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

Finn's lips curled downward the moment he saw what Silvara had brought. The clothes looked like they belonged to some back-alley street peasant. Casual wear for the lowest of the low.

The shirt was plain white linen—loose, long-sleeved, wrinkled, and laced poorly at the collar. The trousers were rough brown fabric, baggy and tied with a pathetic cord at the waist. The whole outfit looked like a medieval "homeless chic" disaster. And to top it off, they weren't even his size.

Finn looked up at Silvara, who wore the faintest, almost invisible smirk. Just enough to let him know she'd picked these out on purpose.

'Damn her…'

She then pulled out a pair of ragged brown boots that looked one good stomp away from falling apart completely. The sight stabbed Finn right in his already fragile heart.

Theron noticed his expression. "I see your concern," he said sincerely. "But worry not. Once we arrive in the capital, you'll be properly outfitted."

"I sure hope so…" Finn muttered, snatching the boots out of Silvara's hands like they were cursed.

Theron straightened. "We'll be waiting outside. Once you're dressed, join us."

And with that, both left the tent, leaving Finn alone with his medieval Goodwill starter pack.

He sighed and began stripping down, his slim body showing as he pulled on the wrinkled linen shirt, then the baggy trousers, and finally the sad boots—no socks included.

When he finished, he tugged at the loose fabric, tightening the cord at his waist so the pants wouldn't slide right back off. He glanced over at the pile of his old torn clothes on the table. A frown pulled at him. No matter how ruined they were, he wasn't throwing them away. They were the last tangible pieces of Earth he had left.

He thought about his phone for a moment—left behind in his bedroom on that fateful day. It'd be nice to check my camera. Or at least see if I still had service here…

Then he noticed it: a tall mirror leaning in the corner.

"How did I not see this earlier?"

He walked up to it and stared at his reflection. What he saw was tragic. A man dressed in the lowest-tier street commoner clothing, awkwardly topped with one shining grace: his white wizard hat.

"Literally the only saving grace for me right now is this hat," he muttered, adjusting it carefully.

Before dressing, he'd tucked the Slime Melo bean into his new trouser pocket. That was still his mission. The Hornus Potion. His fertility. His future.

And with that reminder fueling him, Finn stepped out of the tent to rejoin Theron and Silvara.

***

As Finn stepped outside, the air hit him with the sharp scent of burning wood mixed with food being cooked. His mouth watered instantly—like a starving pit bull eyeing toddlers at a playground.

It was dark, but the glow of torches and the roaring campfire painted the whole area in warm light.

Rows of tents sprawled across the clearing. Knights wandered between them, some deep in conversation, others laughing with mugs in hand. It had that calm-before-the-storm feeling—like one of those cozy campfire scenes in a video game right before everything went horribly wrong.

Not far away stood Theron and Silvara. Both turned when they saw Finn emerge, and both reacted very differently.

Theron's face twisted in hesitation before settling on an awful forced smile and a polite nod. Silvara, on the other hand, smirked wider this time—her amusement practically dripping from her lips.

"Pitiful."

Finn clenched his fists. I could leap across this ground and strangle her. I really could. But he didn't.

Theron tapped his cane against the dirt, gesturing down the camp. "Shall we?"

They walked.

The knights noticed him. Oh, they noticed. Heads turned. Eyes lingered. The sight of a rag-wrapped scarecrow walking alongside two neatly dressed attendants made no sense at all. Whispers rose.

One knight even approached Theron, asking if Finn was "bothering" him. Finn almost cried right then and there. And internally? He did.

The only saving grace came from an older looking knight with gray hair who passed by, glanced at Finn, and said:

"Nice hat."

Finn touched the brim proudly. At least I still got that.

Before long, they reached the tent. Or rather… the bizarre tree-tent hybrid.

Finn stopped dead. "Why…" He craned his neck, trying to process the sight of a tree sticking straight through the canvas.

Theron sighed. "When we tied them together, things got… complicated. Let's just say it wasn't working. They nearly tore each other apart. So we restrained them to the tree, gave them some distance. Easier this way."

"Oh my god…"

"Especially with that Majestria girl," Theron added with another sigh. "She's… the most complicated of the bunch."

"Sounds about right."

Finn's eyes drifted across the camp—and froze on a familiar giant rock. The very same rock he'd slept on the night before heading into the slime cavern. Which meant this camp… was set up right next to it. Right where his disaster started.

How poetic. How ironic. How much he hated it.

But no matter. His friends were inside.

And so, bracing himself, Finn stepped forward with Theron and Silvara into the tent.

Walking inside, Finn was immediately hit with the sound of a woman barking and complaining. Not just normal complaining—no, this was the shrill, nails-on-chalkboard kind of whining you hear from some kid in public who's been told they can't have ice cream.

Then came another voice—a female voice pervertedly giggling—way too into whatever bizarre situation she was in.

And a third girl? She said absolutely nothing. Just sat there, rubbing her feet together like she was trying to start a fire out of boredom.

It didn't feel like a restraint chamber. It felt like a containment cell. Like Finn had just walked into a secret facility where dangerous entities were locked up because letting them out would doom mankind.

Two knights were already in the tent, and both looked like they'd aged twenty years in one night. One sat hunched over a table, rubbing his helmet like he was trying to erase the memory of this shift. The other was making the worst mistake of his life: actually trying to shut the loud one up, which only made her louder.

The despair in the room was thick. Finn could practically taste the hopelessness radiating off the knights.

And then—salvation. The knights noticed Finn, Theron, and Silvara. They stiffened, saluted… and immediately rushed out of the tent. Not just leaving—fleeing. Their unspoken thanks rang louder than words: "Please. Take these demons off our hands."

And then, silence.

Because all three girls had turned.

Their eyes locked onto Finn.

And with that, his fragile moment of peace was gone.