Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Saintess Marienne stood by the stained-glass window of the royal solar, watching the sun pour golden light onto the marble floor.

Outside, the capital of Hyparia stirred lazily to life, unaware that doom crept ever closer with each breath.

Within the palace walls, however, paranoia simmered like a fever. And she was trapped in its heart.

A soft knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts. It opened without waiting.

"Saintess Marienne, His Majesty requests your presence," said the page, not meeting her eyes. No one did anymore.

Marienne smoothed her robes and followed, her mind churning. The king had summoned her four times that morning already.

Each time, the conversation spiraled into fear-driven nonsense: invisible assassins, visions of Claude at the gates, whispers that the palace guards were all traitors.

She suspected he hadn't slept in days. Everyone become scared, she even heard the whisper about impeachment of the King and it only added to His Majesty anxiety.

'Not only did this kingdom in war outside the palace, but inside too.' she shake her head, 'If this continue, they will crumble from inside before even the Lord of Calamity arrived here.'

The room she entered this time wasn't the throne room, but a private solar draped in thick curtains and incense smoke.

It was meant to calm the king's nerves—but it only trapped the madness inside.

King Halven sat hunched in a velvet chair, wrapped in robes like a man freezing in summer.

His crown rested lopsided on his lap. On the table before him, a long black box sat unopened.

Marienne's stomach dropped.

She recognized it immediately. Elysium's signature was all over it.

Theoderic looked up, eyes bloodshot and glassy. "He sent me a gift. Said it was a message to the crown."

"Your Majesty..."

"Open it. I don't have the strength."

She approached slowly and lifted the lid.

Inside was the severed head of Captain Lucien—his eyes glassy, lips parted in what might have been a warning.

Twisted tightly around his brow was a rusted chain bearing the insignia of Everbright Chruch's holy knight.

Marienne's hands trembled, her eyes widened in surprise as her heart heavy with emotions.

'Durnval is fallen...' she thought, 'Just by a day and it fallen just like that? What kind of monster did the Lord of Calamity send?'

Her mind was full of theories. When she was sent here, she thought it would be not so complicated mission and if she successful, she would be known as a hero.

But now when she was not only attacked by the enemy but also by the side that supposed to be helped by her, halted her movement and even trapped her inside the palace wall.

Marienne wasn't so sure anymore.

The King stared at the head, then slowly looked up at her. "Do you see now? Do you see what kind of monster you've been warning me about?!"

His voice trembled, his blue eyes wide and looking at her full of fear. "He's not at the gates anymore, Saintess Marienne. He's already inside. In this palace full of my guard! Keep rotting and destroyed my mind." he then started to bit his nail, anxious drowning the King.

She swallowed hard. Marienne know this wasn't time to be overwhelmed with emotions or to be pessimistic especially in front of the king who was mentally unstable.

"This was meant to scare you. He wants you shaken. He wants to see you crumble."

"Crumble?" Halven laughed bitterly. "We've already crumbled. My soldiers are dead. My mind keep whispering danger at me!"

"You dragged me into this holy war with promises of salvation—and now you expect me to stand tall while heads arrive in boxes?"

"I expected you to lead," she said quietly.

Halven's face twisted with anger. "Don't lecture me, Saintess. You said it yourself. Claude is coming. You told me I would die if I didn't listen!!! Well, I'm listening now."

He stood, gripping her arms with trembling hands. "Stay here. You will stay here and guard me. I need a Saintess beside me when the end comes. I need you to save me."

Marienne gently pushed him away. "What you need is clarity. This fear is not helping Hyparia."

Theoderic scoffed. "Clarity? Your damn church has filled this palace with incense and spells and sweet words. Where is my clarity, Saintess?"

"Then I'll give you truth instead: hiding me in this palace won't save you. You're making Hyparia weaker."

The door creaked open.

"Saintess," said Chancellor Barthold, stepping in with his usual steely calm. "A moment, please."

"If you don't mind, Your Majesty?"

Halven sighed, "As long as she still inside the cage of the palace, I don't mind."

"And take those head away, I don't it near me."

The King respond to her captain's head making anger shimered beneath Marienne calm exterior. But she need to calm for now.

"I will take it." she said as she started chanting. Golden magic circle appeared beneath the box as it suddenly disappear.

She teleport Lucien's head somewhere save. He might not a noble born or someone high in position even within the chruch. But still he deserve proper death.

While Chancellor Barthold eyed the box but didn't react. "I assume Captain Lucien won't be joining us for council anymore?"

Marienne gave a tight nod.

"Come. There's more." he said before both of them excuse themselves from the king.

They moved through private corridors to a guarded chamber where the war council sat in grim silence.

Barthold stood at the front. "We have confirmed it. Durnvale has fallen—again. Based on our intel, General Samson from Elysium reclaimed it. Captain Lucien was executed after being held for half a day, and his head sent here."

Murmurs broke out. Some cursed, others prayed.

Marienne's fists clenched.

"I left enough men—"

"Not enough," Barthold cut in. "We were deceived. Your withdrawal gave him exactly what he needed. And now he sends a message—"

He gestured. A messenger stepped forward and handed over a scroll.

Barthold opened it and read:

"Three days. I will strike once and only once. Perhaps your capital, perhaps your food, of perhaps your crown. Choose wisely."

A heavy silence followed. Then the murmurs resumed—louder, more panicked.

A noble rose. "Then we must act now. Bring Prince Lorian back. He'll command the army, he'll—"

Another shook his head. "The prince loathes the church. If he returns and sees what Everbright has done here—"

Barthold raised his hand. "Enough. We need unity, not another civil war."

Truly, Barthold opinion toward the saintess has changed, probably inside he also know the King couldn't save this kingdom anymore.

Instead of being suspicious and put her on enemy side, it was more wise of him to put it aside and unite.

Marienne stepped forward. "This is exactly what Claude wants. He sends chaos wrapped in parchment. But we must not fracture."

Someone in the back snapped, "And what would you know of strategy? You abandoned Durnvale!"

"On royal orders," she retorted. "I didn't abandon anyone. I followed my King's command."

"And now we have no command!" someone else shouted.

Just then, the doors opened.

Boots clattered. Cloaks swept in. The council turned as Prince Lorian entered, flanked by armed guards.

He stopped before them, his sharp eyes surveying the room.

"I came because I heard the Lord of Calamity sent another gift." His voice was like a blade. "And it seems the council is no longer capable of acting like one."

Everyone stared.

Then Barthold whispered, "This is what the Lord of Calamity might miss."

Marienne stared at the prince.

And knew—the game had changed.

***

Back at the Elysium war camp, Claude reclined in his chair with a wide smile in his face.

"Let them stew," he said, the words laced with amusement and contempt.

"Let them panic behind their stone walls and argue in their pretty gold-trimmed rooms. Three days. That's all they have."

Claude tapped one of the five markers on the map with the tip of his gloved finger. Each marker represented a critical Hyparian city—each pulsing with trade, garrisons, or royal influence.

Durnvale had already fallen and been reclaimed. That alone had thrown the Hyparian court into chaos. But Claude wanted more than panic. He wanted despair.

"I want them guessing. Is it Bellridge, their last trade port? Is it Velstrad, the city that feeds half their southern provinces?" he mused aloud.

"Maybe I'll go for their last standing cathedral. A personal message to Everbright."

He shifted in his seat and chuckled lowly.

"But none of them are my target."

The true strike would come so precisely that by the time Hyparia realized where the axe would fall, it would already be buried deep in their neck.

Claude leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head.

"This is a war of fear," he said. "And no one plays fear better than I do."

Only Claude knew the real target as he wanted to know how smart the saintess truly was.