders relaxing by a hair's breadth.

Cassius pushed off the wall and wandered toward him, hands stuffed in his pockets.

He didn't ask about the faint bruises on his neck, or the slight limp he hadn't fully shaken off yet.

But his sharp gaze dropped briefly to Damian's shoulder—the edge of the fresh dragon sigil peeking out from under the collar of his shirt—and one dark eyebrow rose slightly.

Damian shrugged.

"Negotiations were... successful," he said dryly.

Cassius snorted, a sound halfway between amusement and exasperation.

"Yeah. I figured."

No judgment.

Just understanding.

Because honestly?

At this point, nothing Damian did surprised Cassius anymore.

Damian gave him a crooked grin, then rolled his shoulders like he was about to step into a boxing ring.

"I'll prepare myself," he said simply, voice low but certain.

No dramatics. No theatrics.

Just pure, calm resolve.

He turned away from Cassius and crossed the room to the main prep table—a long slab of dark oak where they'd laid out everything they had scavenged, stolen, or enchanted over the last two months.

He moved methodically.

First the armor—light, flexible plates woven with mana-infused threads, enough to deflect spells and light blades without weighing him down. He pulled on the chestpiece and secured the buckles at his sides, the familiar pressure settling over his ribs like a second skin.

Next were the bracers—sleek, black leather reinforced with shadowsteel, enchanted to boost his [Telekinesis] precision for short bursts.

Damian strapped them tight around his forearms, flexing his fingers experimentally. Mana whispered along the seams, eager, responsive.

He holstered twin daggers at his thighs—just in case he got disarmed—and checked the hidden wrist-blades tucked into his sleeves. One flick of the wrist, and they gleamed in the low light. Good. Still sharp enough to shave a demon bald.

From there, he reached for his utility belt.

Mana scrolls—three for offensive bursts, two for shields, and one for summoning a decoy if things got really bad.

He tucked each one into the specially designed slots across his waist.

Then, at the end of the table, he grabbed the small leather pouch containing their emergency trump cards.

Healing potions laced with teleportation magic—one-shot only.

Drink it, and boom—you were ejected to the closest safe zone.

Damian turned the pouch over once in his palm, feeling the weight of it.

Not heavy.

Not enough.

But it would have to do.

He slid the pouch into the hidden compartment inside his coat, right next to the flask Cassius had jokingly labeled "In case of massive idiocy."

The last preparations were made quickly.

Runes.

Mana scrolls.

Healing potions laced with emergency teleport runes—one use only, and only if things went really bad.

Everyone moved with that grim, unspoken synchronization born of people who'd survived the worst nights together.

And above them all, through the cracked high windows of the mansion—

The night fell.

The full moon rose.

And it wasn't silver.

It was red.

A deep, seething crimson that bled across the clouds like an open wound in the sky.

The air shifted with it.

Colder.

Sharper.

The kind of night that made even magic vibrate wrong.

The kind of night where old things woke up.

Cassius stared up at it for a long moment before muttering, "Well. That's not ominous at all."

Victoria snickered darkly. "Maybe it's a good omen. Blood moon for a bloodbath."

Evelyn shut her book with a soft thump.

"Or maybe," she said calmly, "it's a warning."

Selena just gripped the hilt of her sword tighter.

Damian stepped forward, letting the mana of the house wrap around him one last time, feeling every shield rune, every defensive ward, every hidden escape tunnel they'd mapped out.

Tonight, they wouldn't be using any of them.

Tonight, they moved.

He drew a deep breath and spoke, voice carrying across the room.

"Everyone knows the plan?"

Four heads nodded.

Cassius leaned casually against a pillar, smiling faintly. "Break into the most secured vault in the city. Fight whatever eldritch horror they left guarding it. Find the fae prince before someone stabs him. Try not to die. Very straightforward."

Damian huffed a short laugh under his breath. "Simplified, but yes."

Selena stepped closer to him, her voice soft but steady.

"And if they already moved Cedric?"

Damian looked at her—really looked at her.