Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Aubree's violet eyes widened, but as recognition set in, a faint smile of relief graced her lips.

Before she could say anything, her strength finally gave out. Her body slumped forward, unconscious.

Claude caught her with ease, his arms securing her delicate frame as he lifted her effortlessly. Her golden hair cascaded over his arm, her breathing shallow but steady.

Without hesitation, he carried her to the nearby bed, laying her down gently before turning his attention to the two elders.

His crimson eyes sharpened, his voice devoid of warmth. "Now, both of you—tell me everything from the beginning."

The elderly couple trembled under his piercing gaze. The old man swallowed hard before speaking, his voice strained with fear.

"We… we found her in the forest, near the canyon," he stammered.

"She was severely injured, barely conscious. We… we brought her here to care for her."

"My husband speaks the truth, My Lord!" the old woman added hastily, bowing so deeply that her frail frame quivered.

"We would never harm her! We only wished to help!"

Claude studied them for a moment, then smirked. "Good." His voice was laced with approval.

"For your kindness, you'll be compensated. From this day on, you're exempt from labor. Consider it a reward for your efforts."

Relief washed over their wrinkled faces, their eyes welling with gratitude.

"You hear that, Wren?" Claude continued, glancing at the daemon beside him.

"Let them live in peace. No knights, no mages near this house. Ensure all their needs are met for the rest of their short lives."

Wren straightened up, saluting with enthusiasm. "Yes, Your Majesty! I'll inform Lord Henrich at once!"

The elders bowed again, their heads touching the floor. "Thank you, My Lord! Thank you for your mercy!"

Claude merely nodded, his expression unreadable. He never expected his path, once drenched in blood and betrayal, to lead to something this… satisfying.

All his sacrifices, all his suffering—finally, life was rewarding him.

His dream MILF was now within his grasp.

With that thought, he scooped Aubree into his arms again. "I'm taking her to the nearest military outpost for treatment." His tone left no room for argument as he teleported away.

—

The moment he arrived at the outpost, Samson was already there to greet him. The knight straightened, delivering a swift report.

"Your Majesty, the construction is progressing, and—" Samson's words faltered when he noticed the unconscious woman in Claude's arms.

Claude didn't bother explaining. "Call for the paramedics. She needs the best treatment since she's my future concubine."

Samson didn't question it. "Understood, Your Majesty! However, I must apologize—the outpost was only established yesterday. The conditions are far from ideal."

"A tent will suffice."

"Of course. This way."

Claude followed him through the outpost, where soldiers and workers hurriedly labored to set up fortifications.

They reached a small but private tent, just large enough for a patient's care. Claude entered, carefully placing Aubree onto the bed before stepping back.

Samson quickly gathered the medics and healers. Yet, as they assessed her, their expressions turned grim.

"Your Majesty," one of them hesitated, "she's only human. We can't use dark magic to heal her. We'll have to rely on traditional medicine."

"Then do whatever it takes," Claude ordered, his voice cold but firm.

They immediately went to work, cleaning her wound, stitching the deep gash, and wrapping it in fresh bandages.

The process was slow, painstaking—but Claude remained by her side, watching, waiting.

He leaned back against the wooden frame of the tent, crimson eyes locked onto her pale face.

He had waited years for this moment.

And he would wait just a little longer for her to wake.

***

As the sun reached its peak, Aubree jolted awake, her body instinctively sitting up—only for searing pain to shoot through her abdomen.

She gasped, clutching at the fresh bandages wrapped around her wound. Survival alone felt like a miracle.

For a mage like her, healing magic was an impossibility unless she possessed regeneration abilities, which only came with a third evolution.

But she was still in her second. She shouldn't have survived.

And yet, she had.

For the sake of her daughter.

Her violet eyes darted around the unfamiliar tent before landing on the lone figure standing near the wooden frame of the entrance.

The moment she recognized him, desperation flared in her chest.

"Claude…" Her voice was weak, but her resolve was strong. "Help me."

Claude, who had been watching the ongoing construction outside, turned at the sound of her voice.

"Of course," he said smoothly, tilting his head with a mischievous glint. "But everything has a price."

"I'll do anything," she vowed, her voice firm despite the tremble in her hands. "Just help me find my daughter!"

Claude's smirk faltered slightly as he studied her. But before he could respond, she clenched her fists, her entire body shaking with guilt.

"This… this is my fault," she whispered, tears welling up in her beautiful purple eyes.

"If I had been stronger, I could have defeated that priest. I could have protected her. But my weakness…"

A sob broke through her voice. "My daughter is suffering because of me."

Claude's jaw tightened. "Witch hunts," he muttered.

Aubree nodded, wiping at her tears. "The Church declared the resurrection of the Lord of Calamity… and with one of their Saints dead, the hunts have grown worse. More extreme. The fanatics won't stop until every last one of us is gone."

She swallowed, her voice laced with regret. "I knew staying in Blackwood was no longer safe, not after Cardinal Finn was transferred away from the town."

Claude narrowed his eyes. "Finn?"

"He was old, but he always helped to protect us witches," Aubree explained bitterly. "With him gone, there was nothing holding the zealots back."

Her hands tightened over the blanket covering her. "I… I did what I could. I found the sisters who were in danger and sealed their powers. It worked. I should have done the same for Aurelia back then."

Her voice cracked, fresh tears streaming down her face. "If I had, at least she would have been safe."

Claude frowned, recalling something. "That ancient spell… it was yours?" His brow lifted. "But you aren't that strong, are you?"

He had already observed her mana and even appraised her status. Compared to other witches he had met—his mother, Sophia—she was undeniably stronger, but even then, she was only at a two-star evolution. Hardly enough to cast a spell of that magnitude.

Aubree's breath hitched at his words. "You… you know about that?" She looked down at the blanket in her lap, gripping the fabric.

"That spell was the first my mother taught me," she admitted. "It doesn't require much mana… but it takes something else."

Claude's gaze sharpened. "What is it?"

She exhaled shakily before answering.

"The witch life force who was being sealed is drained. That's why no one uses it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's a forbidden spell."