Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 188: What Do You Make of All This?

Warlock Ch 188. What Do You Make of All This?

Henry, standing a few steps ahead, cleared his throat. "If you're ready, there's more to see," he said, his tone perfectly neutral. Whether he had picked up on Damian's unease or was simply uninterested in their private conversation, it was impossible to tell. The guy had the emotional range of a brick wall.

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"Lead the way, Henry," Evelyn said, her voice sharp with a hint of sarcasm as she gestured for him to continue. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your riveting tour."

Henry didn't even blink at her jab, pivoting smoothly on his heel. "This way," he said, his voice as stiff as ever. Damian could swear he saw Evelyn roll her eyes, but she followed without complaint, and he trailed after her.

The next room Henry brought them to was a massive library. Shelves stretched high into the vaulted ceiling, packed tight with books that looked older than time itself. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the dim, flickering light of enchanted candles.

"This is the Crimson Citadel's Grand Archive," Henry said, his monotone voice doing absolutely nothing to convey the grandeur of the place. "Every record, every account of vampire history, is preserved here."

Damian scanned the room, his curiosity momentarily distracting him from his earlier unease. "It's… impressive," he admitted. "But I'm guessing you don't just let anyone stroll in and start flipping pages."

Henry inclined his head slightly. "Correct. Access is restricted to Lady Victoria's inner circle and those she personally deems trustworthy."

Evelyn let out a low whistle, her eyes scanning the towering shelves. "Guess that means we're either really important… or walking into something way above our pay grade."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Damian muttered under his breath, earning a smirk from Evelyn.

Henry didn't acknowledge their comments. Instead, he led them down another corridor, his polished shoes clicking against the obsidian floor with mechanical precision.

Damian followed, his thoughts drifting back to the throne room. The vision—or memory, or whatever it was—kept replaying in his head. He could still feel the heat of the flames, smell the acrid stench of smoke and blood. But beyond that room, there was nothing. No flashes of other places, no additional pieces of the puzzle. Just that single, vivid scene.

It was frustrating. Maddening. Like someone had ripped out the most important pages of a book and left him to guess the ending.

They passed through a few more grand rooms, each one more ornate than the last. A banquet hall with a table that seemed to stretch for miles. A gallery lined with portraits of vampires who looked both regal and terrifying. A weapons hall where swords, spears, and ancient artifacts glimmered under enchanted lights.

But none of them triggered anything in Damian's mind. No sparks of recognition, no flickers of memory. Whatever had happened that night, it was tied to the throne room—and only the throne room.

Eventually, Henry stopped in front of a set of heavy wooden doors, their dark surface inlaid with intricate silver patterns. He opened them with a practiced ease, revealing a long hallway lined with smaller doors on either side.

"These are your quarters," Henry announced, stepping aside to let them pass. "Each room is equipped with all the necessities. Should you require anything additional, simply ring the bell on the desk, and a servant will attend to you."

Damian peeked into the nearest room. It was lavish, of course—this was Victoria's palace, after all—but not overly ostentatious. A plush bed dominated the space, with dark crimson curtains draped around it. A desk sat in one corner, alongside a small sitting area. Everything was sleek, elegant, and a little too perfect for his taste.

"And the food?" Evelyn asked, leaning casually against the doorframe of her own room.

Henry nodded. "Meals will be delivered upon request. Simply place your order, and the kitchen staff will prepare it. Lady Victoria has instructed that your dietary preferences be accommodated."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Even… human food?"

"Indeed," Henry confirmed without missing a beat. "The kitchen is well-versed in preparing human cuisine."

Evelyn snorted softly. "How thoughtful."

Henry inclined his head slightly. "If there is nothing else, I will take my leave. Please remember that Lady Victoria will summon you when the time comes."

And with that, he turned and strode down the hall, his posture as rigid as ever. Damian watched him go, shaking his head.

"Guy's like a vampire robot," he muttered.

Evelyn smirked, stepping fully into her room. "You should see how Cassius handles him. It's like watching two statues argue."

Damian chuckled, but the sound was hollow. He leaned against the doorframe of his own room, staring down the hall where Henry had disappeared. "What do you make of all this?" he asked, his voice low.

Evelyn appeared in her doorway again, her expression thoughtful. "It's… a lot," she admitted. "Victoria's playing some kind of game, and we're all just pieces on her board. But until we figure out what she's after, we're stuck playing along."

"Yeah," Damian said quietly. "I just hope we're ready for whatever's coming."

Evelyn's gaze softened. "We will be," she said firmly. "Now, get some rest. You look like you're about to fall over."

Damian managed a faint grin. "Thanks, Mommy," he teased.

"Don't push it," Evelyn shot back, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

He stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. The silence was almost oppressive. He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The vision in the throne room—it just wouldn't leave him alone. Every time he closed his eyes, it was there again, playing out in vivid, brutal detail. The fire. The blood. Victoria, lying battered and broken, barely clinging to life. And him… walking toward her with bloodied hands.

Why? Why was he moving toward her? Was it to help her? Or worse—was it to finish the job?