The Mystery Surrounding Ellie

"I didn't expect the pretty girls around you to be such high quality."

When Greg finally hauled his newly purchased supplies back to his camp in the Dungeon and began clumsily assembling them, Nightmare's voice suddenly drifted out of his shadow.

A black cat's head lazily rose from the shadow on the ground, her green eyes studying the small clearing he had just tidied with interest.

"Even that maid is of such caliber. Quite a rare find. The gray-haired girl, however, falls a little short. After all, her... assets are rather meager."

Greg was wrestling with a coil of rope. Without looking up, he replied:

"What do you know? Gray Hair's legs are absolute perfection. That alone earns her plenty of points."

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a little stupid. Arguing with a cat about this? He clearly had too much time on his hands.

Still, his hands never stopped moving.

After a good deal of work, Greg secured the final tent peg, straightened his aching back, and let out a long breath as he surveyed his handiwork.

A dark gray tent made of thick, sturdy-looking canvas stood firmly on a relatively flat, dry patch of the cave.

Thanks to this world's thriving adventuring industry, tents were a bestselling commodity, and manufacturers competed fiercely. The fabric was waterproof and windproof, and soft padding had even been sewn into the interior. More importantly, a small, low-grade magic crystal embedded at the top of a tent pole could activate a basic defensive barrier that covered the entire tent.

The barrier couldn't stop any powerful attacks, but it could provide a warning while its occupants rested or repel the weak insects and small monsters in the Dungeon's shallow levels that liked to sneak in and attack at night.

For adventurers, that meant a relatively peaceful night's sleep without having to stay constantly on edge.

In the danger-ridden Dungeon, that was worth far more than the tent itself.

Although it had cost two whole gold coins-most of the money he had wheedled out of Ellie-Greg still felt it was worth it as he looked at the tent and the sense of security it offered.

At least he no longer had to lie directly on cold, damp stone slabs that left his bones aching.

Yet just as he wiped away his sweat and prepared to enjoy the fruits of his labor, a black blur shot past his feet with a whoosh and darted into the tent ahead of him.

Nightmare found the softest spot toward the back of the tent and curled up elegantly, even indulging in a comfortable stretch.

"Hey!"

Greg lifted the entrance flap and called irritably into the tent:

"A bad cat who didn't lift a paw to help has no right to enjoy the fruits of my labor! Don't you know the rules?"

Nightmare ignored him entirely. Instead, she leisurely shifted into an even more comfortable position, her green eyes glimmering in the dim tent as she posed a new question:

"By the way, that maid of yours was called Ellie, correct? From her life essence, I could sense that she was apparently only twenty-seven, yet she had already reached LV68-the Hero Domain. Even in my era, that rate of growth would have unquestionably marked her as a genius. I am quite curious. Why would she choose to follow someone like you... hmm, a mere LV16?"

Greg stood at the entrance, feeling a little chilly in the breeze.

He sighed. Too tired to keep arguing with a cat over sleeping arrangements, he bent down and climbed inside, settling a short distance away from Nightmare.

The tent was much warmer than outside, and much drier too.

"I don't know either."

He leaned against the tent wall and closed his eyes wearily, his voice sounding drained.

But he wasn't brushing her off.

He genuinely didn't know.

In fact, he wasn't the only one. Even the hardcore players from his previous life, who had played the original game countless times and delighted in digging into every character's backstory, had never been able to explain it.

Why would Ellie Hill, a swordsmanship prodigy whose talent, strength, and looks were all second to none, willingly stay by Greg Sass's side as his personal maid-a villainous noble with an awful personality, a talent for stupidity, and almost nothing to offer beyond his family background and a handsome face?

The Greg Sass of the original game had hardly treated Ellie well.

Ordering her around was routine. While it never reached the point of abuse, he certainly hadn't respected her.

Even so, in every known story route and every ending branch, Ellie had never left.

She always stood silently behind Greg. No matter how many times he courted death, failed, or plunged into the abyss, she continued to follow him, until she finally met her ruin alongside him without a word of complaint.

Countless players had been left bitterly dissatisfied with that characterization. Eight out of every ten one-star reviews seemed to complain that "the developers must have been out of their minds to write such a mindlessly loyal character with absolutely no logic behind her."

Even when the game's final DLC was released, it still offered no clear explanation for Ellie's background or motives.

In the end, the player community could only settle on one resentful conclusion: the character designer must have suffered a momentary brain malfunction and forced this nonsensical premise into the game.

"Heh heh."

Nightmare's laughter carried the delight of someone who enjoyed watching trouble unfold. "Even you do not know why? Now that is interesting."

Greg didn't answer. He simply rolled over, turning his back on that little lump of darkness.

Although he had resolved a few urgent problems, the things he would have to face next were only piling up.

He had no energy to trade barbs with this goddess and her twisted sense of humor. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and he soon fell asleep.

When he woke, the tent was dark, lit only by the faint glow of luminous moss filtering through a gap in the entrance flap.

Greg rolled his neck, feeling that most of the exhaustion from the night before had faded.

He took out the old pocket watch he had bought yesterday for five copper coins and held it up to his eyes.

Four in the afternoon.

In a place like the Dungeon, with no sunlight or external points of reference, it was easy to lose track of time.

The old pocket watch kept reasonably accurate time and had been a necessary investment. It would help him plan his activities and rest without getting his days and nights mixed up.

Only after putting the watch away did he notice that the tent was otherwise empty.

Nightmare was gone.

He didn't know whether she had slipped back into his shadow or gone out for a stroll.

Still, she was a deity, after all. The monsters on the Dungeon's first floor probably couldn't do much to her, so Greg saw no reason to worry too much.

He opened his food bundle. The once-generous supply of jerky had nearly run out, with only enough left for a meal or two.

Hunting to replenish his supplies had once again become an urgent task.

Before that, however, there was something more important he needed to check.

He had to scout the area near the passage connecting the shallow levels to the middle levels.

Mainly, he wanted to see whether the group of goblins that had occupied the area was still roaming nearby, just as he remembered.

Now that he had mastered dark magic, Greg felt he wasn't entirely incapable of putting up a fight.

But dark magic consumed enormous amounts of mana. With his current level and reserves, he would run dry after only a few uses.

In the danger-ridden Dungeon, exhausting his mana was practically a death sentence. The risk was too high.

His original plan had been to invite Victoria and Sylvia to form a party once they had settled in.

Sylvia would provide support and buffs, while he and Victoria handled the offense. Together, the three of them would wipe out the goblins and open the way to the middle levels.

That would take a great deal of pressure off him and be much safer.

But things had changed.

Victoria had unexpectedly suffered serious injuries and been hospitalized. Judging by their severity, she would probably need at least a week before she could fight again.

As for him, amid the chaos of fleeing the teachers last night, he seemed to have accidentally triggered the juvenile form of the minor boss "Wandering Evil Spirit" ahead of schedule. It was supposed to appear late in Chapter One to cause trouble for players.

The teachers had focused their attacks on it and killed it instantly.

That would undoubtedly shorten Chapter One's default storyline timeline considerably.

The force driving this world's plot might accelerate as a result, bringing forward events or threats that he should have been able to deal with later.

He couldn't afford to wait for Victoria to recover fully.

To prepare for the worst-case scenario-having to conquer the Dungeon all on his own-

He had to get moving as soon as possible.

First, he needed to establish exactly what was happening in the shallow levels. Only with a clear picture could he plan his next move.

Greg gathered his belongings and secured the necessary tools and a small knife at his waist. After one last glance at his brand-new tent, he took a deep breath, lifted the entrance flap, and stepped into the dark, damp passage.