Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 110: The Grim & Peaceful Day

All the villagers who had perished were given a proper burial. Their graves were marked with respect, the ceremony silent but heavy with sorrow.

For those who survived, Claude offered a privilege—protection and a new start under his banner.

However, it came with a price: a binding oath.

Each survivor was required to swear loyalty to him and the Elysium, and more importantly, vow never to speak of what truly happened in the village.

The moment they broke that oath, death would claim them instantly.

Most of them agreed without resistance. After all, their lives had already been steeped in misery—whether bound by an oath or not made little difference.

What truly changed was their view of the world. Their hatred toward the church burned brighter than ever.

For many, freedom or slavery no longer mattered. They had always been caged by suffering.

The burial ceremony was somber, draped in grief and quiet weeping. No one blamed Aurelia or Rhys.

Not even when Aurelia stood with her head lowered in guilt, her hands trembling at her sides.

Beside her was a small boy whose mother was buried, the same mother who thanked her for everything.

She felt everything at once—sorrow, shame, and a sense of responsibility.

"Is my existence only a curse for everyone around me?" she whispered, her tears falling.

Claude, who stood a few steps behind her, overheard her words. He replied with a grin, "Of course not. In fact, your existence might just be a blessing… at least for me."

His smirk made her shudder, but his words lingered.

***

After the funeral, Claude invited Aurelia to his tent.

His knights had already erected rows of tents throughout the area, forming the early foundation for what he envisioned as a major outpost in the Hyparia Kingdom area.

Seated behind a wooden desk, his dark cloak draped loosely over one shoulder, Claude gestured casually.

"Why don't you leave the two of us alone?" he said, his gaze flicking to Aubree and her daughter.

Aubree folded her arms. "Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Claude narrowed his eyes.

"You think I'd make Aurelia part of my harem? Or are you just jealous of your own daughter?" His lips curled into a wicked smirk.

Aubree choked on her breath. "N-no! It's not like that! She's still a child!"

"So you do know that," Claude chuckled, leaning back.

"Relax. I'm not interested in anyone under twenty-five. But," he added with a sly grin, "I do love your jealousy."

Aubree's face flushed with heat, but she said nothing. Aurelia, confused, looked between the two with wide eyes, but before she could voice her thoughts, Claude spoke again.

"Now, let's get to business." He uncapped his ink bottle and picked up a quill.

"I heard you cured the plague here. The villagers say you were the one who stopped it. Tell me how you did it—and what exactly was the disease?"

Aurelia tensed, her fingers nervously twisting together in her lap.

"It's called the Red Slumber," she began, her voice quiet.

"It starts with fever, a sore throat like flu, weakness… then red spots appear all over the body. It spreads fast."

Claude scribbled notes, his brow furrowing as she continued.

"I remember a doctor came to help once, a long time ago. She said the forest plant—there's a green one that grows wild, we used to steep it in hot water and drink it or cook it in any form."

"And eating meat, getting rest, taking medicine for fever… people got better if they caught it early."

Claude raised a brow, tapping the quill against his chin. "Red spots on the skin… Sounds like measles. Or maybe chickenpox?" he muttered, more to himself.

"That green plant—could be spinach or a local variant rich in vitamin A…"

He made a mental note to examine the corpses later in different village who got the same plague. If his hunch was correct, the plague was less mystical and more biological.

Disappointing, perhaps—but not useless.

'So she doesn't have a healing bloodline skill after all,' he thought. 'Still… this might work in my favor.'

"Aurelia," he said suddenly, setting the quill down and clasping his hands together. "Would you help me?"

Aubree stiffened. "If you're planning to use her for your campaign—!"

"This has nothing to do with conquest," Claude interrupted coolly, eyes gleaming.

"I want her to help me heal a kingdom. I want to make her a symbol of hope."

"What?!" mother and daughter exclaimed in unison.

"I don't care what you're planning," Aubree snapped, her voice rising.

"Don't you dare agree to this, Aurelia!"

Claude leaned forward, voice low and persuasive. "You want to be useful, don't you? Not just to me, but to everyone. This is your chance. A price… for saving Rhys's life."

He let the words hang, watching Aurelia's reaction. "Don't forget—he's alive because of me."

***

Aurelia stood before the modest wooden house, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. This was where Rhys had been resting—unmoving—for the past two days.

Today, they would finally learn the result of Claude's gamble. Would Rhys awaken as a daemon… or would he never wake at all?

During those two long days, Aurelia hadn't once come to see him. She buried herself in helping the villagers rebuild the village to be better and helping the one who injured.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

Doctor Jacob stepped out, his usual calm expression replaced by a gentle smile as he spotted her.

"Aurelia. Coming to see Rhys?"

She swallowed hard. "How is he? Is he… alright?"

Jacob gave a reassuring nod. "I think he'll be fine."

Her eyes lingered on him. Jacob had already turned into a daemon, along with five other men.

They were granted the choice and they accepted it. The rest, especially the women, still hadn't decided.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jacob tilted his head and smiled faintly. "Wondering if I've changed?"

Aurelia jolted. "I… I was just curious."

He placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "There's no real difference. Not yet, at least. Everything else feels the same."

His words eased the tight knot in her chest, if only slightly. With a final nod, he stepped past her and left.

Taking a deep breath, Aurelia finally pushed open the door and walked through the quiet hall, stopping before the room where Rhys lay, then slowly entered.

There he was, resting on the bed.

His breathing was steady. His skin had regained its color. The once-fatal wounds were slowly healed.

He looked peaceful—almost like he was simply taking a nap after a long day.

Aurelia pulled a chair beside him and sat down quietly. She had imagined this moment to be terrifying, but now that she was here, it wasn't scary at all.

Rhys was still Rhys.

And she would be here when he woke up.

True to her hopes, his eyelids fluttered weakly before opening. His vision was still blurry, but the first thing he saw was a head of soft golden hair. He didn't need clarity to recognize her.

"Aurelia?" he murmured.

Aurelia, who had been dozing off beside him, jolted awake. Her eyes widened as she turned toward the voice—and there he was. Awake. Alive.

They didn't speak at first. No grand gestures, no dramatic tears. Just a quiet smile shared between them.

But that smile said everything they couldn't put into words.

***

"You're insane, Claude! How can you be so wicked?!"

Emmalise snapped, slamming her hand against the table. Her image flickered slightly on the communication screen, fury etched across her face.

Claude merely chuckled. "And what would you prefer? Letting them walk all over you?"

"You just told me a moment ago that your brother has been secretly meeting with members of your court together with that high priest," he said calmly, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Some of them are even warming up to him. And the people—your people—who once despised the Church? They're softening too."

He leaned forward, voice sharp with intent. "As your soon-to-be husband, I'm simply offering a clean solution."

Emmalise went quiet. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "That doesn't justify cruelty. What you're proposing… it's inhumane! How many of my people will die because of it?"

She looked up, fire in her eyes. "It'll weaken my army! How are we supposed to wage war after that?"

Claude shook his head slowly, voice steady with grim certainty. "If you're not prepared to act now, thousands more will die later."

He folded his hands, expression unreadable. "But this move? It's worth the risk."

"It will shift public opinion. You'll be seen not as a witch to fear, but as one to revere. Your brother's ambitions will be crushed, and the Church's credibility will unravel."

He stared directly at her through the screen.

"Is that not enough?"

Silence stretched between them like a blade.

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"Think about it, Emmalise," he said at last. "Ask yourself: is the sacrifice worth it—or not?"