Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

5 Months after the plague started in Promised Land

Regulus slammed his fist against the table, the sound echoing violently through the grand hall.

Half the cardinals flinched instinctively—the other half couldn't, for they were already dead. Victims of the Red Slumber.

Their desperate attempts to contain the plague had proven futile. The protocols were flawed, the response chaotic, and the death toll unthinkable.

The most common fate was grotesque: blood gushing from the eyes, mouth, and ears until the body gave out in a gruesome display of suffering.

Even the medical staff, hardened by years of battlefield wounds and illness, had started to break. Some had gone mad. Others had taken their own lives.

And yet, their God remained silent.

Despite fervent daily prayers and desperate rituals, not even the holiest of them could stop the spread. No miracles came. No divine healing as their faith, once unshakable, had begun to crack.

"I told you!" Regulus growled, striking the table again, the veins in his arms straining under his fury. "Hiding behind closed gates was never enough!"

His voice thundered through the hall. "Do you even realize how many men we've lost?! We can't even muster a thousand soldiers—a thousand!—because the plague has wiped them all out!"

He paced, silver hair falling over his eyes before he shoved it back with a trembling hand. "If we had launched a full-scale attack on Cortinvar back then, we might've had a chance! A slim one, yes—but a chance nonetheless!"

"You know that would've been suicide," said Saintess Theresia, her voice low but firm. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

"Our forces would've been crushed between plague and sword. Either way, they would've died."

"So what?!" Regulus snapped, eyes blazing.

"At least we would've fought! Now all we can do is rot in this cursed land, waiting to die—helpless, useless, and broken!" His breath was ragged, fury bursting through every word.

Theresia's brow furrowed. "Regulus… is war the only thing you care about? What about the people? The civilians? The ones who look to us for hope? Do you think they mean nothing compared to your obsession with killing the Lord of Calamity?"

The room fell into tense silence as all eyes turned to Regulus. The question hung heavy in the air.

"I care about the fate of this world!" he shouted, jabbing a finger toward her.

"If we do nothing, if we let that filthy daemon continue to spread, he will devour everything! Not just our armies—not just us—but the very people you claim to protect!"

His voice cracked as the rage boiled over. His hands trembled—not with fear, but the weight of responsibility.

Regulus was a calm and collected man. He rarely raises his voice and always comes in neat and gentle voice.

But ever since the Lord of Calamity awakened, the world had spiraled into chaos. The Oracle—the one meant to speak the Goddess's will—had gone silent.

She hasn't opened her eyes after the old Lord of Calamity died, as if she died with him.

The burden now fell solely on his shoulders.

And the woman standing before him—she, of all people—dared to block his path?

He was furious beyond reason.

However, just as the heated argument seemed ready to erupt into chaos, the heavy doors of the council chamber swung open.

A small figure stepped inside, dressed in a flowing white gown that trailed slightly behind her. Her soft pink hair was tied into twin tails, each curl bouncing with every step she took.

Golden eyes, calm and disinterested, scanned the room with the bored expression of someone who'd seen this all before.

"Seriously?" she said flatly, "You're still arguing about the same thing you were months ago?"

"Saintess Cosette?!" Theresia gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief.

She immediately rushed forward and threw her arms around the smaller woman, nearly lifting her off the ground.

"Oh my! You're finally back!"

"Ow! Let go, stop—ugh, I said stop hugging me!"

Cosette flailed awkwardly before finally slipping out of Theresia's smothering embrace, fixing her slightly wrinkled gown with a sigh.

Regulus sighed as well, brushing his silver hair back from his face. "What are you doing here, Cosette?"

"I came to deliver news," she said nonchalantly, sauntering further into the room, "The medicine the witches developed is a success. Most of the western kingdoms and territories have begun to accept them as their salvation."

The room fell deathly silent.

"What?!" Regulus and Theresia shouted in unison.

Cosette blinked innocently. "I wanted to tell you yesterday, but you two were too busy yelling at each other like angry toddlers."

One of the cardinals stood, stunned. "Saintess Cosette, is what you say true? Then… what about the cardinals and their followers? The ones in another kingdom?"

Cosette tilted her head, and then frowned slightly. "Don't you receive any update from Cortinvar?"

The room turned pale.

They hadn't.

No report from High Priest Orson. No letters. No divine signs. They had all been too preoccupied with surviving the plague to notice the silence creeping in.

Now, the realization hit them like a thunderclap.

Cosette's voice was calm, almost detached. "Now you understand."

"Tch… Can you use your All-Knowing?" Regulus stepped toward her, his voice sharpened but no longer hostile.

"Search for Orson—or any of our envoys. Anyone who was assigned beyond the Promised Land."

Cosette slowly shook her head. "Some of my vision links have been… severed. That means those regions are now completely cut off from me."

She reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small grey pill, pinching it between her gloved fingers.

"Though, before my vision went dark, some of the envoys reported they were losing followers. The people had begun turning to the witches. Trusting them instead."

She extended her hand and placed the pill on the table.

"This," she said, "is their so-called 'Miracle Medicine.' I brought it back from one of the western strongholds."

The council members leaned in to look at it, none daring to touch it yet.

"I suggest you reverse-engineer it and claim it came from the Church," Cosette continued in her usual calm voice, "Then distribute it freely, as an offering from the Goddess herself."

Silence thickened the air. Even Regulus, furious just moments before, could only stare at the tiny, unassuming pill that now symbolized a greater truth.

They were no longer the world's salvation.

Someone else had taken that role.

And the people were beginning to forget them.

"But that's a witch's product!" Theresia protested, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Their teachings are considered blasphemy!" She didn't even dare touch the small grey pill, as if it might corrupt her on contact.

"Well, that's up to you," Cosette said with a shrug. "But we're royally screwed if we don't do something."

"Cosette, language!" Theresia snapped, flustered, but Cosette didn't even flinch.

Regulus remained silent, rubbing his chin, eyes narrowing in deep thought. Then, almost to himself, he muttered, "The witches' medicine… Do they all have the exact same product?"

"Same shape, same taste, same color—even when they supposedly have no contact with one another?"

Cosette's lips curled into a sly smile. "Oh? Finally, someone gets it."

She strolled over to an empty chair and dropped into it with casual elegance. "You're absolutely right, Regulus. I found that suspicious too."

She leaned back, folding her arms. "According to what I've gathered, the witches all claimed they received the same dream—some kind of prophetic vision—that led them to this formula. The exact same dream. Convenient, don't you think?"

She tilted her head. "But Goddess Eunomia has always made it clear that witches who consort with daemons are enemies of the faith."

"So why would She grant them an oracle while leaving us in the dark?"

The chamber went quiet, tension winding around every word.

"And the mass production?" Cosette continued. "In such a short time? Without centralized coordination? It reeks of manipulation."

"You mean to say… someone orchestrated it?" Theresia's voice was softer now, serious. She stepped back, her eyes narrowing.

Cosette nodded. "Whoever it was wants to end the discrimination against witches—and shatter the Church's influence in the process."

Regulus's eyes flared with realization. "That must be the Lord of Calamity's doing!"

"Exactly!" Cosette said, clapping once with a grin. "I checked the pill for traces of dark mana—nothing. Either he's hiding it perfectly, or…" She raised a finger. "It's entirely man-made from normal ingredients."

She let the silence linger, then said with a devilish grin, "And I'm betting on the latter."

"Which means," she leaned forward, golden eyes gleaming, "we can copy it. No, we can improve it. Claim it as a divine miracle from the Church."

"Turn their salvation into our weapon."

Her feet kicked playfully beneath the table as Regulus and Theresia exchanged glances. There was fear in their eyes—but something else too.

Resolve.

Without a word, they nodded.

This medicine might be their enemy weapon, but they weren't stupid enough to throw it if they could make it their own.

One stone for two birds, if they successfully make and produce the medicine and at the same time successful at marketing it too.

And more importantly, "We need to give it to the holy knight and all our army first. They are our priority for now."