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

That revelation hit Finn like a brick. It completely changed everything about Moistvile.

The man's words echoed in his head—she would be waking up soon.

That cocoon wasn't just some weird slime nest—it was going to hatch. And when it did, Moistvile, the swamp, and everyone in it is sitting right on top of a nightmare ready to burst free.

Too much. Way too much. Even for Finn. He had seen the horrors of the slime cave. But to realize that hell itself was hiding beneath another hell… that was enough to make his stomach turn inside out.

Everyone in Moistvile was in danger. Finn didn't even like these people—in fact, he despised them after everything that had happened earlier. But he couldn't shake it. They were all going to die if no one did anything.

He had to warn them.

***

Finn turned to Silvara. The moment those words had left his lips, she'd actually reacted. Just barely. Her eyes widened for the first time… before her usual calm indifferent expression slid back into place.

"We need to tell everyone," Finn said firmly. Then his gaze shifted to the man, who sat trembling, eyes darting between them like a cornered animal. "But… what about him? Do one of us stay and watch him or—"

Before he could finish, Silvara stepped forward and, with a casual flick of her hand, struck the man. He collapsed instantly, his body thudding to the floor like a sack of meat.

"Well… okay then," Finn muttered.

Silvara didn't even glance down. "He's dealt with. Let's go."

Finn blinked, caught off guard. "Well damn. Alright then."

He glanced around the pitch-black room, then up at the ceiling where the fog seeped through. "Uh… problem. How are we supposed to get out? We don't have a light, I can't see jack, and—"

Before he could ramble further, Silvara strode up, grabbed him by the legs, and hoisted him into her arms like he was nothing. A perfect princess carry.

"W-What the hell are you—"

She bent her knees slightly—then launched straight up. The two of them shot through the roof and vanished into the choking fog.

Finn screamed all the way up.

Silvara landed hard on the roof, the wood letting out a wet squelch beneath her boots. The fog was thicker than ever now, so dense Finn could barely make out her face even though she was holding him.

The air itself felt damp, heavy, almost alive. Not good. Not good at all.

Finn squirmed in her arms, looking around. He had always been the one carrying people, but now… now he was the one being carried.

How nice.

"Stop wiggling," Silvara said flatly. "If you smear your weird fantasies onto me, I won't hesitate to drop you."

"Okay, okay—I'm sorry!"

"Hold on tightly."

Finn blinked. Wait a second— last sentence she'd threatened to drop him, and now she was telling him to hold on? He didn't have time to question it.

Because suddenly, she moved.

One instant she was still, the next she was darting across the rooftops at a breakneck pace. Finn clung to her like a man hanging off the side of a rollercoaster, his stomach lurching with every jolt.

"How the hell do you know where we're going?!" Finn cried, his voice shaking.

"Following my last path."

"How the hell?!"

"Remembering patterns," she said simply, as if that cleared everything up.

It didn't. At all. But Finn wasn't about to push the subject while being cradled like an oversized baby at ninety miles per hour.

She leapt from roof to roof. Finn couldn't see a thing, but he felt the distance. Each jump sent his guts into his throat. And above it all, the crows kept squawking—louder, closer, multiplying—like a brand-new flock from hell was merging with the old one.

Finally, Silvara bent her knees and launched into one final massive leap. She landed on solid ground with a heavy thud, then promptly dropped Finn like a sack of potatoes.

He hit the wood with his own dull thud and groaned in pain. Now he understood why Majestria always whined when he dropped her. It was not pleasant.

"We're here," Silvara said.

Finn blinked, rolling onto his elbows. "Where?"

She didn't look at him. "Where do you think."

"Right." Finn muttered, forcing himself to his feet, legs still jelly from the ride.

Finn patted himself down, squinting into the thick mist. He couldn't see a damn thing. "Where are you?"

"Behind you."

"Oh." Finn turned, not even seeing her behind him. He shrugged and started walking forward anyway.

"You're going the wrong way, idiot."

Finn froze, looked back. "Then where am I supposed to go?"

"Follow my voice, since you can't see where you're going clearly."

"Right…" Finn muttered, turning in that direction—until her voice called out again.

"You're going the wrong way, Finn. Come back."

He stopped cold. His stomach dropped.

Silvara never called him Finn. Not unless it was something strict, formal… or a scolding. Maybe. He couldn't really remember. Normally it was "idiot" or something worse.

That voice was not Silvara.

"Nope, nope, nope," Finn whispered to himself, shaking his head furiously and moving forward, ignoring it.

He walked straight into a wall, smacking his nose.

"Aughh! Son of a—" He clutched his face, groaning.

"You went the wrong way," Silvara's voice said again, this time from his right. "It's over here."

Finn swallowed, glancing nervously that way. He placed his left hand on the wall for balance, the other hand groping blindly through the air—desperate not to wander off somewhere random, and hoping to brush against Silvara soon.

His fingers brushed across something wet and slimy on the wall. He gagged instantly, bile rising in his throat.

And then—thud. He bumped into someone.

"…Silvara?"

A sigh. Low, flat, unmistakable. "The door's to your left."

Finn exhaled, relief flooding him. "Thank God…"

Finn turned left, pressing both hands against a set of doors. He rubbed the wood like he was making sure it was real—yep, the front doors of the guild.

Without a second thought, he shoved them open and walked in, Silvara following close behind.

***

The guild hall was… calm. Weirdly calm. People whispered among themselves in low voices, but nobody was panicking. Looked like the moment Silvara had shown up, everyone had fallen in line.

Ardin and his squad were there too. They looked fine on the surface, though Ardin himself sat like a man chewing on his own brain. After being smacked down by Silvara, the hero aura was gone, and the people who once swarmed him now kept their distance.

Seraphina, on the other hand, sat completely alone. After Ardin slapped her and called her a traitor, it was like her entire identity cracked. She stared at nothing, hollow, like someone pulled the plug on her purpose.

Finn's team was scattered across the room. Majestria somehow looked perfect again—clean, radiant, smug—like she'd just decided to be pristine. She wasn't even human at this point; she was basically a cat that magically groomed herself.

Lickthorn was still lying on the ground, spread out like she'd fulfilled her grand life philosophy of "be floor."

Chestelle was actually out of chest form finally, slouched in a chair, legs swinging back and forth, staring at the ground like she was either bored or planning murder. Could've been both.

And then Elise. The whole reason Finn had shown up in this hellhole in the first place. She was asleep at the counter, snoring softly.

'Figures…'

Finn scanned all of them, but their little dramas didn't matter. Not right now. He had one job, and that was to drop the absolute nightmare truth on everyone before it was too late.

So he stepped forward, cleared his throat, and spoke.

"We're all going to die here!" Finn blurted, no filter, no plan.

Every head in the guild turned his way. Even Elise jolted awake, blinking like someone had just yelled fire in her dream.

Dozens of confused stares locked onto him. The words didn't make sense, but they were heavy enough to stir unease. Murmurs started. Worry spread.

Finn winced. Nice job, dumbass. Perfect way to start—instant panic. He rubbed his chin like a philosopher scrambling for his thesis. After a beat of messy thinking, he tried again.

"The fog outside… and, uh, everything going wrong out there—it's because of the swamp."

Blank looks. Raised brows. Nobody got it.

He waved his hands. "Look! All the trash and crap you people have been dumping in there? That's what's been feeding it. The swamp is what's been pumping that fog out."

A brave voice shot back: "But what does that have to do with us all dying?"

Finn groaned. "Fine. Straight to the point then." He lifted his hand dramatically, like some tragic prophet of doom.

"The slime cave is right beneath Moistvile. And it's about to collapse—or explode—or both. Whatever it's gonna do, it's bad. Really bad."

Right after Finn had said it, a deep rumble shook through the town. The rooftops trembled, windows rattled, and a low, guttural moan echoed from the swamp. Finn's stomach sank. "Oh… oh no," he muttered.