Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!-Chapter 84: Logistic & Pregnancy

Layla hesitantly raised her hand, her expression showing clear confusion.

"Your Majesty… what exactly is logistics? Supply chain? Protein? Nutrients?"

She fidgeted slightly, then added, "Sometimes, you say things that none of us understand, and I know for a fact that everyone here is just as confused but too proud to ask."

Claude arched a brow, momentarily stunned. "You don't know any of that?" He rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

'Right… this world is like a medieval fantasy game. Of course, those concepts are too advanced for them.'

His gaze sharpened slightly. 'Does that mean… if I introduce inventions from my world, I'll basically become some kind of revolutionary genius here?'

A slow smile crept onto his face—but then quickly disappeared. 'Damn it. My knowledge is mostly useless since I worked in human resources in my past life! The things I know is how to make employee works more efficiently.'

He sighed heavily, pressing his fingers against his temple. 'Why the hell did Donovan choose me as his descendant?! He could've picked an evil scientist or an engineer instead!'

Layla flinched, mistaking his deep sigh for frustration. Her ears drooped as she lowered her head.

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"I… I apologize if my question was foolish."

Claude's eyes widened before he quickly shook his head. "No, your question is valid. I just forgot to explain things properly."

He softened his tone, offering a small smile. "Don't worry, Layla. You did the right thing by asking."

Layla sighed in relief, while across the table, Lilac pouted in mild jealousy.

Claude turned back to the room, his expression sharpening. "Alright, listen up. I'll explain it as simply as I can."

"Logistics, in the context of war, is the management of everything an army needs—supplies, weapons, armor, transportation, food, and anything else necessary to keep the soldiers moving."

He met their gazes, ensuring they followed. "It's crucial because it determines how long a war can last and, ultimately, who wins."

"You could have the strongest soldiers, but if they starve, freeze, or run out of weapons, they're as good as dead."

Silence settled over the room as the weight of his words sank in.

Claude leaned forward. "This is why armies don't just focus on fighting. They also try to cut off enemy supply lines—burn their food stores, destroy their roads, and weaken them without even setting foot on the battlefield."

Several generals nodded in understanding, but others still seemed unsure.

Claude continued, "Now, the supply chain is like a continuous cycle of production and usage. If we spend a hundred weapons in war, we need to produce a hundred more."

"If we lose a hundred soldiers, we need a hundred new recruits. If we eat through our food reserves, we need a steady stream of new supplies."

He studied their reactions, noting how some were slowly piecing it together.

Claude sighed internally. 'Explaining basic modern concepts to medieval generals… this is the things I never thought would happen in my life.'

"Ohh, I see, so that's what it's called," Llyold murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"In Elysium, we just refer to everything as 'supply'—food supply, weapon supply," Samson, the green-haired general, added.

"We've always focused on the strength of our army, but what Your Majesty said makes sense. Without these essentials, war can't continue."

"As expected of Your Majesty," Lilac chimed in with a smile.

"Please handle it since our knowledge of war is far more limited than yours. After all, we've only studied it through books."

Claude squinted slightly, unsure whether Lilac's words were sincere or laced with sarcasm.

'You don't think I learned from books too? Damn, I feel like an impostor,' he thought but chose to nod and move on.

"Now, about nutrients," Claude continued, keeping his explanation simple.

"They're the essential substances in food that keep the body strong and capable of handling daily activities."

"Protein, in particular, is a key nutrient that helps build muscle. If we want our army to be strong, they need to eat foods rich in nutrients—meat, eggs, milk, and more."

"Oh, I see now! That's really easy to understand—and useful!" Henrich grinned, flexing his melon-sized biceps. "I'll make sure every soldier under me is built like this."

"Come on, Henrich," Samson sighed, shaking his head. "If you do that, our entire supply will be wiped out in no time."

"What? I don't eat that much, do I?" Henrich crossed his arms, the buttons of his shirt straining dangerously against his muscles.

"Uncle, you once finished an entire tiered cake in under a minute," Layla pointed out.

The room erupted into laughter, the tense atmosphere from before completely melting away.

Claude leaned back, watching the easy camaraderie between his generals.

'This… This is actually less stressful than a court meeting. Where the hell are all these people when the courtroom gets so tense?!'

Suddenly, Keira's voice echoed in Claude's mind, delivering a notification.

[The envoys from our closest kingdoms, Hyparion and Mycetia, have arrived.]

Elysium's envoys were descendants of the Honorable Families, strategically sent to other kingdoms and empires.

Their purpose was simple—to ensure daemon bloodlines mixed with noble families from foreign lands, allowing Elysium to maintain a steady flow of information from the outside world.

Claude exhaled in relief. "Ah, finally," he muttered. "The real meeting is about to begin."

A flickering glow formed in the middle of the long table, and two figures emerged, their bodies shimmering like holograms. Both bowed in unison.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," they said in perfect sync.

The first envoy, a tall man with long black hair, spoke first. "My name is Jon Larsen, envoy of Hyparion."

The second, an older man with dark hair streaked with gray, followed. "I am Norman Finley, envoy of Mycetia."

"This is our first time meeting you, and we extend our congratulations on your coronation, Your Majesty," Norman said with a respectful nod.

"Right, thanks, but let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point," Claude cut in. His eyes sharpened. "Which of you holds more power in your kingdom?"

Both envoys hesitated before Jon answered, "I am a Marquess, Your Majesty. I command more knights and oversee larger lands."

Norman remained silent, giving a small nod as if acknowledging the truth of Jon's words.

Claude rubbed his chin. "Hyparion, huh…"

Both Hyparion and Mycetia were kingdom nearest to Cortinvar. Hyparion lay to the south, while Mycetia was positioned to the east.

"But, Your Majesty, Hyparion has stronger ties with the Everbright Church," Llyold pointed out.

Jon sighed. "Lord Llyold is correct, but those ties have been strained due to the relentless witch hunts in Hyparion. The king opposes them."

Claude raised a brow. "And why is that?"

Jon's expression turn serious. "It is rumored that his daughter is a witch. The Church has demanded that she be burned."

A flicker of intrigue crossed Claude's face before he nodded. "Well then, Hyperion will be our starting point for small-scale colonization."

Turning to Jon, he continued, "Your next task is to find the perfect location. It must be a small village, close to Cortinvar. Prioritize fertile land, and make sure there are some of the Holy People there."

The room stilled for a moment before Samson, stunned by Claude's requirements, spoke up.

"Wouldn't that increase our chances of being discovered by the Church? Shouldn't this operation remain secret?"

Claude nodded but remained firm. "We need to fill the Crimson Abyss Core if we want to scale up our harvest."

Samson frowned. "But we have enough resources to last another ten years, don't we?"

"Not if we plan to expand our farmland," Claude countered.

"Now, Jon, carry out my orders and choose the location carefully."

His gaze then shifted to Norman. "As for you, Mycetia will be next when the time comes. Prepare accordingly."

Both envoys straightened, placing a fist over their chests. "Yes, Your Majesty!" they declared in unison.

The Crimson Abyss Core was the very heart that powered both the Specter of Doom and the Sovereign Orb, granting them control over the Revenant Legion, the mist, the barriers, and even the weather itself.

Yet, its true horror lay in its fuel.

The core thrived on the tormented souls of holy people, their very essence burning eternally within its depths—a never-ending agony that Claude could hear whenever he touched those cursed artifacts.

"The ones leading this operation will be Samson and Henrich," he declared, his voice firm.

His eyes swept across the room before settling on the two generals. A slow smile tugged at his lips.

"Don't disappoint me."

The two men smirked, their expressions filled with confidence as they bowed.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

However, a voice of protest soon followed.

"Your Majesty," Layla interjected, brows furrowed.

"Shouldn't I be the one leading this operation?" She glanced at the two older generals before returning her gaze to Claude.

"I don't mean to belittle my uncles, but I am the commander."

Her voice held a note of disappointment.

Claude, however, only smiled—a knowing, almost amused smile.

"You might not realize it yet, Layla…" he raised a hand and pointed toward her stomach. "But you are not alone anymore."

A moment of silence.

Layla instinctively touched her abdomen, confusion flashing across her face.

The first to react was Llyold.

Slowly, he turned to his daughter, disbelief giving way to overwhelming joy. Then, without hesitation, he pulled Layla into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it… I'm going to be a grandfather!" Llyold's usually composed voice wavered with emotion.

Gasps filled the room, followed by an eruption of cheers.

The Xalvach generals, realizing what this meant for their lineage, clapped, whistled, and exchanged excited murmurs.

Meanwhile, Layla remained frozen. Her fingers trembled slightly as she stared at Claude, still trying to process the revelation.

"H-how?!" she stammered, "How come I didn't realize it?!"