Although the Dungeon continually spawned new Monsters, there was an interval between each round.
Greg had cleared out the Monsters along his route as he left the Dungeon, which gave him the leisure to converse with Nightmare in his mind.
"You seem to have misunderstood again."
Nightmare's voice rang out unhurriedly, correcting Greg's earlier interpretation:
"When I spoke of that bitch's scent, I did not mean it came from the girl herself. It clings to her, belonging to the goddess behind her."
Greg froze for a moment, then caught on. "You mean... the Goddess of Light?"
"Precisely."
Nightmare's tone carried undisguised disgust.
"Her figure is as barren as a desert, yet whenever she appears, she disguises herself as fertile, abundant land. I still remember her arrogantly declaring, 'They are merely two useless lumps of excess flesh. What is there to envy?' And now? She has turned herself into the very thing she once despised most. Hah. What a bitch. Utterly hypocritical."
This sudden, earth-shattering revelation nearly made Greg stumble:
"Wait! What did you say?! The Goddess of Light's enormous treasure chest is fake?!"
In the original game, Greg had indeed seen the Goddess of Light through Sylvia's eyes.
Holy, noble, and radiant, she was imbued with a divinity that permitted no desecration.
But he had to admit that what left the deepest impression on players was the goddess's astonishing proportions, which could only be described as a priceless treasure.
Even now, he could clearly recall that visually stunning grandeur.
If all of that was actually a disguise...
Greg felt a small piece of his fantasies about this world's finer features crumble in an instant.
He had wanted to ask, "How do you know something like that?"
But he swallowed the words before they left his mouth.
Although the original game's lore never stated it outright, its background material had hinted that the Goddess of Night, Nightmare, and the Goddess of Light, Seraphina, had once been sister goddesses in an ancient era.
If that were true, it made sense that Nightmare knew some of her secrets.
So he switched to a more practical question. "Is that really true? Do you have proof?"
"Proof?" Nightmare scoffed. "I have no proof of the sort mortals require, but I do have a way to demonstrate it."
"What way?"
"Quite simple."
A hint of mischievous delight crept into Nightmare's voice:
"All you need to do is shout at the young girl ahead of you, at the top of your lungs, 'Seraphina is a bitch pretending to have huge tits!' Then, wherever she may be and whatever she may be doing, she will immediately use this most compatible vessel to send down a fragment of her will and come here in person to settle the score with you. Well? Care to try?"
Greg did not answer immediately.
He was rapidly weighing the pros and cons.
Seraphina, the Goddess of Light, had the largest and most devout following in the human world today. The power of faith at her disposal was as vast as the sea, far beyond anything this down-and-out kitty who could only huddle in his shadow could muster.
If he could really summon Seraphina this way, find some means of persuading her, and receive powerful protections or blessings from her...
Then not only would clearing the Dungeon's first floor become easier, but even the next few floors would probably be much less difficult.
Faced with such an enormous temptation, Greg asked cautiously, "How are things between you and her... these days?"
Nightmare answered crisply, without the slightest hesitation. "We will not rest until one of us is dead."
Greg said, "...Next time you want to kill me, you can just say so. There's no need to be so roundabout."
A profound sense of helplessness washed over him.
He had thought he was on the verge of securing a powerful patron, only to discover he had nearly brought down a terrifying enemy who could crush him countless times over.
Disappointed as he was, his curiosity still won out.
"Aren't you... sister goddesses? You should be close, shouldn't you? How did things get to the point where you want each other dead?"
Nightmare seemed to think for a moment before speaking in a rather uncertain tone:
"Hmm... the long years have worn away my memories, so I no longer recall the precise reason. Perhaps... it has something to do with how often I used to mock her as a 'washboard flat enough to race horses on'?"
Greg nearly choked on his own spit. "You clearly know exactly why!"
He now strongly suspected that the Church of Light's relentless suppression of beliefs and traces associated with the night throughout history stemmed not only from doctrinal conflict, but also from Goddess Seraphina's personal grudges.
For instance, she could never allow anyone to learn the earth-shattering secret that her voluptuous figure was actually a disguise.
"Hey."
Nightmare's disgruntled voice interrupted his thoughts:
"Why do I feel you have been doing nothing but snarking at me? As my other half, should you not stand with me against our common enemy and consider how to take revenge on that hypocritical bitch?"
Greg sighed helplessly:
"Please get a grip. I'm only LV17 right now. What am I supposed to use to take revenge on a Goddess of Light with hundreds of thousands, even millions of fanatical believers, when any regional bishop could vastly outlevel me? Love? Or the 'Boohoohoo' I only recently raised to LV4?"
"That is simple."
Nightmare sounded as relaxed as if she were discussing what to have for dinner:
"You need only find a way to make that young girl ahead fall in love with you. Then, as your bodies and souls become one-while her mind is hazy, at the very instant her connection to the goddess is closest and most vulnerable-suddenly growl into her ear, 'Seraphina is a bitch pretending to have huge tits!' That will suffice."
"I am already curious what amusing expression that perpetually haughty, posturing bitch will wear then, and what sweet gasps she will utter beneath you."
Greg fell silent for several seconds.
"...Now I'm certain you aren't a goddess at all. You're a devil to your very core, aren't you?!"
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