Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!

The Dark Elf village clung to the edge of the mountain like a spider's nest—built into terraces of obsidian and veined stone, shielded by illusion magic and thick web-like canopies. Erina had never seen a place like it.

No churches.

No banners.

Just silence and eyes that never blinked.

They were taken in without a word, some of the other dark elves watching but then losing interest upon seeing that Leonhardt wasn't among them.

Nyxara led them, wordlessly, through tight winding stairs, past buildings with no windows, only slits for archers.

The air here felt thinner, purer than usual and imbued with mana.

When they finally stopped, Nyxara turned. The moonlight caught her face, highlighting every edge. Emerald eyes shimmered like glass under pressure.

"You did better than expected," she said dryly. "I thought you might lose a limb."

"Those orcs weren't normal." Nyxara folded her arms beneath her modest chest. "They rarely cross into our lands. The human gossip about them hunting women is just that—gossip. They barely have enough females to breed their own kind. Usually, they guard what few they have like gold."

Sylvie looked up. "But now they're crossing borders."

"They're desperate."

Nyxara didn't elaborate.

She didn't have to.

"They're strong," she continued, her voice flatter now. "Brutal. But not clever. They lack strategy. Always have. No siege engines. No proper formations. Just brute muscle, speed, and rage."

Erina nodded slightly, still thinking about the one that nearly crushed her.

Nyxara's eyes flicked toward her. "But they're not beasts. They've always had some organisation. Enough to avoid direct war with us. What we saw… it wasn't normal."

"I see..."

Asuka stretched her arms, eyes already drifting to the open training field beside the far wall, scarred dirt, shattered wood posts, several racks of blunted blades and spears. Her tail flicked once, and the scent of her battle high hadn't faded.

"I wanna spar."

Nyxara glanced her way and shrugged. "You're welcome to lose."

Asuka grinned. "You'll see."

Sylvie didn't speak. She adjusted her robe and followed with quiet steps.

But Erina?

She hesitated.

Something sat on her chest.

Not just shame. Or weakness. But need.

And later that night, when the others were too distracted to notice, Erina moved through the stone hallways on her own.

She had a question.

And only Nyxara could answer it.

——

The ground ended up enjoying some time apart, but Erina couldn't get time with Nyxara due to how busy she was.

Eventually, it was after the shared meal that she found a moment to speak with her.

She found Nyxara at the cliff's edge, above the encampment.

The dark elf captain didn't speak when Erina approached. Nyxara crossed her arms beneath her chest, daggers still sheathed but close. Her hair hung loose, swaying slightly in the cold wind, her back straight as stone.

Erina stepped closer.

The mountain stretched wide below, web-lit watchtowers dotting the forest slope. It felt like the edge of the world.

"I want to speak with you," Erina said softly.

"You already are."

"I mean—alone."

"Sorry, I only like Leonhardt."

"Ack!? I didn't mean that...!" Erina blushed, realising what she meant.

Nyxara tilted her head slightly but didn't turn.

"You're lucky he's fond of you. I don't answer stray dogs in heat."

Erina flinched. "I'm not—"

"You want something. Ask."

Her tone was flat, but not dismissive.

Erina swallowed and took one more step forward.

"…I want to become stronger."

Nyxara finally turned, facing her fully now, arms still crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why?"

Erina hesitated.

She didn't want to say it.

But lying felt worse.

"For Leonhardt."

Silence.

Nyxara's pupils dilated slightly.

Her fingers twitched.

"Say it again."

"…I want to become stronger. For him. For Leonhardt."

Nyxara stepped forward—close enough to catch Erina's scent, close enough that her breath brushed across Erina's lips.

She studied the small blonde's expression and her reaction.

"Human... You aren't the first one to ask me that."

Erina didn't answer.

"I've heard that line from countless women, this entire camp for one," Nyxara whispered. "Some meant it. Some didn't. None of them lasted."

Erina's voice shook. "I… I'm not like them."

"No?" Nyxara's eyes shimmered with sharp amusement now. "You think being his toy once makes you special?"

Erina's breath caught.

She hadn't expected it to cut so sharply.

But she didn't look away.

"I know I'm weak. But I want to change that."

Nyxara paused. Just long enough to make Erina wonder if she'd gone too far.

Then she stepped back and turned away.

"…Why?"

The word was quiet.

But it mattered.

Erina didn't pretend not to understand.

"Because I want to stand beside him."

"Wrong answer," Nyxara said.

Erina blinked. "What?"

"You should've said: 'Because I want to serve him better.'" Nyxara looked over her shoulder. "But that's fine. You're still learning."

Erina frowned. "Then will you train me?"

Nyxara didn't answer right away.

Instead, she began to untie the leather strap on her glove, removing it finger by finger with slow precision.

"You know, Human…" Her voice was softer now. "I don't take students."

"I don't need to be a student, just teach me."

"I don't like you."

"That's mutual."

Nyxara's smile returned, but it seemed different, brighter and strange.

"…Then maybe I'll enjoy breaking you in."

Erina's pulse jumped.

Nyxara slid the glove off completely and let it fall to the stone.

"If I do this—if I really train you—then when he pops your little cherry…"

Erina blinked. "W-What!?"

"…Let me watch."

Erina froze.

Her thoughts stuttered like a cracked bell, echoing around the inside of her skull without meaning. Had she heard that right? She couldn't have.

No woman would.... no person would—

"W-What…?" she managed to say, but her voice came out thin.

Nyxara's expression didn't change. Her voice didn't waver.

"I want to see his cock inside you. I want to hear what you sound like when he finishes inside."

The words hit her like a slap.

Erina's mind couldn't comprehend it... she couldn't breath, like something sucked the air from her lungs and replaced it with a hot, shameful heat.

Erina's mind reeled.

Her mouth opened again, but the words wouldn't come.

Why would she say that?

Why would anyone say that?

Her brain couldn't keep up—was this a test? A threat? A joke?

But Nyxara wasn't laughing.

She looked like a feline hunting an innocent bird that wandered too close, her eyes narrowed, calmly waiting to pounce.

Neither cruel nor mocking, she just seemed... interested.

Erina's legs felt unsteady. Her thighs pressed together by instinct. She took a half-step back without realising it—until she felt the edge of the ledge behind her heel.

"You're serious?" she whispered.

Nyxara nodded.

That was it. No smirk. No tease. Just the same unwavering, unnatural calm.

Erina couldn't look away, and she hated how her body reacted to Leonhardt and how the memory of that night came to life without permission. His weight, his scent, the curve and shape.

The—

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Stop it.

Stop it.

But she couldn't erase it.

And now this woman… this warrior… this obsessed creature who didn't flinch from blood or death or monsters—was asking not to share Leonhardt.

Not to steal him.

Just to watch.

Erina's face burned. Her lips trembled.

But she didn't say no.

Because part of her understood.

Part of her even wanted it—if it meant becoming stronger.

"…Fine," she whispered.

Nyxara's smile spread slow and sure.

"You'll regret that."

Erina wasn't sure if she did or if the worst part was that she didn't.

——

Three days later, her legs still hurt.

The Dark Elf outpost didn't sleep, and neither did Nyxara. Training began before sunrise and ended only when Erina could no longer lift her arms. No spells. No prayers. Just her body—scraped, bruised, and pushed beyond what she thought it could endure.

"You fight like a scared rabbit," Nyxara had said, on the first morning. "So we're going to fix that."

And she had.

Erina had lost track of how many times she hit the stone.

The others watched, but never interfered.

Sylvie didn't comment, though her gaze lingered with quiet curiosity.

Asuka had offered a spar—only once—and then left it alone after Nyxara told her to "go polish your sword instead."

Well... for Asuka, fighting the dark elves in groups was fun too.

Erina knelt under the dim blue cavern lights, panting with blood oozing from her wounds, while Nyxara held her daggers, coldly facing the human priestess.

Her sweat soaked her shirt and pants... creating dark patches while her arms dangled low, heavy like lead.

Nyxara didn't say anything for a long time—just watched. Studied her like a creature in a cage.

"You're improving," she finally said.

Erina's fingers curled tighter against her knees. "Then why does it still hurt?"

"Because pain is the only way you'll remember what your limits were."

Erina looked up.

Her chest rose and fell, slow and uneven.

But her eyes didn't waver.

"…And when I pass those limits?"

Nyxara tilted her head. "Then I'll make new ones."

It wasn't encouragement.

It was a promise.

But strangely, to Erina today it felt like comfort and she didn't seem to feel bad, instead she forced herself up, pushing her hands into the dirty mud and grabbing a short combat staff, with a bladed tip.

"I'm ready!"

Unaware of it, Nyxara smiled.

The determination and enthusiasm of Erina were contagious.