Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 153: Black Eclipse & First Prince

Claude's brows furrowed, his gaze fixed on Mahira. The fear in her eyes was real—raw and trembling.

Whatever Morion had done, it had left a mark deep enough to shake her to the core.

"I'm not here to kill you," he said at last, his voice calm but firm. "I just want to know how you got involved with the group."

Mahira's eyes lit up with desperate hope. "Really? You'll let me go?"

"I didn't say that," Claude sighed, brushing off her assumption. "Just answer the question. I'm not here to make friends."

Mahira bit her lip, the weight of her situation sinking in. She knew she wouldn't leave this underground cell without giving them something in return.

"I... I needed money," she admitted. "I agreed to the job because it paid well."

"But I swear, I'm not after power or anything like that! They just told me the job was to kidnap the king's heir—nothing more, I swear—"

Before she could finish, a loud crack echoed through the cell as Llyold slammed his hand against the desk. Veins bulged from his temple, his face twisted with fury.

"What did you just say?!" he roared. "That's more than enough to have your head rolling on the floor!"

Mahira flinched violently, instinctively clutching her neck. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't torture me!" she cried, trembling as she squeezed her eyes shut in panic.

Claude exhaled, rubbing his temples. "How did they find you?"

"I-I worked for a mercenary group... the kind that offers any 'service'—as long as the price is high enough. They said they could find anyone or anything," she stammered, unable to meet their gaze.

"Did the mercenaries know you were a daemon?" he pressed, intrigued.

Mahira nodded slowly. "In our world, no one cares who you are—as long as you're strong and useful. That's the only price that matters."

"I never met the one trying to usurp the king. We only exchanged letters—nothing more!"

Claude studied her carefully, then reached into his robe and pulled out a list. He placed it on the desk in front of her.

"These are the others who worked with Emmet, correct? Is anyone missing from this list?"

The names were all daemons—four beast tamers who had nearly unleashed cacodemons in the capital if not for Sun and Vulture's timely intervention, and three veteran knights, now locked away after being swiftly defeated by Wren and the Xalvach generals.

Mahira scanned the list, her eyes narrowing with familiarity. Among daemons, there was an unspoken instinct to recognize and gather among their kind.

They often formed underground communities—silent, hidden networks for protection and survival.

She nodded. "Yes... that's everyone."

Her eyes lowered as she added softly, "Are... are they alright?"

"For now," Claude answered coolly. "Now—can you give me the name of the mercenary group?"

He already suspected they weren't ordinary. Any organization willing to accept daemons so freely had to be either foolish or secretly aligned with them. Possibly, their leader was a daemon as well.

"It's called Black Eclipse," Mahira whispered.

"And how can I contact them?"

She hesitated, thinking, then suddenly brightened. "You can count on me, Your Majesty! We used a special device to contact our leader—"

"Oh? You mean this?" Claude interrupted, pulling a small mirror from his robe and placing it on the table.

Mahira's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't even realized it was missing.

"Stupid girl," Llyold muttered, shaking his head. "You think we'd throw you in a cell without searching you first?"

"Ah... right..." Mahira murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The shock had numbed her so much, she had forgotten everything from the moment they captured her.

"Show me how to use it and contact your boss. Don't say what happened yet—just tell them someone needs another 'service,'" Claude said suddenly.

"But… I want you to let me go in exchange!"

Llyold slammed the table again. "Foolish girl! You think you're the only one who can contact your leader?! We could easily order one of your friends to do it!"

He was seething. The mere thought of her almost kidnapping his grandchild and hurting his daughters made his fingers twitch with the urge to strangle her.

Mahira jolted, her head lowered in shame. She didn't know what to do anymore—how to survive this nightmare.

"Calm down, Llyold," Claude said with a sigh.

"Your Majesty! Don't you have a shred of rage?! This woman almost kidnapped your children—and killed your concubines!"

"I do," Claude replied calmly. "But she's just a pawn in a far bigger game. And right now, she's useful to us."

He handed the mirror back to Mahira. "Contact your boss."

Mahira took it with shaking hands and nodded. She pressed her finger against the moon symbol on the mirror's handle.

A drop of blood fell onto the surface, and the black symbol glowed crimson—like an eclipse.

Then, the mirror rippled, distorting her reflection until it turned into a shadowy figure—faceless, featureless. No eyes, no mouth. Just a shape made of darkness.

Then, a voice echoed from the mirror. "Oh, Golden. Is your job done?"

The voice was eerie—neither male nor female. Most likely distorted through another device to conceal the speaker's identity.

"Ugh…" Mahira flinched. She wanted to protest—her codename wasn't Golden—but she ended up replying, "We have a new client."

"Really?" The shadow paused, suspicion rising in its voice. "I want to speak with them."

Mahira let out a relieved breath and nodded quickly before handing the mirror to Claude.

"Ah, so you failed the mission, huh? What a shame—I'll have to return half the money," the leader said casually.

Claude chuckled. "No need. Your client is already six feet under."

"Oh?" The figure sounded intrigued. "You require a service, then?"

"Yes. I want information about the Promised Land. Its gates are locked—no information in or out." Claude leaned forward slightly.

"I want to know the condition inside. How many have died, how many survived… especially concerning their military strength."

The leader paused, seemingly thinking. "That's a hard one. As you said, no one can get inside unless they were already there."

Then, the tone shifted—more confident now. "How much can you pay?"

Claude smirked. "As much as you want."

The figure let out a chuckle. Then, more seriously: "Return my people. Keep them alive and treated well, and I'll give you the information at half price."

Claude raised a brow. "Didn't expect you to say that. But very well. You'll have them—after you fulfill your end of the deal."

"Hah! What a sly man! Give them proper lodging, and you'll get what you want."

"Sure. That's not too difficult." Claude turned his gaze toward Llyold, silently asking for his opinion—even though he'd likely go through with it either way.

Llyold sighed and nodded. "I want them guarded, though."

Mahira gasped. "That's fine by me! As long as I can get out of this place… and alive…"

Claude gave her a slight nod, and at last, the agreement was sealed.

For now, he finally had something useful. His own intelligence network was still limited, but with Black Eclipse's resources feeding him information, he could begin crafting a new plan—one that would crush the Church, and reshape the world under his rule.

***

Claude finally returned to the surface to meet with Dalia, but before he could reach her, a maid came sprinting toward him, breath ragged, her face pale and drenched in sweat.

"Y-Your Majesty! Lady Sophia is in the middle of labor!"

Claude's eyes widened. Without a second thought, he dashed toward the birthing chamber. From what he had heard, Sophia's condition had been steadily worsening—not physically, but mentally.

She kept searching for her dead daughter, insisting Olivia was still alive somewhere, begging everyone to find her.

Claude had visited her from time to time, even when he was still in Cortinvar, trying to reassure her that it was just a hallucination triggered by the stress of pregnancy.

He could never bring himself to tell her the truth—that she was the one who had killed their daughter.

As he reached the chamber, the wailing cry of a newborn echoed through the hallway. Relief washed over him.

The doctor approved his entry, and inside, he saw Sophia cradling the baby in her arms.

It was a boy, bald and small, but when he opened his eyes—they were crimson. Just like Claude's.

A faint smile touched Claude's lips as he sat beside her. Sophia, though clearly exhausted, was beaming.

"Claude, this is it… This is my daughter, Olivia! She came back to me again!"

Claude's smile slowly faded. "No, Sophie… he's not Olivia. Olivia died when she was a child—from the fever, remember?"

"That's what you told me…" Sophia's voice drifted off. Her eyes dulled, turning vacant. "Ah… right. She's long gone…"

Claude exhaled deeply. He didn't know what else to do. The psychological sciences in this world were nowhere near the advancements of his first life.

All he could offer her were small comforts and white lies to keep her grounded—fragile threads of reality for her to cling to.

"For now… you should be happy about your baby, shouldn't you?" he said softly. "I'm not asking you to forget Olivia. But your son—he needs you now."

Sophia nodded weakly. "I understand… You can name him, Claude. Since he's the first prince of Elysium."

Claude nodded solemnly and looked down at the newborn in her arms.

"His name is Antares Calego," he said, gently rubbing the baby's head.

"May your fire light Elysium to its greatest heights."