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

The squelching of slime inside the cavern walls grew louder with every second, the muffled sound turning into something unmistakably clear.

Lysithea's gaze locked onto the small slime waterfall, her irises sharp and calculating, like she was analyzing whatever nightmare was coming for them.

Finn followed her eyes—and froze.

A dark silhouette emerged. A giant creature, taller than Lysithea, with four arms—two on each side. Each movement made the slime walls shudder. This was not good.

Finn swallowed hard. Sure, Lysithea had obliterated the last monstrosity in minutes—but this thing? It was huge. Huge. Tall, skeletal, and downright wrong-looking.

Then the cavern fell silent. The air thickened. Time seemed to slow down, stretching each heartbeat into an eternity—the calm before an impossible storm.

'Oh shit.'

SPLURGE!

The creature tore through the slime wall, chunks of goo flying everywhere. Some hit Lysithea; others splattered Finn and Seraphina. Liquid slime sprayed like an unholy fountain.

Seraphina squealed, Finn's heart pounded in chaotic anticipation, and Lysithea? She just stood there, calm, poised, like the main character in some absurdly epic anime ready to drop the hammer.

Finn's eyes flicked back to the creature. It was massive—at least two hundred seventy-four centimeters tall—and grotesquely proportioned. Four arms, unnaturally thin and skeletal, sprouting from its shoulders. Its chest was narrow, ribcage horribly malformed. Its head… oh God, its head. One side had a human-like mouth, twisted and gasping. The other side, a bird's beak, clicking and snapping as if mocking reality itself. The slime coating its body gave the illusion of skin—but failed spectacularly.

Creepy. Beyond creepy.

It lumbered toward them like a cartoon bully with muscles bigger than sense, each step shaking the floor.

Finn tilted his head. 'Can it even see…?'

The creature's head twisted sharply. As if it had heard him think it. And then—it charged.

"OH COME ON!" Finn screamed, half in terror, half in ecstatic adrenaline.

The shallow slime-water splashed violently beneath the creature's stomps, each step echoing through the chamber like a war drum.

Lysithea reacted instantly. Her slime tendrils lashed out from the bodies of slime, wrapping around the monster's waist and legs. For a moment, it was restrained, thrashing against the grip.

Then—SNAP!

The tendrils burst apart, and the thing lurched forward again, charging at them with terrifying speed.

Lysithea launched another barrage—more tendrils coiling around its arms and legs, dragging it back, pinning it down. The beak on its head clicked furiously, like a metronome of rage. The malformed mouth gasped in heavy, unsettling breaths. It strained, slimy muscles twitching, until—

CRACK!

It broke free again.

And this time it wasn't slowing down.

Finn's eyes bulged. He whipped his head up at Lysithea. "Can't you do something else?! It's moving fast, and those string—tentacle—whatever-things aren't working!!" His voice cracked like a panicked toddler.

The reality sank in fast. Lysithea couldn't hold it. Seraphina couldn't fight it. And Finn? Finn was a walking sack of bones and despair.

There was only one option left. His ultimate trump card. His god-tier survival technique.

"Tactical. Retreat."

He pivoted at a perfect ninety-degree angle, kicked his legs into overdrive, and bolted. His muscles, his bones, his very soul screamed at him to run like hell.

And he did.

He ran like a man who knew death was behind him and hentai hadn't yet been achieved. His brain spiraled into madness, laughing and screaming "no, no, no, no" on loop like a broken record. Dying in a cave to some freak mutant slime monster—without even managing to start his harem—was absolutely not how Finn Wiggles went out.

Lysithea's head snapped toward him. Panic flickered across her usual weird demeanor. She stretched her hand out, her slime already shifting to reel him back—

But it was too late.

Finn was already gone, sprinting with the desperate speed of a cockroach dodging a sandal.

And the monster noticed.

Its malformed head twisted unnaturally, the clicking beak snapping louder, sharper. It abandoned the girls entirely. Its four arms dragged and clawed against the slime floor as it pivoted—

And charged straight after Finn.

Finn kept running, lungs burning, until something hit him—Silence.

No screams. No clashing behind him.

Just the deafening, pounding thud-thud-thud of massive footsteps crashing against the cave floor, shaking the chamber like a subtle earthquake.

His heart spiked. He felt it. He knew it.

Dare he look back? Of course not. Absolutely not. He wasn't that dumb.

…But he was dumb enough to do it anyway.

He shot a glance over his shoulder—hesitant, breath held, eyes wide. And the moment he saw that nightmare silhouette closing in, his lungs collapsed and he let out the shrillest, most brain-piercing scream imaginable. The kind of scream reserved only for doomed blondes in horror movies seconds before they trip over nothing and die.

Regret hit instantly. Why did he leave the girls? Why didn't he just let them deal with it, use them as human shields, and then sneak away like a rational coward?

Too late now.

He hurdled over splattered chunks of slime, weaving through broken monsters Lysithea had shredded earlier, feet slapping like wet socks. But no matter how fast he moved, no matter how desperately he pumped his arms, the creature was gaining—rapidly.

Seraphina's voice echoed behind him, calling out desperately. Lysithea's voice followed too, chanting something incomprehensible. It didn't sound like a spell. No, it sounded like… like a bug's mating call. The worst timing for romance noises he could imagine.

The monster's shadow grew larger. Its grotesque arms stretched toward him, claws ready to grab and do unspeakable things Finn had no interest in imagining.

He had one choice. He could try to juke it—except no, who was he kidding? He wasn't an athlete. He barely passed gym. So instead, he went with the only "brilliant" plan his fried brain could cough up.

He jumped.

Straight into the slime pit.

Sure, maybe it didn't sound like the best idea, but hey—Lysithea had used this slime before to entangle and defeat enemies. It was basically her weaponized home turf. And she probably wouldn't let him die inside it. Right?

Right?

He conveniently forgot the small detail that she did once try to absorb him. But no time for logic—he was committed.

His body smacked into the slime with a disgusting schlop, like Jell-O getting slapped across a cafeteria table. He sank instantly, the muck pulling him under like quicksand. Warm and cold at the same time. Slippery yet suffocating.

He gasped, head whipping back just in time to see the monster skid to a halt.

And then it jumped in after him.

The slime buckled under the impact, waves of goo splattering everywhere. The beast kicked and tore through the sludge like it owned it, surging toward Finn with terrifying speed.

Finn's brain short-circuited. He flailed like a drowning man, thrashing with everything he had, but the slime was too thick, too heavy. He had no traction, no momentum—only desperation. His muscles screamed, tendons tearing from the strain, his body reduced to a pathetic wriggling mess.

He moved like a horny, crippled penguin—pathetic, slow, hopeless—just sad he couldn't find a mate before dying horribly.

And then—

The unthinkable happened.