Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

The Cortinvar Kingdom remained as bitterly cold as ever, its relentless winter shaping its people into hardened souls—especially when it came to matters of faith.

Yet now, the kingdom stood in shock. Their so-called enemy had demanded to build a siege fortress atop Malgrave Mountain.

To the people of Cortinvar, this was nothing less than a declaration of war. No matter the supposed good intentions, they would never allow their land to fall under enemy hands.

"Please, Your Majesty, hear our humble request."

The words came from a man draped in pristine white robes—High Priest Orson of the Everbright Church. An elder among his clergy, his frail form stood with an air of unwavering devotion.

From the cold throne, Queen Emmalise Lacaria remained unmoved. Her sharp, steel-gray eyes bore into the priest, her face as unreadable as the snow-covered peaks beyond the palace walls.

"Priest, I have told you this many times already." Her voice was even, but firm. "I will not grant you access to Malgrave Mountain."

Orson shook his head, his expression gentle. "Your Majesty, we do not seek to claim the mountain. All of nature belongs to the divine grace of Goddess Eunomia."

He bowed slightly before continuing. "We only ask for your permission to enter and construct a holy fortress. The Descendant of the Lord of Calamity is likely hiding there. It is our duty to purge such evil before it festers."

Emmalise sighed, resisting the urge to rub her temples. This again.

This was the fourth time the Church had made this demand.

And for the fourth time, she would give them the same answer.

She had always possessed a soft spot for the elderly—perhaps because they reminded her of her beloved father. But even she had her limits.

Her gaze hardened. "No, Priest."

The Queen stepped down from her throne, her fur-lined cloak trailing behind her.

"Tell me, Orson—do you know what happened the last time we permitted your so-called 'Holy Knights' to enter Malgrave Mountain?"

She paused, letting the memory sink in before answering her own question.

"Our cattle perished. Newborn infants died in their cradles. A mysterious plague spread among my soldiers."

Her voice sharpened, edged with ice. "And what did your 'holy people' do? They blamed us."

Orson flinched, but she pressed on.

"You blame us for the death of your Saint. You cursed us for the deaths of your knights—whose bodies were never even found."

Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. "We paid a heavy price for your losses. In gold, in suffering. Never again."

She stepped forward, towering over the aged priest.

"I will not open that damned mountain again. Do you understand?"

With that final declaration, Emmalise turned on her heel, sweeping out of the throne room without another glance.

Orson, however, lunged forward, desperate. "Your Majesty—!"

The queen's knights intercepted him, their spears crossing in front of his frail form. The High Priest stumbled slightly, the metal tips pressing into his robes, but he did not back down.

"Please, forgive my subordinates' rashness!" Orson pleaded, his voice raw with urgency.

"But this is beyond politics. As the ruler of this land—as a human being—you must understand! The Lord of Calamity will bring ruin upon us all!"

His subordinates protested behind him, arguing that the queen's knights were being disrespectful. But Emmalise ignored them all, her steps sharp and unyielding as she strode down the grand hallway.

She knew that Orson's fears were not unfounded. She had studied the Lord of Calamity extensively—their past devastations, their patterns of destruction.

But even so, if she allowed the Everbright Church into Malgrave Mountain, the common people's trust in her would collapse. Her rule was still fragile, her position unstable.

And more importantly, she was hiding something. A secret that no one, absolutely no one, could ever uncover.

"Ah, my dear sister, why the hurry?"

A smooth, honeyed voice interrupted her march.

Emmalise did not need to turn around to know who it was.

Her mood soured instantly. The last voice she wanted to hear after a frustrating audience.

Elias.

For a brief second, she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply before exhaling through her nose.

Finally, she turned, her expression impassive. "Yes, it is done."

Elias tilted his head, smiling—always smiling. "Just like that? You're always so cold to me, sister. Aren't we family?"

That fake, gentle voice.

It made her want to retch.

Elias had first appeared on the very day of her coronation—a day meant to mark the beginning of her reign.

But instead of celebration, the court was thrown into chaos when a stranger stepped forward and declared himself the bastard son of the late king.

A lost prince.

His very existence had undermined her authority. The nobility, ever traditional, had been quick to murmur that a male heir should have been the one to rule.

Fortunately, Elias was the son of a mere maid—his blood too thin to ever claim the throne.

But that did not mean she was safe.

"Do you need something from me?" Emmalise asked, her voice as cold as the winter air outside.

"If not, I have far more important matters to attend to."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode away.

Elias, left standing alone in the corridor, watched her go, his once-pleasant smile slowly fading into something unreadable.

***

Emmalise was finally in front of her office, ready to take a brief rest.

But the moment she opened the door, she froze.

Someone was sitting in her chair.

The intruder's back was to her, making it impossible to see his face. But she didn't need to—no ordinary man could have gotten in unnoticed.

Her knights never would have let this happen.

And she had been explicitly clear—no one was allowed inside this room.

Slowly, she shut the door behind her, her gaze sharp as she approached the desk. Her hand drifted to the dagger concealed within her dress.

"Who are you?" Her voice was calm, but cold. "How dare you sit there? Get out, or I will call the knights to cut you down where you stand."

The man, still seated, merely let out a low chuckle.

Then, with unhurried grace, he stood up and turned to face her.

"Oh? You're back already?" He smirked, as if amused. "I got bored, so I decided to watch your precious kingdom from the window."

Emmalise's grip on her dagger tightened.

She had never seen this man before.

Tall—towering, really—with broad shoulders and a commanding presence, he exuded an aura that set her instincts on high alert. He was unbelievably handsome.

His hair was dark, framing a sharp face, but it was his eyes that unnerved her the most.

Crimson.

Deep, bloody red.

Like the ominous moon she had once in her kingdom, the day that disaster occurred.

This man was dangerous.

"What do you want?" She scowled. "Get the fuck out before I call the knights to kill you."

Instead of reacting with fear or anger, the man only laughed softly.

"Oh my, my Queen." His voice was smooth as silk.

"Such harsh words. That beautiful mouth of yours shouldn't be tainted with such vulgarities."

Emmalise bristled, but before she could snap back, he took a step closer, his presence suffocating.

"Besides," he murmured, eyes gleaming, "I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help you."