Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!

The dungeon's pulse had changed.

Where once it breathed quiet mana through empty halls, now the walls were warm with use. The goblins moved in rhythmic lines, ferrying crates of mana herbs, armfuls of polished ore, and scrolls copied by trembling hands. The veins of red-and-green light running along the floors pulsed brighter with each passing hour.

Leonhardt walked at a slow pace, observing. No coat. No weapons. Just him and the two newest additions to his retinue.

One walked a step behind, spine stiff, tray held aloft with both hands.

"Master," Griv said for the third time in ten minutes, "should your travels ever grow dull, might I suggest we install musical floor panels? I've memorised three marches already. All tasteful."

Leonhardt gave no reply.

He didn't need to. Griv took it as silent approval.

A step to his left, Snaggle stumbled slightly as he dragged a satchel full of gold-inked ledgers and scrolls.

"I still don't see why I'm needed," the merchant muttered. "This isn't fiscal planning—this is some… emotional indulgence in the Speaker's theatrics."

"I heard that," came a voice.

They froze.

Across the walkway stood Lina, draped in ceremonial dark violet, the crest of the goblin council freshly inked across her chest. Her golden eyes gleamed with holy warmth.

Griv lowered his tray instinctively. "O-oh, gracious Speaker, you look radiant. Positively divine today."

Snaggle coughed. "Radiant like… uh… molten copper."

Lina tilted her head.

Her smile was soft.

But her eyes were on fire.

Griv muttered through clenched teeth, "I told you not to say anything that reminded her of metalwork, fool."

"She asked me if I liked my bones intact yesterday!"

"Please don't embarrass me," Leonhardt said mildly.

Both goblins straightened instantly.

Lina stepped forward and bowed gracefully.

"Master," she said with breathless devotion. "I bring news from the other ministers… and a proposal we wish to make, together. We've prepared an offering."

"An offering?" Leonhardt asked.

"Yes," she said, gaze rising to meet his. "To you. As our King… and more."

Her voice trembled slightly. Not with fear. But with awe. Yet it came across with a rather sultry and dangerous aura.

Griv opened his mouth.

Lina's eyes snapped toward him.

He closed it.

Snaggle stepped behind Leonhardt's leg like a curtain.

"Is this walk truly necessary?" Griv whispered to his companion.

Snaggle shivered. "If she smiles at me like that again, I'll defect to the humans."

Leonhardt merely smiled faintly and gestured for Lina to begin.

"Lead the way."

The forum hall wasn't meant for rituals.

It was built as a planning chamber—wide, circular, ringed by stone benches and hanging banners marked with fresh sigils. A miniature council hall. But today, the air had changed. Incense burned in small goblin-crafted braziers, casting lazy smoke trails into the air. Mossi's herbs curled and danced in the corners. The lighting had dimmed, flickering low and reverent.

Leonhardt stood alone beneath the domed ceiling.

The goblin ministers knelt in a half-circle before him.

Lina stood at the centre. Her voice was calm and high with ceremonial grace.

Leonhardt honestly just wanted the goblins to leave him alone; he needed to rest, since it was already the third day and only two remained until the briar court's auction. But their little glowing beady eyes and enthusiasm stopped him from speaking.

"This dungeon has given us shelter, food, and purpose. But more than that…" She turned her eyes toward Leonhardt, shimmering. "It gave us a Master."

Griv stood off to the side now, holding a ceremonial platter.

Snaggle peeked out from behind it.

Leonhardt remained silent.

Lina motioned forward with one hand.

Mossi stepped forward first. Her green hair shimmered under the torchlight, long fingers cradling a thick clay pot brimming with dark soil and a pulsing, living herb.

"This plant was born in cursed soil," Mossi said. "I spoke to the ground. I asked it what it needed. And it gave me this." She held it out. "It only blooms for you, Master. It only grows in your shadow."

Leonhardt took the pot gently and gave her a small nod.

"How lovely..."

'It's ugly!'

She blushed and stepped back.

Next came Snaggle, nearly tripping over his own scrolls as he carried a small, shining gold plaque shaped like a coin. His face was stiff, flushed beneath the glow.

"C-crafted it myself," he said. "Not… much, I know. But the face bears your likeness. It'll be our official currency when we open external trade routes. We call it the Leo."

Griv muttered, "Tacky name."

"Die in your sleep," Snaggle hissed back.

"Leo... Well it's not bad, not bad at all."

Leonhardt raised a brow. The coin had surprisingly detailed craftsmanship, even down to the etched collar of his coat. He looked at Snaggle and the seven goblins behind him with black rings around their eyes. "Good work, all of you."

Hanz came next.

The stocky blacksmith dragged a long cloth-wrapped bundle, pulling it across the floor with reverence.

He knelt, then unwrapped the weapon.

It was not a sword meant for battle.

The blade was wide, double-edged, forged with rare dungeon ore—its surface shimmered between black and silver. Intricate inlays of vinework traced the fuller. The hilt was engraved with the symbol of his dungeon.

"For coronation," Hanz said simply. "A king needs a crown. Or a blade."

Leonhardt's fingers curled around the grip. It fit perfectly. The heavy blade, probably over 35kg and showed him the difference in goblin and human logic; a ceremonial blade this heavy could club an ogre to death.

He lifted the blade over his head and gathered his magic together... his entire body shimmering with a black and red light.

WOOSH! Then swung the blade down in a vertical arc, cutting through the air with a blade of dark aura, shooting across the air. It sliced through the ground and distant rocks, and a loud bang.

"Nice sword."

Hanz looked at Leonhardt with dilated eyes, then at the deep gash in the earth and rocks, confused... "I clearly made the blade too soft to do that...."

Nebi came last.

She walked forward, carrying a book bound in dark leather, her arms wrapped tightly around it like it were alive.

"This is the first volume of your reign," she said. "I transcribed it from memory. No detail omitted. Every law passed. Every word you've spoken to us. Even…" She blushed faintly. "…your moments of private kindness."

Lina looked very sharply at that.

Leonhardt raised one brow but didn't object. He accepted the book and flipped it open briefly. Her handwriting was flawless.

'Huh...'

He wanted to ask how she managed to write this, gazing up at the innocent-looking goblin hiding behind her sister. But the erotica she wrote in this book made Leonhardt wonder if this little woman hid in the room during the night.

'How does she know about me and Zafira!?'

That's when Griv entered his sights, and suddenly trembled. "Sire?"

Then returned his gaze to Lina.

"…And this ritual?"

She stepped forward.

Knelt.

And the other four followed.

Together, they bowed low, forehead to stone.

Lina's voice rang out first.

"From this day forth, we offer you our lives, our breath, our children. We serve your name."

"In darkness and in flame," the others chorused.

"Until the world forgets our origin…"

"…but never our Lord."

Leonhardt stared at them for a long moment.

Then, finally, slowly, he stepped forward.

"I accept."

Later.

The dungeon throne room lay in quiet glow.

Leonhardt leaned back in his seat, one leg slung over the armrest, elbow propped, cheek resting against a fist. The air was dim—only the red glyphs embedded in the marble flickered with faint light. The ceremonial blade rested beside the throne, angled toward the floor like a guard sleeping on duty.

Ifrit whispered in his mind, subdued.

[You realise they meant it, don't you?]

[That wasn't just playacting. Those goblins would burn for you. Die. Kill.]

Dravanna was warmer, but firm.

(They worship you even if you don't want them to! An army of little minions!)

(Though that Lina... be careful to avoid letting her enter your private rooms...)

Leonhardt didn't respond immediately.

He could tell Lina was crazy and seemed overly obsessed with him... and desired him.

However, he enjoyed teasing her.

His eyes drifted toward the still-fluttering herb in Mossi's pot, placed beside his throne. The petals pulsed slowly, almost like breathing.

He closed his eyes.

After his walk, he spent five hours fighting against Asuka, Nyxara and Sylvie, along with twenty of the dark elves supporting them. He also had fun with Gobomir and Gobbolas. Their skills improved, and now they were as strong as Asuka, at least.

For goblins to reach the level of a dragonoid was a miracle in itself.

"Gobomir's ability as a knight is quite impressive. I should have him train his squires with the dark elves. The Arachne seemed to struggle in group combat, so let's have them all fight twice a week."

Leon's voice echoed in silence. Even Griv left to celebrate with Snaggle... despite always fighting, it seemed they were friends.

"Should I offer a prize? Would that motivate them?"

The two women having fun wouldn't understand him. Goblins, monsters, humans... the same things always echoed, and the constant crawl for power ensued.

But maybe, just maybe, this wasn't so bad.

A soft knock.

Then, the creak of a door swinging inward.

He didn't move as footsteps padded across the stone floor. Soft. Confident.

Zafira.