Even in his memories of the original game, Greg didn't harbor any ill will toward Serafina, the Goddess of Light.
The reasons were simple.
First, Serafina's divine beauty was the pinnacle of the modeling and art teams' efforts. Even if that exaggerated chest of hers was truly forged through divine magic, it didn't lessen her overall status as a symbol of beauty in the slightest.
Second, the goddess had pitifully little screentime, serving merely as a distant background symbol in the main story. She never had the chance to do anything that would make players dislike her, so naturally, there was no reason to hate her.
Nightmare let out a cold snort, her voice laced with obvious disgust. "That hypocritical radiance and those ridiculous encumbrances are only part of it. The real reason I despise her is..."
She suddenly fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly:
"...Regarding that, I seem to have forgotten the details as well. Only recently did I realize that certain memories regarding my characteristics have grown hazy, as if shrouded in a thick fog..."
Her voice trailed off, carrying a subtle trace of doubt and self-questioning. "...I wonder if it has something to do with that woman."
Greg chuckled. "Heh, what a coincidence. To tell you the truth, some of my own past memories seem to have gone a bit wonky too. Perfect. We can pair up as a dynamic duo and play riddlers together. Guessing back and forth like this might even trigger a hidden plotline."
Though somewhat disappointed at not getting the information he wanted, Greg had no time to dig deeper right now.
As they talked, the corridor that had felt seemingly endless finally reached its end.
Ahead, the stretching darkness gave way to a massive stone doorway that completely blocked the path forward.
The door shared the same architectural style as the temple's entrance, but the reliefs carved into its surface were even denser and more contorted, as though countless wailing souls in agony had been forcibly cast into the stone slabs to form unspeakable, sacrilegious pictures.
Merely gazing at it was enough to make one dizzy and unsettled.
Greg stopped in front of the door, turned around, and faced Vivian.
The casual banter faded completely from his face, his amber eyes shining exceptionally bright and focused in the dim light.
"Vivian, this tough battle ahead is completely different from clearing out weak mobs earlier. The thing inside... is very troublesome. Its attack patterns and weaknesses are vastly different from ordinary monsters."
He paused, locking his gaze onto Vivian's ice-blue eyes, as if seeking to convey 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 strikes will be most effective. That thing might look... terrifying, but don't be afraid."
He took half a step forward, bringing them so close that he could clearly see his reflection in Vivian's eyes. His voice was low and firm, sounding like the solidest promise:
"At the crucial moment, just like the previous two times, I'll protect you. I promise."
There were no ornate vows, no exaggerated pledges—just a direct statement.
Yet these plain words carried more power than any impassioned speech.
Vivian listened quietly, her ice-blue eyes gazing back at him without blinking.
There was no doubt or fear in her gaze, only a crystal-clear calmness—and beneath that quiet exterior lay an unshakeable trust.
From stepping up during the ambush to shielding her with his body against the breath attack, this trust had long been built through shared crises and fighting side by side to a point where words were unnecessary.
She nodded without the slightest hesitation.
"Mm."
Her clear, cool voice bore undeniable certainty.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Greg took a deep breath, turned around, and pressed both hands onto the heavy stone door covered in contorted reliefs once more.
This time, he required even greater strength.
"Hah—!"
With a low exhale, the muscles in Greg's arms bulged as he pushed with all his strength.
The heavy stone doors let out a groan that sounded as if it came from ancient times, slowly swinging inward.
An even denser tide of stale, sweetish-metallic, and indescribably eerie air rushed out from the gap like a physical wave.
Behind the doors lay an extraordinarily vast space that resembled a prayer hall magnified countless times.
The ground was paved with broken obsidian slabs, while the walls and vaulted ceiling were similarly covered in disturbing reliefs.
At the far end of the hall, the outline of a tall stone statue could be faintly made out.
The statue appeared to depict a female body with soft lines that nonetheless exuded a strange rigidity. However, its head was missing, leaving a jagged, uneven neck that added an eerie touch.
Presumably, this was the residual image of the true taboo of this dungeon: the Mother of Fragmentation.
However, neither Greg nor Vivian could keep their eyes on the broken statue for long.
Because right on the open ground in front of the headless statue, an anomaly was taking place.
In the center of the hall, the previously empty ground began to squirm and churn violently like boiling mud.
It was not liquid, but rather a viscous, dark red amalgam that seemed forcibly cobbled together from countless scraps of flesh, organ remnants, and indescribable organic matter.
They seeped out from cracks in the floor and shadows along the walls, congregating while emitting scalp-numbing, wet squelching sounds.
As if possessing a consciousness of their own, these masses of flesh squirmed, intertwined, and merged frantically, their volume expanding rapidly as their form shifted at breakneck speed.
In just a few breaths, a monster standing three meters tall—defying precise description—condensed into shape amidst the churning flesh.
Its lower body barely maintained a twisted humanoid outline. Its limbs were extraordinarily thick, covered in dark red tumors that continuously throbbed as if breathing, as well as bone spikes, while hooked bone blades sprouted where fingers and toes should be.
However, its upper body, especially the head—
There was no head in the traditional sense at all.
In its place was an immense, constantly expanding and contracting throat tissue composed of layered dark red flesh rings and pale white mucous membranes!
It looked like a throat that had been torn away on its own and endowed with life!
"What... is that...?"
Vivian murmured under her breath unconsciously, her ice-blue eyes reflecting this form that defied common sense and invoked an instinctive, physical revulsion and terror. Even with her composure, her face paled slightly.
As if responding to her gaze—or perhaps declaring its grand entrance—the throbbing throat suddenly dilated to its absolute limit—
"ROAAR—!"
From deep within the throat that served as its head, a roar erupted that transcended conventional sound!
Low, raspy, and thick, the noise sounded as though the dying wails of billions of living beings had been forcibly compressed, distorted, and mixed together. The entire space, along with the air, dust, and light within, blurred at the edges from the sheer force of the roar!
The invisible sound waves carried a physical concussive force alongside a soul-striking intent of hunger and greed, sweeping across the entire prayer hall like a tsunami!
The second-layer Floor Boss—[LV50 Thirsting Maw]—had officially descended!
Rate on N.U.
