Warlock Ch 5. Mana Core Hunters
Damian glanced around the pub, which had returned to its normal bustle, completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded for him. His life—his normal, everyday life—suddenly felt a million miles away.
But before he could say anything, Evelyn stiffened. Her eyes flicked toward the windows, her body going rigid with an alertness.
"Damian," she whispered, her voice urgent. "We're not alone."
A chill crept up his spine, and Damian followed her gaze toward the shadows beyond the pub's glass doors. The night outside looked normal, but there was a shift in the air—something dark, lurking just out of sight. He could feel it too now, that same prickling sensation, like he was being watched.
"What is it?" Damian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Evelyn didn't answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the darkness, her fingers twitching slightly as though ready to summon some kind of magic at a moment's notice.
"A presence," she murmured. "Dark... and strong."
Damian's throat tightened. He didn't need to know the details to understand what that meant. Whatever was out there, it wasn't friendly.
"They know," Evelyn said, her voice tense. "They already know about you."
"Who?" Damian asked, his pulse quickening. "Who knows?"
Evelyn shot him a look that was equal parts fear and determination. "Evil warlocks. They're always watching for new blood, especially someone with a core as strong as yours. If they get their hands on you—"
"I'm not going to let that happen," Damian cut in, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know how he was going to back up that statement, but the thought of being hunted by some dark, magical force wasn't something he was going to take lying down.
Evelyn grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the back exit. "We need to go. Now. Before they get any closer."
Damian stumbled, his feet barely keeping up with her quick pace. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and adrenaline, but he managed to blurt out, "What about my shift? I can't just leave."
Evelyn didn't stop. She didn't even slow down. Instead, she muttered something under her breath, and with a flick of her wrist, Damian's shadow rippled unnaturally against the dim light. It stretched, twisted, and then… it stood up.
Damian froze, eyes wide as he watched his shadow take shape. It wasn't just a shadow anymore—it was him. A carbon copy, down to the way it wiped its hands on the bar towel hanging from its waist.
"What the hell?" Damian whispered, eyes darting between Evelyn and his shadow double.
She finally stopped, turning to him with an amused but urgent look. "Let him take care of your shift," she said, her tone as if this sort of thing was completely normal. "It'll hold the fort. Now, come on."
Damian blinked at his doppelganger, who was already moving behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting with customers like nothing was out of the ordinary. He pointed at it. "Don't mess up, okay?"
The shadow-Damian didn't respond, but it gave him a nod. The sight of his own face, shadowy and mute, freaked him out more than he cared to admit.
"C'mon!" Evelyn urged, already halfway out the door.
Damian took one last look at his shadow, who was now expertly mixing a cocktail for a customer, and muttered, "This is insane," before running to catch up with her.
The cool night air hit him hard as they stepped out into the alley behind the pub. His heart was still racing, the mark on his hand pulsing faintly as if to remind him that none of this was a dream. Evelyn moved quickly, her eyes constantly scanning the shadows around them, her entire posture alert, like a predator on the hunt—or maybe the hunted.
Damian caught up, his mind still reeling. "So, just to clarify," he panted, "I've got a magical shadow taking my bar shift, I've apparently got a mana core inside me, and now we're running from… what, exactly?"
Evelyn's gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to the dark street ahead. "Evil warlock. A powerful one. He has sensed your mana core. You're new, untrained, and that makes you valuable—and dangerous."
"Dangerous? I haven't even done anything yet!"
"You don't have to," she said, her voice low and serious. "Just existing with that kind of potential makes you a target."
Damian's mind spun. This was way too much for one night. He was just a bartender—at least, he had been an hour ago. Now, suddenly, he was a warlock? He still didn't fully grasp what that meant, but the way Evelyn was talking, it sounded like his life depended on figuring it out—fast.
They made their way through the back streets. Evelyn kept moving, her pace relentless, but Damian couldn't help but notice the tension in her. Every now and then, her eyes darted to the shadows, her body poised for a fight.
"Can you tell me more specific about what we are running from? I see nothing, no one," Damian asked once again, his voice a little shakier than he wanted it to be.
"There's a warlock," she said quietly. "His name is Malthus Ravenwood. He's… let's just say he's not someone you want to cross paths with."
Damian frowned. "What does he want with me?"
Evelyn shot him a quick glance. "He wants your power, Damian. Malthus has been hunting new warlocks for years, draining them, absorbing their abilities. He's ruthless, and now that your core has awakened, he's going to come for you."
Damian's stomach twisted. "Drain them? Like… kill them?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "He steals their power, and leaves nothing but a husk behind."
Damian swallowed hard, the reality of his situation crashing down on him. "So, what? This guy's just gonna show up and try to suck the magic out of me?"
"He'll send something first," Evelyn said, her tone grim. "Shadows, maybe. He always sends his servants."
As if on cue, the hairs on the back of Damian's neck stood up. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and he suddenly felt like they were being watched. He turned his head slightly, scanning the dark alleys and streets around them, but saw nothing.