Chapter 158: Finn Wiggles vs. Civilization
After some time, Finn and Chestelle finally reached the group of survivors. And he was immediately taken aback. Somehow, they all looked fine—much better than he was, and somehow even less dirty.
Which, of course, annoyed him.
Adventurers and villagers alike were slowly gathering themselves together, some still trying to process what had just happened, while others lay in the mud, utterly defeated. Conversations buzzed around him, half frantic, half confused.
Finn’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Majestria—or anyone he knew. But no matter where he looked, no familiar face appeared.
Panic began to creep in. ’Damn it...’
Chestelle tugged gently at his sleeve, like a concerned child. "What’s wrong?"
"I can’t find them," Finn muttered, frustration thick in his voice. "You know—that’s why we came here. To find them."
"You never said that," she replied innocently. "You just stared and looked around."
Finn bit his lip. "Well... it should have been obvious!"
"Okay!" she chirped, clearly unconvinced.
Sighing, Finn pressed on, weaving between the survivors, checking each group with mounting anxiety. Finally, he spotted someone familiar—Big Tim. Finn barely knew the man, only having seen him twice, but seeing him standing there, seemingly unharmed, offered a small measure of comfort.
Even RahRah was perched on Big Tim’s back, slouched over like he’d partied with the entire world and lost.
Then a familiar, distinct voice cut through the chaos—complaining, yelling, absolutely unmistakable.
Majestria.
Like any sane person, Finn moved toward the source of the noise. And there she was, flanked by Lickthorn and even Silvara, locked in some kind of chaotic dispute. Majestria’s voice was loud, sharp, and merciless, clearly furious at Silvara over something trivial—Finn’s bet? She was mad about having to stand in the mud.
Finn edged closer, and the yelling grew clearer. As he listened, he realized he’d been right all along. Who would have guessed?
"You expect me to just stand here in this disgusting mud?!" Majestria bellowed.
Silvara, ever cold and composed, simply replied, "Yes. What other place would want to accept you?"
Majestria gasped, fury flaring so hot it looked like steam might shoot from her ears. Her face flushed bright red, every muscle in her body taut with rage.
Unfortunately for Finn, Majestria’s gaze flicked over to him. His heart sank.
"Finn?!! Where have you been?!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.
Both Silvara and Lickthorn turned their eyes toward him, clearly noting his return. Majestria, however, gave him a smug, almost predatory look—the kind that made Finn’s stomach twist in a way that was simultaneously alarming and... confusing.
"It doesn’t matter. Kneel for me," she said, voice smooth and honeyed, deceptively sweet. "My legs are tired, and this disgusting ground is ruining my feet. Will you be so kind as to lower yourself so I may sit?"
Finn almost gave in. Her tone, her words—it sounded more like a goddess than a loud, muscularly imposing woman. It was... tempting. But the thought of literally carrying her weight on his shoulders? Not appealing. Self-control won out.
He ignored her entirely. Not wanting to feed her ego, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.
Silvara, however, still had her gaze locked on him. "I am pleased to see you have survived," she said, calm but firm. "But it would have been best if you had remained where I left you."
"What do you mean? I was still in the—"
"You weren’t. You moved further down the railing, moving to areas you shouldn’t have. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have stumbled into that other... situation. Once again, making my job far more difficult than necessary."
Finn growled, ready to snap back, but before he could, Majestria barked again.
"YOU DO NOT IGNORE ME LIKE THAT! DO I NEED TO REMIND YOU WHO I AM?!" She grabbed Finn’s shoulders, locking eyes with him, her fury palpable.
Before he could react, she shoved him onto his knees, pressing into his shoulders.
Silvara intervened, placing a hand firmly on Majestria’s shoulder, giving her the coldest, most unamused look Finn had ever seen. "I was having an important discussion with Finn Wiggles. I do not need your interference. Frankly, I doubt your brain could comprehend it."
Majestria’s eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are?! I am a literal goddess of—"
Finn, tired of the arguing before it escalated further, stepped between them. "Ladies, ladies," he said, raising his hands in peacekeeping fashion. "Let’s calm down. Majestria, you can ride me later. Right now? Not so much."
Majestria shot him a skeptical glare, but only scoffed. "You better hurry then, or I will get it myself."
Peace finally seemed to settle—for now. Silvara pressed on, her crimson eyes narrowing.
"During your absence," she said, voice calm but sharp, "where were you while I was busy carrying out your orders and saving your friends?"
"Oh, um..." Finn’s mind raced. He couldn’t exactly mention the whole "killed Ardin" part. Not yet.
Rubbing the back of his head nervously, he stammered, "Haha... you see, I somehow made my way onto... a roof, or something like that? And then I fell... and the place was collapsing, and—"
"Finn was fighting that guy with the blonde hair. Me and him had beaten him up and sent him back where he belonged," Chestelle cut in, her tone sweet and almost teasing, like a little sibling tattling without meaning to.
’Damn it, Chestelle!’ Finn screamed internally. His heart pounded.
Silvara didn’t flinch. Her gaze bore into him. Waiting. Expecting a proper answer.
"Well, um..." Finn fidgeted like a kid caught by their mom. "You see, he just came out of nowhere and—"
"Who is he?"
"Ardin..." Finn muttered, lowering his head.
"Go on."
"He climbed up the balcony and attacked me. Even while the place was collapsing, he kept coming at me—didn’t slow down at all. Until Chestelle luckily—"
"I need more details."
Finn blinked, unsure how much to say.
"Just write it down later. Tell me more," Silvara said, her voice still flat, patient but insistent.
"I... sigh... we fought him," Finn admitted, fidgeting. "Eventually we knocked him into a hole... and it exploded after he fell in."
Silvara listened with her usual unwavering composure, expression unreadable. "I see. This is no good at all. You still manage to make things harder for me."
"You don’t have to keep telling me that to make me feel like crap!" Finn shouted, shaking his fist.
Chestelle, ever innocent, tilted her head. "Did I do something wrong?"
Sighing, Finn waved a hand dismissively. "No."
***
After some time, the situation finally began to calm down. Everyone was tired and exhausted from Moistvile collapsing. The entire ordeal had been hell, though no less chaotic than before.
Silvara explained to Finn that once they arrived at the capital, he would have more work than he could imagine. He’d need to write reports and give detailed accounts of everything that had happened.
Finn’s reaction was immediate: tears, pouts, and full-on baby mode. "This is supposed to be a fantasy world, not school!" he wailed, flailing his arms in despair. The thought alone drove him closer to the brink of insanity.
As if that weren’t enough, Silvara mentioned that Theron and the knights would be arriving soon, along with members of that bizarre German maid company and other higher-ups. Essentially, the entire council of "nerds," as Finn called them, would descend upon him, and he’d most likely be questioned nonstop. The dread bubbled in his chest.
At least, for now, he could relax a little, being back with everyone else. But a nagging worry lingered: where were Seraphina and the other two members of Ardin’s party?
Finn had asked Silvara. She said she’d gotten Seraphina and the others to safety, but after setting them down, they’d vanished into the chaos. He even asked about Elise. Still nothing.
All he wanted at that point was to collapse and pass out, letting the world—however absurd it was—just stop for five minutes. Or just letting others handle the situation instead of it all falling on him.
Before long, an army of people appeared on the horizon—presumably the knights and all the others finally arriving—which gave Finn a small measure of relief.
But he wasn’t surprised to think that the world might just pile on more stress. If it kept up, he was certain he’d die from some disease—or sheer mental collapse. That’s what he told himself.
As the knights and others drew closer, Finn’s mind started to wander. Daydreaming became his only defense against the inevitable barrage of questions and explanations, the endless talking that made him want to die a little more with each passing second.
***
Eventually, everyone arrived, with Silvara speaking to Theron and explaining the situation. A few unfamiliar faces glanced at Finn, giving him that subtle "Who is this guy?" look.
It was finally happening. Finn’s chest tightened with pure dread. Everything he’d been dreading was about to come true.
Because now... he was about to be barraged by an endless stream of questions.