The campfire crackled, and the underground river murmured, but the sounds seemed to recede into the distance in an instant, fading into irrelevantly quiet background noise.
Greg maintained his pose of propping up his chin, blinking once, then blinking again.
The expression on his face—a blend of helplessness, worry, and disgust—froze. Then, like glass struck by a heavy hammer, fine cracks rippled across it.
“I...” He opened his mouth, his voice slightly dry. “I somehow... became a god?”
He uttered the words excruciatingly slowly, each syllable squeezed out from his throat with great difficulty.
It was neither a question nor an exclamation, but rather an utterly bewildered statement stemming from pure information overload.
Becoming a god?
And just like that?
Wasn't this process a little too rushed?!
Greg's thoughts began to drift uncontrollably in weird directions.
He now seriously suspected whether there was something more to his backstory.
For example, like a certain God of War named Kratos, did divine blood from some scumbag god actually flow through his veins, allowing him to gain the identity of a “god” so easily?
Then what came next?
According to the usual tropes, was he supposed to embark on a path of god-slaying?
Starting by killing minor deities, leveling up all the way, and finally chopping down the God King to ascend the supreme throne?
The mental image was vivid enough, but Greg just wanted to hold his head and scream stop.
Because all he wanted was to lay low in the dungeon until the very end!
All that fighting and killing was so unpeaceful!
Besides, the mortality rate for the god-slaying business was astronomically high—it was practically impossible to accomplish without making a few trips to the Underworld!
The black cat seemed very pleased with his reaction, its deep green eyes curving slightly, as if smiling.
“Indeed. Though you are merely a Demigod, with weak Godhood, incomplete Authority, and a low rank... in essence, you have truly transcended the mortal realm.”
It confirmed Greg's understanding using a string of adjectives that sounded anything but reassuring.
Greg finally recovered a little from his petrified state.
Lowering the hand supporting his chin, he rubbed his face, feeling his CPU overloading from the sheer volume of information.
“Wait, wait... Let's break this down first.”
He made a time-out gesture. “First question: you said that if you die, I die, and if I die, you die? We share a life?”
“Mhm. Intertwined fates, a Life-bond.” The black cat nodded.
Greg went silent for two seconds. Then, he slammed his hands over his face, letting out a grief-stricken wail of outrage:
“Damn it all—! How could an exceptionally handsome, brilliant, and remarkably talented young man like me be bound to... a cat?! Bound in life and death, sharing a lifespan?! What kind of cruel new torture is this?! Is this some kind of dark joke?!”
“Hey, now.”
The tip of the black cat's tail flicked with displeasure, a trace of offended annoyance entering its voice:
“Watch your words, mortal—oh, Demigod now... As you are now, you truly are a being with an 'unlimited future.' Moreover, I reiterate: I am no ordinary cat. I am a genuine goddess—Nightmare.”
That final name carried the unique, heavy weight of the Divine Tongue, echoing faintly throughout the cavern.
“Shut up!”
Greg peeked one eye through the gaps between his fingers, glaring at it, his tone overflowing with disgust:
“A creature like you who can't arouse a single shred of desire or provide even the most basic visual fanservice doesn't deserve to be called a goddess at all!”
“If you've got an issue with that, turn into a drop-dead gorgeous big sister with a smokin' hot body, voluptuous curves, waist-length hair, and sultry eyes before you try to talk back to me!”
“Oho.” Nightmare in her black cat form didn't get angry; instead, the amusement in her deep green eyes seemed to deepen.
“You don't hide your ugly, straightforward desires in the slightest, do you? Though, to be frank, I don't dislike someone whose inside matches their outside. Compared to those believers who spout piety while harboring sinister thoughts, you seem... much more genuine.”
She paused, a rare touch of humanlike regret slipping into her tone:
“It is merely a great pity...”
“...that I have been detached from the system of faith for far too long, leaving my divine power withered and my Godhood fragmented.”
“Even maintaining my current manifestation is a strain. If I were to change form—especially into the... high-energy form you desire—it is currently impossible.”
“I can only leave you disappointed.”
“Tsk, I knew it'd be this classic cliché.” Greg curled his lip and lowered his hands, his face written all over with ‘I knew it.’
Relying on his knowledge of the original game's lore, he knew full well that the power of gods in this world relied heavily on the anchoring and offerings of faith.
For an ancient deity like the Goddess of Night, who had vanished for hundreds of years with her worship virtually extinguished, to retain a sliver of consciousness and locate him was already a miracle. Expecting her to immediately display the full majesty of a goddess in her prime was indeed nothing short of a pipedream.
He sighed, accepting this harsh reality, and pressed on:
“Second question: you said we share a single Godhood? So what am I now... some kind of Dark God? Apprentice Dark God? Godhood-Sharing Partner? It can't possibly be Dark Hermaphrodite, right?!”
He expressed extreme vigilance regarding any bizarre titles he might acquire.
“It is merely a title; there is no need to dwell on it so much.”
Nightmare's tone sounded indifferent. “However, according to ancient custom, a being like you who is deeply bound to Godhood yet retains an independent will and form seems to be universally referred to as a—God-man.”
“God-man?” Greg's mouth twitched. “You're a God-man! Your whole family is a God-man!”
He rejected without hesitation a title that sounded like a bizarre insult.
Nightmare didn't seem to mind his fierce reaction, tilting her head:
“It seems you do not care for that title. No matter, titles can always be changed.”
She pondered for a moment, her ethereal voice speaking up: “In that case, I shall bestow one of my titles upon you. From this moment forth, I grant you permission to address yourself as the 'Sovereign of Night.'”
“Mm, now that one's pretty good. I like it,” Greg nodded.
“I truly fail to comprehend why you humans place so much weight on these useless designations,” Nightmare shook her head.
Greg: “And whose fault is it that I have to find joy in bitterness right now?”
Nightmare assumed an elegant, noncommittal posture, licking her paw as she pretended to inspect the patterns on the cave wall.
“Sigh...” Greg let out a long, resigned sigh, knowing it was useless to bicker with this black cat.
He sat up straight, his expression becoming serious again, with a hint of sharpness.
“Alright, enough with the appetizers. Time for the main course. Third question—and the most important one.”
He took a deep breath, letting the cool, damp air of the cavern fill his lungs, clearing his mind that had been scrambled by the relentless barrage of shocks.
His amber eyes locked firmly onto the mysterious black cat before him, asking the core puzzle that had been swirling in his heart ever since he was told they were bound:
“Even if you're a fallen goddess, couldn't you have bound yourself to a dying hero, a desperate sage, or a vengeful prince?”
“Why on earth did you choose me?”
Rate on N.U.
