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

Finn whipped his head around, desperate for anything he could use to climb. His eyes landed on the most convenient thing imaginable: a stack of wooden boxes piled neatly against the wall like the universe was rooting for him.

"Don't mind if I do," he muttered, leaping onto one box, then another, until he hauled himself onto the roof.

The man was nowhere in sight, but Finn could hear him—thudding footsteps, wet squelches echoing through the misty fog.

Finn glanced down at the rooftop and nearly gagged. The surface was a nightmare—holes everywhere, lily pads growing straight out of the wood, the entire thing slick with moisture. Every step clung to his shoes with a sickening schlorp.

"God, I want to puke just standing here…" he whispered, swallowing hard. But puking could wait—he had a man to catch.

The fog only grew denser, so thick Finn could barely see the ground beneath his feet. The roof groaned with every step, threatening to send him plummeting into someone's house—or worse, the swamp.

'If there was ever a time I needed Majestria, it's now!'

He pushed forward, shoes sticking with every stride. The man ahead of him was moving fast—far faster than Finn could manage without risking death by rotten rooftop.

"How the hell is he doing that?!" Finn hissed.

He stopped, shut his eyes, and took a breath. No way was this guy slipping away now. Not after dumping a bucket of swamp slime all over him.

Finn snapped his eyes open, thrust his hand forward, and pulled back.

A distant yelp! echoed, followed by a grotesque squelch and the sharp crack of wood splintering. Then came the unmistakable roar of a roof caving in.

Finn winced, biting his lip. "Okay… maybe a little too effective." Still, he shrugged and kept moving.

One step forward, and his foot almost sank into open air. He froze, then cautiously lowered it, testing the edge. Nothing but emptiness. He'd found the hole.

From below came groans and wheezes—the sound of the man he'd been chasing.

Finn let out a heavy breath, utterly exhausted. "I'm so done with this chasing crap."

He peered into the darkness below.

"May I be blessed!" he declared, before leaping straight down.

As Finn fell, the mist vanished behind him, replaced by darkness. What should have been a quick tumble to the ground stretched on far too long—unnaturally long.

His stomach dropped. This wasn't right. It felt like one of those dreams where you fall from a skyscraper, endlessly plummeting, waiting for the crash that never comes. Except here, there was no scenery at all. Just void.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Finn flailed wildly, thrashing his arms and legs in useless terror.

Then—solid ground. His feet slammed against it. The instant contact snapped him out of his panic, and he staggered forward, blinking rapidly.

He was in a pitch-black room. No detail, no color—just darkness swallowing everything around him. The only light came faintly from above: the hazy outline of the hole he'd fallen through, fog swirling like a pale lid over the room.

But none of that mattered. What froze Finn's blood was the sudden silence. The cries of the man he'd heard earlier—gone. Only the faint squawk of distant crows and the soft whistle of wind outside broke the emptiness.

Finn frowned, muttering a low hum. "Not good at all…"

He squinted into the dark, trying to spot anything—a door, a wall, even the faintest shape that could hint at where the man had gone.

That's when it came.

Rapid footsteps. A strangled scream—raw, desperate, and terrified.

Finn's head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened, and before he could even process it, he screamed too—high-pitched, like a panicked child.

And then impact.

Something slammed into him, tackling him straight to the ground. He hit with a painful thud, air bursting out of his lungs.

Before he could react, a hand smacked across his face. Once. Twice. Then over and over—hard, rapid slaps raining down.

Not punches. Not claws. Slaps.

"Ahh! Why are you slapping me?!" Finn cried, flailing uselessly as the frantic barrage of palms smacked his cheeks raw.

There was no response—only the frantic cries and shrieks of the man as he kept smacking Finn across the face like an unhinged toddler.

Finn clenched his jaw, forcing words out without even moving his tongue. "Stop. Hitting. Me."

But the slaps only came harder, punctuated by the man's panicked screaming.

That's when Finn snapped. He lunged forward and chomped down on the man's hand—gnawing at it like a deranged squirrel.

The man shrieked louder, flailing, while Finn shook his head side to side and growled like a dog playing tug-of-war with a chew toy.

The man yanked back in panic, stumbling off balance. Finn took the chance, surging forward with a desperate headbutt that cracked square into the man's forehead.

"Gahh!" The man toppled over with a hard thud.

Finn scooted backward, scrambling to his feet. He raised his fists, knuckles tight, chest heaving.

"I—I know how to fight! Don't test me, bro—I'll whoop your ass!"

The man scrambled upright, twitchy and crooked, like a cockroach skittering across a kitchen floor. His breathing rasped, but his eyes locked on Finn as he lunged again.

Finn swung.

And missed.

"FUCK!"

The man crashed into him again, unleashing another barrage of slaps. Finn, panicked and furious, slapped back—until the two of them were just smacking each other repeatedly, like children fighting over the last cookie.

Finally, Finn snapped his leg up and booted the man straight into the pale shaft of light from above.

And just as Finn's eyes adjusted to get a good look—

WHAM!

A figure dropped from the ceiling and slammed into the man, pinning him to the ground in one brutal strike.

It was Silvara.

"Silvara!" Finn gasped, both relieved and thrilled.

"Restrain him," she ordered coldly, never breaking her hold.

And Finn, for once in his life, didn't argue. He lunged forward to help, wasting no time.