Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 73: A New Name, A New Life

Elysium remained blanketed in snow, though its winters were far gentler than those of the Malgrave Mountains.

The kingdom's barrier and ever-present mist shielded it from the world, offering a serene, untouched beauty even in the cold.

Claude had the power to alter the weather through Keira, but she had warned him—it would require an immense amount of energy, that could only be obtain by sacrificing another race soul.

That was precisely why the Lord of Calamity, Donovan, sought to conquer the world—to ensure the daemon race could thrive beyond this hidden sanctuary.

Despite the season, the garden party was a success. Honorable Houses, both main and branch families, arrived in small numbers—Claude had deliberately kept the guest list exclusive, both for the sake of the budget and because he despised unnecessary extravagance.

But even so, he didn't see this gathering as wasteful. Not when he saw the way Dalia's face lit up.

She sat beside him, dressed in a stunning white gown adorned with black asphodel, matching Claude's and Morion's attire.

As the maids applied a touch of blush to her cheeks, Morion, who had been watching curiously, suddenly exclaimed, "Wow! What is that, Mother? That red-pinkish color looks so good on you!"

Claude had initially been concerned about how Morion would react to Dalia, but to his relief, they had bonded quickly. Dalia had a way of capturing a child's heart effortlessly.

"This is called blush," Dalia explained, smiling warmly at the girl. "Would you like to try some?"

Morion's eyes sparkled as she nodded eagerly. The maids applied a light touch of makeup to her face, making her giggle in delight.

"You seem happy, Mother," Claude remarked, observing the joy in her expression.

Dalia turned to him, her blue eyes filled with warmth. "I've never had my own surname before, the last surname was from Enzo. So yes, I'm happy to finally have one."

Claude hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you like your own surname, since what I will give you is the same as mine."

Dalia took his hand gently, shaking her head. "I'll take yours. I love everything you give me… and I want to be in the same family as you and Morion."

She turned to the little girl and playfully pinched her cheek. "Right, Morion?"

Morion flinched, immediately touching her face in alarm. "Don't touch it, Mother! The maid said makeup is vulnerable! It'll disappear!"

She rushed to check her reflection, only to sigh in relief when she saw her makeup remained intact.

Dalia burst into laughter, pulling the girl into a hug while Claude simply sat back, watching them with a rare sense of contentment.

Once Dalia was ready, Claude extended his hand to her, and together they walked side by side toward the garden, with Morion clinging to his left.

As the maids pushed open the ornate gates, they stepped onto the path leading to the garden's center, where someone was already waiting beneath an arch of black asphodel flowers—the symbol of the royal family.

The flowers burned, their ashes falling like delicate black petals, creating an endless cascade that merged beautifully with the snow surrounding them.

All eyes turned to them as they approached. At the center of the arch stood Alastair Azraral, a young man from one of the Honorable Houses that had always remained neutral.

His family traditionally held key positions in daemon society—overseeing the Ministry of Health and serving as Earl Marshal, responsible for royal and state ceremonies.

Claude released Dalia's hand as she stepped under the arch, standing before Alastair. His auburn hair blended with the flowers, while his piercing green eyes remained serious and composed.

"Today, we gather to witness a significant ceremony," Alastair began, his voice steady and wise beyond his years.

"This event serves two purposes—to welcome a new member into the royal family and to celebrate the rebirth of a daemon."

Beside him, a robed man stepped forward, carrying a tray with an ornate blade. Alastair reached for it, his grip firm as he turned to Dalia.

"Give me your hand," he said.

Dalia extended her arm without hesitation. Alastair pressed the blade lightly against her skin, just enough to draw blood.

But rather than dripping down, the blood moved unnaturally, as if guided by an unseen force. It twisted and curled, shaping itself into a name—Calego.

The name burned against her skin, glowing briefly before searing into her flesh. Dalia flinched at the sensation, but within moments, the mark faded, leaving no trace behind.

Alastair lowered the blade and spoke with finality, "You are now one of us. Welcome to the family, Dalia Calego."

Dalia smiled, turning toward Claude, who met her gaze with a nod of approval.

Like an excited child, she clung to his arm and said, "I'm happy to be part of your family now. Let's build our family together from now on!" Then, without hesitation, she embraced him tightly.

Claude returned the hug, though his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

'Ugh… My heart feels like it's being crushed into pieces! This is bad… '

He forced himself to stay composed, mindful of the many eyes watching them.

After the ceremony, the real party began. Wives of the Honorable Houses eagerly introduced themselves to Dalia, and Claude finally let her go, allowing her to integrate into high society.

'If it weren't for the budget, I would have made this event open to the common folk,' he thought regretfully, shaking his head.

'I want everyone to see just how beautiful my mother is.'

As his gaze wandered across the gathering, he spotted an unexpected guest—Sophia. She lingered at the edge of the event, doing her best to avoid drawing attention.

Dressed in a striking red gown, her hair cascading down her shoulders in waves, she looked effortlessly seductive.

'Ah, her hair growing beautifully, though I like her short hair, more sexier.'

The tight bodice barely contained her generous chest, and Claude smirked, momentarily reminded that he had been too busy to visit her and her daughter.

Though he hadn't checked in personally, Sun had been keeping him updated as per his orders.

With a leisurely stride, Claude approached her. As soon as their eyes met, Sophia quickly bowed, her hands trembling slightly—whether from fear or nervousness, he wasn't sure.

"How's your condition? Do you like the palace?" he asked casually, picking up a glass of champagne and taking a slow sip.

Sophia nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty. It's… much better than Blackwood. At least, I no longer have to hide." Her voice was soft as she lowered her head.

Claude smirked and lifted her chin with a finger. "Don't be so nervous. When I was a child, didn't you like to hug and lift me up? I wouldn't mind if you treated me like that again."

Sophia's face flushed, but she quickly composed herself. "We… we can't do things like that anymore, can we?"

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She sighed, shaking her head. "I feel so foolish for never realizing you were a daemon. Not that I mean it in a bad way," she added quickly.

"I know what the so-called 'holy' people are like. They wrap themselves in their sacred robes, yet they took my child from me. And you… the so-called 'devil'… saved us."

Lowering her gaze, she bowed deeply. "Thank you again for saving me."

Claude waved it off. "No need for thanks. My vision is to save as many witches as I can."

His smirk returned as he leaned in slightly. "So… can I visit your room now?"

Sophia's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her dress. She hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Claude laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I remember you as a bold, sexy widow. But now you're acting like a shy virgin, huh?"

Sophia gasped and smacked his chest lightly. "Your Majesty! Don't tease me like that!"

He chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "What? You used to be so confident. Now you're all flustered just because I've grown?"

He leaned in, pressing her against a pillar, his breath warm against her ear. "You know where else I've grown, right?"

Sophia's entire face turned crimson as she pushed against his chest. "Claude! You—!" She wanted to scold him, but words failed her.

Claude laughed even harder, his gaze drifting to her ample chest.

'Man, she's still as sexy as ever.'

His fingers twitched with anticipation, wondering how her softness would feel in his hands… or in his mouth.

'I can't wait to fuck her.'

But another thought crossed his mind. 'I remember inviting Renee and her child too. Where are they?'

***

"Someone, please open the door!"

Renee pounded on the heavy wooden door, her voice hoarse from screaming. Her fists ached, but she didn't stop.

Behind her, on the cold, lavish bed, her baby lay weak and unmoving.

Iris had stopped crying hours ago, too exhausted to make a sound. She barely even responded when Renee touched her.

Food and water were scarce—barely enough for Renee, let alone a growing child. The maids had been giving her only scraps, and the water was so filthy she couldn't bring herself to let Iris drink it.

Instead, she melted snow, desperate to keep her baby hydrated. But milk… she had no way to provide milk.

Her own breast milk was drying up from stress and malnutrition.

Her fingers trembled as she banged against the door again. "Please… somebody help me! My baby is dying!"

She screamed with all the strength she had left, her voice echoing through the grand yet empty halls.

But no answer came.

It had been almost three days since a maid last entered—three days since anyone had checked on them, tossed out their waste, or thrown them scraps of food.

The silence was suffocating. This palace, with its grand chandeliers and golden decor, felt more like a prison. No, worse—it was hell.

Renee's knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, her forehead resting against the cold wood.

Her sobs wracked her fragile body, her arms shaking as she clutched herself.

"Please… please…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What should I do?"

Tears streamed down her face as she turned her desperate gaze to the ceiling. "Enzo… please help us…"