Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Claude surveyed the room, his sharp gaze moving across the rows of ancient relics—armors, swords, bows, shields, and more, all encased in pristine glass.

"Now, Eldrich, tell me—which of these will fetch the highest price at auction?" he asked, arms crossed.

Eldrich stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse me, Your Majesty?"

Claude had dragged him all the way to the artifact room—a vast collection of Lord Donovan's most prized possessions, trophies from battles and conquests spanning the world.

Each piece was a testament to Elysium's might, a legacy of blood and glory. And now, the king wanted to sell them?!

Eldrich would rather die.

"You can't, Your Majesty! These artifacts are proof of Elysium's greatness!" Layla was the first to protest, her voice sharp with disapproval.

Claude, unbothered, let his fingers drift toward one of the glass cases, stopping just short of touching it.

"Right, and how much does it cost to maintain all of these?" he mused. "You know… considering they'll probably shatter the moment I lay a hand on them?"

Eldrich nearly had a heart attack, rushing forward to stop him. "Your Majesty, please! If you touch them like that, they really will break!"

Claude smirked. "See? They're fragile, expensive, and serve no purpose beyond collecting dust."

"That money could be used for something far more practical—like funding pregnancy care for women who want children. And when those children grow up, we can send them to war." His tone was so casual it was chilling.

"Your Majesty!" Layla gasped.

Wren, however, snorted. "You know, he has a point. These relics are a waste of space. I always hated them anyway."

Eldrich's head snapped toward his son, and he gasped. "What did you just say?!"

Wren shrugged. "You've been shoving this steward nonsense down my throat my entire life, lecturing me about useless antiques, when you know my real passion is becoming a knight, Father." He placed a proud hand on his chest.

"To hell with your passion, Wren!" Eldrich barked, arms flailing dramatically.

"These artifacts—my artifacts—are my life! I won't let you touch them, not even if it's an order from the King himself!"

Claude raised a brow as Eldrich dramatically spread his arms and legs, guarding the relics as if shielding a clutch of newborns.

"These are my babies! My pride! My perfect sons! I refuse to part with even one!"

Wren blinked. "Eh? Aren't I your proud son?"

"Shut up, Wren! Of course, you are. But these?" Eldrich motioned to the artifacts, eyes glistening with raw emotion. "They're more important than my own life!"

Claude exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Wren, do something about your father."

Wren scratched his head, looking helpless. "Your Majesty, men his age have heads harder than stone and wills as immovable as mountains. I don't think I can help you here."

Claude groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Layla, still visibly concerned, spoke up. "Your Majesty, even if you manage to sell these artifacts, your policy regarding pregnancy for war isn't exactly… effective. It takes years to raise an army that way, and war is right in front of us."

Claude's expression didn't waver. "Believe me, it will work. We need human resources not just for war, but for the kingdom's overall production."

Layla frowned, rubbing her chin. "Human… what?"

Claude didn't have time to explain economic theory. Instead, he turned back to Eldrich and sighed. "Just make a list. Rank them from most historically significant to least. I'll decide which ones stay and which ones go."

Eldrich paled. "B-but Your Majesty! You can't do this to my babies!" His voice wavered on the brink of tears.

Claude had had enough. He grabbed the old man by the face, squeezing his cheeks. "Just do what I said and shut up."

Eldrich whimpered, nodding reluctantly.

Claude finally stepped out of the artifact room, leaving behind Eldrich's endless ramblings. The moment he entered the garden, his tense shoulders eased slightly.

The asphodel flowers were in full bloom, their black petals swaying under the breeze, while the rare blue roses stood proudly among them—a sight he had ordered Keira to turn this side of the palace into little spring so that his mother could find solace here.

Yet today, it was his mind that needed relief.

His crimson eyes traced the gentle ripples of the small spring, his thoughts heavy, his patience worn thin.

"Your Majesty, you seem more stressed than ever. What happened?"

Layla's voice pulled him back. She was seated on the stone bench beside him, maintaining some distance—though not as much as before.

Claude turned his head to her, his gaze naturally drifting from her sharp, inquisitive face… down to her armored chest, where her curves still pressed against the confines of metal and fabric.

"Hmm…"

Before she could react, he leaned in closer—so close that she instinctively tensed. And before she could slip away, Claude rested his head against her breasts, settling into them as if they were his personal pillow.

A deep, satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

"Hahh… This is better."

His mind cleared instantly. 'Tits really can heal anything.'

"Y-Your Majesty! This is too much!" Layla stammered, her body frozen in place.

"Sshh… Just stay still, Layla. You're my general and my concubine. You should know your duties, right?" His voice was teasing, but his exhaustion was real.

Layla's face burned red from his words, but she didn't push him away.

Claude sighed again, shifting slightly to get comfortable. "Your damn father… he keeps drilling nonsense into my head and stifling my rage."

His lips twisted into a wry smirk. "And yet, the worst part? His suggestions actually make sense. And they work. Damn it."

Layla sighed in understanding. "Yes… my father is like that."

She leaned back slightly, staring at the sky. "He's always been controlling, even with me and my sister. We felt like birds trapped in a golden cage."

Her voice dipped. "That's why my sister ended up the way she did."

Claude glanced at her, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Right. But I have to admit, I'm grateful for his strict discipline."

He tilted his head slightly, his cheek brushing against her warm skin. "If you'd been raised in a normal family, you probably wouldn't have even spared me a glance, right?"

Layla's pointed ears twitched before drooping slightly. "You're not wrong…" She hesitated before adding, "We must seem strange to you."

Claude chuckled. "Not at all. In fact, I'm quite lucky to have concubines as hot as you and your sister."

His voice dropped to a playful murmur. "And you can't deny it either, Layla. My cock felt amazing inside you, didn't it?"

Layla jerked upright, utterly flustered. "Y-Your Majesty! Stop teasing me like that!" Her fists lightly thumped against his head, her entire face glowing red.

Claude only laughed, his head bouncing against the softness of her chest. "Why are you still so shy? We're already lovers, and we're going to have sex many, many times. You might as well stop acting so adorable, don't you think?"

Layla let out a frustrated groan, her blush spreading to the tips of her ears. "Ugh! Just shut up!" She grabbed his dark hair and shook his head around in retaliation.

Claude let himself be tossed around, grinning like a fool. His childhood self would have killed to be in this exact position.