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

"Finn… if you keep this up—this mockery of me and my existence—I will personally have you executed myself."

"What did I do now?" Finn looked around, genuinely confused.

"Don't play dumb, fool. You once again try to steal my glory."

"Glory? I only came there to get Slime Melo—that's it!"

"You can't fool me. I know what kind of man you are."

"What are you even talking about?!" Finn honestly didn't understand. After everything he'd just been through with Seraphina—the hell, the horrors, the survival—how could that possibly count as stealing glory?

"Must I spell it out again? You dragged my priest down that hole with you, forced her to survive at your side, all so you could build a reputation—so everyone would sing of your accomplishments! And then what? More girls clinging to you, more worship, more stolen fame?"

"…Wa—? Are you serious? You're so insecure about your status that you think me, looking like this—" Finn gestured to his torn clothes, mud-caked torn shoes, and swamp-stink hair—"is out here plotting to steal your glory? I'm barely keeping myself alive!"

Ardin opened his mouth to reply, but Finn's pent-up frustration burst out like a flood.

"And those girls? I never asked for any of them! They just show up, follow me around, or claim I 'saved' them—when half the time I don't even know what I'm doing! They harass me more than anything else! Don't even get me started on my goddess—she makes me carry her everywhere, she almost killed me like, three times, and she treats me like crap!

And reputation? I never had one! At the guild, everyone picks on me because of you! You think I want glory? To be a hero? Hell no! I don't want to fight monsters every day, worrying about being eaten alive just so some random townsfolk can clap! I can barely take care of myself, let alone those three little harpy-shitters that cling to me!"

He was panting now, voice cracking under the weight of his frustration.

"I just wanted to live peacefully! But everywhere I go, I get dragged into disasters, fighting, slimed, chased, and poked at by people like you!"

Finn pointed at Ardin, chest heaving. Silence followed. Even Ardin's comrades stared at their leader as if he'd just kicked a puppy. Ardin himself stood dumbfounded, caught off guard by Finn's raw, unfiltered outburst.

And just when the silence stretched too long—Finn's girls arrived.

"Finn!" Majestria's voice rang out, sharp and annoyed. "There you are. I was looking all over for you. You cannot just leave me alone like that! And besides—" she huffed, crossing her arms, "—I am tired of standing around and sitting on rocks. Now kneel down so I can get back on my spot."

The sound that escaped Finn's throat was less a groan and more like a piece of chalk being dragged across a chalkboard. A dying croak of utter defeat. Her words didn't just interrupt the moment—they proved his entire rant true in real time.

Ardin was still trying to process Finn's explosion and looked like he was about to speak. "Uh—"

"No! Can't you—l—"

Smack!

"AGGHHH! MY LEG!!" Finn collapsed to one knee as Majestria kicked him behind the joint like she was performing a finishing move.

In one fluid motion, she straddled herself onto his shoulders and sat down smugly, smirk plastered on her face. "See? You should always listen to me. If you don't, then things like this happen."

"I… I don't think that's how you're supposed to treat messed-up meat," Chunkus muttered, wide-eyed at the sight of Finn writhing in pain beneath her.

"Mind your own business. He is mine. Not yours." Majestria hissed like a possessive cat.

Chunkus blinked, shrugged, then pulled a sausage from some mysterious pocket dimension and took a bite, settling in to spectate.

"It seems… he understands the shadows," Raze said gravely, arms crossed. Nobody asked him.

Finn, crushed under both Majestria's weight and the absurdity of the moment, screamed, "WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING?!"

Ardin looked at Finn—then at Majestria, who was happily rubbing herself against his shoulders like a smug cat. Once, he had liked her. Now all he could feel was disgust. Her beauty didn't matter anymore. Her ego and personality drowned it out.

His eyes darted to his comrades, then back at Finn. The rant. The goddess. The proof of everything Finn had just screamed about. Slowly, piece by piece, the situation was slipping through his fingers. And for the first time… Ardin started to realize what Finn had called him earlier. A douchebag.

He bit his lip, ready to retake control with a commanding word. But before he could—things only got worse.

Chestelle and Lickthorn arrived.

And suddenly, the fires of chaos roared higher.

Lickthorn immediately fell to her knees, begging Majestria to move and let her ride Finn instead. Majestria refused, planting herself even harder, smothering his shoulders as she squirmed her fat butt against him with a victorious glare.

Meanwhile, Chestelle tugged at Finn's arm in a half-hearted "rescue," muttering unhinged nonsense about "government sleeper agents stealing thighs" as she tried to drag him away.

The girls were clingier than ever, swarming him, fighting over him, pulling, squirming, and driving Finn insane. He was exhausted, beaten down, and mentally fried. Every second hammered home the cruel comedy of his life.

He was done.

Ardin finally snapped, shouting at all of them to stop. But Finn didn't even hear it. The poor man had officially clocked out.

He slumped forward, hit the dirt, and passed out cold—buried under women, arguments, and the weight of the stupid, stupid world.

As Finn lay unconscious, the girls kept bickering over his limp body like seagulls fighting over a french fry.

Chunkus leaned over with his sausage, poked Finn in the cheek, and declared, "Yup. He's dead. Can I have his shoes?"

Raze solemnly shook his head. "No. He has transcended. He now sleeps in the realm between men and shadows, hmph."

Nobody knew what that meant. Nobody asked.

Ardin just stared at the pile of chaos and muttered under his breath, "This… this is the idiot I keep getting my glory stolen from?"

And the world, in its infinite cruelty, offered him no answer.