Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 184: Taking Back Durnvile

Saintess Marienne stood atop the broken ramparts, her pristine cloak fluttering in the morning wind. Below, her knights moved with discipline, repairing broken barricades and tending to the wounded.

Also killed the daemon survivors except their captain or lieutenant. After all, keeping them as prisoner would decrease the supply they get from this town.

Though, the holy people didnt dare to touch it, moreover eat it, but the King of Hyparia would like what they brought with them to add to their war supply.

The town was nearly secured.

Then the crystal on her belt flared to life.

She tapped it, expecting a report.

Instead, the voice of the royal advisor came through, urgent and sharp.

"By His Majesty's command, you are to return to the capital immediately, Saintess. The King requires your protection at once."

Marienne's brow furrowed. "Return? Now? What of the front line? We've just taken Durnvale—there are still countermeasures to deploy. Claude's retaliation will be swift."

"The order is absolute. His Majesty insists. Preparations are already being made for your return."

The crystal dimmed.

Marienne exhaled through her nose, lowering the device with visible frustration.

"This is foolish," she muttered. "The capital is fortified. I belong here—pressing forward."

Behind her, Captain Lucien approached, cautious. "Shall I protest on your behalf?"

She shook her head. "No. The King has made up his mind. I'll leave by midday."

"I don't think the Lord Of Calamity would leave his outpost, he must sent someone here to get this town back."

"My true mission is done here anyway," she looked at Lucien, "Still hold this town as long as possible."

She glanced at the town—her carefully placed soldiers, the support squads, the command rhythm she had just established. Her battle strategy was working. Efficiently.

And now it was about to be unraveled.

"Also remember this, Captain," she said quietly. "The moment I'm recalled again, the tide will shift. And they will regret pulling me from this field."

Lucien bowed solemnly. "We'll hold in your absence, Saintess."

"You'd better," she said, turning toward the departing wagons. "Because the Lord of Calamity won't."

***

The sun had barely risen when General Samson received the news from his spies—Saintess Marienne had departed Durnvale at dawn.

"She actually left… just like His Majesty predicted," the spy reported, still winded from his haste.

Samson stood atop a rocky outcropping, overlooking the enemy-held town in the distance. A glint of gold still shimmered faintly from Durnvale's central chapel, but the movement of holy troops had clearly changed.

Only a skeleton force remained—guards posted for appearances. Marienne, for all her brilliance, had taken most of the elite troops with her.

"Hmph." Samson folded his arms, his cape fluttering behind him. "She's smart enough to keep a defense up, but not strong enough to hold this town against me."

He turned to his aide. "Gather the battalion. We move in three hours. Tell the beast handlers to release only two packs. We'll keep the others for the follow-up. I want the cleanest path possible."

"Yes, sir!"

As the preparations began, Samson withdrew to his tent. He unsheathed his sword—a massive claymore forged from volcanic steel and etched with runes—and rested it across his lap. It hummed faintly in tune with his heartbeat.

Unlike most knights, Samson was both a master of the blade and a high-level war caster. His four-star evolution had gifted him the ability to imbue destructive magic into every strike, making his every swing a weapon of mass annihilation.

But he wouldn't waste that power today.

"His Majesty said to take the town back. He didn't say how," Samson muttered to himself, smirking.

As the sun climbed higher, Samson's army approached from the northern slope. From afar, it looked like a small raiding force. That was part of the trick.

Lucien, one of the Saintess's captains who had been left behind to maintain the occupation, squinted down from a watchtower.

He knew they couldn't repel a full Elysium force—not without Saintess Marienne. But he wasn't about to surrender.

"Alert the mages. Tighten the wards. We stall them long enough until we receive word from the capital!" Lucien barked. "No one breaks rank!"

What Lucien didn't know was that Samson didn't intend to break ranks—he intended to break him.

The first wave wasn't soldiers. It was smoke. Thicker than fog and laced with hallucinogenic spell residue, it seeped through the outer wards.

Then came whispering illusions—projected images of flaming beasts and phantom soldiers charging from different angles.

Lucien's men broke formation almost immediately.

"Hold the line! Don't listen to it and don't be scared, it just an illusion!" he shouted, slashing down a phantom only to find it wasn't an illusion at all—a beast had slipped through the cover.

The real assault came moments later. Samson's frontliners—elite shock troopers—crashed through the weakened eastern barricade like a storm.

Lucien met them with his sword drawn, parrying strikes and casting light-based defensive barriers on instinct.

But then came the storm.

Samson entered the fray with a flash of crimson magic pulsing from his blade. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he dashed through the smoke and struck Lucien head-on. Their blades met with a deafening shockwave, sending debris and soldiers flying.

Lucien managed to hold the clash—barely. His arms screamed from the impact.

"You're no average knight," Samson said calmly, his next strike lighting his sword with embers. "Let's see how long you can keep up."

"And you are a filthy daemon." Lucien flared his magic, chanting, "Lux Reprima!" A dome of light formed around him, blocking the next strike.

"Huh? Just this? I expected more." Samson simply grinned.

He pivoted, sweeping his leg to knock Lucien off balance, then used his free hand to channel a burst of kinetic energy into the dome.

It shattered.

Lucien coughed blood, stumbling back as Samson advanced with relentless precision. Unlike other Elysium generals, Samson wasn't theatrical. He was efficient. Brutal.

"Your Saintess left you behind. But you should be honored," Samson said as he raised his blade again. "You'll be the only one I bother interrogating."

"I'm done yet, daemon! I won't let you take back this town!" Lucien roared and launched himself forward in a final strike, holy energy coating his blade in golden flame.

"Huh, what a useless counterattack. But hey, at least you still has some pride left." Samson met him halfway—and broke the attack with a downward smash.

Lucien crumpled. "Goddess Eunomia... I failed."

Moments later, the remaining defenders had either been slain or fled into the forest. Durnvale was back under Elysium's control.

Samson stood amid the burning remains of the town square, his sword dripping with blood and steam.

"Take him alive," he ordered, pointing to the unconscious Lucien. "He might still be useful."

And with that, the tide turned once more—and Durnvale became Elysium's foothold again.

***

King Halven, barefoot and dressed in a wrinkled night-robe, paced back and forth. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands trembled with every nervous glance he cast toward the curtained windows.

Saintess Marienne sat on a divan draped in gold-trimmed white. Her attitude contrast with the king as she was calm and collected.

"You must stay," the king whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling.

"Marienne, you must. That daemon—he's coming. He'll burn this city to ash. The Lord of Calamity cannot be reasoned with!"

Marienne tilted her head slightly. "Your Majesty, we anticipated that. But the proper response is preparation, not panic."

"You don't understand!" he shouted suddenly, flinching even at the sound of his own voice. "He'll kill me—rip me apart like Ciel! And you—you said it yourself! You said he would!"

"I said he might, not would," she said gently. "And only if the Kingdom fails to stand united."

The king turned to her, eyes wide and full of fevered desperation. "But you said I would die. That's why—you said I needed you. You would be my savior!"

Ah. There it was.

The Whispers of Obedience, cast weeks ago under the guise of divine clarity, was working too well. The king's mind was unraveling faster than she anticipated.

Meant only to make him pliable and trusting, the spell had begun feeding off his fears, paranoia, and delusion.

It worked too well.

Marienne sighed. "You need rest, Your Majesty."

She raised her staff slightly. A soft white glow shimmered from its gem.

"Dormire in lumine. Pax et requiem."

Sleep in the light. Peace and rest.

The glow touched the king's brow and his eyelids drooped. With a relieved exhale, he collapsed into the cushions behind him, asleep at last. For now.

As she lowered the staff, the chamber door opened quietly.

The royal advisor stepped in. A thin, sharp-eyed man dressed in muted blue, he stood beside the shelves lined with old scrolls, watching her closely.

"You've calmed His Majesty," he said softly.

Marienne didn't turn. "He was in distress. I did what needed to be done."

"And now?" he asked. "Will you stay?" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"I intend to return to Durnvale at dawn. My knights await my orders."

The advisor's lips thinned. "His Majesty would prefer you remain. For his safety."

Marienne's eyes narrowed slightly. "He is asleep. And safe."

"Yes. But as his advisor, I believe your presence here is wise. Temporarily, at least. After all, what better way to protect a paranoid king than with the saintess herself?"

The words were smooth, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. A request. A test. A trap.

He doesn't trust me, she thought. But he'd rather keep me close, where he can observe.

She gave him a faint smile. "Of course. For His Majesty's peace of mind, I shall remain for a short while."

The advisor bowed slightly, but his eyes never left her. Marienne let the silence linger as she stared at the slumbering king, her fingers slowly tapping her staff.

There was still a war to win.

And now, a palace to navigate.