Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!

Leonhardt watched Nyxara's fight with amusement, his smile growing each time she moved or attacked the orcs without mercy.

"She's desperate to win."

'I love the way her armour digs into her crotch when she performs such delicate and dextrous movements.'

Nyxara leapt to another tree, half-drawing her bow in a half-squat, letting Leonhardt get a delightful view of her round ass. The moment she shot, it rippled from the force of her shadow magic, and the long arrow lanced towards the remaining warlord.

'Erotic.'

The orc smashed the arrow using its jagged blade and rushed forward. It sprinted at Nyxara, each step leaving a slight dent in the soft mud as it roared. "Dark elf bitch, die!" Following up with a brutal swing that made the air howl.

Nyxara stumbled back and barely avoided the flash of steel.

The warlord's grin was manic and victorious until he realised she'd vanished like a ghost.

He roared, "Come face me, dark elf coward!"

Leonhardt raised his eyebrow. "Well, that was certainly stupid." Nyxara reappeared behind the orc and kicked out. The spike of her boots penetrated the orc's thigh muscle. It spurted with blood as she dragged it back with a snap and hopped away.

Woosh!

The orc's furious blade cut through the air, a face twisted in agony and fury.

It roared, "I'll ravish you!" It swung wildly at Nyxara. Each attack was faster than the last, and she easily dodged each one, her moves becoming increasingly graceful, but Leonhardt's eyes narrowed with a blue glow.

He could see the fatigue building, his Arachne sight allowing him to notice the subtle wince on Nyxara's face when she went to jump, the sweat dripping from her forehead.

This slight change was the difference between the four levels and racial differences.

It was not big, but Nyxara's speed dropped every few swings.

Meanwhile, the Orcs' attacks became more furious, using pain and anger to increase power and physical traits. Nyxara panted while blocking and parrying, her attacks slowing down and getting increasingly sluggish. The warlord snorted, "Weak, dark elf bitch, die."

The orc's next blow sent Nyxara back with a loud grunt, her sword trembling as she back-flipped and rolled across the ground. She couldn't call for the other elves as they were wiping out the other orc warriors.

'Well I can't let her die...'

Snap!

Leonhardt enjoyed the sight of her fighting, but once it became dangerous, he flipped his mood.

"The orcs have sided with the humans, and their strength is more than I thought..."

The orc's raised blade was about to cut down Nyxara. He lifted his hand and pointed towards the orc, and dozens of silver strands shot out. They wrapped around its arm, pulling it to the ground.

"What!?"

Leonhardt saw his chance. He leapt from the tree, and Nyxara stared at him in relief and shame. He had been watching, making himself invisible to the orcs.

"Thank you!"

He didn't respond, only landing heavily on the orc's back and slamming its head into the ground using all his physical strength. The mud splattered onto Nyxara, who watched with shock, her eyes wide.

"So powerful..."

Nyxara's eyes almost sparkled while watching Leonhardt's muscles as he lifted the orc with physical strength, before smashing him again against the ground.

The warlord roared in outrage, but another slam cut it off, this one cracking the orc's skull. The blood, brain matter, and bone fragments flew out like a burst egg, causing some elves to flinch and look away, while others cheered.

But not Nyxara.

She watched Leonhardt with widened eyes as if he were a god. Her lips parted, and she watched him as in complete reverence.

Covered in gore and mud, she didn't even bother to clean herself as she rushed forward. "M-Master!" She stumbled over her words before freezing when he turned to her.

"Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine...Master." Her face became bright red from shame and embarrassment, and her ears drooped. "I couldn't even defeat such a low-level enemy without my master's help; forgive me...!?"

Leonhardt's hand cupped her cheek, lifting her to face him.

Their height differed from when they first met; his shoulders were broad and muscular, while hers were dainty and lean.

"Master?"

Nyxara gulped, being so close made her heart race... the obsessive feelings and lust she always felt suddenly vanished, and all she could do was flounder. Her heart thumped against her chest as her pupils dilated.

'I can't think...' her mind blanked. 'What should I say to him...?'

She'd always wanted to be close, to touch, but in the moment, she was too shy. It wasn't the usual desire to mate and give birth to a powerful daughter...

It was something else.

Leonhardt stepped closer, eyes on the beautiful elf's face, a few scars across her chest, and one on her cheek.

Yet she was gorgeous.

Nyxara swallowed, still gazing into his eyes with a dry throat that prickled slightly. Leon looked at her like a hungry beast, his red eyes shining in the evening sunlight.

"What's the matter, Nyxara?" He asked with a knowing smile.

"Master..."

Her eyes closed, taking a deep breath to enjoy the scent of his body. So thick it made her crotch wet. "I have failed to kill the target."

"You did."

He moved his fingers down her neck, across her armour, and over her breasts. Her breath grew heavy the more he touched.

"Please punish me," Nyxara whispered.

"Punishment? But we are leaving soon, maybe I'll delay it." He turned, beginning to walk away, but she called back. "P-please, Master! Punish your servant!"

He smiled, the cold, calculating gaze focusing on the dazed elf.

Leonhardt didn't say a word, merely watching as Nyxara stepped towards him, her eyes clouded with desire and gazing longingly up at her Master. Her hands fumbled with her armour, slowly undoing it until her perky breasts fell out, and she pinched her pert nipples.

They felt soft and warm in her fingers as her tongue slipped out to wet her lips.

"Master, may I pleasure you?"

"Nyxara."

His voice was cold like a winter wind.

Although he showed such a front, he couldn't help but enjoy how her supple breasts jiggled in her hands, her dusky buds twitching in her fingertips. "Stop trying to tempt me."

"I apologise if I've offended, Master."

Leonhardt stepped forward, pushed her against the black tree's hard bark, and held her hands above her head, smiling down at her with his spare hand reaching for her squishy mounds.

He didn't ask or explain, only kneaded and pulled them towards him roughly, making Nyxara moan. Her eyes widened as she groaned loudly. His rough treatment was so stimulating that the pain and pleasure were almost unbearable as her legs buckled, and she fell against him.

"Master...~"

She was so weak and aroused that all she could do was moan.

He was rougher than before, teasing and tugging on her nipples before he suddenly let go, and grabbed her chin, roughly lifting her face to look at him.

"Enough, we are leaving for an important meeting. Finish the orcs and get dressed."

Leonhardt left Nyxara a shaking mess as he returned to the rest of his elves.

***

It was regrettable that he didn't take Nyxara to bed.

However, Leonhardt couldn't waste time right now, because he needed to prepare for the time he would be away. Leonhardt tapped the dungeon interface and smiled as he stepped on the corpse of a fallen orc.

"Thanks to the pigs, we've got enough room to start building a proper defensive wall now."

The Dungeon Points it would cost to make a wall that would take a hundred of the warlord's full swings was much lower than he thought.

'I should use a black stone that matches the black bark of the trees...'

The stone called Midnight Stone seemed to originate from the demon lands in the north. Although it would cost a decent chunk of his current DP, Leonhardt didn't mind.

"Let's go."

Swish!

With the movement of his hand, the wall began to form like magic.

The bricks materialised, and the orc warriors fleeing from the dark elves panicked, desperately hitting the wall.

"Wasting your time."

Leon sat on the ten-foot wall, gazing down at the orcs, not scratching the beautiful black stones glistening with small silver flecks.

The Orcs beat at the wall with clubs, axes, and fists. Each swing left nothing—not even a scratch.

Leonhardt stretched his legs, lounging on the upper stone like a throne, chin resting on one fist as he watched them scramble.

"Try harder," he said lazily, loud enough for them to hear. "Maybe if you believed in your gods harder, they'd save you."

None answered.

The wall stood proud, cold, and perfect.

Just like Embervale.

Leon tapped the interface again, queuing a construction order: Archery platforms, outer spike growths, layered defensive gates. The outline of a fortress began to form beneath his vision.

He extended a finger.

"Burn them."

Behind him, a dozen dark elf archers appeared on the upper wall, with bows already drawn. They shot as one, shadow-imbued arrows cutting through the orcs like sickles through wheat.

Their screams lasted a few moments before silence.

Nyxara stood behind him, armour redressed but cheeks flushed, and her breath disturbed because she hadn't calmed herself.

Leonhardt didn't turn around.

"We're done here."

His gaze shifted toward the horizon, then back to Embervale, a sense of pride growing in his chest.

"Time to prepare for the Gathering."