Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!

"Leon..." Zafira's voice broke into a lovely hum, tinged with relief, longing, and her dark, carnal desires. Her lips parted as their bodies came closer, touching ever so gently at first, squishing together as the bath water splashed from their movement.

'Her lips are too soft...'

She breathed into his mouth, arms tightening around his neck as if desperate for reassurance and affection.

Leonhardt's heart pounded, an ache in his chest matching their growing desire.

Then something shattered that tender moment in an instant.

A chilling notification chimed through the dungeon and echoed within his mind.

[Warning!]

[Intruder detected – Western Border breached.]

Leonhardt froze, eyes once gentle and filled with affection became twisted, sharp, and aggressive. A wave of dread pierced his heart when he lowered his guard. The western border he'd painstakingly reinforced fell.

Zafira's eyes shone bright upon seeing his reaction, her tongue recoiling still coated in his saliva, a sweet and regretful taste.

"Leonhardt..."

"It seems that they couldn't wait, those filthy orcs have teamed up with the humans."

"!!!"

"Inferior bastards!" His voice thundered through the halls. The hands that once gently gripped her hips now sank deep into Zafira's flesh, squeezing hard enough to deform her plump buttocks, leaving dark bruises in the shape of his fingers.

Leonhardt rose from the water, strength thrumming through every muscle, droplets rolling down the hard lines of his body. Zafira clung to him, legs trembling in the heated pool, her claws digging into his back.

Their foreheads came together, breathing hot and aggressively. Heat surged into violence, tension exploded into frenzy.

"My dear princess, I need to leave."

"Leonhardt... don't lose yourself."

He pulled away, climbing out of the bath with purpose. Water trailed from his body as he strode to the rack where his clothes hung. Steam clung to his skin, mingling with the cold air and his spreading rage.

Zafira watched, towel pressed against her chest. Her heart pounded loud enough to echo off the stone.

"This isn't the time to get aroused... but damn, he looks so sexy."

She tried to rise, but almost tripped. "You can't go alone—"

He shot her a wild and fierce look. His voice held steady—the same tone he used when whispering to her in bed

"I will take your shadow wolves, please watch the throne for me, Zafira."

A crackle of lightning wrapped around his body, the intensity of his magic now superior to most adept mages.

"I..."

Zafira shook her head, let go of the urge to shield him, and nodded. Her heart thundered with rapid beats as she watched him step away.

"Thank you."

Leonhardt yanked on his black trousers and enchanted tunic, sliding his arms through the familiar weight of his long jacket. He snatched a teleportation scroll from the bookshelf and stepped into the darkness.

[Dungeon Alert: Intruders detected]

[Four targets]

[Two orc warlords, two human mages. Estimated Level: 50–60]

A low snarl escaped Leon's throat.

"So they've sent real dogs this time."

He clenched his fists, magic pulsing beneath the surface. Steam evaporated rapidly because of the heat of his body as he strode towards the exit.

Zafira reached out, grabbing his wrist with trembling fingers.

"Come back. Please. I'll wait here—I'll protect our home."

He kissed her hand with raging eyes.

"If anyone dares touch it, I will rip out their heart."

With that, Leonhardt vanished in a flutter of purple mana, teleporting to the west, leaving only wet footprints and his lingering scent behind.

***

The teleportation magic tugged at Leonhardt's body, wrenching him through twisting darkness before he landed in a spray of violet sparks just beyond the shattered western barrier. His boots struck broken stone and blood-soaked grass.

The air was sour with the heavy and sour musk of burnt meat, which made the back of his throat burn with an annoying itch.

"So they are almost here..."

Once again, he stood where he had slaughtered the tribe of Orcs, able to sense the distant mana of the enemy dashing towards his position.

'Well I have to greet them well.' Leonhardt's lips curled into a wicked smile.

Thanks to controlling the entire basin, Leon could now adjust anything within, so using this, he made the passage the orcs could traverse a narrow valley, all to avoid them spreading out and sneaking through the forest.

"..."

A bloodshot glow expanded in his pupils with a golden pentagram in each as he gazed into the distance using his Arachne vision.

The sky glowed orange from the burning warding runes along the border. Leonhardt's senses expanded across the border, seeing their numbers and faces clearly.

His vision sharpened, tracing the tangled forms that crawled through the torn wards. Four figures—just as the dungeon warned.

The two orcs moved like wrecking balls, covered in thick plates and dripping with fresh blood. Each step crushed wildflowers and snapped broken bones. Their tusks jutted from snarling jaws, eyes hungry for a kill.

Beside them, the human mages stood back, one chanting beneath a swirling ward, the other clutching a staff etched with blue runes.

Of course, there were a hundred grunts, but the dungeon didn't classify them as dangerous, akin to bugs to the current Leonhardt.

"My Lord!"

A woman who never disappointed him.

Nyxara, who would join him on his journey, appeared behind him.

She knelt on a tree branch, head and fist down, her caramel skin shining in the light of dusk.

"How many did we lose, Nyx?"

"Ah!? My Lord... ten scouts and two warriors guarded the outpost wall."

"I see..."

Black shadows flickered at his feet, and the forty shadow wolves were more like a mist of death following his every step than actual animals.

Deep, aggressive growls as if synchronised to his hidden anger and anguish at the loss of good dark elf women.

"Have your troops set up ambushes along the treeline." He paused for a moment before closing his eyes with a sigh. "Don't bring Asuka, Erina, or Sylvie this time."

Leonhardt's lips curled into a smile, cruel and hungry. He relished this tension—the gap between violence and restraint. Mana throbbed along his arms, crackling flames and lightning twisting down to his fingertips.

He stepped out, boots crunching over the fallen twigs.

One orc spotted him, lips peeling back in a sneer. "Little lord came to play!"

The human mage beside him hissed, voice tinged with panic. "He's early. We're not ready—"

"Coward, Mage." The orc mocked.

However, Leonhardt ignored their bickering and calculated their distance. He flicked his hand, creating black flames, and condensed them into a ball. Then, he flicked them towards his enemy, burning a trench between the four and their army.

"Who sent you?" Leonhardt asked, his tone low and deadly. "Is this some dog's errand, or do you have a death wish?"

The second orc was taller, with silver rings piercing his nose and ears. He laughed, lifting a spiked hammer over his shoulder. "Be grateful! We give quick death, little man."

Leonhardt's expression didn't change.

The ground pulsed beneath him, shadowy wolves slinking through the long grass at his side, summoned by his will and Zafira's lingering magic.

'Devour the human mage, then return and protect the elves.'

His order was simple, and the type the shadow wolves loved the most.

They accepted him after he became an incubus and spent more time with Zafira. Their scents clung to each other, so eager and loyal, the beasts followed his will without resistance.

"Nyxara, I leave the smaller orc to you. Let your elves kill their grunts."

"Yes, My Lord!"

His order lit a fire in her. Nyxara's body shivered from the thrill of being chosen. She covered her lips as her eyes narrowed into slits and entered battle mode, and dropped her flirtatious tone and spoke in elvish. "Kill the filthy orcs!"

Leonhardt stepped forward with the black flame still separating the targets, so the strongest mage and orc faced only him. The weaker mage and orc split off against the elves and shadow wolves.

Sylvie's ice element rushed through his veins, keeping him sharp and controlled.

'My beloved ice fairy... oh how you help me in the most interesting ways.'

"So be it," he muttered. "Let's see if you can survive the night."

A black greatsword in one hand, a searing flame in the other, Leonhardt watched his enemy, completely prepared.

Leonhardt remained silent while the Orcs howled and danced. Shifting his gaze to Nyxara, he gave the order to attack. "Kill them all!"

The enemy forces couldn't have known his temperament.

The first strike came—a massive ball of cinderflame and a volley of dark arrows.

They learned fast as a flame hurled straight at their leader's heart.

The battlefield erupted, flame and shadow clashing beneath the blood red sky—Leonhardt grinned.

His eyes held nothing but ruthless calm as he vanished into the storm of war.

Sparks and blood flew as Leonhardt surged forward, his blade cutting through the flames... tonight, the west would feel the wrath of a monster.