Both man and the forgotten thing stared at one another. A silence deeper than the chaos around them. Something unspoken passed between them—something neither could name, yet both seemed to long for.

As Finn met its gaze, it was as if they saw straight through each other. A connection he couldn't explain, not to himself, not to anyone.

The creature's head resembled that of a hatchling bird, yet warped with human features. One half avian, one half man. Its eyes leaked thick fluid, yet the pupils remained disturbingly clear, almost too real—more real than Lysithea's ever were. Poor girl.

And its mouth… The bottom half was a baby bird's beak, but the upper half had been replaced with a warped human mouth. Slime-draped flesh clung stubbornly to the hybrid form, dripping but never falling away.

It looked like something dredged up from the cracks of memory itself—something the world had tried to forget.

The thing slammed its arms into the earth, claws digging deep into mud. They were shaped like human hands, but lengthened into talons, each one caked with rot and fragments of bone. With a slow, crushing pull, it began dragging itself up from the ground.

Finn realized, with a cold shock, that he was the only one still standing. Everyone else had been forced to the dirt.

The realization sank like a knife in his gut.

'Oh hell no!'

People around him finally noticed the giant creature's head looming over them. Its gaze alone sent waves of terror rippling through the battlefield.

The smaller creatures they'd fought earlier weren't moving. They stood perfectly still, watching, as if waiting for a command.

No one spoke. No one moved. Fear had frozen them all—until the longsword-wielding man appeared once more. The one terrified of women.

He rose slowly, sword drawn, stepping closer to the massive abomination.

'What the hell is he thinking…?' Finn thought, eyes wide.

The creature's gaze shifted to him, as if analyzing the man, weighing him, studying his every move. It hadn't attacked anyone yet—it simply watched.

That was, until the swordman opened his mouth.

"I am not afraid of you! No matter the size or strength, you will all fall!" he shouted, voice carrying across the battlefield.

'Wait, what is he doing?!' Finn panicked.

The man pointed his sword at the creature, defiance blazing. "Just because you're watching doesn't mean you can intimidate me! I'll cut you down like the rest!"

"Someone stop him!" Finn shrieked, disbelief flooding him. Hadn't he seen what that thing did to people just by moving its arms?!

The swordman swung, slicing a humanoid creature in half with one fluid motion. The giant creature blinked, its gaze lingering on the fallen body. A single drip of slime slid from its beak before it let out a deafening, hollow roar. Its wings spread wide, stretching toward the sky.

Finn buried his face in his hands. "OH MY GOD HE IS AN IDIOT!"

As if the roar wasn't enough, the horde began moving again, taking advantage of anyone still on the ground. Chaos returned in full force.

It was hell once more.

Panic surged through Finn, his gaze darting left and right. He bit his fingers, unsure what to do. All he knew was they were screwed—deeply, utterly screwed.

Turning to Seraphina, who was slowly rising, leaning on the staff for support, he practically bounced in place.

"Seraphina! What do we do?! Can't you do another one of those big blessings, again—or some spell. I don't know something?!"

"It will take some time before I'm able to—"

Finn cut her off mid-word, spinning in frantic circles. "What do we do, what do we do?!"

"Calm down, please," Seraphina said weakly. "I'm sure there's something we can do."

Stopping suddenly, Finn turned to her, trying to look composed. "I'm calm. I'm just… freaking out because it's fun."

"What…?" Her expression was blank, confusion plain.

"Yeah," he said, smiling as if it were obvious.

She had no idea if he was serious or losing his mind. All she could do was focus on herself, tightening her grip on the staff.

Meanwhile, the creature continued its slow emergence from the ground, slim neck and shoulders creeping into view.

There had to be something they could do. Finn racked his brain and remembered what he'd done at the beginning: giving orders to the mages to prepare a big spell. Though they weren't sure if it would work, they at least needed to try. Neither was he.

Then it hit him—the mages hadn't even started preparing the spell. They were casting regular attacks on the smaller creatures instead.

Idiots!

The mages and priests stood idly, while others on the ground did nothing. Finn's frustration boiled over.

He opened his mouth, shouting as loud as he could. "WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?! WE NEED TO HELP THEM!"

The mages blinked at him, staring as if he'd lost his mind—which, frankly, he probably had a while ago.

Finally, one mage stepped forward. Clad in armor and a brown cloak, he raised an arm nervously.

"What are we supposed to do? There's nothing we can do. We're being overrun. There are too many of them. And that giant thing is there too."

Finn's eyes narrowed into the most deadpan, annoyed glare he could muster. He threw his hands up. "What do you mean there's nothing we can do?! We've been fighting here for who knows how long, and you guys want to call it quits?!"

The man looked away, and the others followed suit, silent.

"You can't be serious. We've made it this far—no, I have made it this far! I lost my fertility to a slime, got jumped by multiple people—including some of you—jumped again, nearly killed by slime, almost everything has happened to me in this damn place, and you all want to give up because you don't know what to do? Hell no! I've suffered too much to just throw in the towel now." Finn's gaze drilled into them.

They stayed quiet, listening, drawn in despite themselves. Even the ones who had looked away now met his eyes.

"And I'm sure you guys don't want to give up either, deep down. Look at us! We fought this hard, resisted this long, and now suddenly you're frozen because you don't know what to do? Pathetic! Come on—gather all your mana together! Cast a big spell, magic, move, whatever the hell you call it." He pointed sharply at the towering creature. "And shoot it at that damn thing!"

At first, silence hung in the air. Then, one by one, they erupted into battle cries, cheering, their resolve renewed.

The mages all began clustering together, chanting strange words Finn couldn't be bothered to understand, waving their staffs and wands like synchronized cheerleaders. Whatever it was, it looked big.

Finn gave a firm nod to himself, smug with self-satisfaction. Hell yeah. Go me. He'd actually gotten them to move.

Now… back to the real problem.

Turning his attention toward the battlefield, Finn's stomach dropped. The horde was pressing forward again, slithering into gaps in the formation like water finding cracks in stone. The line of soldiers shattered, men and women dragged down one after another.

It was bad—really bad. The swarm was creeping closer, inch by inch, to where he and the others stood.

Not good…

They needed a defensive line, and fast. Something to buy time for the mages while they wrapped up their epic mana choir recital.

But there was one glaring issue: no one could hear him over the chaos. The battlefield was deafening—screams, steel, and the sickening sound of bodies breaking under the horde.

He needed a way to grab everyone's attention. Something big. Something loud.

Then it hit him.

The most ridiculous, insane, perfect idea popped into his head.

Finn grinned. Oh yeah… this is gonna work.

Spinning around, his eyes locked onto the archers nearby, who also weren't doing anything for some reason.

'This feels like one of those strategy games where the men don't move unless you give them orders…'

But they would be perfect for his plan—they had to be. It was his best idea, of course.

First he waved at them. They paid no attention. Groaning in frustration, he bolted over, nearly tripping twice in the process.

"HEY! You guys with weapons—perfectly healthy and fine! Instead of standing around doing nothing, let me give you something to do!"

They blinked at him, like ants trying to process his words.

"What do you want us to do?" one reluctantly asked.

Shaking his head at the fools, Finn barked, "Listen! I need you all to shoot—not at the big one, but at the horde of creatures down there kicking our asses! But you have to fire all at the same time. Make it look flashy, like you're performing for your queen. Something cool!"

"That makes no sense," another muttered.

"Does it look like I give a shit?!" Finn clapped his hands together. "It doesn't need to make sense—it just needs to work and grab everyone's attention. It's not that hard. This is what you call strategy!"

The archers exchanged baffled, confused looks. But…it was Finn Wiggles talking to them. They'd seen what he'd done on the battlefield. He must surely know what he was talking about.

Then another great idea struck Finn.

'It just keeps getting better and better!'

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