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

With Finn's flailing assistance, he and Silvara finally had the man pinned. Or at least restrained enough that running was off the table.

The stranger knelt in the shaft of pale fog-filtered light, the only illumination in the oppressive dark. Crows squawked overhead, their cries echoing like a funeral chorus.

Finn and Silvara lingered half in shadow, half in the light, silhouettes that made the scene look like some discount execution painting.

At last, Finn got a clear look at the guy.

He had short, messy grayish-white hair, a scruffy stubble that looked like it had given up on being a beard, and tired brown eyes that carried the weight of someone who'd seen too much—or maybe just hadn't slept in ten years. His ragged black cloak was riddled with holes, the hood hanging limp down his back. Mud-darkened trousers clung to his legs, paired with beaten street boots that screamed "lived-in filth chic."

All in all, the man radiated assassin-lunatic vibes, the kind of unwashed preacher who warns people in taverns that "the end is nigh" before stealing their ale.

He looked up at them nervously. What he saw? A jittery young man in a crisp white wizard hat paired with dirt-stained street clothes, and beside him a pale, statuesque maid with a killer's eyes.

It was a weird duo to be interrogated by.

"Wh-What do you people want from me?! I don't know anything!" the man stammered, his voice shaking.

"No one said you did," Silvara replied flatly, her gaze dissecting every twitch in his muscles.

"Well—I don't!" he insisted, eyes darting back to her, more terrified than before.

"Why'd you splash that weird crap on me?!" Finn barked, finally speaking up.

The man flinched hard. "Y-You were chasing me—I panicked!"

"Why were you scared?" Silvara's tone was calm, surgical, never once looking away from him.

"B-B-Because… I was being chased by him!" He flung his arms out toward Finn in disbelief. "Wh-What the hell did you expect me to do?!"

Finn opened his mouth to fire back, but Silvara cut him off with a sharp glance.

"Let me handle this."

Her eyes returned to the man like blades. "Why were you the only one outside, when everyone else was inside the guild?"

The man froze at Silvara's question, blinking as if trying to buy time to think of an answer.

"W-Well, I was just… looking for my clock—no, wait! I was enjoying the sound of the crows outside! It was so beautiful… until I realized there was no one around, so I, uh, went to see where all the loud banging and ruckus was coming from! And then I saw all of you…" He stammered, words tripping over each other like a broken record.

"But you stood there… watching us… for a few minutes," Silvara pressed, her gaze unyielding.

"Ah… well, you see, I was just really curious to see what was going on in my town…" he said, waving his hands nervously.

"Your town? So you're the mayor?"

The man's breath hitched. His hands waved frantically, shaking his head. "No, no, no! You got it all wrong. I-I just say 'my town' because I've lived here for so long… it kind of… became my only home."

"How long have you been here?" Silvara asked, cutting straight to the point.

He froze, gulping as if the words themselves were poison. "I've been here… since the beginning—for thirty years!" He declared, pride threading through his voice.

"So you were the one who built this place?"

"Why… yes…" he replied, a mix of hesitation and pride.

Finn shot Silvara a glance. Clearly, this woman wasn't just a killer—she knew the history of this place, maybe even its secrets. Or probably just history of this world in general.

"So that means you are the mayor, then," Silvara said, eyes locked on his pupils.

"H-How di—no! I am not a mayor, I don't—"

"Give it up. I know the truth. You were well-known when you were building here, with everyone questioning why you'd choose a dump like this."

Finn couldn't help himself. 'What on earth could possibly make him build here…?'

"Don't call it that!" the man snapped, voice rising. "It's beautiful! And no one will disrespect my home!"

"You call this beautiful? By encouraging people to throw garbage into the swamp, smear bacterial sludge on the walls, and even drive someone insane? And you noticed me watching you?!" Finn barked.

Silvara didn't stop him. Finn's questions were fair.

"Because… that's what she wanted!" the man cried, as if speaking of a deity. "She was hungry… so hungry… so I fed her. I fed her and fed her… she wanted more, so I gave more… until it wasn't enough. I told people to feed her too… and she was so… happy—so happy…"

Finn felt his stomach twist. Being in the same room as this man, hearing him talk like that—it was like staring into the abyss of someone's completely unhinged mind. He could practically see himself in a white padded cell right now.

"Who is she?" Finn asked cautiously.

"Don't speak her name so casually!" the man yelled.

"Who is she?" Silvara's tone was icy now, her gaze sharp enough to make the man flinch.

"My… wife!" he cried, the word spilling out like a confession from a broken soul.

"What happened to your wife? Does she still live here?" Silvara pressed, her tone sharp, leaving no room for evasion.

Each question seemed to crack the man further, as if decades of guilt and obsession were finally breaking through.

"She is dead!" he shouted.

Silvara's gaze didn't waver. "If she's dead… then how are you feeding her?"

'Kinda harsh, Silvara…' Finn thought, uneasy.

"Well… she isn't dead… but—" he stammered.

"How are you feeding her?" Silvara's voice had gone cold, flat, almost clinical.

"She… she is the swamp!" he blurted, his composure shattering completely. "She fell in the swamp during our annual swamp boating… she accidentally fell, and the swamp swallowed her whole! I was so… so sad—I couldn't bear it!" He clawed at his hair and scratched his face frantically.

"Do you understand how sad I was?!" he yelled, stepping forward as though to lunge at Silvara.

She didn't flinch. From beneath her sleeve, she revealed the short hilt of her knife, letting him know that any sudden move would be his last.

The man froze, groaning and scratching his head in frustration. "When she fell… she was still alive! She spoke to me! She told me the swamp freed her—but she would only come back if I fed her… endlessly! So that's what I did!" His laugh was manic, echoing off the walls.

He paused, letting the laughter die down, and then added softly, "She was so beautiful… I never wanted to leave her… so I built this… this beautiful, beautiful town!" His hands ran over the wooden floor as if it were a living thing, a child he had crafted himself.

Finn felt a twisted mixture of horror and admiration. The man had literally built this town alone, driven by obsession and grief.

"And then… what?" Finn asked cautiously.

"Then… over the years, she told me how much she loved me! How glad she was that I was there for her! That I… was the best man… only for her!" He laughed again, hollow and unhinged.

"She began releasing that… beautiful gas into the air—the fog you see now. It's from her finishing the food I give her… and soon, she'll be coming back to me." His gaze lifted toward the mist streaming in through the ceiling, reverent.

Finn swallowed, trying not to show how unnerved he was.

"And the birds?" Silvara asked flatly.

"She never liked birds… at first. But after she fell into the swamp, she became obsessed with them. And so did I! They… they are the true freedom of this place!" He raised his arms, as if invoking some forgotten, impossible god.

"I can't believe people have forgotten her so much!" he whispered frantically, rubbing his arms. Then he turned to Finn, eyes wide and glimmering. "That's when she showed me… something special."

"What did she show you…?" Finn asked, his voice hesitant.

"She… showed her true self to me," the man said, his eyes wild. "Deep in the cave… where she was becoming something anew. She was so beautiful… and do you know what she told me?" He leaned forward, his gaze piercing Finn.

"What…?" Finn instinctively stepped back.

Silvara's eyes flicked between Finn and the man, noting the heavy unease in the air.

"That I am her one true love… and that she is hungry for people now. So I led them to her, let them be fed… and she was so happy. Did you know, Finn… she told me about you. That you came into her home, disturbed her… and met that freak down there. That freak is a failure… and so are you."

Finn's eyes widened, the horror sinking in—not from the man's madness alone, but from the realization of what he was saying.

It all clicked. The cloaked figure. The sacrifices. The forgotten cocoon. Everything Lysithea had spoken of to him about. It was the final, terrifying piece of the puzzle—and not a piece he wanted to fit.

He remembered the cocoon, the trash slowly being digested above it, the grotesque, endless hunger of the slime below.

Finn slowly turned to Silvara, voice trembling.

"The entire swamp… Moistvile… it's all above the slime cave."