Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 89: The Cursed Life Of Witches

Aubree took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

The heavy silence in the room felt suffocating, her body poised for battle, ready to cast a spell the moment the door revealed an unwanted guest.

But to her surprise, it wasn't the Church.

A beautiful girl with short golden hair—so much like her own—stood at the entrance.

Her blue eyes widened in shock at the mess in the room, her hands tightening around the basket full of strawberries she had just set down on the table.

It was Aurelia.

"W-What happened, Mother?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Aubree exhaled in relief, her shoulders sagging slightly. Her daughter was safe. She was here.

"The Church has found us," Aubree said, her voice quiet but firm. "We need to leave. Now."

Aurelia quickly shut the door behind her, her expression tense. "Are we teleporting?"

Aubree shook her head. "They'll track us too easily if we do. But I'll leave a mana stone behind to mislead them."

Without another word, they worked together, hastily packing their belongings. With Aurelia's help, the process was quicker, and soon they slipped out through the lodge's back door.

Aubree gripped her daughter's hand tightly, her heart pounding as they moved through the town, blending into the crowd.

They walked as naturally as possible, forcing calm into their steps despite the terror clawing at their chests.

But then—

A scream tore through the air, piercing and desperate.

"NO! LET ME GO! I'M NOT A WITCH!"

Aubree froze mid-step, her blood running cold.

That voice—she knew it too well.

She turned, her gaze locking onto the town hall, where a woman struggled violently against the heavy iron chains binding her wrists.

Anya.

Her breath hitched, her heart twisting in agony.

For Aubree, every witch was a sister. She had fought for them, sacrificed for them. And now—she was running away while Anya was being dragged to her death.

Her body tensed, ready to move. She had to do something. She couldn't just—

A sharp pinch on her hand snapped her out of her thoughts.

Aurelia.

Her daughter trembled, tears threatening to spill as she clutched Aubree's fingers with both hands.

"Mom, don't go. I'm scared," she whispered.

Aubree felt something crack inside her.

Aurelia should have been free. She should have been living a normal life, falling in love, marrying someone who cherished her.

But she was trapped—doomed by the blood that flowed through her veins.

And it was her fault, wasn't it?

Maybe if she had been stronger, if she had been smarter to train her like her mother did in the past—Aurelia wouldn't be this scared.

Aubree clenched her fists, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood.

Then she turned away.

Her steps quickened toward the gate, each one heavier than the last. Her heart ached with every scream, every crackle of fire, every cruel laugh of the townspeople.

"NOOO!!! HURTTT!!! HELPP!!! SISTER, AUBREE SAVE MEE!!!"

"PLEASE, IT HURTSS!!!"

"Y-YOU PR... PROMISE ME!!!"

Anya's scream made Aubree stop, making her body tremble as she couldn't hold her tears anymore.

She could barely breathe.

'I'm so sorry, Anya.'

But she had to.

She had to survive. She had to save more of her sisters. She had to seal their powers before they, too, ended up on the stake.

More than anything—she had to protect Aurelia.

'Goddess… if we were only meant to be a spectacle for humans to laugh at, to be burned, shamed, and enslaved—'

'Then why did you create us at all?'

***

Rhys watched as the flames devoured the witch, her body crumbling into blackened ash. He rubbed his chin, exhaling sharply.

"So there's still one more, huh?" he muttered. "I should've waited before killing her."

Being a witch hunter was more trouble than it was worth. He had no interest in the spectacle of burning people alive, but the Church insisted on it.

They believed that witches who died by fire would be denied reincarnation, trapped in eternal damnation.

Personally, he thought it was nonsense.

'Not like most of them committed any real crimes to deserve that,' he thought bitterly. 'I hate this job.'

His irritation deepened as he noticed his subordinates laughing and celebrating. Their excitement grated on his nerves.

"Oi," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to silence them. "Did you not hear that woman scream? Her friend is still out there. Find her."

The men stiffened before scrambling to obey, spreading out through the town to track the witch's mana signature or question townsfolk about any suspicious figures.

By the time the sun dipped beyond the horizon, they had regrouped to report their findings.

"A mother and daughter left the lodge early before their stay was completed," one knight reported. "We also found this in their room." He held out a small purple mana stone.

Rhys took it, rolling it between his fingers. "Tch. She's a smart one."

"Do you think she's the one?" another asked hesitantly. "That ancient spell… could she know it?"

Rhys' grip tightened around the stone.

"Don't jump to conclusions," he said coolly. "We don't have proof yet."

But if she was the one, things were about to get a lot more complicated.

He exhaled and made his decision.

"They'll be heading for another town or village. Send word to all nearby churches—give them their physical descriptions. I want every cleric and knight on alert."

Rhys stared at the dying embers. His lips curled into a smirk.

'Ascot Town, huh?'

A smart choice—small, quiet, away from the Church's direct influence. But it wouldn't matter.

'Don't worry. I'll kill you easily.'

As he turned on his heel, one of his subordinates hesitantly called out, "High Priest, where are you going?"

Rhys sighed, rubbing his temple.

"To take a smoke break," he said flatly. "Don't bother me with trivial crap. You're all practically senior witch hunters—figure things out on your own and stop pestering me."

With a lazy wave, he walked off, leaving his men to scramble in his absence.

'Damn Church. Damn job.'

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his fingers.

'After this, I'm quitting.'

***

Aubree stumbled to a halt in the middle of the forest, doubling over as nausea overtook her.

She clutched the rough bark of a tree, heaving violently, the acrid stench of burning flesh still clinging to her senses.

"Mom, are you okay?"

Aurelia's voice was soft, hesitant. A gentle hand brushed against Aubree's shoulder, but she barely registered the touch.

She wanted to lie, to say she was fine. But the truth crushed her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she sank to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her fists pounded against the tree bark, as if punishing herself could somehow change what had happened.

Aurelia knelt beside her, unsure of what to say. Guilt gnawed at her heart but she knew she didn't deserve to cry.

She was a coward—if she hadn't stopped her mother if she had been braver, maybe Anya would still be alive.

Maybe she wouldn't have to bear this unbearable weight.

After some time, they forced themselves to move. Aubree's magic couldn't take them directly to Ascot Town, so they teleported ten kilometers away, just enough to buy themselves time.

As night fell, they sat in silence by the flickering campfire. Aurelia stirred a pot of soup, hoping the warmth would soothe her mother's frayed nerves.

But when she handed Aubree a bowl, the woman barely acknowledged it, staring blankly ahead.

"Mother..." Aurelia murmured, concern lacing her voice.

Aubree finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "Aurelia, you need to start learning magic. You need to be able to protect yourself."

Aurelia's hands tightened around the ladle. "But, Mother! What if they find out? What then? I don't want to learn magic!"

The words struck a nerve. Aubree's patience, already worn thin, snapped. With a sharp movement, she hurled the bowl of soup aside, the liquid splattering across the dirt.

"Stop it! Stop being such a coward!" she shouted, voice raw with frustration. "I shouldn't have coddled you! You're eighteen, Aurelia!"

Aurelia flinched, eyes wide with shock, but Aubree wasn't done.

"I can't protect you forever! If you don't train, how many more of our sisters will have to die because we keep running? Wasn't Anya enough?"

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Her voice cracked, but the damage was already done.

Aurelia stood abruptly, her entire body trembling. "So you're saying Anya died because of me? That I killed her?"

Aubree opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Do you think I don't already hate myself?!" Aurelia's voice broke, her tears falling freely. "I hate this life! I hate being a witch! And I hate being your daughter!"

Aubree recoiled as if struck.

"I wish I was never born!"

Before Aubree could stop her, Aurelia turned and bolted into the forest.

"No! Aurelia, wait!" Aubree scrambled to her feet, panic clawing at her chest. "I didn't mean it! Please!"

She ran after her daughter, but Aurelia was faster. The darkness swallowed her small figure, and soon, she was gone.

Aubree's breath came in ragged gasps as she frantically searched, her hands trembling as she conjured a small flame to light her way.

"Aurelia! Please, come back! I'm so sorry!" Her voice echoed through the trees, met only by silence.

Then, behind her, she could hear the soft footsteps. Her eyes lit up, thinking it would be her daughter, but when she saw who was in front of her, the fire in her palm died.