Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!
Chapter 173 - 173: The Duality Of King

Claude sat behind his desk, flipping through the sealed envelope bearing the emblem of the Black Eclipse.

Inside was the long-awaited report—intel about the Church's movements, and a partial profile of the remaining Seven. Or rather, the Six now.

But even with all their underground connections, the information was frustratingly thin.

"Still this little, even for them?" he muttered, brow furrowing as he scanned the pages.

The report listed only basic names, vague appearances, and barely any detail on their abilities. However, one entry stood out—Regulus, the strongest among them.

The scarce details were still enough to start theorizing possible counters and strategies should a confrontation arise.

Claude exhaled through his nose. "It would've been far more useful if they included each of their star evolutions…"

He flipped to the next document—and then paused, his fingers tightening.

The contents made his jaw set:

"Roughly six months ago, the Church began accumulating large quantities of animal livers and green herbs within their territory. Clerics were gathered en masse at several secluded sites."

"Reports confirm the spread of a new medicine called the Divine Miracle, allegedly crafted under an oracle from Goddess Eunomia herself."

"Its form matches that of the witches' medicine—gray pill, bitter taste. Our analysis strongly suggests it is a near-perfect imitation."

"By the time of this writing, the Church may have already distributed the medicine across the Western continent."

The paper began to crumple under Claude's grip—before spontaneously combusting in his hand, reduced to curling ash by a burst of dark magic.

Across the room, William jumped at the sudden flare. "Your Majesty?!"

Claude slammed his fist against the desk with a loud crack, startling not only William but also Lloyd, who had been quietly entertaining his grandchild in the corner. The old man looked up, frowning.

"Tch. How dare they…" Claude growled, shadows already spiraling from his shoulders, swirling like tendrils of smoke.

"They copied it. Took our medicine and twisted it into a lie from their false Goddess!"

Black aura bled out from his skin, the magic reacting to his outrage, the room thickening with pressure. His voice dropped, low and venomous:

"This isn't just theft. It's warfare through faith."

He stood slowly, eyes glowing with cold fury. Back in the modern world, Claude had worked in a food and beverage company, and if there was one thing he loathed more than anything—it was copycats.

Competitors who stole a product, rebranded it, and called it their own. Even with the law on their side, it had been a pain to fight back.

But here? In a medieval fantasy world with no patent laws or intellectual property?

"Tch… those fucking holy bastards! Should we just attack them and burn them all to hell?!" he snapped, ranting in a haze of rage.

Lloyd winced, immediately cutting in with a glare. "Your Majesty! Please watch your tongue in front of my grandson!"

The older man's thoughts weren't on Church politics or sabotage—only on the small boy beside him, who was now curiously staring up at Claude.

"Father, is something wrong?" Vega asked, tilting his head and putting down the picture book he had been reading.

Claude groaned and rubbed his temple, frustration bleeding into fatigue. "Nothing. Just… go play somewhere else, Vega."

Vega turned to his grandfather, who gave a tired sigh. "We'll read more later, Vega. Your father and I need to discuss something important."

Vega nodded obediently and began stacking books into his arms. "Then I'll take this one… and this one… and—yeah, this too."

He paused at the doorway, throwing his father one last glance. "And remember, Father—you promised Lyra you'd have afternoon tea with her today. Don't disappoint her again. I'm tired of having to manage her tantrums every time you bail."

With a dramatic sigh far too mature for his age, Vega trotted off with his nanny in tow, books piled in his arms like precious treasure.

"Ah… my grandson's already that big," Lloyd muttered, half in pride, half in sorrow. Time was slipping through his fingers far too quickly.

Meanwhile, Claude resumed tapping his fingers on the desk, mind already racing through dozens of contingency plans.

It had already been nearly a year since the Red Slumber was first detected in Cortinvar. According to the Envoys, most of their lands were now cured—or nearly so. But that was in their controlled territory.

Other regions were not so fortunate.

Claude narrowed his eyes. There were still regions suffering. Still places where the plague remained. He just needed to find them.

"Lloyd," Claude said, voice steady and low, "send orders to our intelligence network. I want a full survey of every kingdom and territory where Red Slumber is still active. Population numbers. Infection counts. Recovery rates. All of it."

Lloyd stood from his seat and gave a curt nod. "Yes, Your Majesty. Right away."

As Lloyd exited the room, Claude turned to William. "Find Mahira. Tell her and her friends to report here immediately."

William bowed and slipped out, leaving Claude alone with his thoughts.

He stared down at the empty corner of his desk where the letter had burned to ash.

The Church made the first move.

Now it was his turn.

And he would strike not with fire or blade—but with truth, fear, and doubt.

***

A knock came at the door.

"Enter," Claude called.

The door creaked open, revealing William, Mahira, and three others—representatives from the Black Orchid. Though they were stationed nearby, Claude didn't fully trust them.

They were given residences outside the palace walls and only summoned for work deemed necessary. Most of their duties now had them collaborating with the army units.

Claude got straight to the point. "Call your boss. I need them to move to the next step."

He tossed a sealed note onto the table before continuing, "I want the full list of Divine Miracle shipments. Every route, every schedule. And once that's done, tell them I need another meeting."

Mahira and the others exchanged glances, silently syncing up before nodding.

"Understood, Your Majesty," Mahira said, bowing. "We'll contact our lead immediately. Or, if you prefer, we can bring them here now."

Claude shook his head. "No need. There's something I must do first."

He stood with a heavy sigh. "William, come with me. The rest of you are dismissed."

The Black Orchid agents filed out quietly, heading to separate wings of the palace—some back to the city, others toward the army office.

Claude took the opposite direction, leading William toward the harem palace.

"…Should I join you for Lyra's tea, Your Majesty?" William asked hesitantly. "She… doesn't seem to like me much."

Claude snorted, amused. "That's because you're always the one telling her I can't make it."

William grimaced but said nothing, trailing slightly behind as they entered the garden of the harem palace.

But thanks to Claude's fanatical pursuit of the holy remnants, Dalia private garden had finally developed into a bigger one and now open to every high ranking concubine and their children.

A true garden—one with living, blooming flora. In all of Elysium, this was the only place untouched by illusion or artifice, where real flowers thrived in the palace's golden heart.

As Claude stepped in, his senses were wrapped in a rich, sweet scent—floral, airy, refreshing. He couldn't even name half the species growing here, but the mix made for something enchanting.

Near the fountain, under the dappled shade of an ivy-covered archway, a tea table had already been set.

The table was small, charming, clearly intended for children—with dainty cups and colorful snacks—but one larger seat sat at the head.

That one was his.

The others belonged to his little princesses.

"Papa!" Lyra shouted, standing on her tiptoes by the fountain, her twin pigtails bouncing.

Her violet dress swayed as she ran across the stone path—ignoring the protests of her nanny—until she crashed into Claude's legs with all the might her small frame could muster.

Claude chuckled lowly, steadying her with one hand. "Easy, Lyra. You'll wrinkle your dress before tea starts."

"You said that last time! But you never came!" she pouted, crossing her arms.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" he said as he crouched to her level, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "And I even brought William, so you can scold him properly."

William froze a few paces away, caught off guard as Lyra turned to glare at him.

"You always say, 'His Majesty is busy' and bring gift instead! That gifts are ugly I hated it."

Claude laughed under his breath while William paled.

"Apologies, Princess Lyra," William bowed awkwardly. "I shall accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

"You must eat a lemon tart in one bite," she declared proudly.

William blinked. "…That's it?"

Lyra tilted her head. "They're very sour."

Carina watched quietly from her seat, sipping her tea with calm poise far beyond her years.

She sat perfectly straight, wearing a soft sky-blue gown with white lace trim. Unlike her older sister, she always moved like a little queen in training.

Claude made his way to the table and placed a gentle kiss on Carina's forehead. "My little flower. Did you start without me?"

"You were nearly twenty minutes late, Father," she replied with gentle reproach, setting her cup down with care. "But I made sure the tea stayed warm."

He gave her a warm smile and sat in the seat between the girls, the sunlight catching the edges of his dark coat.

For a moment, the burdens of kingship slipped away, replaced by porcelain cups and sugar cubes.