"This is so gross!" Finn spat on the ground after rubbing mud across his face—some of it even managing to get into his mouth.

Grabbing his collar, he rubbed the inside of his shirt against his lips, then dragged it across his tongue, letting out a long, disgusted "aaaahhh!" in the process.

Only to drop it, cough, and spat again—to gag harder after realizing the shirt itself tasted like salty lemon smeared in poop.

Yuck.

Majestria's situation, meanwhile, had only gotten worse. The winged little freaks were tugging at her dress as she screamed. One yanked the front, another the back, nearly exposing her chest, while a third latched onto her shoulders, bending down as if to bite straight into her breast.

"GET AWAY!" she shrieked, shoving at them, but the fabric only tore more under the strain.

The beak drew closer, grazing her chest, and the sound of ripping cloth made her gasp—her scream suddenly cut short.

"YOU PIECES OF TRASH GARBAGE SHIT! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!"

Snatching the shoulder-clinger with both hands, she slammed it down onto the dress-yanker in front of her, a move straight out of some infamous wrestling highlight reel.

Once again, Majestria had lost her mind—not at the danger, but at being dirtied and humiliated.

While she was going full pro-wrestler on the swarm, Finn finally managed to clean the last of the mud from his mouth.

"Plah! Plah!" he spat, one last time.

***

"Disgusting," Finn muttered, rubbing his lips on a clean patch of skin. "Actually… so gross."

Ahead of him, Majestria had piled the creatures into a writhing tower of bodies and was stomping on them like a one-woman apocalypse.

Just staring at her rampage, Finn knew one thing for sure: she was going to play a major role in this battle.

"Is she always like this?" Theron asked cautiously, his eyes flicking to her with uncertainty.

"Didn't we already have this discussion?" Finn replied with a shrug. "Anyway… yeah. Most of the time, yes."

He let out a soft hum, rubbing his nose. "Well, let's take ourselves back to the battlefield."

***

Returning to the battlefield, Finn realized it had become more hellish than before.

Had they not wasted so much time with Majestria, things might not have gotten this bad.

The monstrous horde had broken through deeper, clashing with knights and adventurers. The defenders struggled—barely holding, but still managing to put up a fight.

Finn and the others rushed in to support, and finally… finally, the German maid guys were actually helping instead of standing around watching him do all the work.

As usual, Finn went back to his bread-and-butter move: tripping.

Trip here, trip there, trip everything that looked scary. Whenever someone was about to be overrun, he'd stretch his arm—reel it back in and the enemy went down like it had been mugged by gravity itself.

Silvara, on the other hand, moved with sharp precision. Her knives flew through the air like silver lightning, sinking into slime flesh. She spun and kicked with brutal grace, crushing humanoid creatures under her boots—sometimes decapitating them in one clean strike.

Isolde glided across the field like a ghost, her strings flashing. With just a flick of her fingers, creatures' limbs and bodies came apart, slicing neatly as though their bodies were made of paper.

Theron fought like an entirely different force altogether. No tricks, no grace—just raw, terrifying strength. He swung his cane like an angry grandfather at a family reunion, smacking creatures so hard their heads came off in one hit. Finn wasn't sure what was scarier—the monsters, or Theron's mysterious grandpa strength.

With the backing of the Haus Silbertraum members finally thrown into the fray, the tide of battle began to shift back in their favor.

They were clearing the field left and right, cutting down anything that dared block the way. The monsters' numbers were finally dwindling—fewer flying creatures, fewer humanoids swarming the humans.

But just as hope began to take root, the ground rumbled once more.

A thunderous roar split the air, shaking the earth so violently it felt as if the land itself wanted to split open.

From the cavern's maw, yet another colossal wing unfolded—rising to join the first.

A second roar followed, booming like a cannon shot across the battlefield. The sound alone was enough to rattle bones and shred courage.

People faltered. Heads turned. Blades wavered mid-swing. The sight of the second wing was enough to distract them, and the hesitation gave the enemy an opening. Creatures lunged into the gaps, clawing down distracted adventurers with ease.

"Do not be distracted by the giant wing!" Theron's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Focus on what is in front of you!"

His words snapped some back to their senses, but not all. Even as they fought, a wave of dismay was washing over the defenders. For every monster they cut down, two more seemed to crawl out of the cavern. The battle was becoming a grind of futility—one step forward, two steps back.

Finn noticed it instantly. If this keeps up, morale's going to tank and then it's game over.

He tripped another humanoid monster, watching it collapse face-first into the mud, but his eyes were already darting across the battlefield. There was only one person who could turn this tide, and he knew exactly who it was.

Seraphina.

He remembered what she'd done in the slime cavern—her light, her healing, her sheer ability to push people beyond their breaking point. If anyone could give these poor bastards the strength to keep going, it was her.

Scanning through the chaos, Finn finally spotted her. She was behind a knight, her palms pressed against his back, light radiating through her hands as she healed his wounds.

'Good to see at least one person sticking to their role… wait—what the hell am I doing, complimenting her? Focus, dumbass!'

Jaw set, Finn pushed through the battlefield, weaving past clashing blades and falling bodies, determined to reach her.

Luckily for Finn, his slim body worked heavily in his favor. He weaved through tight gaps in the lines of people, slipping between armored knights and, when necessary, crawling under them like some desperate rat.

Of course, that came with its own risk—because all it would take was one misstep, one armored boot slamming down, and his spine would snap like a breadstick. Just the thought made him shiver.

He crawled under one knight just as the man swung his sword, cleaving through a slime humanoid. The knight's heel scraped dangerously close to Finn's back. One inch lower, and Finn would've been a pancake.

Another roar split the battlefield.

The sound rattled his skull, forcing Finn to slam his hands over his ears as the ground shook beneath him. The noise wasn't just loud—it was commanding.

The creatures reacted immediately.

Their slimy bodies writhed, spikes sprouting across their skin like jagged thorns. The roar wasn't random—it was a rallying cry. A mother's howl for her children to fight harder, fiercer, without restraint.

Finn's stomach sank. Oh, that's just fantastic. Of course it gets worse.

The enemy surged with new strength. The front lines buckled, shield-men pushed back as though their feet were planted in quicksand. One of the four-armed beasts plowed through a knot of soldiers, sending them flying like dolls hurled across the mud.

Panic clawed at Finn's throat. He scrambled forward, crawling frantically toward where he last saw Seraphina. If he didn't get to her soon, they were all screwed.

But then—

Ahead, a knight was dragged down by four humanoids at once. They swarmed him, clawing and tearing, their eyeless faces gnashing against his armor as he screamed.

Finn froze. Backing up, his throat bobbed with a hard gulp. Nope. Don't like that. Gonna unsee it. Please let me unsee it.

But unluckily for him, the creatures weren't blind.

Several had already noticed the scrawny idiot crawling in the mud like an easy snack.

And now they were coming straight for him.

Finn shot up to his feet, panic sparking in his chest. No time to think—he had to move. He stretched his arm out, ready to trip the incoming monsters—

—but something blindsided him.

Out of nowhere, a creature lunged from his side, maw snapping open, trying to bite his entire head clean off.

Barely able to react, he caught it at the last second, hands flying up to grab its slimy arms and stop it from clamping down. The thing's face was inches from his own, jaw unhinged, slime makes shift teeth gnashing, a rancid stench flooding his nose.

"Oh my God!" Finn screamed, voice cracking.

He shoved with everything he had, but "everything" from Finn was pitiful at best. His weakness betrayed him again—the monster pressed forward, forcing his arms to bend, its mouth edging closer and closer, slobber dripping onto his cheek.

Every second, every inch, his head was about to become lunch.

Then its jaw opened wide, lining up for the chomp.

Directly onto Finn.

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