Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 101: Strange Witch Hunter

"Why do you suddenly care?!" Aurelia snapped, slapping Rhys's hand away.

"You're the one who stabbed my mom with your sword!"

Rhys exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy, shoulder-length brown hair in frustration.

"Stop being so damn stubborn if you want to stay alive!" he shouted back. "Get back to the damn hut!"

His voice hit her like a slap, leaving her frozen in place. The fragile trust that had started to bloom inside her cracked in an instant.

Just when she thought he might be different, he reminded her of every other witch hunter she'd crossed—cold, forceful, cruel.

But then Rhys limped forward, his movements stiff and uneven from the wound she'd inflicted with her magic. Still, he pressed on without looking back.

"I'll be the one to go into the village," he said. "I'll get the supplies. The information."

Aurelia stared at his back, a storm of conflicted emotions swelling inside her—distrust, guilt, fear… and something else she couldn't name.

He could be reporting her to the Church. He could be planning to leave her here to die alone in the forest.

But despite everything… deep down, she didn't think he would.

Still, she wasn't stupid.

After waiting a few minutes, she circled through the woods until she found a higher vantage point just outside the village.

She crouched low in the shadows, keeping her eyes fixed on the entrance.

If he betrayed her… she'd see it.

She had to be sure.

But to Aurelia's surprise, Rhys didn't act suspicious at all.

He moved through the village like any ordinary traveler—buying vegetables with his own coins, bartering for cloth, chatting briefly with a few villagers.

The place was small, oddly quiet, almost eerie in its stillness. There weren't many people, and no signs of the Church's holy knights and clerics or inquisitors lurking nearby.

Still, Aurelia didn't lower her guard.

Even as he left the village and headed toward the outskirts—his gaze scanning the trees, as if searching for her—she continued trailing him from the shadows.

But when he finally gave up and headed back to the hut, she looped around and silently appeared behind him.

"Oh? You're behaving like a good girl for once?" he muttered, clearly exhausted, as he tossed the supplies inside the hut.

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"Change your clothes first. I'll go after you." He coughed into his hand, trying to hide it.

"Uh... okay…" Aurelia replied awkwardly, guilt flickering in her chest. Maybe he wasn't as bad as she thought.

After changing into the spare clothes he brought, she took the dirty clothes and made her way to the river.

She washed them carefully, then collected the fish Rhys had cleverly trapped nearby.

But when she returned, everything shifted.

"Rhys?!" she gasped.

He lay collapsed on the ground, his breathing shallow and uneven. Sweat clung to his forehead.

Panic surged in her chest as she dropped the fish and rushed to him.

His skin was burning hot.

"What happened to you?! What do I do?" she muttered, frantically taking off his shirt.

Her eyes widened as she saw the wound—fresh and angry, likely worsened from his earlier exertion.

"Damn it… this must be our fight," she whispered.

Without wasting time, she fetched clean water and began tending the wound. Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to focus.

Then she remembered—the spell her mother taught her long ago. It could help diagnose the cause.

She hovered her hand above his chest and murmured, "Morbificus Sensor."

A faint green light glowed in her palm, warm and pulsing. As it touched his skin, the light intensified—then flickered, turning to a sickly hue.

"This… This is—!"

***

"A plague in Ratched Village?" Claude arched a brow, marking the location with a sharp cross on the map.

Vulture gave a firm nod. "Yes. It's not spreading rapidly since it's a small, isolated village and merchants rarely pass through… but nearby settlements have already begun to show signs of infection."

Claude hummed thoughtfully before turning to Wren. "Inform Llyold of the situation. I want him to oversee containment personally. Make sure every slave already transported to Elysium is thoroughly examined—no exceptions."

Claude learns something from the fall of House Algren. First daemons weren't immune to the plague, second plagues came in two forms: those born of dark magic, and those that occurred naturally.

Yet most people or even daemons believed all sickness was the work of curses and the corrupted breath of daemons.

Ironically, the daemons themselves were immune to the first kind—the ones conjured by magic—but not to the second.

That was why it was vital to prevent any natural plague from reaching Elysium. If it spread there, even the daemon-blooded would fall.

Wren bowed slightly before stepping away.

Claude then shifted his gaze to the village chief. "As for you, instruct the paramedics to run full health inspections on all miners. If even one shows symptoms, isolate them immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The chief gave a respectful nod.

"Your Majesty," Hendrich spoke up, his tone edged with disappointment, "does this mean our campaign will be postponed?"

Claude smirked, folding his arms. "Of course not. Continue with operations in the unaffected areas. The momentum must not be lost."

He turned away from the table. "Besides, I have an important meeting today."

"Oh? Is it with Cortinvar?" Sun's eyes lit up with excitement. "Did they finally want to cooperate?"

"Let's hope for the best," Claude replied coolly.

"Even if they hesitate to cooperate, our barrier will hold. We've prepared for far worse."

After the meeting ended, Claude activated the small black diamond resting on the table.

It was a magical communication device—an expensive one if purchased from the Mage Tower, but this one had been crafted by his own dark mages.

Skilled and resourceful, they could replicate what the tower monopolized, and sometimes even improve it.

The diamond, called Nyxon, glowed faintly before projecting a shimmering hologram of Queen Emmalise of Cortinvar.

"Greetings, Your Majesty Claude," she said politely, her tone formal and measured.

Claude chuckled. "Drop the formality, Emmalise. Just get to the point—are you working with us or not?"

She exhaled, hesitating for a moment before answering. "You were right about one thing. The Church has been meeting with my brother," she said, glancing off to her right with mild frustration.

"And to think—I assumed that priest was just a soft-hearted old man."

Claude scoffed. "Don't be fooled by their smiles. If they were truly as virtuous as they claim, they wouldn't burn children, women, or men for being witches or dark mages."

"You may be right..." she murmured, massaging her temples.

"As for our cooperation—I'll consider it. But only if you can show me how you plan to deal with the holy bastards."

Claude's eyes gleamed. "Smart answer. But in exchange, I want your hand in marriage," he teased with a crooked grin.

To his surprise, Emmalise didn't brush it off.

"I will," she said with a smirk of her own.

"Show me you're a king worthy of standing above the world, Claude. Conquer it, and I'll stand by your side."