"I didn't expect the quality of the beautiful girls around you to be so high."
As Greg finally hauled his newly purchased supplies back to the dungeon camp and began the frantic process of assembly, Nightmare's voice suddenly drifted out from his shadow.
A black cat's head rose lazily from the shadows on the ground, its emerald eyes surveying the small patch of cleared ground with interest.
"Even that maid is at such a level, which is rare. However, the other gray-haired girl is a bit lacking. After all, her... well, it's quite sparse there."
Greg was struggling with a roll of rope and replied without looking up:
"What do you know? The gray-haired brat's legs are perfect. That alone adds a lot of points."
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a bit foolish. Arguing about this with a cat—he must be truly bored.
But his hands didn't stop.
After spending quite a while securing the last ground peg, Greg finally straightened his aching back, let out a long sigh of relief, and looked at the result before him.
A dark gray, sturdy-looking heavy canvas tent stood firmly in a relatively flat and dry spot within the cave.
Thanks to the developed adventuring industry in this world, tents were a best-selling item, and manufacturers were incredibly competitive. Not only was the fabric waterproof and windproof, but the interior was also lined with soft padding. More importantly—the top of the tent poles was inlaid with a small, low-grade magic crystal that could trigger a basic defensive barrier covering the entire tent.
This barrier couldn't stop any powerful attacks, but it was enough to provide a warning while resting or to repel the weak insects and small magical beasts of the dungeon's shallow layers that liked to sneak in at night.
For an adventurer, this meant being able to get a relatively peaceful sleep without having to keep their nerves constantly taut.
In a dungeon fraught with danger, this was worth far more than the tent itself.
Although it cost him two full gold coins—nearly most of the funds he had requested from Allie—looking at the tent that could provide a sense of security, Greg still felt it was worth it.
At least he wouldn't have to lie directly on the cold, damp stone floor that made his bones ache.
However, just as he wiped his sweat and prepared to enjoy the fruits of his labor, a dark shadow blurred past his feet with lightning speed and dove into the tent first.
Nightmare found the softest spot in the back of the tent, curled up elegantly, and even stretched contentedly.
"Hey!"
Greg pulled back the tent flap and shouted irritably at the interior:
"A bad cat like you, who didn't put in any labor, has no right to enjoy the fruits of my labor! Don't you know the rules?"
Nightmare ignored him entirely, instead leisurely shifting into a more comfortable position. Her emerald eyes shimmered in the dim tent as she posed a new question:
"By the way, your maid from earlier, her name is Allie, right? I can feel from her life source that she seems to be only twenty-seven years old, yet her level has already reached LV68, which is the Hero Realm. Such a growth rate would be considered a genius even in my era. I'm curious, why would she choose to follow someone like you... hmph, a mere LV16 fellow?"
Greg stood at the entrance of the tent, feeling a bit chilled by the wind.
He sighed, too lazy to argue with a cat over a bed, and bent down to crawl inside, sitting down a short distance from Nightmare.
The inside of the tent was much warmer and drier than the outside.
"I don't know."
He leaned against the tent wall and closed his eyes tiredly, his voice sounding weak.
But he wasn't being dismissive.
He truly didn't know.
In fact, it wasn't just him; even the hardcore players from his previous life, who had played the original game countless times and loved digging into every character's backstory, couldn't explain it.
Allie Hill, a sword genius whose talent, strength, and appearance were all top-tier—why was she willing to stay by the side of someone like Greg Sass, a villainous noble with a terrible personality, foolish actions, and almost nothing to his name except his family background and a handsome face, as his exclusive maid?
The Greg Sass in the original story didn't treat Allie well at all.
Ordering her around was a daily occurrence. While it didn't reach the level of abuse, it certainly couldn't be called respect.
Yet even so, in all known plot routes and all ending branches—Allie never left.
She always stood silently behind Greg, choosing to follow him as he repeatedly sought death, failed, and fell into the abyss, until she finally met destruction alongside him without a single word of complaint.
This setting had frustrated countless players back then. Among the one-star reviews for the game, eight out of ten were cursing the development team for being "brain-dead for designing such an illogical loyal dog character."
Until the final DLC of the game was released, no clear explanation was ever given regarding Allie's background and motivations.
The player community could only reach a bitter consensus: the character designer must have had a sudden mental short circuit and forced in an unreasonable setting.
"Heh."
Nightmare's laughter carried a sense of amusement, as if she enjoyed the spectacle. "Even you don't know the reason? Now that is interesting."
Greg didn't respond, simply rolling over and turning his back to the black shadow.
Although some pressing troubles had been resolved, the things he had to face next would only increase.
He didn't have the energy to bicker with this goddess of ill-intent. Fatigue washed over him like a tide, and he soon sank into sleep.
...
When he woke up, the tent was dim, with only the faint glow of luminescent moss peeking through the gaps in the flap.
Greg cracked his neck, feeling that most of the fatigue accumulated yesterday had faded.
He pulled out the old pocket watch he had bought yesterday for five copper coins and held it close to his eyes.
Four in the afternoon.
In a place like the dungeon, where there was no sunlight and a lack of reference points, one's sense of time could easily become distorted.
This old pocket watch, which kept time reasonably well, was a necessary investment to help him better plan his actions and rest, preventing him from mixing up day and night.
Tucking the watch away, he noticed the tent was empty.
Nightmare was gone.
He didn't know if she had slipped back into his shadow or gone out for a stroll.
However, considering she was a deity after all, she probably wouldn't be troubled by the magical beasts on the first floor of the dungeon. Greg felt there was no need to worry too much.
He opened the bag containing his food. The dried meat that had been bulging inside was nearly gone, with only enough for one or two meals.
Hunting for supplies had become an urgent task once again.
But before that, there was another more important matter he needed to confirm.
He had to go near the junction connecting the shallow layers to the middle layers to scout the situation.
Mainly, he wanted to see if the group of Goblins entrenched there were still wandering around as they did in his memory.
Although he now possessed dark magic, Greg felt he wasn't completely without a fighting chance.
However, dark magic consumed a massive amount of mana. With his current level and mana reserves, he would run dry after only a few uses.
In a dungeon fraught with danger, running out of mana was almost a death sentence; the risk was too high.
In his original plan, he had intended to wait for Victoria and Silvia to settle in before inviting them to form a party.
With Silvia providing support and buffs, and he and Victoria acting as the main attackers, the three of them would coordinate to clear out those Goblins and open the path to the middle layers.
The pressure would be much lower that way, and it would be safer.
But the situation had changed.
Victoria was unexpectedly seriously injured and hospitalized. Looking at those injuries, it would probably take at least a week before she could return to a combat-ready state.
As for himself, in the chaos of evading the teachers' pursuit last night, he seemed to have accidentally triggered the early appearance of a mini-boss that was supposed to show up in the late stages of the first chapter to trouble players—a juvenile form of a Wandering Evil Spirit.
And it had been instantly killed by the teachers' concentrated fire.
This would undoubtedly significantly shorten the default timeline of the first chapter's plot.
The world's narrative momentum would likely accelerate because of this. Some events or threats that could have been faced later might arrive early.
He couldn't afford to wait for Victoria to fully recover.
To prepare for the worst-case scenario—where he might have to conquer the dungeon alone—he had to act as soon as possible.
First, he had to get a clear understanding of the current situation in the shallow layers. Only by knowing what he was up against could he formulate the next step of his plan.
Greg packed his belongings, tucked the necessary tools and a knife into his belt, and took one last look at his brand-new tent. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back the flap and stepped into the dim, damp corridor.
Rate on N.U.
