Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 104: A Fragile Hope

Aurelia had been caring for Rhys the best she could. She knew this wasn't just a common illness—it was something dangerous, something that spread easily.

She gently wiped his fevered body with a damp cloth. His skin was dotted with red blotches, his breathing ragged, and his temperature still dangerously high.

She had encountered it once before. She and her mother had taken refuge in a small town stricken by the same plague.

Back then, they had been fortunate—a kind female doctor had taken them in and treated them.

She still remembered what the doctor said:

"This disease can be treated by this plant—eat it with meat or fish. If you survive, you'll never catch it again."

Luckily, the green medicinal plant was easy to find in the surrounding forest. She had been boiling it into stew with whatever meat she could hunt.

The doctor had said meat helped speed up the healing process.

Rhys was improving day by day, but his recovery was slow—likely because of his lingering wounds. Worse, their supplies were dwindling.

"I need to go to that nearby village," Aurelia murmured as she stood up.

Rhys's weak hand caught her wrist. "D-Don't… you'll get sick like me…" His voice was hoarse.

"Don't worry, I won't be long," she said softly, brushing his hair from his face.

"I need to get fever medicine, bandages… and a few other things."

She draped herself in her cloak and made her way to the village.

But the sight that greeted her chilled her heart.

The village was in a dire state—corpses lay rotting on the roadside, houses were abandoned, and the streets were eerily silent. Only a few shops remained open.

She stepped into the apothecary, where a masked doctor scribbled notes behind the counter.

"Ah, a traveler," he said without looking up.

"I suggest you don't stay long. This plague spreads quickly, and the Church refuses to provide aid." He sighed, his voice muffled by the bird helmet-like mask.

"I won't," she replied, keeping her hood low. "I just need fever medicine and some bandages."

"Right away," he said and disappeared into the back of the shop.

Fortunately, the pouch of coins she had carried survived the river, and Rhys had kept a few coins in his clothes too. They'd be enough—for now.

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Just as she exhaled in relief, the door burst open.

"DOCTOR! PLEASE—HELP MY SON!"

A desperate mother stumbled inside, clutching a small boy whose body was covered in red welts. The child wheezed, clearly in agony.

The doctor rushed from the back and checked the boy, only to shake his head grimly.

"He's too far gone. He won't survive."

"No… no, please!" the mother sobbed, holding her child tighter.

Her own skin bore the same red marks, her face contorted with anguish.

Aurelia's chest tightened. Her fingers curled into a fist.

'Should I tell them?'

But the moment the thought crossed her mind, memories of the kind doctor who had once helped her flooded in.

Aurelia's face paled. She lowered her gaze and wordlessly handed her coins to the doctor before and take the medicine turning to leave.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind:

"We have no place in this world. Even if we heal others, nurture them, bring peace—they will still call us witches."

"They'll still burn us at the stake, as if our lives meant nothing."

Aurelia closed her eyes tightly. She bought a few more essentials before slipping away, heading back to the forest hut.

***

After a week of careful nurturing, Rhys's condition had improved. His fever had subsided, and the red blotches on his skin had begun to fade.

He was even strong enough now to help with fishing and gathering the green plant that had become his lifesaving medicine.

"Tell me… you knew about this disease, didn't you?" Rhys asked suddenly as Aurelia stirred a pot of soup.

She froze for a moment, her hand pausing mid-stir before nodding slowly and continuing as if nothing had happened.

"Is it because of your magic?"

"Of course not!" she shot back quickly. "This illness—this plague—it's something even holy powers can't cure."

Rhys raised a brow. "A disease that can't be healed by a cleric, huh…"

All his life, he had believed that illnesses and some poisons beyond the reach of regular medicine were the work of dark magic.

But now he realized there were ailments that even divine power couldn't touch.

'So that's why they sometimes refused to treat certain patients…' he thought, a bitter smile curling on his lips.

"Holy people aren't as all-powerful as they claim, huh?" he muttered.

Aurelia caught his words. "That's an odd thing to say. Aren't they your people too?"

"Yeah… but they took someone important from me," he murmured, his voice unsteady.

He didn't linger on the thought and shifted the topic. "Anyway… does that mean the nearby village has recovered too?"

Aurelia didn't answer.

"Aurelia?" Rhys narrowed his eyes. "You didn't tell them?"

She lowered her gaze and shook her head. "I… I couldn't. They… they wouldn't—ugh, it's hard to explain."

Rhys exhaled sharply. "I get it. But still, you can't just stay silent. Their lives matter too, Aurelia."

"Then you tell them," she said firmly, looking him in the eyes.

"I'll tell you everything I know about this disease—but you be the one to tell them. You're one of the holy. They'll believe you."

Rhys stared at her, silent. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Aurelia let out a sigh of relief.

True to her word, she explained everything she had learned about the illness—the symptoms, the treatment, and how the green plant could make their body stronger to fight the disease.

Rhys went to the village and explained everything to the chief's son.

Desperation made people more open-minded. They agreed to follow his instructions.

Even Jacob, the masked doctor, helped by gathering the plant alongside Rhys and Aurelia.

There were only thirty-five villagers left. Some elders succumbed to the illness, their bodies too weak to recover, but over ninety percent of the survivors healed.

Rhys became their hero—an unlikely savior in their darkest time.

That evening, the village held a modest banquet in honor of Rhys, Jacob, and Aurelia. The air was light for the first time in weeks.

The smell of grilled fish and wild herbs wafted through the village square, laughter mingling with the gentle crackle of a bonfire.

As the villagers gathered, Rhys tapped his spoon against a glass to quiet the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice clear and humble, "thank you for this warm and generous celebration."

He paused, glancing at Aurelia who stood off to the side, awkwardly holding a wooden bowl.

"You may see me as your hero, but the truth is… the real savior isn't me." He gestured toward her.

"It's that girl over there—the one who gave her time, her knowledge, and her heart to help all of you. Without her, none of this would've been possible."

The villagers turned to look at Aurelia, who froze under the weight of their stares.

Then, slowly, they began to clap. One by one. Until the whole village applauded her.

She lowered her head, her face flushed, unsure whether she should run or smile.

But for the first time in a long time, she felt something unfamiliar warming her chest.

Acceptance.

"Thank you, miss! Because of you, my son survived."

The woman she had seen at the pharmacy clutched Aurelia's hands tightly.

"At first… I thought he was going to die," the mother continued, voice trembling.

"But the doctor gave him medicine… and he held on—until you came and saved us all."

Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled Aurelia into a warm embrace.

For a moment, Aurelia stood frozen. It was the first time someone had truly acknowledged her efforts, her knowledge, and her strength.

For so long, she had lived in her mother's shadow, where every word of praise was meant for someone else.

But now—this mother's embrace, her grateful words—they were for her.

Aurelia's arms slowly wrapped around the woman, hugging her tightly. Tears slipped from her eyes, not from sorrow—but from something gentler, softer.

'So this is what it feels like to be seen…'

---

The banquet felt like a dream. Even the memory of it made her smile the next morning as the sunlight spilled across the floorboards.

Aurelia and Rhys had been living in the village since then. The house they now occupied had been given to them by the village chief's son—now the new chief, after losing both of his parents to the illness.

As usual, Aurelia took care of the household chores. She folded their bedding, swept the floor with practiced ease, and began preparing breakfast.

"Oh, it's already done?" Rhys yawned, walking out of his room and blinking at the table.

He took a seat across from her, smiling lazily. "You like it here? Why not just stay?"

Aurelia shook her head, her hands gently folding over her lap. "I can't. I still need to find my mother."

Rhys nodded as he tore into a piece of bread. "I see… I've got nothing better to do, so I'll come with you."

She frowned, her brows drawing together. "Are you sure? I thought you'd want to go back to the Church."

"To tell them everything that happened? No way in hell," he scoffed.

"I've been wanting to retire anyway. So let me tag along."

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, a loud knock echoed at the door.

"Wait," she whispered.

Rising to her feet, she walked to the door with cautious steps. But the moment she opened it—her heart dropped.

Knights, Clerics, Witch hunters!

Aurelia's breath caught. Her skin went pale as her body stumbled backward, colliding into the table behind her. Her voice died in her throat.

'No… Did the villagers call them?'

Panic surged in her chest as her mind whirled. She couldn't move. Couldn't think.

The warmth of the village, the kindness, the hope—it all shattered like glass beneath her feet.