The Power of the Dark Attribute

Although it sounded great on the surface...

If possible, Greg actually hoped Allie could sneak into the Academy Dungeon with him.

With a Level 68 powerhouse like her backing him up, he could clear the first layer in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, the dungeon entrance was protected by a restriction that only allowed students of Glory Cael Magic Academy to enter.

Therefore, his wish was doomed to fail.

Still, he had mostly achieved his goal for today: placating a maid with somewhat obsessive tendencies.

Greg didn't push his luck any further.

However, another problem quickly occurred to him.

Allie had made it clear she would keep following him, but since he was no longer a noble, he couldn't bring her into the academy as an attendant.

So, where was he supposed to settle her?

Was he supposed to leave her wandering aimlessly around Yenier City every day, eagerly waiting for him to sneak out of the academy whenever he could?

That seemed a bit too... pitiable.

Besides, given Allie's personality, leaving her with nothing to do for long periods was a recipe for disaster. Heaven knew what trouble she might stir up.

Just as Greg frowned, pondering how to arrange things for Allie, his damned -10 Luck stat struck with flawless precision once again.

Directly above his head, the ancient metal fittings supporting the massive bronze clock—a city landmark that had hung there for who knew how many years—groaned under unbearable weight without warning, and then... snapped.

Weighing several tons, the giant bell plummeted toward where Greg stood, bringing with it years of verdigris and the icy chill of death!

A shadow instantly engulfed him.

“Young Master—!!”

Allie noticed at almost the exact same instant. Her azure eyes shrank, and her hand instinctively flew to the hilt of her sword.

Distance, falling speed, angle of attack to avoid harming Greg... Her mind calculated every factor in a split second, arriving at a cold, hopeless conclusion.

It was too late.

There was no time to pull Greg away, nor time to shatter the giant bell.

In Greg's pupils, the rapidly enlarging bronze surface, covered in green verdigris, reflected with terrifying clarity.

Greg's mind went completely blank, leaving only that single thought.

He could even feel the rush of air displaced by the descending weight.

Just then—

A calm, almost indifferent voice resonated deep within his mind:

“The boon I granted you is not a mere ornament.”

Almost the instant the voice spoke, survival instinct overrode his frozen brain.

Greg didn't even have time to think about what to use. His body responded to an instinct carved into his soul, driving a power he had yet to truly master.

LV1 Bracers of Darkness.

Where his will directed, mana surged.

A pair of bracers as black as the deepest midnight materialized around his arms instantly.

Their surface wasn't smooth metal, but a dense, roiling black mist that churned like a living thing, exuding an ominous, profound presence.

There was no time to savor this power, no time to marvel at its form.

The giant bell crashed down upon him.

Yet the anticipated excruciating pain of being crushed to pieces and the violent impact never came.

The moment the heavy bronze wall touched the pitch-black bracers, the dense black mist on their surface erupted like an awakened behemoth. It boiled forth and expanded, a wave of living shadow that swallowed the massive bronze bell whole in an instant.

There was no loud crash, no spark of clashing metal—only the silent surge of dark mist.

A moment later, the dark mist receded like an ebbing tide, drawing back to the surface of the bracers where it resumed its slow, steady flow.

And the giant bronze bell that should have crushed Greg into meat paste... was gone.

Vanished without a trace.

Not a single speck of verdigris remained, as if it had never existed in that space at all.

The night wind continued to blow across the empty top of the clock tower.

Greg remained frozen in his defensive cross-armed stance, staring blankly at the pitch-black bracers on his arms as they faded into transparency and dissolved into nothingness.

Allie's hand remained tightly gripped on her sword hilt, her body leaning forward slightly in a stance ready to leap to his rescue.

Her face was a blend of extreme shock, disbelief, and a hint of... bewilderment.

What... had just happened?

Where was the bronze bell?

A bronze bell that huge and heavy had fallen, only to be... “eaten” by a cloud of black mist?

She slowly straightened her back, her gaze locked onto Greg—or rather, onto his arms where the black bracers had just materialized.

Her azure eyes, usually so clear and composed, were now filled with shock and suspicion.

She couldn't comprehend it at all.

When had the young master she had watched over since childhood... mastered such a strange, ominous, and powerful force?

What was that black mist that seemed capable of devouring everything?

She had never seen—or even heard of—such a sinister ability.

As for Greg himself, he was completely dumbfounded.

Although he had guessed that gaining dark attribute abilities after becoming Nightmare's other half wouldn't be weak, still... wasn't this effect a bit too absurd?

It devoured a bell that massive in one bite?

In the original game, no character had ever actually used dark magic, so he hadn't anticipated such a crude and absolute erasure.

Silence stretched across the clock tower for a few seconds, broken only by the howling night wind.

Finally, Allie was the first to recover from her shock.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, though her voice retained a barely perceptible strain:

“That power just now... what was it? That black mist, and those bracers... I've never seen you use them before. No, I've never seen magic like that at all.”

“Uh... about that...”

Greg lowered his arms. Facing Allie's questioning, his brain worked in overdrive.

There didn't seem to be any need to hide this from Allie—nor could he even if he tried.

Anyone with eyes could tell something was bizarre about what just happened.

Besides, Allie was the only person right now he could trust completely, and someone with the strength to help him deal with abnormal matters.

“It's a long story...”

Greg organized his thoughts and decided to disclose part of the truth.

Of course, he didn't intend to mention things like their shared fate, shared Godhood, or how they might both kick the bucket at any moment, as that would only worry Allie further.

“Simply put...”

He cleared his throat, trying to sound more credible. “I... was chosen by an ancient existence. Well, you can think of it as me becoming Her Messenger.”

“An ancient existence?” Allie frowned.

“The Goddess of Night, Nightmare.” Greg uttered the name.

Allie's pupils constricted slightly once more.

The Goddess of Night... Nightmare.

She had seen that name only in scattered fragments of extremely ancient texts—documents practically regarded as mere myth and legend.

It belonged to an ancient deity whose worship had long ceased, vanishing into the long river of history.

In orthodox texts of the Holy Church of Light, Her very existence was intentionally blurred or disparaged.

And now, Greg was telling her that this goddess—a figure existing solely in legend—had chosen him?

And made him Her Messenger?