[Name: Greg Sass]
[Race: Human]
[Level: LV38]
[Constitution: 8]
[Agility: 7]
[Intelligence: 7]
[Charisma: 10 (?)]
[Willpower: 8]
[Luck: 10 (Black)]
[Dungeon Conqueror (Upgradeable): When inside a dungeon, damage dealt to any entity is increased by 60%.]
[Proclaim the Dungeon (Upgradeable): When inside a dungeon, your actual Luck stat will not fall below 4.]
[Dungeon's Gaze (Upgradeable): When inside a dungeon, experience points gained are increased.]
[Digestive Bacteria (Fixed): When you kill an enemy inside a dungeon, there is a chance to acquire a random skill or skill fragment from the enemy.]
[Personal Skills: Ancient Language LV1, Fireball LV3, Water Gun LV4, Dark Magic Affinity LV10, Dark Abyss Armament LV3, World-Devouring Black Flame LV3]
[Acquired Skills: Whimpering LV5, Blunt Resistance LV2, Burrow LV2, Earth Magic Resistance LV2, Underwater Adaptation LV3, Water Magic Resistance LV2, Ice Magic Resistance LV4, Tentacle Entanglement LV3, Sowing LV2, Insubstantiality LV1, Mental Attack Resistance LV1, Shadow-Step LV1, Freezing Ice Mist LV1]
“Right now, I am terrifyingly strong!”
A few days had passed since defeating the second-layer Floor Boss. Walking along the path inside the academy, Greg checked his current skill panel once more.
This wasn't blind arrogance.
Compared to when he had just entered Phase Two of the plot, his total mana and combat repertoire had undergone a leap in progression.
In particular, the two upgraded skills, 【Dark Abyss Armament】 and 【World-Devouring Black Flame】, elevated his combat power to a whole new level.
Combined with the dungeon-exclusive buffs that had once again received comprehensive enhancements...
His mindset had quietly shifted.
When he first transmigrated and realized he had become a doomed villainous noble, Greg's dream had been simple, unadorned, and mundane—summed up in one word: lay low.
Lay low through the main dungeon storyline, dodge every known death flag, and once the plot concluded, take his accumulated first pot of gold and flee far away.
Find a quiet, prosperous little town, purchase a few properties, buy several beautiful slaves, and live the comfortable life of an old landlord—sleeping until he woke naturally every day and enjoying cozy nights in sweet company.
But now?
Looking at the long string of exhilarating information on his panel and feeling the shadow mana within him—far more surging and pure than before—Greg felt abnormally confident!
“At this rate of leveling up, as long as I stay alive, play it steady, and make it to the late game... I'll definitely be able to join the ranks of the truly powerful in this world!”
What did power mean?
It meant a voice, it meant Authority, it meant... the freedom to do whatever he pleased!
When that time came, why would he even bother buying slaves?
With his strength and status, he could search for, recruit, and win over the absolute top-tier beauties from across the world!
Building a grand, ultimate harem!
That was the true vision and ambition a transmigrator ought to have!
The corners of Greg's mouth almost stretched to his ears, as if he could already see a blissful future where he held beauties on either side, surrounded by stunning women of every kind.
Of course, cocky as he felt, the string named “caution” deep inside his heart hadn't snapped entirely.
Because he knew very well that an increase in power often came with trickier trouble and higher risks.
In particular, that bizarre gift from the Mother of Fragmentation inside his body was like a ticking time bomb—there was no telling when it might blow up.
Besides, he had to make sure he survived to the very end before he could realize any of these ambitions.
Therefore, at this stage, he still needed to play it safe.
Keep a safe distance from those troublesome and dangerous female characters as much as possible...
“Greg.”
A cool female voice interrupted Greg's daydreaming about the future without warning.
His steps faltered, pulled from his wonderful fantasy back to reality.
Looking toward the voice, he saw a familiar figure standing quietly beneath a lush ancient tree alongside the path.
Her aqua-blue hair was neatly tied back, and her well-tailored academy uniform skirt outlined her slender curves. It was none other than the Student Council President—Vivian.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled, dancing flecks of light across her body, inexplicably adding a touch of... soft warmth to her usually cold demeanor.
“Here we go again... What time is this?”
Greg muttered inwardly.
Over the past few days, the frequency of his “chance encounters” with Vivian in the academy had gotten so high that he was seriously beginning to question reality.
According to his carefully planned script, after successfully mediating the underlying friction between her and her younger sister, Lilith, and pointing out the clear path that life-and-death combat in the dungeon could bridge the talent gap, the two of them shouldn't have had much interaction anymore.
However, reality seemed to love throwing a wrench into his plans.
He wondered if that damned -10 Luck stat was secretly exerting its power again, forcing all kinds of “romantic” encounters onto him.
“And at this time of day, shouldn't she be sitting in the Student Council room, buried under an endless mountain of paperwork?”
“Why is she in the mood to enjoy the scenery here? Could it be... because she knows there's a way to make up for talent, so she's starting to... slack off?”
A few thoughts flashed through Greg's mind, but he maintained a calm exterior, skillfully adjusting his facial muscles to display a perfectly measured smile:
“Oh, Vivian. What a coincidence. Is something up?”
Vivian stepped forward two paces, closing the distance between them slightly.
Her ice-blue eyes lingered on his face for a moment, as if confirming something, before she spoke.
Her voice held a natural softness, unlike its usual businesslike coldness:
“Greg, do you want to rejoin the Student Council?”
Greg blinked, not overly surprised by the suggestion.
Because over the past few days, Vivian had been constantly dropping hints about it.
“No, but I appreciate the thought.”
He waved his hand, speaking with a touch of regret, “Because compared to rejoining the Student Council, I really have more important things to focus on right now.”
That wasn't entirely an excuse.
Today was the day of the Mentor Selection Qualification Exam, which was also the final event node of Act Two's story.
He intended to take the opportunity to visit the venue and meet Professor Alice—his mentor in name, though they had barely ever crossed paths—to lay the groundwork for the upcoming Act Three plotline.
After all, next up, he would be fighting to reclaim the blissful sexual future his cursed lower half deserved!
By comparison, the tedious daily chores and disciplinary inspections of the Student Council really held no interest for him.
Rate on N.U.
