Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Claude felt a tug at his robe.

"Daddy, can I come too?" Aquila looked up at him, her eyes wide and gleaming like polished rubies.

Her round cheeks puffed like a chipmunk's, her tiny hands clutching at his coat. It was the kind of gaze a father could never say no to.

Claude sighed with a gentle smile and crouched down. "Alright, darling. But you both stay back and watch from afar, understood? I want you by Heinrich's side at all times."

He ruffled her soft hair as she beamed in delight, hugging him tightly around the neck.

With that, the three of them stepped into the teleportation circle—one of many linked through the Elysium outposts.

Though the magic drastically shortened travel time, the journey still required half a day to reach the forward base in Mycetia where Heinrich and his forces awaited.

As they emerged from the shimmering glyphs of the teleportation array, the air shifted—denser, more humid, thick with the musk of woodlands and tension.

The outpost sat at the edge of an open field not far away from the barrier, its edges lined with tents and vigilant soldiers.

Heinrich was the first to greet them.

Arms spread wide, the broad-shouldered general practically radiated joy. "You've grown more and more adorable, Aquila!" he boomed, sweeping both mother and daughter into a crushing hug.

Lilac gasped, struggling. "Uncle! Stop—my baby can't breathe!"

Realizing, Heinrich quickly loosened his grip and let them go, laughing with genuine warmth. "Apologies! It's been too long. I couldn't help myself."

Then he turned to Claude and gave a low, respectful bow. "Your Majesty."

Claude returned a small nod. "Henrich. Give me the report."

"As expected, Your Majesty," Heinrich said, straightening his stance. "The barrier remains intact. My casters can't even scratch it. If you wish it, I can bring it down by force."

Claude smirked. "I know you could. But no—I want to speak to this 'Elias' first."

Heinrich gave a knowing grin. "You always had a taste for theatrics, sire. Very well, follow me. He's been waiting."

Claude's gaze flicked toward the glowing horizon where the golden dome shimmered like a second sun.

"I hope he's worth the time," he murmured.

Claude and Heinrich stood at the edge of the golden barrier, its surface rippling like sunlight over a lake. The field was eerily quiet, the trees surrounding them seemingly holding their breath.

From within the dome, an unnatural stillness radiated—like a silence too perfect to be real.

Heinrich's gauntlet tightened around the hilt of his sword. "Still no reaction from the barrier," he muttered, his voice low. "But I don't like this. Let me go with you, Your Majesty."

Before Claude could respond, a voice rang out from the other side.

"That's far enough." It wasn't loud, but it carried a strange weight—calm, firm, and absolute.

An instant later, the barrier shimmered, parting just enough to form a narrow circular opening—barely wide enough for a single man to pass through.

"Only Claude Easton may enter. Alone."

Claude's eyes narrowed. Easton? That name hadn't been used in years—not since his days in Blackwood, before he became King of Elysium.

It was a name tied to a different life, a different identity. 'Someone from Blackwood?' he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Before he could dwell on it longer, the voice returned—more urgent this time. "Come now, or never."

"I'm going," Claude said firmly, turning to Heinrich.

"Watch over my queen and daughter. If there's any sign of battle, teleport them away immediately. No hesitation."

Heinrich's face tightened. "Understood, Your Majesty."

He cast one last uneasy glance at the glowing dome, but finally stepped back, his armor creaking as he turned away, leaving Claude alone.

With slow, measured steps, Claude passed through the magical veil. The air inside was warmer—dense, almost suffocating in its silence.

The village stood undisturbed: no fires, no corpses, no signs of conflict. Homes sat quietly beneath the oppressive radiance of the holy barrier, as if time itself had halted.

Then, from the village square, a figure emerged.

A man with flowing silver hair that reached his shoulders, clad in long robes that swayed gently with his steps.

His eyes—piercing and crystalline blue—seemed to glow with clarity and age. Though lines marked his face, his presence was calm, firm, and utterly without fear.

Claude stopped in his tracks. His instincts were alert, but there was no killing intent, no aura of threat. Still, the man's face was unfamiliar… so how did he know Claude's name?

"It's been a long time," the man said with a faint smile. "You've grown into a fine young man… Claude."

Claude's eyes narrowed. "You know me?"

The man gave a slow nod. "And I knew your mother—Dalia. And your father, Enzo."

A jolt ran through Claude, but he kept his composure. He still doesn't know Enzo isn't my real father... he thought.

"I was the one who bought Dalia from the slave pits," the man continued. "I gave her a life with Enzo. I made sure the Church kept their hands off her—and off you."

Claude's breath hitched. His mother had once told him, just before they left Blackwood, about a man who had saved her and given her a second chance. This had to be him.

"Cardinal Finn," Claude murmured. "The old cardinal of Blackwood. The man who protected witches… and made Blackwood a haven in the age of persecution."

Finn smiled again, this time more wistfully. "So you remember. I protected many, but none as closely as Dalia."

Claude gave a respectful bow of his head. "Thank you—for protecting her, and me, and the others."

But Finn laughed dryly. "So you can be polite. I almost believed the rumors—that you were nothing but the Lord of Calamity reborn."

Claude smirked. "I'm kind to those who are kind to me and mine. And merciless to those who aren't."

Finn's smile faded. His gaze sharpened. "And these villagers? What sin have they committed?"

"They persecuted witches, black mages, daemons—anyone different. Anyone they couldn't control. That's enough reason for me."

"Punishment through death?" Finn's voice grew cold. "You're no god, Claude."

Claude's eyes flashed. "And yet your Church plays God every day."

The two locked eyes, neither willing to look away, both unwilling to yield.

Finn finally exhaled, disappointment heavy in his voice. "We are not compatible, you and I."

"I made a grave mistake protecting you. When that girl from the Promised Land first warned me about you and darkness that tied into you, I should've listened."

His robes flared as he summoned a radiant sword into his hand, the blade glowing with divine energy. His voice was firm, resolute.

"But it's too late. You've become the very calamity she foresaw. So fight me, Claude. I will end this—here and now."

Claude's eyes widened. He had expected resistance—expected mistrust—but not this. To be forced into combat against the very man who had saved his mother… the idea made his chest ache.

He might be a tyrant, killing people like they were ants but he had his own code. And that code did not allow kindness to be repaid in blood.

He shook his head slowly.

"Cardinal Finn, I don't want to fight you," he said calmly, voice steady but heavy with meaning. "You're right—we're not compatible. But that's not a reason to draw swords."

"I've never killed for sport. Everything I've done had a reason. Even revenge, even cruelty—there's always a root behind it."

Finn blinked, startled by the words. He had expected fury or declaration of conquest. Not restraint.

The silver-haired man lowered his blade slightly, uncertain. "You… won't fight me?"

Claude exhaled. "Like evil answers evil, kindness must be answered in kind. I'm not about to spill the blood of the man who once saved my mother's life."

He looked up toward the barrier glowing above the village, then back to the cardinal. "I remember now what she said. About a man who gave her hope. That man was you."

Finn's expression tightened with conflict. "That was years ago. I'm no longer a cardinal. The Church demoted me and sent me to rot in this backwater town—to raise orphans and die forgotten. That kindness… it's buried under layers of sin."

"Sin?" Claude scoffed. "Is that what you call it?"

Finn's grip on his sword trembled. "I thought… if I could die by your hand—or kill you in righteous judgment—I could atone. That's the only forgiveness left for a man like me."

"The man that protected the Lord Of Calamity and his mother under his wings! A man who bring thus world close to chaos!"

Claude chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll never understand you or your gods. To survive—isn't that the final proof of a soul's will? Isn't living proof enough of worthiness?"

He turned, starting to walk away. "Cardinal Finn, I won't raise my blade against you. Or this village. Let's call this my debt—my way of returning what you once gave my mother."

Finn stared, stunned.

"You would let them live?" he asked softly. "And the others? What about the other villages?"

Claude stopped. He looked back over his shoulder with a tired smile.

"What kind of question is that?" he muttered. "They have nothing to do with you. My protection limit to only this village."

He resumed walking. "Let's make this our last meeting, Cardinal."

But behind him, Finn's hand tightened on the hilt. His breath grew uneven. And then—with a burst of desperate resolve—he lunged.

Claude vanished the instant the blade swung, disappearing like mist in wind. The next moment, he stood behind the older man.

"You really want to fight me, huh?"