Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 58: The Daughters Of Xalvach House

The Xalvach House, bearing the symbol of the Black Rose, was one of the most powerful among the Honorable Houses.

For generations, they had commanded Elysium’s military and defense, producing warriors of unmatched strength.

But when Lord Llyold Xalvach fathered twin daughters instead of a male heir, many considered it a misfortune.

His advisors pressured him to remarry, especially after his wife’s passing during childbirth.

Yet Llyold refused.

His marriage had been one of love—a rarity among daemon nobility. He wouldn’t dishonor his wife’s memory for the sake of tradition.

And as fate would have it, Layla and Lilac quickly proved themselves more than worthy.

By the time they came of age, they had already mastered martial arts, swordsmanship, and magic.

They were the pride of House Xalvach—and of Llyold himself.

Which was why, when both declared their intent to become the King’s concubines, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse.

Now, however, under immense pressure from those opposing the King, Llyold found himself hesitant.

Across the dining table, Layla let out a frustrated sigh, setting her fork and knife down with a clink.

"Father, I don’t understand how you’ve become so soft. Just reject them outright."

"It’s not that simple, Layla." Llyold swirled the wine in his glass, deep in thought.

"We don’t yet know how capable the King truly is—or how his reign will affect our House in the long run."

Lilac, always the calmer of the two, spoke next. "Are you afraid Claude won’t withstand the pressure from the opposition?"

"You know he won’t break that easily, Father," Layla interjected.

"In fact, I think he’ll crush every one of his enemies. And if you lend him your support, it’ll tip the balance in his favor when war with the holy people inevitably breaks out."

Llyold sighed, taking a slow sip of wine. The Xalvach family had always produced formidable generals, their bloodline carrying at least three-star evolutions.

The King already had the backing of the Julven House, which controlled the treasury, and the Varnaz House, skilled in diplomacy and politics.

If Llyold pledged loyalty, the remaining Honorable Houses would be left weakened, unable to openly defy the King’s rule.

Yet strength alone wasn’t the issue.

"Sometimes, a leader needs to rely on intellect rather than brute force," Llyold finally said.

"That’s what I need to determine—whether His Majesty can truly rule with wisdom, not just power."

Layla sighed, popping a grape into her mouth. "But if we’re pregnant with His Majesty’s child, wouldn’t that automatically align our house with him?"

Llyold nearly choked on his wine.

"Well, yes," he admitted, chuckling despite himself.

"Especially if the King selects his heir based on strength and competition."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "In that case, my grandchild would undoubtedly win."

Lilac grinned. "See, sister? Isn’t that great?"

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Layla nodded vigorously.

Then, realization hit Llyold like a thunderbolt. His expression turned to panic.

"Girls! Don’t do it! Think about this House—think about your poor old father!"

Layla waved a hand dismissively. "Father, you’re a four-star evolution. You’re strong. You and the House will be fine."

"And shouldn’t you consider your daughters’ happiness?"

Lilac added, her navy blue eyes wide and pleading.

"We love His Majesty, so please, Father?"

Llyold groaned, covering his face with one hand. How was he supposed to argue when they looked at him like that? But this was different!

Desperate to reason with them, he tried, "Girls, you’ve barely even spoken with His Majesty. How about starting with a tea party first?"

Layla shook her head. "Oh, please. You can’t play that game when you fell in love with Mother at first sight and married her on the same day."

"She’s right," Lilac chimed in, grinning. "Your love was so peaceful and perfect, you never even remarried because you adored Mother too much. So why can’t we do the same?"

"That’s completely different! Because it’s me!"

Llyold ran a frustrated hand through his dark purple hair. "I haven’t even had a proper conversation with my son-in-law yet!"

"So talk to him," Layla pressed. "And pledge your loyalty while you’re at it."

Llyold groaned, utterly exasperated. His daughters weren’t children anymore, yet arguing with them felt like trying to reason with toddlers.

Finally, he stood abruptly. "We’ll discuss this another day!"

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining room, leaving his daughters behind—still protesting.

***

Llyold sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the sealed letter resting atop his desk.

Without hesitation, he grabbed it and tossed it into the fireplace. Flames consumed the paper, curling its edges into ash.

Leaning back in his chair, he let out a weary sigh.

"Even if I said that, those girls will still do something reckless."

He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "They’re their father’s daughters, after all."

His eyes drifted to the large portrait hanging above the fireplace—a woman with flowing black hair and deep blue eyes, her smile gentle yet radiant.

"Can you see them from up there?" he murmured.

"They’ve grown into strong women… and now they want children of their own."

His voice softened, nostalgia creeping into his tone. "I wish you were here to see how crazy they’ve become."

***

"Has Llyold responded?"

The question came from an elderly daemon, his thinning gray hair betraying the weight of years and stress.

It was Eldrich.

"I doubt he will," Ranon muttered, rubbing his temples.

"His daughters are the King’s concubines now. If that’s the case, Llyold will never betray him. He adores those girls—he’d sacrifice anything for them."

"Fool!"

The sudden slam of a fist against the table echoed through the dimly lit room.

The source of the outburst was a man with a missing thumb and half his body covered in burn scars, his scalp left bald from the damage.

Chester.

"I can’t believe the great General has gone soft over his daughters," Chester sneered. "He should be ashamed of himself."

Ranon’s gaze hardened. "And I can’t believe you’d betray your own brother."

"Hah! That weakling was never worthy of leading the Xalvach family," Chester spat, his scarred fingers digging into the marred flesh of his face.

"I was always the better one! The stronger one! That fire… it should have been mine!" His voice cracked with frustration, the bitterness palpable.

"This is bad… This is very bad…"

Eldrich muttered, his hands shaking as he absentmindedly plucked at his remaining strands of hair.

Then, the door creaked open.

For a moment, the dim room was bathed in a sliver of light before the door shut again, swallowing them back into darkness.

A figure cloaked in black strode inside and took the head seat at the table.

Eldrich’s breath hitched before a glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes. "Oh! Oh! You’ve finally come!"

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The robed man chuckled. "Don’t worry so much." His voice was smooth, composed.

"The King may be strong, but he’s a newcomer—an impatient brat in a game far beyond him."

"He will make a mistake. And even if he doesn’t… we’ll make sure he does."

A chilling silence filled the room.

"And when that happens, it will be the end of him."