Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!
Chapter 193 - 193: A New Body, A New Threat

Leonhardt stood.

Slowly.

There was no pain now—only the eerie sense that his body no longer obeyed physics normally. His limbs moved too smoothly. His weight distribution had changed, balance sharper, centre of gravity adjusted by instinct.

He rolled his shoulders, cracking his bones once, then aligned with a subtle click.

His senses stretched far beyond the room. He could hear the succubi whispering three floors down. Goblins in the training yard, their feet pounding against the dirt. Even Zafira's voice murmured in her sleep behind locked doors.

His lips parted slightly.

"Too much."

The words tasted different now, much clearer and smoother. His voice had depth, a refined tone laced with something inherently inhuman. Every breath felt like it was pulling mana directly from the air.

The system flickered again.

[Mana Efficiency: +60%]

[Physical Capacity Increased]

[All Core Traits Integrated]

[Bloodline Potential: 72% Unlocked]

And still it wasn't done.

He stepped over the black sludge he'd purged, watching it sizzle faintly against the stone as something inside it twitched once before melting completely.

A chill passed through the chamber.

All living creatures shuddered, gazing towards him.

He lifted his hand. It shimmered faintly with violet-blue mana.

Not raw energy but refined essence.

He grinned, teeth sharper than before.

"Let them come."

Ifrit floated beside him, silent now.

Dravanna curled tighter around his neck, her thoughts quiet, but alert. The dungeon's core pulse shifted slightly, like a heartbeat answering another in the distance. And somewhere far away, beyond the veil of mana and territory borders...

Something stirred.

***

It was no longer peaceful. It was loaded. Tense. As if the air itself held its breath around him.

Leonhardt stood still, staring at the faint ripple in the floor where the tar-like purge had melted the stone. His chest rose and fell slowly. Too slowly. The rhythm didn't match a human's anymore. Not even close.

[Leon...]

Ifrit's voice was soft this time, hesitant.

(You're... different.) Dravanna's tone was quiet, reverent, and uneasy.

Leonhardt turned toward the broken mirror shard near the far wall. His reflection stared back with glassy, inhuman clarity. Smooth black hair hung over his shoulder, untouched by dust or blood. His lips held an unnatural shine, and his skin seemed to refract light with a faint sheen, like a diamond wrapped in flesh.

It wasn't only beautiful. It was crafted with precision.

For a moment, his vision flickered.

He saw veins pulsing beneath the surface of his skin.

He saw webs coiling and seeping from his fingertips.

He saw layered mana circuits winding through his muscles, a Djinn inheritance.

He saw a reflection of himself smiling when he wasn't.

Leonhardt stepped back, eyes narrowing. His hands flexed once. The foreign urges weren't strong... but they were present, hints of inherited desires stitched to instincts that weren't his.

A hunger for silk-wrapped prey.

A craving to test charm against weaker minds.

The pulse of something feral just under his sternum.

He didn't panic.

He reached deep within, brushing his will against the spinning core in his chest. The World Eater responded instantly, roaring with brutal harmony, silencing the stray threads.

Control returned.

He exhaled, long and steady.

"It's settling," he said aloud, voice like warm glass cracking. "But they keep complaining."

[That's what happens when you eat a dozen monsters and two demons, you maniac.]

He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.

This body was his now.

But it wasn't done mutating.

"I should test this new body..."

***

The stone clicked shut behind him.

He didn't summon Zafira.

Zafira wasn't in the throne wing or her chambers.

Leonhardt found her alone in the lower training pit, standing in front of a shattered practice dummy with her war axe resting in the rubble. She wasn't panting, but her body glistened with sweat, skin pale and flushed from recent exertion. Her black hair stuck to her neck and horns, damp, wild, beautiful.

She sensed him immediately.

Her golden eyes snapped toward the entrance, and her posture stiffened.

"Leon... you're not supposed to be here!?"

He stepped down into the pit without replying.

Her lips parted slightly. Her thighs shifted together, subtly, almost unconsciously. Her usual combat stance faltered.

"I needed a test," he said. "And I want it from you."

Zafira's grip on her axe tightened. Her eyes flicked over him, then away, embarrassed.

"I... I don't think I'm the right one to spar you right now. You're... your scent is worse than usual." She mumbled the last part. Her cheeks turned red. "And your voice..."

Leonhardt took another step toward her, his bare feet silent against the stone.

"I haven't said anything charming yet."

"That's the problem!"

Her eyes shook as she ogled his body, unable to stop as she bit her lips, taking a deep breath while trying to steady her grip. She then hoisted the axe with both hands.

"One round. That's all. Just one."

He gave a small nod.

Zafira moved first.

Her axe came down fast—a blur of pale muscle and killing intent. She fought like a whirlwind, all instincts and berserker fury. But something had changed. Her rhythm broke the moment he parried her first strike, their bodies brushing. She gasped, just slightly, and nearly stumbled.

His aura brushed her senses like silk on raw skin.

Her cheeks darkened, and her swings became uneven.

Leonhardt stayed close, not attacking but just watching her fall apart. "You're distracted."

"I'm not," she said too fast, missing another beat.

"You're trembling."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Stop... looking at me like that…"

He stepped forward, dodged her axe, and caught her wrist.

Zafira froze. Her body trembled, and her golden eyes widened, filled with battle high, confusion, and something softer underneath.

"I can't train with you like this," she whispered.

"Then should I look for someone else...?"

Leonhardt's hand brushed against her cheek.

Her knees buckled slightly.

She dropped the axe.

And turned away, hiding her flushed face behind her curtain of black hair.

"…Shut up."

Leonhardt didn't press her, at least not with words.

He stepped around her, creeping toward her fallen axe. His aura still lingered between them like invisible heat, and Zafira's breath caught as he crouched to lift the heavy weapon with one hand.

"I can always ask Lina," he said offhandedly. "She'd be eager to help. Very eager."

Zafira spun on her heel, flushed deep red. "Lina?!"

He turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes with a sly smile. "Mm. Goblins train hard, don't they?"

Zafira snatched the axe from his hand with a sharp growl, her shyness momentarily buried beneath possessive fire. "We're training. Now."

He stepped back, folding his arms. "On one condition."

Her eyes narrowed.

"If I win," Leonhardt said, voice low, "you take responsibility for wasting time."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Her whole body practically steamed.

"And if I win?" she asked, biting the words out.

"Name it."

She hesitated, then looked away. "You… have to take responsibility for teasing me like this."

Leonhardt grinned. "So we're both fighting for something interesting."

Zafira swung without warning, her axe singing through the air, and this time, she didn't hold back.

WOOSH!

A difference in their strength remained, but as Zafira specialised in strength and pure destruction, and Leonhardt's body now grew in all directions equally, his speed surpassed hers despite their difference in level.

'Zafira, after all, you are strong...'

They clashed in the centre of the training pit, blade against skin, speed against instinct. Her strength was monstrous, her strikes filled with rage and embarrassment. Leonhardt danced around each blow, countering her as best he could, not out of mockery, but measured study. The way her hips twisted. The way her foot planted before she lunged.

He wanted to know every angle.

Every weakness.

Not just as a fighter.

But as his woman.

And Zafira? She wanted to win.

Because she couldn't stand the idea of losing to the man who made her heart race with a single glance.

***

The final clash sent sparks scattering across the training pit floor. Zafira landed hard, her axe buried into the stone, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Leonhardt stood just out of reach, not even winded.

She looked up at him with her cherry red lips parted.

"You cheated…"

He offered a hand.

"No," he said, helping her up with ease. "Don't be a sore loser."

She didn't let go of his hand right away.

The warmth between them lingered for a moment.

Zafira finally pulled away, brushing her hair behind her horn and grabbing her axe with a huff. "I still hate you."

It seemed she was angry that he used his newly found speed to avoid fighting her directly made her mad, yet he believed that wasn't all...

Leonhardt smiled, teeth white and sharp. "You'll get used to it."

They left the pit together, silence stretching between them, but not uncomfortably. Zafira was still flushed, but her steps were lighter.

Leonhardt returned to his chamber alone.

The lights flickered as he reached for the dungeon interface to review his stats.

The screen glitched.

Just once.

His pupils narrowed.

A sound hummed in the back of his skull—low, different from Ifrit's normal voice.

[Unauthorised observation attempt detected.]

[Source: Unknown. Interdimensional layer breach – Blocked.]

[Response protocol: Passive Trace Deployed.]

Leonhardt stared at the flickering message.

Someone or something was watching.

Not just him.

But the new him.

And whatever they saw... had their full attention.

He sat down, eyes sharp.

"Let them look."