Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

"OLIVIA, STOP IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Sophia screamed, panic flooding her voice as she desperately tried to hold back her daughter's hands.

But Olivia's strength—unexpected, wild—overpowered her.

Her burned palms came crashing down onto Sophia's stomach.

"AHHH—!!"

Pain shot through her, sharp and blinding. She hadn't expected Olivia to become this strong—especially after barely eating, barely sleeping.

But something was burning inside her now.

Hate, disgust, and fury that had festered until it consumed her.

"HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!" Sophia shrieked, her voice cracking as Olivia struck her again.

"DIE, WITCH! YOUR WOMB IS FILTHY!!"

"ALL OF YOU SHOULD BE GIVEN DIVINE PUNISHMENT!!!"

Sophia stared in horror. This wasn't her daughter anymore.

Her little girl—the one who once clung to her skirts, begged for bedtime stories and twirled in flowered dresses—was gone.

The girl who used to giggle at fairy tales and snuggle under blankets on snowy nights... had turned into a monster.

And for the first time in a long time, Olivia looked directly at her. But there was no love, no familiarity in her eyes.

Only fire.

"St… stop! I'm your mother, Olivia! Come back to me! Come back to me, please…"

Her voice cracked with desperation. She wasn't just pleading for her life—she was begging for her child.

For the cheeky, kind-hearted little girl who once made her want to live. But now, all she saw was rage in human form.

"NO! YOU ARE A WITCH!" Olivia shrieked, her voice manic.

"AND INSIDE YOUR WOMB IS A PARASITE THAT MUST BE DESTROYED!"

Another blow. Sophia cried out again, hands trembling, muscles failing. She couldn't hold her back anymore. Olivia was striking with the force of divine retribution, not a daughter.

Yet still... deep down, Sophia clung to a single thread of hope.

A way to save her.

Even if it shattered her heart.

Her stomach throbbed with agony, but the pain there was nothing compared to what she felt in her chest. Her tears streamed freely now, soaking her cheeks.

And then, with a whisper of regret and a flick of her hand, she uttered the words:

"Fire Might."

Flames erupted from her palm like a living tongue, searing through the air and licking across Olivia's body.

"AAAHHHHH!!!" Olivia screamed as the fire engulfed her.

Flesh bubbled, and muscle melted. Her figure twisted grotesquely into a sticky, howling nightmare.

She writhed on the ground, screeching in agony as she rolled and collided against the stone walls.

"IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!!! STOP!!"

But Sophia couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

She clutched her stomach with one hand and covered her ears with the other, trying to block it all out—the cries, the heat, the smell of burning flesh.

She kept her eyes tightly shut. She didn't want to see her daughter turned to ashes.

She only wanted to remember her smile.

Then, her eyes widened at the sound.

"M...mother..."

Sophia turned in shock. Olivia—burning, skin blackened and twisted—was still crawling toward her. Her voice, weak and raw, echoed with the innocence of the girl she once was.

"Did I make a mistake?" Sophia murmured, her voice trembling. "Is my daughter… finally back?"

Terror bloomed in her eyes. With a sudden surge of panic, she tried to extinguish the flames.

"No! No! She's back—she's finally back!"

A ball of water shot from her trembling hands, dousing Olivia in a splash of steam and smoke. The fire ceased.

What was left behind was a horror beyond words.

Olivia lay dying on the floor, her body a scorched ruin. Her skin was charred and black, her frame skeletal from the melted fat. Her eyes couldn't even close anymore.

"Olivia—Mom's sorry—I'm so sorry, love, please stay with me!"

Sophia clutched her daughter's crumbling body, desperate, broken.

"I didn't mean to… please, come back to me..."

Tears streamed down her face as her hands trembled over Olivia's lifeless form. Her sobs grew louder, but Olivia no longer responded.

Sophia didn't realize her daughter had already passed.

It was the maids who found her—still cradling the corpse, whispering, trying to cast any magic to heal her, the magic that would never work.

They rushed to inform William. He ran without a word, teleporting to Claude in a heartbeat.

When Claude arrived, it took a slap across Sophia's cheek to tear her away from Olivia's body.

"Get a hold of yourself! She's dead!" he snapped.

Sophia's eyes flickered back to life—only to shatter. Her face twisted in anguish as tears poured down again.

"But… but she answered me!" she cried out.

"She called me Mother! Just like before! She can't be gone—she just came back! She just came back to me…"

Claude stared, brows furrowed. He didn't yet know the full story—but Olivia's corpse said enough.

She'd been burned badly... By Sophia.

But… why?

He glanced down. His eyes caught the blood pooling near Sophia's feet.

Her legs were bleeding.

"William!" Claude barked. "Call a doctor—Sophia and the baby might be in danger!"

William bowed deeply and vanished with teleportation magic.

Claude turned to the maids. "Get rid of the corpse. Now."

The maids moved cautiously, trying to lift Olivia's remains and calm Sophia—but the moment they touched the body, Sophia screamed.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!!"

Floating blades swirled around her, glinting with deadly light, ready to strike.

Claude clicked his tongue. "Tch. What a pain."

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, and pressed his palm gently over Sophia's face—and she collapsed, instantly put to sleep.

He sighed, scooping her up in his arms.

Blood dripped from her legs as he carried her out. Each drop painted the ground in crimson, and with every step, Claude's expression grew darker.

He knew all too well—Sophia would never be the same again.

She would spiral, further and further into madness… and when that time came, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

"Memory manipulation… I can only cast it once I reach Fourth Evolution," Claude muttered to himself, voice low and weary.

"Perhaps one of the generals can do it… it just a simple erasing from one person, it didn't need that much mastery." he reasoned to himself but still, he shook his head

The memory manipulation spell he was referring to was a very powerful magic, the kind of sorcery that could rewrite history itself.

A single cast could erase someone from the minds of every living being.

Even worse, it could change the common sense of the entire world. Turn falsehood into truth, rewrite morality, and make the monstrous seem divine.

It was a spell so dangerous that even achieving Fourth Evolution didn't guarantee mastery over it.

And Claude, despite all his power, knew better than to toy with it recklessly.

He looked at Sophia's unconscious form in his arms. Gently, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"The life gifted to you by the Goddess… destroyed by the hands of her own fanatic servant. What cruel irony."

Moments later, the doctor arrived, summoned by William's urgency.

After an intense examination, the results came in.

Sophia and her child were alive. Barely—but they'd made it through.

However, her condition was unstable. She was drained, both physically and magically.

Her mana reserves were almost completely dry since the baby daemon inside her suck the mana to heal themselves.

"She needs a mana transfer," the doctor said.

"From another witch. Preferably soon. She hasn't turned into a daemon yet, so I can't transfer mine."

Claude nodded as William and the doctor left the two of them.

Aubree was the only one he could ask for help since her mother was pregnant and Aurelia had weak mana.

But the real problem wasn't about it. It was the conversation that awaited him.

How could he explain it to her?

How could he tell her that she burned her own daughter alive—without shattering what little sanity she had left?

"No… it's not possible," he muttered under his breath, his eyes drifting to Sophia's pale face.

Her skin had lost its glow. Her lips trembled as she whispered something. She looked like a corpse still clinging to life, haunted by a nightmare only she could see.

Still, she was his concubine. A witch who had pledged herself to him. Someone he promised to protect beneath his wings.

He wouldn't abandon her.

So he sat there, mind full of rehearsed phrases. Words meant to soothe, to guide, to anchor her when she finally woke up.

'She obviously needs therapy… but is there even such a thing in this world?' he thought bitterly.

His thoughts were interrupted by a weak voice that made his heart jump.

"Claude? Why are you here?"

She stirred, trying to sit up. He quickly placed a firm hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back.

"No. You should rest," he said softly.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Claude didn't know what to say. And more importantly… he didn't understand why she looked fine...

Sophia blinked a few times, her brows furrowed. "Ugh… what actually happened? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Claude hesitated. His voice was careful as if walking a tightrope over a pit of broken glass.

"Do you remember anything… about what happened in this room?"

He had heard of trauma so deep, that it erased memories and he prayed that it was the case with her.

Sophia's eyes scanned the room. Her gaze shifted restlessly—drawn to every corner, every shadow, every sunbeam falling across the cold floor.

The room felt familiar.

So familiar that her heart ached with a strange, heavy pressure. Like something had been violently ripped away from her chest.

Her hands clenched the blanket tightly.

"What happened, Claude?" she asked again, her voice trembling.

"I… I don't like this room. It feels wrong."

Her throat tightened as a wave of nausea rolled through her. She pressed a palm to her stomach.

She didn't know why...

But she felt like crying.