Back at the top of the clock tower, when she saw Greg execute Bracers of Darkness without any instruction, Nightmare had been surprised, but it was still understandable.
After all, binding half of her Godhood and power to him had dramatically raised the cap of his potential, and he himself seemed to possess a rather impressive Dark Magic Affinity.
The combination of those two factors bringing forth a Supreme-tier magic spell, while rare, was not entirely impossible.
However, the second dark-attribute spell Greg had just cast—Dark Pulse—was what completely broke Nightmare's composure.
Bracers of Darkness had been hailed in that ancient era as the Strongest Shield, representing the absolute pinnacle of shadow power in defense and devourment.
Dark Pulse, on the other hand, was known as the Strongest Spear—the peak of shadow power when it came to erosion, penetration, and inflicting negative status effects.
These two spells, one defense and one offense, possessed properties that were fundamentally conflicting and opposed to each other.
Mastering even one was exceptionally difficult, requiring immense compatibility and a stroke of fortune.
To master two Supreme-tier magic spells that were so thoroughly incompatible at the same time?
Even back in the glorious era when gods stood side by side and heroes emerged in endless waves, such a thing was unheard of!
Even among the other half-deities of that time, no such precedent had ever existed.
Everything happening before her eyes, combined with that faint, almost imperceptible sense of familiarity that had stirred from the depths of Nightmare's soul when she first met Greg—as if reaching across an ancient past...
All these anomalies seemed to point toward a possibility that even Nightmare found hard to believe:
Perhaps this mortal named Greg Sass had held some unknown, ancient connection with her, the ruler of darkness, in the distant past.
Otherwise, how could one explain this double Supreme-tier adaptability that defied all natural laws?
Yet a new doubt immediately followed.
Although she had been asleep for a long time, Nightmare's memories regarding this matter were nearly intact.
She clearly remembered that she remained a virgin goddess who had never engaged in intimacy with any mortal, let alone left behind any offspring or bloodline.
Though she had possessed countless devout—even fanatical—believers during the height of her faith, including no shortage of brilliant and extraordinary individuals, not a single follower had ever reached a point where they could share a true “connection” with her.
So... what was going on here?
Who, exactly, was this Greg Sass?
Or rather, what was the true essence of his soul?
Nightmare lurked quietly in Greg's shadow, her glowing green eyes opening silently in the darkness, reflecting the side of Greg's face as he walked along, completely oblivious.
Confusion, curiosity, a faint trace of scrutiny, and an emotion she herself couldn't yet fully comprehend swirled slowly through her divine thoughts.
“Hey, why did you go quiet again all of a sudden?” Greg's voice resonated in her mind once more.
Instead of answering his question, Nightmare asked in return, “Let me confirm with thee once more. Before our fates were bound together, hadst thou truly never seen me?”
Greg was taken aback by this sudden, solemn question, but quickly responded in annoyance, “Yeah, didn't I answer that already? What, do I need to quote that old line about ‘I've seen this sister before,’ smash a piece of jade, and then you'll finally think it makes sense?”
Nightmare fell silent for a moment before speaking in a low voice: “Then that is... truly strange.”
“Strange? What's strange about it?” Greg pressed.
“...No, it is nothing.”
Nightmare's voice returned to its usual ethereal calm, but the inquisitive undertone did not completely dissipate.
“Dammit! You insufferable riddler!”
Greg protested in his head, “Do you know how annoying it is to stop halfway through a sentence?! Now it's going to stay on my mind, and I'll keep wondering about it!”
While Greg grumbled endlessly about Nightmare's riddle-like behavior, he and Silvia had already walked to the end of the safety passage.
The light before them shifted slightly as they officially stepped into the middle layers of the dungeon's first layer.
The overall structure here was still an underground cavern, but unlike the shallow layers—which were virtually barren with nothing but bare rocks, moss, and underground rivers—the middle layers showed much richer signs of an ecosystem.
The rock walls were covered in a wider variety of fungi and mosses glowing with soft, multi-colored light—purple, blue, and pale green—looking like scattered stars.
A few strangely shaped dark plants, resembling ferns or low shrubs, were sparsely scattered across the cave floor or in rock crevices. Their thick, fleshy leaves were coated with a waxy layer to adapt to the underground environment's lack of direct sunlight.
A faint aroma hung in the air, mixing moist soil, minerals, and the subtle bitterness of subterranean vegetation.
Visibility was slightly better than in the shallow layers, with the faint glow from luminous organisms more concentrated, outlining the shapes of jagged rocks and deep, dark forks in the path.
Although this was his first time setting foot in this area in person, Greg's familiarity with the original game's early layers gave him a clear understanding of the overall layout and main paths, leaving him with no fear of getting lost.
“Woah... Is this the middle layers? It looks completely different from above!”
Silvia also seemed drawn in by the environment, which was vastly different from the shallow layers, pulling her out of her thoughts for the moment.
Curious, she walked over to a cluster of strange plants emitting a soft blue luminescence, their leaves fanning out like feathers. She observed them closely, her pink eyes reflecting the soft blue glow, a look of novel wonder on her face.
Greg stopped arguing with Nightmare and began examining their surroundings.
The novel sights of the middle layers did bring a brief sense of freshness, but soon, a strong sense of dissonance replaced his initial curiosity.
It was too quiet.
Compared to the shallow layers—where low-tier magical beasts constantly rustled in the background—it was eerily still here.
Aside from their own footsteps, breathing, and the faint, distant dripping of water from an unknown source, almost no signs of living creatures could be heard.
No roars of magical beasts, no fluttering of wings, no sound of claws scraping against rock.
Moreover, as far as the eye could see, the ground and rock walls were remarkably clean, showing almost no signs of recent intense combat.
In an area that should theoretically host more, stronger, and more active magical beasts, this was extremely abnormal.
It was almost as if... the magical beasts here were terrified by something and had all gone into hiding.
This unnatural stillness linked together with what Nightmare had mentioned earlier—about a “noise coming from deeper down that didn't belong to the dungeon.”
A familiar term suddenly crashed into Greg's mind.
The wide-area dispersal magic conduit—Screech.
Rate on N.U.
