Warlock Ch 36. I Hate Being A Gentleman
Damian let out a quiet groan, but he didn't argue. He was way too tired to put up a fight. Besides, he'd gotten used to following her lead by now, but that didn't make it any easier. His arms were already loaded with books, groceries, and potions from their last stop, and his muscles felt like they were one bag away from giving up entirely. He mentally counted how many bags he was holding and then realized he didn't even care anymore.
'Kill me… please,' he thought as they trudged along the dimly lit street. His feet dragged behind him, barely lifting off the pavement, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He was walking more like a zombie than a warlock-in-training, his body weighed down not just by the endless bags but by the strain of the day.
Training had already drained him, and now this? It felt like some cruel, magical workout plan designed to break his spirit.
