Warlock Ch 437. Perfect Scapegoat
Evelyn's worried eyes locked onto his, her trembling lips breaking into a radiant, relieved smile.
"Damian… you—you're here. You're back."
Damian exhaled slowly, feeling warmth, feeling life again. His lips curled gently upward, a faint smile—real, genuine, and finally free of pain.
"Hey…" he whispered softly, voice rough but clear. "Guess… I'm not allowed to die after all, huh?"
Evelyn laughed tearfully, pressing her forehead gently to his. "No. Never again."
Damian squeezed her hand gently, warmth and gratitude radiating through him.
He was alive. Truly, impossibly alive.
And for the first time in far too long, Damian let himself believe he might actually deserve it.
His breathing had evened out, the pain finally faded, and the world—still scorched, broken, burning—felt strangely quiet in this one fragile moment. Around him, his friends had gathered, clinging to the hope they thought they'd lost.
But then—
