Even in his memories of the original game, Greg didn't harbor any real ill will toward the Goddess of Light, Serafina.
The reason was simple.
First, Serafina’s sacred beauty was the pinnacle of the modeling and art teams' work. Even if that exaggerated chest of hers was truly a fraud created by divine arts, it didn't diminish her overall status as a symbol of beauty.
Second, this goddess had pitifully little screen time. In the main storyline, she was merely a high-and-mighty background figure. She never had the chance to do anything that would make players hate her, so naturally, there was no reason to.
Nightmare snorted, her voice carrying an obvious sense of loathing. “That hypocritical radiance and those ridiculous encumbrances are only part of the reason. The real reason I hate her is...”
She suddenly fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly.
“Regarding that, I seem to be unable to remember clearly. I only recently realized that my memories concerning certain characteristics have become blurred, as if shrouded in a thick fog...”
Her voice lowered, carrying a trace of imperceptible doubt and self-reflection. “...I wonder if it has something to do with that person.”
“Heh, what a coincidence,” Greg replied. “To be honest, I’ve also been having some issues with certain memories of my past. This is great—we can form a matching pair of riddlers. We can spend our time guessing about each other; maybe we’ll even trigger some hidden plotline.”
Though he was a bit disappointed not to get the information he wanted, Greg didn't have time to dwell on it now.
During their conversation, the corridor that seemed long enough to be endless finally reached its conclusion.
The darkness ahead no longer stretched out; instead, a massive stone door blocked their path completely.
This door followed the same architectural style as the temple entrance, but the reliefs on its surface were denser and more twisted. It looked as if countless souls wailing in agony had been forcibly cast into the door panels, forming a series of indescribable, blasphemous tableaus.
Merely staring at it was enough to make one feel dizzy and uneasy.
Greg stopped before the door and turned to face Vivian.
The relaxed, teasing look on his face vanished entirely. His amber eyes appeared exceptionally bright and focused in the dim light.
“Vivian, the tough battle ahead is completely different from clearing out small fry. The thing inside... is very troublesome. Its attack patterns and weaknesses are vastly different from the monsters we usually encounter.”
He paused, his gaze locking onto Vivian’s ice-blue eyes as if trying to transmit his own resolve and confidence to her.
“So, once we go in, try your best to follow my lead. I’ll tell you when to attack, when to dodge, and where it’s most effective to strike. That guy might look... terrifying, but don't be afraid.”
He took a half-step forward, coming close enough to see his own reflection clearly in Vivian’s eyes. His voice was low and powerful, like the firmest of promises.
“In a critical moment, I’ll protect you just like the last two times. I promise.”
There were no flowery oaths or exaggerated guarantees, just a direct statement.
Yet these plain words held more power than any impassioned speech.
Vivian listened quietly, her ice-blue eyes meeting his without blinking.
There was no doubt or fear in them—only a crystal-clear calm and an incredibly firm trust settled beneath that surface.
From his intervention during the initial attack to his self-sacrificial protection against the breath attack earlier, this trust had already accumulated through crises and battles to a point where words were no longer needed.
She nodded without the slightest hesitation.
“Okay.”
Her cool voice carried an unquestionable certainty.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Greg took a deep breath, turned, and pressed both hands against the heavy stone door covered in twisted reliefs once more.
This time, he needed more strength.
“Hah—!”
With a low grunt, the muscles in Greg’s arms bulged as he pushed with all his might.
The heavy stone door groaned as if from ancient times, slowly swinging inward.
A thicker scent of decay, sweet fishiness, and an indescribably eerie aura surged out from the gap like a physical tide.
Behind the door was an exceptionally vast space, resembling a prayer hall that had been magnified countless times.
The floor was paved with shattered obsidian slabs, and the walls and ceiling were similarly covered in disturbing reliefs.
At the far end of the hall, the silhouette of a tall stone statue was vaguely visible.
The statue appeared to be the body of a woman. Its lines were soft yet possessed a weird sense of rigidity. The head was missing, and the jagged edges of the broken neck added a layer of macabre to the scene.
This was likely the true taboo of this dungeon, the remnant of the Mother of Fragmentation.
However, neither Greg’s nor Vivian’s gaze could linger on that broken statue for long.
Because in the open space in front of the headless statue, a transformation was taking place.
In the center of the hall, the ground that was originally empty was now churning and boiling like molten mud.
It wasn't liquid, but a viscous, dark red aggregate that looked like it was forcibly merged from countless pieces of flesh, visceral remains, and indescribable organic matter.
They seeped out from the cracks in the floor and the shadows of the walls, gathering together with a wet, gurgling sound that made one’s skin crawl.
This mass of flesh seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, twisting, entwining, and fusing frantically. Its volume expanded rapidly, and its form changed at high speed.
In just a few breaths, a monster three meters tall that defied easy description coalesced from the churning flesh.
Its lower body barely maintained a twisted humanoid silhouette. Its limbs were exceptionally thick, covered in dark red tumors and bone spurs that pulsated as if breathing. Bone blades with reverse hooks grew where fingers and toes should be.
But its upper body, especially the head—
There was no head in the traditional sense.
In its place was a massive, constantly expanding and contracting throat tissue composed of layered dark red rings of flesh and deathly white mucous membranes!
It was as if a throat had been isolated and granted a life of its own!
“What... is that...?”
Vivian whispered instinctively. Her ice-blue eyes reflected this form that completely defied common sense, evoking a visceral sense of disgust and fear. Even with her composure, her face turned slightly pale.
As if responding to her gaze, or perhaps announcing its arrival, the pulsating throat suddenly expanded to its limit—
“ROAAAAAAR———————!!!!!”
From deep within the throat that served as its head, a roar erupted that transcended the normal range of sound!
The sound was low, raspy, and viscous, as if the death wails of billions of creatures had been forcibly compressed, twisted, and mixed together. The entire space, along with the air, dust, and light within it, was shaken to the point where boundaries became blurred by this roar!
The invisible soundwave carried physical impact and an intent of soul-piercing hunger and greed, sweeping through the prayer hall like a tsunami!
The Floor Boss of the second layer—【LV50 Thirsting Maw】—had officially arrived!
Rate on N.U.
