Dungeon Overlord: Monster Girl Harem!-Chapter 149: Threads Beyond the Veil II

The forest blurred around him—branches snapping, mist parting, silk lines hissing through the air. Leonhardt launched from tree to tree, hands and feet gliding with fluid precision. Every movement was smooth, rehearsed. Animal.

The golden flare behind him surged again. A crash of metal followed.

Whoever chased him wasn't just fast.

He was trained.

Leonhardt twisted midair and lashed a fresh line of webbing around a tree trunk, swinging wide and looping behind a cluster of thorns, vanishing into shadow.

He paused for half a second, breathing in through his nose. A familiar scent filled the air again, burning with a disgusting sense of purity and holy magic.

There was no mistake.

It was stronger now, burning his nose like pepper. As if someone had torn open a divine altar and poured its contents into the soil.

Then the knight appeared.

Boots slammed into the dirt with the grace of someone used to leaping from rooftops, sword drawn, etched in white-gold script. Light shimmered from his armour in a subtle halo, just enough to blind lesser monsters.

Leonhardt hung above the clearing, suspended upside down in his webbing, body still, breath silent.

The knight stepped forward, scanning the forest edge.

"Monster," he said. "What did you do to the Saintess?"

His voice was deep. Human. But beneath it—rage. Not the kind that flared wildly, but the kind that had simmered for days, months, years.

Leonhardt dropped.

He landed in front of the knight in a crouch, one hand steadying his descent. Threads snapped behind him, vanishing into the branches.

"Which one?" he asked calmly.

The knight froze. His eyes widened.

"You speak?" he said, incredulous.

Leonhardt stood slowly, brushing dust from his coat. "If I screamed like a beast, you wouldn't have chased me. You'd have killed me already."

"I will kill you," the knight said, raising his blade. "You reek of dungeon magic. Filth. I can feel it bleeding off your skin."

Leonhardt tilted his head.

"And yet, you followed me alone. No backup. No holy retinue. Not even a Knight bodyguard."

The knight didn't answer.

He stepped forward instead, blade igniting with golden flame.

"I don't need them."

Leonhardt's eyes glimmered crimson in the dim light.

The forest stilled.

Birds stopped chirping. The wind died. Even the mist seemed to wait.

"Good," he whispered. "Neither do I."

Then the trees burst apart.

The clash of steel and silk echoed through the Munat glade, divine fire against dungeon-born strength—two forces that had no place meeting.

And yet, here they were.

Their blades didn't clash. Leonhardt didn't carry one.

Instead, silk lashed forward in a whip, catching the holy sword mid-swing and dragging it off-centre. The knight snarled, wrenching it back, just in time to block a kick to the ribs that sent him skidding backwards through dirt and moss.

"You're fast," Leonhardt said, already moving again.

He vanished into shadow, only to reappear behind the knight, who twisted with surprising grace, slashing upward and catching Leonhardt's coat, tearing the sleeve. Sparks flew.

Light bloomed from the knight's armour.

"By the Flame of Alba, I cast—!"

But he couldn't finish.

A thread shot out, silencing his voice as it wrapped his mouth, followed by two more around his wrists.

Leonhardt stood above him now, one foot pressed lightly against his chest.

The knight struggled.

His eyes burned.

Leonhardt leaned in, not smiling, not mocking—just watching.

"You serve the church," he murmured. "That means you've heard my name."

The knight's body went still. His eyes narrowed.

Leonhardt unwrapped his mouth slowly, watching the reaction.

"…Leonhardt," he spat.

"Mm," Leonhardt nodded. "But you don't know what I am, do you?"

No answer.

Just fury.

"I could kill you. But I won't. I want you to deliver a message."

He raised one hand and with a flick, silken threads bound the knight tightly to a gnarled pine tree, arms spread like a cross, legs pinned to the roots.

"Tell your bishop. That I've made your little saintess my plaything."

Leonhardt's voice darkened, "—that the monsters in the Munat Mountains aren't wild. They belong to someone now."

He leaned close again.

"And if they keep hunting, I'll start hunting back."

The knight tried to speak, but silk covered his mouth again.

Leonhardt stepped back into the mist, vanishing between the trees.

Later.

High above the forest again, Leonhardt stood atop a ledge overlooking the ruined village and cursed chapel below. His coat fluttered behind him. His crimson eyes scanned the night.

"Since they want to cause trouble... don't blame me. Humans."

He lifted his hand, slowly breathing as the mana in his abdomen swirled, forming a vortex as it travelled through his body and gathered at his fingertip.

The air grew still.

Mana crackled across his skin like lightning bottled in silk, dancing down his arm with a subtle shimmer. The sky above darkened, not from clouds, but from something deeper, heavier. A pressure that hummed through the trees like a held breath.

He pointed his finger toward the collapsed chapel.

A single line of violet energy spiralled forth.

It struck the ruined bell tower with a soundless pulse—no explosion, no fire. Just silence. Then, the stones began to crack.

Creeeeaaaaak.

The chapel groaned under its own weight, like a dying animal gasping in its sleep. The cross atop the roof snapped in half. The bell inside trembled.

Then—

Boom.

It all came down in a graceful, controlled ruin. No innocent lives lost. No wild destruction. Just the symbol. The place. The belief.

A warning.

Let them hear their god's silence ring louder than the bell ever did.

Leonhardt exhaled slowly, watching the dust rise like incense into the night sky.

His coat flared as he turned away.

He took the long route back.

Not because he had to. But because he wanted the cold air. The scent of pine and ash. The reminder of where this path would lead.

These humans would push.

And he would push back harder.

He passed through the ridgelines in silence, only breaking pace when he sensed the familiar pull of his dungeon's web—like invisible threads tugging him home. The moment he stepped through the narrow crevice veiled by shadow magic, the temperature shifted.

Warmer.

Safer.

His domain again.

He walked into the den of shadows, where hundreds of glittering eyes blinked from silken alcoves in the cavern walls. The Arachne watched him with reverence and hunger. Legs twitched. Silken thread pulsed. Somewhere deep inside, a chittering song echoed from the heart of their hive.

A smaller one—pale-skinned, eyes wide and sapphire like poisoned glass—dropped from the ceiling.

"Master..." she whispered, her voice melodic, almost hypnotic. "You've returned."

Leonhardt glanced at her. She was young. Freshly summoned, still needing time to grow and become stronger, still unsure how to walk on her new legs. Some races grew with their level like these beautiful monsters.

"Where is Thalisa?" he asked.

The girl pointed deeper, toward the heart of the den. "She waits... in the mother's web."

Leonhardt nodded once and strode forward.

As he passed the others, they lowered themselves from their webs, bowing, coiling, whispering praise in voices like wind passing through bone.

He didn't stop. Not until the air grew thick with mana, and the cave opened into the Matriarch's chamber.

There she was. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Thalisa. Eight legs curled beneath a massive, muscular body of sleek black and red. Her humanoid torso was upright and regal, draped in sheer silk and gold filaments. Hair as dark as ink hung down her shoulders, framing a face that was sharp and eerily beautiful.

She smiled when she saw him, her fangs gleaming.

"You've been playing in the woods, Master," she said, her voice thick with amusement—and something darker beneath.

Leonhardt paused a few feet away.

"I've seen the humans," he replied. "The temple's stirring."

Thalisa nodded, her expression never changing. "I felt it. The air reeked of their prayers."

He looked at her then, studying her face, her posture, the weight of command in her presence. She was no longer just a spider. She was growing into a queen.

"You're ready," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Ready for what?"

"Their attack, the temple will send powerful knights here. So get those young girls trained, I don't want those cute girls to die."

"Master?" Thalisa's eyes widened as she moved closer, her body larger than Leonhardt's as she leaned down, and wrapped around him with her front legs. "What about me, about your Thalisa?"

"Of course, you can't die, or damage your pretty little face and body."

Thalisa's smile twisted at the corners, a faint shimmer pulsing in her red-black eyes.

"Careful, Master," she whispered, her voice as smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "Keep speaking like that and I might forget you're not mine."

Leonhardt didn't flinch.

He let her hold him, her slender arms around his shoulders, while the rest of her legs anchored in the dense webbing behind. Her body was warm and oddly comforting—predator and protector all in one.

"You're mine," he replied, voice even.

Her breath hitched.

It wasn't the words, but the tone. Calm. Final. As if it were a natural truth, not a possessive statement. Leonhardt's hands slid along her waist, fingertips brushing the golden cords tied around her silk robes.

"You've earned a gift," he said.

At that, she straightened, her expression shifting. Fangs receded, eyes gleamed.

"What kind of gift?" Her tone was hungry now. Less for flesh—more for favour. Recognition.

Leonhardt just smiled while gazing into her pretty red eyes.