Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!-Chapter 160: Sanctified in Sin

The moment Zafira vanished, Erina's breathing became worse, heavier as she struggled to endure Leonhardt's powerful pheromones. But then his hand brushed against her cheek, his touch making the stuffy ache vanish for a moment.

"Sorry, Erina. I cannot control them properly... and made you suffer."

'Don't be so kind to me...'

Erina didn't breathe. The shift—him sending Zafira away, staying with her instead—should've meant nothing. It could've meant nothing. But something about it made the heat under her ribs throb again.

This situation wasn't a victory.

It was danger.

Because now she was alone. With Leonhardt.

And he hadn't even touched her. But she was on the brink of climaxing. It was strange... the tingle filling her limbs and the pleasant warmth that built inside.

Erina's hands dug into the folds of her skirt.

She had to move. Had to say something. Anything to scatter the haze building behind her eyes. But her body wouldn't obey. Her legs refused to stiffen. Her spine swayed as if the air itself had gone soft.

You're better than this, she told herself.

You were chosen. You belonged to Alba's light.

Not… not to this.

Her thighs pressed tighter together.

The shame followed instantly.

This wasn't prayer. This wasn't duty. This wasn't what a priestess, a former saintess, should feel—not in front of a monster who had kissed a demoness just minutes ago.

And yet...

The scent of him—spiced, subtle, warm—slid down her throat like stolen wine. It didn't disgust her. It didn't make her want to recoil.

It made her want to kneel. To open everything up to him.

'No… no, I'm just—I'm still weak from before. That's all. It's the pheromones. The aura. The magic…'

But the lies were hollow. Erina's pulse didn't lie. The ache behind her ribs didn't lie.

Even her heartbeat felt like it had started whispering his name.

She rose too quickly from the velvet seat, trying to straighten her posture before her legs gave her away and she fell.

Leonhardt said nothing at all.

Erina stared at his chest, at the trail of muscles, kiss marks and claw marks from Zafira, she sucked in the cold air and sank her teeth into her soft lips. "Why?"

His body looked powerful now, yes. More than that—dangerous. But not like a weapon. Like a place. A destination. A promise you weren't sure you were ready to keep.

Erina swallowed.

"Why did you stay behind…"

The words slipped out before she could decide if they were a question or an accusation.

Leonhardt's eyes dropped to her lips.

They trembled when she asked the question. Her voice was trying to sound strong, but her body betrayed her. Everything she did was a contradiction now. Her thighs pressed together. Her fingers gripped her skirt like a lifeline. But her eyes... her eyes begged for Leon to answer wrong.

He didn't smile.

Didn't tease.

He could've said something cruel. Something to push Erina away. To break her now and make her flee again.

But instead, he said what he meant.

"Of course I did."

That was all.

That was it.

But even saying that, something scratched into his chest.

He hadn't meant to stay.

He hadn't meant to let Zafira leave with the fairy girl, either. Not really.

But when Erina looked up at him—soft, afraid, burning—it stirred something... inconvenient.

She wasn't ready.

He knew that.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that a part of him wanted her to be. Not as a conquest. Not to prove something. But because when she looked at him like that—raw, trembling—he felt like something inside waited for him to unseal, like a gift.

Something that might belong to him.

And that was dangerous.

For her.

And for him.

She sat before they gave out.

And Leonhardt… moved closer.

Unnatural, demonic... yet she felt. "Amazing." A low whisper came from the former saintess candidate's lips as she dropped back into the chair. Her muscles relaxed as she spread herself slightly and closed her eyes. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

She didn't realise her thighs were parting until the cold air kissed the inside of her legs.

Her breath hitched.

The soft velvet against her skin felt too sensitive now, like every inch of her was listening. The pounding of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Her body wasn't hers anymore. It belonged to something else.

And Leonhardt just stood there.

He didn't move closer.

Didn't touch her again.

He simply watched.

That was the worst part.

The heat building in her stomach wasn't lust—not just lust. It was tension. Anticipation. The aching flutter of being seen so fully it stripped away the layers of doubt she'd wrapped herself in.

"You're trembling," he said softly.

Not mocking.

Not kind.

Just... stating it.

Erina bit her lip harder. Her green eyes lifted—wet now, a little glassy. She hated the way her voice shook. Hated the truth behind it.

"You stayed… because you knew this would happen."

He tilted his head.

"You think I planned this?"

"You always plan things." Her hands clenched her skirt. "Even this."

His eyes didn't blink. "And if I did?"

Her breath caught again.

He leaned in then. Just slightly. The distance between them shrank.

Not enough to touch—but enough to feel.

Enough that the heat radiating off his skin made hers shiver.

"You said you hated me."

"I do," she whispered.

"And yet you're soaked."

She gasped.

Not in shock.

In shame.

In truth.

Because it was true.

And she couldn't lie anymore—not with his scent inside her lungs. Not with his voice sliding down her spine like a brand.

She wanted to speak.

To deflect.

To resist.

But her body curled instead.

Waiting.

Trembling.

Willing.

And Leonhardt?

He still hadn't touched her.

And she was about to lose her mind.

"I didn't remain to make you drown in pleasure, foolish girl." Asmodeus spoke in a harsh tone, yet his hands, his warm hands, gripped her thighs, squeezing them tight. The mere sensation caused her mind to become blank.

The pleasure, the rush, the desire, the hunger, the thirst for him exploded.

It was like a narrow pipe, filled with gallons of raging sea water.

Erina's head flung back, she gasped, groaned, and almost choked, unable to stop... it came like a flood, a tsunami... a powerful volcano that gave her feelings a release.

Erina's breathing gradually slowed after her intense release, shallow gasps quieting short breaths. She slipped into the comfortable cushioning and closed her eyes, unable to feel her limbs, trembling but no longer in fear, but in vulgar bliss.

But then she felt it.

The stickiness between her thighs. The dampness clinging to her skin. Worse, the warmth smeared along Leonhardt's chest, his stomach, where she'd—

Her eyes widened.

"Oh no—" Her voice cracked.

She tried to curl away from him, bury the shame in velvet cushions, but he didn't let her. His hand rested on her shoulder, firm, not rough.

"It's fine," Leonhardt said simply.

She didn't believe him.

Her face burned.

Her inner thighs were soaked, the fabric of her dress stuck to her, obscene and wet and unholy—and some of it had streaked across his skin, glistening faintly against his abs.

She wanted the world to swallow her whole.

"I'm sorry... it wasn't my...."

"I know," his calm voice like soothing hands stroking her body, flicking her most sensitive points, causing her to sigh, with a sensual groan.

She dared glance at him.

And he wasn't even looking at the mess.

Just Erina's face.

Like none of it mattered.

Like the only thing that mattered was her.

His coat rustled as he reached into the inner lining.

A small, rune-stitched velvet pouch slid free, and from it, he pulled something beautiful.

Not a ring.

Not a gem.

A pendant.

Delicate and obsidian-black, shaped like a stylised eye wrapped in silver thorns—the mark of his dungeon. At its centre pulsed a shard of amethyst, glowing faintly with mana.

He held it out to her, palm open.

"For you."

Erina stared at it, confused, still flushed from her climax.

"What is it…?"

"A veil pendant," he replied. "It masks your identity. Gently warps your features, dampens divine detection, and blocks scrying from most holy relics."

"The form you take will be close to your ideal sense of beauty..."

Her hand hovered above it, unsure.

"You'll need it," he added. "The church won't stop looking for you."

Her throat tightened.

"You… got this for me?"

He didn't nod.

Didn't smirk.

Just waited.

Erina looked down at the pendant again. Her fingers touched the chain. Cold. Smooth. A bit heavier than it looked.

She noticed the back was engraved.

A single rune—his rune. The mark of his dungeon… and of everything Leonhardt was. Not a symbol of affection.

A symbol of claim.

'He's serious…'

"…It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Just like you," he murmured.

"Eh—what?"

"It's protection," he said, voice lower now. "And a reminder."

Her breath caught.

"A reminder of what?"

Leonhardt leaned in. Close enough for her skin to react before her thoughts could catch up. His breath curled against her ear like a promise she couldn't forget.

"That you're not theirs anymore."

Erina's fingers tightened around the pendant.

Its shape pressed into her palm.

And then—

His voice again.

Softer.

Darker.

"Because now... you're mine."