Dragged to Another World… and I Took the Goddess with me!

The creature lunged at Finn and Lysithea again, its grin stretching impossibly wide. Seraphina yelled at Finn to move—but it was already too late.

For her cries, at least.

Lysithea did the unexpected, again. As the creature launched itself toward them, she used the slime—again—but this time, she shaped it into long, sharp spikes. Launching them into the air, they jabbed and skewered the creature in multiple places, like tossing spears at a wild beast.

Finn and Seraphina blinked, stunned. Another new move from Lysithea.

The creature writhed violently, the spikes sinking in deeper as it flailed. Some even poked through the other side.

Finn's emotions were on a rollercoaster. Shock. Awe. Frustration. Poor Finn.

He glanced up at Lysithea, who stood over behind him like a protective mother—her chest looming in his line of sight, naturally.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?" he asked hesitantly. "I get that you're strong… the queen… but seriously. Why wait?"

She looked down at him, tilting her head. "Because I was onllly seeing~~~ if it changeed. I was riiight~~~ they make me sooo angrrry~~~"

Finn didn't even try to parse it. He just watched as the creature's movements slowed, its body weakening. Parts of it fizzed and dissolved where Lysithea's spikes had pierced. One spike had impaled the bird-like head on its chest, splitting it—half dissolving instantly. Other sections followed, uncanny and grotesque.

'It's like watching acid fight acid…' Finn thought, both horrified and fascinated.

The creature wasn't done yet, but it looked far weaker now, struggling in a new, unpredictable form—partly its own grotesque slime body, partly Lysithea's.

Soon, the slimes piled onto each other, forming a tall, jagged blade—like a self-made execution device aimed at the creature, a slimy guillotine. With a sickening thud, it fell, slicing the creature's disgusting head clean off.

It hit the floor with a splatter.

The creature's body still twitched, but most of its frantic movements had ceased. Only faint shivers and tiny spasms remained.

"It's not dead, is it?" Finn narrowed his eyes at the mangled corpse.

"Noo~~~"

"Thought so… so I guess we have to destroy its torso too, like the others?"

"Yess~ make the body not get up~~~"

The slimes climbed the jagged spikes, fusing into the corpse, burrowing into the creature's insides. Slowly, methodically, they tore it apart from within. The body twitched a few last times… and then went still.

Finally. The creature had been taken care of.

***

It was a huge relief for Finn and Seraphina. Both were still trembling from the creature's grotesque grin and the way it had chased them through the slime tunnel.

After all the running, screaming, and the kind of mental breakdowns you don't just "walk off," camping for a while felt like the only sane option. Sure, Seraphina could restore their stamina with her holy magic, but she couldn't cure the kind of exhaustion where your brain feels like boiled pasta.

And it wasn't like the day had been a walk in the park either. First, they fell through a collapsed hole, slid into a slime-infested water pit, wandered into the ruins of some creepy lost civilization, stumbled across a grotesque corpse, found a nightmare cocoon of writhing slime, got sucked into yet another pit, met a slime queen who nearly ate Finn, and then topped it all off with a death chase through the tunnels. Yeah. Tired was an understatement.

At least their teammates wouldn't abandon them. Chestelle, for one, would probably just stand loyally at the edge of the hole Finn had fallen through, like a dog waiting for its owner. He could even picture the others physically restraining her from leaping down after him.

Lickthorn was harder to read. She was probably sulking, or worse—plotting something perverse. The elf acted less like an elf and more like a goblin with an incurable case of horny brain. She made him look like the innocent one, which was terrifying to think about. With her not around, Finn finally felt a strange kind of freedom… like the saying about there always being bigger fish in the sea—except in this case, bigger pervs.

Then there was Majestria—the most narcissistic goddess in existence. Easily the strongest member of the party, and definitely the pettiest. She'd complain about dirt on her dress one moment and then vaporize you with holy lightning the next. Finn still didn't understand how she kept casually revealing new powers like it was some kind of flex. For all he knew, she could probably make it rain golden lightning on a clear day just to show off.

The last he saw of her, though, she'd slipped off the cliff during the quake and vanished with a thud. Just remembering it made Finn giggle internally.

He sighed. As ridiculous as they were, those idiots had already grown on him in just a couple of days. His life had been flipped upside down—for better and worse.

Finn's gaze slid to Seraphina. She sat slumped against the wall, silent, looking like she was trying to gather what little remained of her composure.

He felt a pang of sadness. She carried a lonely aura, even now. He could only hope that her team—her real team—was worried about her. She deserved at least that much.

Then there was the Queen of Slime, Lysithea. She was… something else. Out of all the women he'd met since crashing into this madhouse of a world, she definitely ranked as the weirdest—though in a way that was maybe hot if you squinted and ignored the whole "sentient insane slime queen" part.

She talked like someone permanently half-asleep, yet obsessed over him with the intensity of a stalker fan club president. He still didn't get why. Or how she even knew him. That part stuck in his head like a splinter. Especially when she kept mentioning "she." Whoever "she" was, Finn didn't like it one bit.

The idea of people knowing him—wanting him—while he had no idea who they were… yeah, that didn't sit well. It wasn't just creepy, it was personal-space violation on a cosmic level.

He glanced across the chamber. Lysithea was… doing something weird with her slime again. Jiggling it into odd shapes, molding it, stretching it like play-dough. He didn't care enough to get closer; he'd learned the hard way not to.

Still, she carried herself like royalty. The title "Queen of Slime" wasn't for show. Yet there was something gnawing at him. What exactly was the difference between her slime and the "forgotten ones" they'd just fought?

And then it clicked…