The cocoon pulsed again—slower this time, weaker, like it was finally running out of life. That should've been good news. Finn really didn't want to know what was inside that thing… though he couldn't help noticing a faint, human-shaped silhouette shifting beneath the translucent layer.

'Wait… is that a girl in there?' he thought, narrowing his eyes. 'If that's a hot girl cocoon, this could either be the best day of my life or the last one.' The thought made him snicker to himself like an idiot.

The others quickly noticed the movement—and Finn's laugh—each reacting in their own completely predictable ways.

Isolde frowned, both disturbed by the sight and confused by why Finn was smiling at it. Seraphina immediately began praying under her breath. Chestelle tilted her head, whispering, "Can I poke it?" while Lickthorn stared at the veins and cords with unholy fascination. Elise stood silently in the back—doing absolutely nothing, as usual. And Majestria, of course, remained face-up in the mud, blissfully unconscious and radiating divine failure.

Isolde's expression tightened as she glanced between Finn and the pulsating sack. "I think it would be best if we stayed away from this and let the proper authorities handle it. For instance… Theron." She offered a cautious smile. "I'm sure he would deal with this far better than—"

"Oh, so you're saying I'm not cut out for this?" Finn cut her off, side-eyeing her.

"N-No, that's not what I meant—"

"Sounds like that's exactly what you meant." He pointed dramatically at the cocoon. "I'll have you know, I literally went inside that thing's throat, saw that nightmare up close, and helped defeat it! Singlehandedly!"

"That's… not what I was saying," she said carefully, trying to de-escalate. "I just think it would be wiser for us to leave before—"

'Oh my God,' Finn thought mid-sentence, eyes widening. 'This is exactly like a government cover-up! What if the authorities are behind this thing?!'

"—interrogating you," Isolde finished. "Do you understand now?"

Finn blinked. 'Shoot. I completely zoned out.'

Then he smiled brightly, nodding. "No."

***

Her lips parted slightly, eyes studying—not just confused but offended that Finn really didn't get it. She wasn't sure if he was being deliberately stupid or if that was just his natural state of existence. He looked like he was listening—nodding, even—but apparently that was just his brain buffering.

Before she could correct him, a loud wet splat echoed across the open field—followed by a burst of giggling.

Both of them snapped their heads toward the sound.

There was Chestelle. Jumping up and down on the cocoon like it was a cursed bounce house, laughing hysterically as the thing squelched under her feet.

Seraphina screamed in horror, flapping her hands like a panicked bird as she tried to pull Chestelle off. Lickthorn just stared, wide-eyed and red-cheeked, whispering, "The way it jiggles… it's mesmerizing…"

Finn slapped both sides of his head. "OH MY GOD—CHESTELLE! STOP JUMPING ON THAT THING, NOW!"

Chestelle tilted her head mid-bounce, confused—and then made one last jump.

That jump was the fatal one.

The cocoon ripped open with a sickening tear, sending a spray of viscous fluid across the mud as Chestelle fell through it, vanishing for a brief, horrifying moment before popping back out, dripping in translucent slime.

Finn froze completely, mouth agape. His brain blue-screened trying to process whether she had just saved them, doomed them, or committed a felony against an eldritch crime scene.

Isolde's reaction said it all—her face went pale, trembling as her hands covered her mouth. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't supposed to be popped open like a water balloon at a college party.

'Not good,' Finn thought numbly. 'So very, very not good.'

Chestelle, blissfully unaware of the magnitude of her crime, stood up with a happy hum. The slime clung to her like raw egg yolk, stretching and snapping as she shook herself off like a wet dog.

"That was so fun and weird!" she chirped, flicking off the last string of goo. She looked around at everyone's horrified expressions—well, except Lickthorn, who was now biting her lip and muttering something about "texture."

Chestelle gave the cocoon a few cheerful pats, smiling like a child who just discovered a new toy. "You guys should totally jump on it too! Or at least touch it—it's all bouncy and warm!"

Finn nearly screamed. "CHESTELLE, STOP TOUCHING THAT THING AND GET AWAY FROM IT!"

And then—before anyone could react—another voice, shocked and lost, cut through the air.

"What the—!"

Isolde's face went paper white the instant that voice hit her ears. It was like her soul packed its things and left her body.

Finn turned his head slowly—like a man watching his own funeral in real time—and there he was.

Theron.

Standing tall, regal, and absolutely pissed off, his eyes widened at the absolute circus before him. The cocoon ripped open. The chaotic women. The unconscious goddess. Finn covered in filth. Chestelle dripping with alien goo like she'd just hatched from a nightmare egg.

It was biblical.

"What are you—" His tone cracked like thunder as he glared at Isolde. "Why did you allow them over here!?"

His voice carried weight. The kind of weight that could crush someone's paycheck.

"I—I didn't mean to," Isolde stammered, trembling like a student caught cheating in divine law class. "They simply came over! I wasn't sure if—"

"That doesn't matter!" he barked, cutting her off before she could even breathe. "You knew we would be—"

But he didn't get to finish either.

Because the clown car kept unloading.

Chunkus waddled onto the scene, his belly jiggling like a proud declaration of culinary war, with Raze gliding beside him, twirling his dagger like he was auditioning for "The Edgy Diaries."

"Ho, ho!" Chunkus bellowed, rubbing his belly with dangerous intent. "That looks like it would go great with stew and ham!"

Raze nodded solemnly. "It has embraced the abyss and let itself be devoured. Hmph."

Finn buried his face in his hands. 'Not these people… dear God, anyone but these people.'

And then—just when the scene couldn't get worse—the edgy swordsman appeared. The same one from the battle. The one Finn mentally nicknamed "Guy Who Gets Anxiety Around Women."

His hand rested nervously on his sword as he walked up. "I heard screaming—so I came to inves—"

He froze mid-sentence, seeing the sheer number of women in one place. His eyes darted like a deer in headlights, and before anyone could blink, he panicked and hid behind Chunkus's massive gut like it was a fortress wall.

"There she is," Raze said gravely, pointing toward Seraphina. "I thought she had fallen from the light and become one with the darkness. Hmph."

Seraphina just stood there awkwardly, hands clasped around the staff, muttering under her breath about something no one could hear.

Chunkus's booming laugh filled the air again as he patted the trembling swordsman on the back. "Bwahaha! Scared of the pretty well cooked ladies, eh?"

Theron's eyebrow twitched violently as he rubbed his temple. This was not what he has expected or ever hoped to see.

He finally shoved his cane into the ground with a heavy thunk, forcing silence. "Would you mind telling me why you came back here?" he said, his voice dripping with strained civility.

Chunkus beamed proudly, licking his lips. "I saw some meat fly from the giant chicken. Looked like a fine stew recipe! Also—" his eyes flicked to Seraphina, "—I was looking for that deep-fried golden lady."

Raze nodded solemnly again. "Yes. We saw the blob fly from the beast's corpse after the light struck the darkness. I wished to see it myself. Hmph."

Theron inhaled sharply through his nose, pinching the bridge of it like he was suppressing suppressed rage. "…I see," he muttered flatly. "Utterly marvelous."

"What are you two even doing here?" Seraphina asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. Her hands were still clasped together like she was praying this was all just a fever dream.

Raze gave a solemn nod, sliding his dagger back into its sheath. "We were looking for you. You disappeared. We haven't seen Ardin since. The darkness must have taken him. Hmph."

Seraphina blinked. "What—what does that even mean?"

Before anyone could answer, another voice cut through the chaos.

"I need my staff back!"

Everyone turned to see Sophia, hair messy and panting hard, staggering toward them like she'd sprinted a marathon. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. "I need my staff back," she repeated between gasps.

Theron's grip on his cane visibly tightened. His expression twitched somewhere between murder and exhaustion. "I see," he said dryly. "Apparently there's a gathering here I wasn't informed about. Is this some kind of party?"

Chunkus, without missing a beat, rubbed his belly again. "No party," he said cheerfully. "Just felt like coming back here for a feast."

Sophia shot him a glare before pointing directly at Seraphina, her tone snapping like a whip. "No, seriously—I need my staff back! You borrowed it, I need it back!"

Seraphina flinched, eyes darting around as if searching for a helpful intervention. "O-oh right, that—uh, I can hand it to you—"

But she didn't get the chance.

Because someone screamed.

"WHAT IS THAT THING?!"

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