Chapter 658

"Those powers you’ve gained are extremely dangerous. They worry me deeply."

Evenson had been tempted to give Clea a proper lecture.

They’d known each other for long enough. How had she managed to learn absolutely nothing from his personal philosophy of self-preservation?

Whenever something went wrong, Evenson’s preferred solution was simple: don’t get yourself killed.

Clea’s solution, apparently, was to charge straight at the problem and punch it until the problem stopped moving.

That attitude was unacceptable.

Unfortunately, her future father-in-law had already delivered the lecture on Evenson’s behalf. Olivander had even managed to punish her quite thoroughly by accident.

At this point, Clea probably felt as though she’d been sentenced to the deepest furnace of Hell.

So, in that regard, Evenson and Olivander were very much on the same page.

That wasn’t why Evenson had doubled back after leaving the Mirror Dimension and followed the Ancient One back to the Sanctum, though.

He’d come back because he needed to tell Clea the truth.

She’d already touched that power. There was no point allowing her to continue without understanding what she was dealing with.

The moment Clea heard his words, she stopped struggling beneath the blankets.

Somehow, the room didn’t feel quite so hot anymore.

Fear had a way of cooling the blood.

Ever since the battle at the library, she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness after taking those two blades through her body.

When she’d finally awakened, she’d discovered herself buried beneath enough blankets to survive a polar expedition.

She vaguely remembered killing the enemy who had wounded her.

But she couldn’t remember how.

She knew she’d somehow healed herself, yet the details of the healing process were completely gone.

She had no idea what had happened while she’d been unconscious.

Which meant she still didn’t realize that Evenson had seen the new power she’d awakened.

And now he was looking at her with an expression she’d almost never seen before.

Evenson was usually impossible to take seriously.

He joked with her. Teased her. Smirked his way through conversations that should have been serious.

Even when Clea had first discovered the existence of the Eredar Twins, and then happened to run into them face-to-face at that little shop, Evenson had struggled to maintain a serious expression for more than a few seconds.

He’d tried to laugh the whole thing off.

For a while, Clea had honestly wondered whether seriousness was simply missing from his personality.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Seeing his expression now irritated her.

She had gone through all of this trouble to obtain power.

And who did he think she’d done it for?

"Dangerous?" Clea challenged. "You’ve told me more than once how evil and dangerous your own power is. You’ve practically bragged that it’s the most dangerous power on Earth. How dangerous can mine possibly be compared to yours?"

"It might be more dangerous."

Evenson looked up at her.

He took a slow breath and tapped his fingers twice against the table.

"You know my power is dangerous. But do you know how long I’ve actually been a Warlock?"

"Hm..."

Clea started counting on her fingers beneath the blankets.

"You told me you awakened your inherited memories when you were fourteen. So... that should make it nine years by now. Minus the year you spent as an apprentice..."

She counted again.

"Eight years."

"Four."

Evenson held up four fingers.

Clea stared at him.

"I’ve only officially been a Warlock for four years. Four years since I learned my first genuine Warlock spell. Before that, I only knew a few tricks that could keep me alive."

"Four years?"

Clea was genuinely stunned.

They’d known each other for nearly two years already. If he’d only been a real Warlock for four years, then what had he been doing before that?

"What were you doing all that time?"

"Learning the rules."

Evenson’s answer was flat.

"Forget Warlocks. Every profession in this world has rules. Some are obvious. Some are hidden. But if you want to survive in any particular field, the first thing you need to do is learn those rules."

He wasn’t trying to sound profound.

When Evenson first awakened his memories and realized he could become a Warlock, he’d been excited.

Naturally.

Then the excitement wore off.

He opened the books he’d inherited and resisted the urge to immediately start throwing spells around.

Instead, he first tried to understand what being a Warlock actually meant.

He’d known the basics from World of Warcraft, of course. But that knowledge had come from a game. Reading about a dangerous magical profession while sitting safely behind a screen was one thing.

Actually becoming one was another.

So he did his homework.

He prepared himself mentally.

Then he bought an entire backpack full of textbooks and started relearning trigonometry, geometry, and various branches of higher mathematics.

Someone had once said mathematics was the foundation of all science.

Apparently, they had forgotten to mention that mathematics was also the foundation of magic.

If you couldn’t handle math, you could barely construct a basic spell model.

Being terrible at math was apparently a universal disadvantage.

Even reincarnation couldn’t save you from it unless your cheat system came with a "baby’s first spellcasting" mode.

Those years had been brutal.

Evenson still hated remembering them.

He finally understood why so many Warlocks were willing to sell their souls for power.

Doing everything the hard way could genuinely kill you.

"Anyway..."

Evenson sighed at the memory.

"The second step is finding the loopholes in those rules. Learning how to avoid breaking them. Learning how to operate within them without getting yourself killed."

He paused.

"Or, more accurately, without getting your soul destroyed."

"And me?"

Clea watched him carefully.

"Where do you stand among Warlocks?"

Evenson gave an embarrassed little smile.

"Honestly? I’m not particularly powerful. There are plenty of people stronger than me."

He noticed the skepticism in her expression.

"You’re probably having trouble picturing what that means, so think about those two women you’ve met."

Clea’s expression immediately darkened.

"Those two..."

"There are twenty-five of me, and we’d still lose."

"The Eredar Twins?"

Clea frowned.

"They’re Warlocks too? Aren’t they demons?"

"Demons are their race. Warlock is their profession."

Evenson shrugged.

"They also dabble in Rogues, Berserkers, and martial arts. I’ve heard they’re pretty decent with bows, too. But yes, they’re definitely Warlocks."

"...Right."

Clea fell silent.

The more she learned about Warlocks, the more familiar the profession seemed.

In some ways, it wasn’t all that different from the mystic arts practiced at Kamar-Taj.

Evenson continued.

"I’m not especially powerful. But plenty of Warlocks never make it as far as I have."

"Why?"

He looked directly at her.

"Arrogance."

His voice hardened.

"They overestimate themselves. They ignore the rules. They don’t know when to stop. They see power sitting within arm’s reach and keep reaching for more, convinced they can handle it."

His fingers curled slightly.

"In the end, they don’t gain power at all. They simply get their souls drained until there’s nothing left."

Clea narrowed her eyes.

"So you’re saying I’m arrogant?"

She could hear the implication now.

"You think I’m that stupid?"

"I may not understand exactly how dangerous that power is, but I know the reputation of the Necronomicon."

She wasn’t joking anymore.

"I prepared for this. I took every precaution. I wouldn’t have read that book unless I was certain I could handle it."

"Certain?"

Evenson suddenly leaned across the bed until his face was only inches from hers.

"Being absolutely certain you can handle it is the first sign of arrogance."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back."

Clea didn’t move.

"When you descend into the abyss, the abyss descends into you."

Evenson’s eyes were cold.

"When you think you’ve prepared yourself against the abyss, the abyss is already learning how to dismantle every defense you’ve built."

He straightened.

"Against something as vast as the Void, there is no such thing as enough preparation."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Evenson turned away from her.

A trace of irritation crossed his face.

"And there’s something else."

He glanced back over his shoulder.

"You’re still too inexperienced."

His voice was quieter now, but no less serious.

"You don’t have enough experience to recognize every trap."

"Be careful."

"Someone else may already be waiting for you to make one mistake."