Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 43: The Tragedy Of Sophia’s Life

[Do you want to teleport to his house right now?]

Claude rubbed his chin, "Well, not exactly that house. I want to teleport to Blackwood Town."

[Understood.]

It had been three years since he left that place. He wondered how much it had changed, what new faces had taken root, and whether the familiar sights of his childhood still remained.

The mirror’s surface rippled before shifting to a bird’s-eye view of the town square. It was crowded—too crowded.

A thick mass of people gathered, their eyes fixated on a single wooden cross where a woman was bound, her wrists and ankles tied tight against the rough wood.

Holy knights piled dry kindling at her feet, their silver armor glinting under the dying sunlight.

Claude’s smirk faltered. His gaze locked onto the disheveled figure, her short red hair matted with dirt, her body trembling as she thrashed against the restraints.

A witch hunt.

His eyes widened, not from horror at the execution itself—but because he recognized her.

Her disheveled hair covered part of her face, but her beauty still shone through the dirt, and tears streaming down her chin.

She screamed, voice trembling in fear and desperation.

"NO PLEASE! I’M NOT A WITCH! LET ME GO!!!"

As her face lifted, her bright red eyes locked onto the crowd, horror clear in her gaze as she struggled against the restraints.

Claude froze. He knew her.

That hot rich widow — Sophia.

The woman he used to fantasize about as a kid. The center of so many of his perverted dreams.

His fingers dug into the skull-shaped armrest of his throne, eyes gleaming.

"I can’t let that beauty and her hot body go to waste!"

He shot to his feet, the sudden movement making Morion flinch in surprise.

"I need to save her." His lips curled into a wicked grin. "And make her mine."

***

Sophia never imagined her life would end like this—betrayed by her own daughter.

She lifted her tear-streaked face, eyes locking onto Olivia, who stood at the front of the crowd draped in a pristine white robe.

Hands clasped together in prayer, her lips moved in silent devotion, oblivious to her mother’s desperate pleas.

"Olivia! Help me!"

Sophia’s voice cracked, raw with agony.

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"I’m your mother! I’m not a witch!"

For a fleeting moment, she hoped—hoped that some part of Olivia would remember, that the girl she had raised, cradled in her arms, would reach out to save her.

But Olivia’s expression was serene, her eyes alight with a feverish glow.

"Do not worry, Mother!" she proclaimed, her voice full of twisted reverence.

"Your sins will be cleansed in the holy fire. Goddess Eunomia will embrace you, and you will be reborn in purity."

A cold shiver ran down Sophia’s spine. This was not the daughter she had once known.

The Olivia who used to cling to her skirts, the Olivia who would cry into her chest when afraid of thunderstorms, was gone.

The church had taken her.

Sophia clenched her fists against the rough wood. She remembered the day Olivia had turned eighteen—the day the Holy Ceremony changed everything.

She had thought she was doing the right thing, allowing her daughter to participate.

But when it was discovered that Olivia possessed a strong light affinity, she was taken into the Church Academy, where she trained to become a cleric.

At first, Sophia had been proud. But when Olivia returned, something was wrong.

She prayed obsessively. Any small misstep—eating too much, speaking too casually—would send her into fits of self-loathing.

She began looking down on those who were not "holy" enough.

Then came the obsession with witch hunts.

When the Church declared the awakening of the Lord of Calamity, the hunts escalated.

Witches, even those who had never used magic, were dragged from their homes and burned alive.

And now, Olivia had turned on her own mother.

The cruel irony? Sophia really was a witch.

She had hidden it all her life, living quietly in a small town where the Church’s influence was weaker. She never used her power. She never harmed anyone.

But one night, their house caught fire. Olivia had been trapped inside, the flames closing in.

Desperate, Sophia had cast a single spell—calling forth water to douse the blaze and save her daughter’s life.

That was all it took. She should have known that fire was created by Olivia herself as she was obsessed with being part of the Order Of Everbright.

Now, bound to a cross with holy chains that suppressed her magic, Sophia could do nothing but sob.

"How… how did it come to this?" she choked, her voice lost in the sea of onlookers.

Then Olivia stepped forward, reaching out her hands.

"Give me the torch," she said.

The priest hesitated before handing it to her.

Sophia’s breath caught in her throat.

No.

No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

"Olivia—no, please! I’m your mother!"

She writhed against the chains, fingers clawing at the bindings.

"Don’t do this to me!"

But Olivia’s eyes were filled with a sick sort of love.

"You are a witch," she said simply, smiling.

"Your existence is a stain upon this world."

Then, with eerie gentleness, she added, "I do this for you, Mother. Because I love you."

She lowered the torch.

The fire caught instantly, dry leaves and twigs igniting at Sophia’s feet. The heat kissed her skin, growing hotter, closer.

"NOOO!!!"

Flames licked up the cross.

"I DON’T WANT TO DIE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!"

Her screams filled the square, but no one moved.

Her maid. Her neighbors. Her so-called friends. They only watched.

Her daughter, the child she had given everything for, only smiled as the fire rose.

Sophia’s chest burned with something even hotter than the flames—hatred. Hatred for this fate. Hatred for this goddess who had cursed her existence.

It wasn’t her fault she was born a witch!

However, a shadow suddenly eclipsed the sky.

Darkness spread like ink across the heavens, swirling and twisting into grotesque tendrils that clawed toward the earth.

A figure descended from the swirling abyss.

A man draped in a black robe, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

In his hand, a staff pulsed with eerie energy, while beside him, a girl in a gothic lolita dress hovered in the air.

Claude smirked. "You humans really are parasites," he declared.

At his words, the sky split open, and the heavens wept.

A torrential downpour crashed onto the square, drowning the fire in an instant. Steam hissed as the flames at Sophia’s feet were snuffed out.

The town fell into stunned silence.

Claude surveyed the crowd, his lips curling in disdain.

"A public spectacle, is it? Burning an innocent woman at the stake, watching her scream for your sick entertainment?"

He scoffed. "And you call yourselves righteous?"

The holy knights scrambled to draw their weapons, but Claude only lifted a hand.

"You are all sinners," he declared, his voice echoing like a death knell.

Behind him, a massive magic circle unfurled, pulsating with dark energy.

"And I am here to cleanse your sins."