CHAPTER 85: INTO THE SLIMEHOLE

The Midwife had laid it all out for Finn—every detail about where to find the elusive Slime Melo, and exactly where it would be located in the cave.

Apparently, to the east of Moistvile, nestled between jagged hills and small mountains, was a set of slime-infested caverns. Finn remembered seeing something about it on the guild map, and immediately felt dread bubbling in his gut.

That direction meant distance.

And distance meant more walking.

He didn’t mind walking, per se—but walking while babysitting three chaotic women? That was psychological warfare.

The Midwife explained that the cave was structured in levels—because of course it was. Every fantasy world with stupid dungeons of course had "levels."

Level One was relatively tame. Close to the surface, with only a few slimes wandering around. Sometimes none. Just basic wall-slime, maybe a few shiny rocks. Mild risk of goo-related death.

Level Two was when things started to get dicey. You’d know you hit it when the walls started faintly glowing, like some kind of cursed rave. More slimes, definitely weirder ones. The Midwife called it "the underground transition point." Finn called it "no thanks."

Level Three, though, was full-blown nightmare fuel. That’s where the Slime Melo was. You’d know you’d reached it when you saw glowing slime, dripping slime, slime pools, and—shockingly—just more slime. Basically, if it looked like someone poured lube on every surface and then summoned an eldritch jellyfish rave, you were there.

And that’s where they had to go.

Finn questioned whether his fertility was really worth this.

...Of course it was.

He wanted kids. That wasn’t up for debate. But still, just imagining Level Three made his soul recoil. It also meant—logistically—he’d probably end up carrying Majestria half the way down. And no, he did not feel like dealing with that level of divine deadweight.

As they prepared to leave, Finn glanced off toward the path where the maid had once been.

Gone.

Of course. Probably double jumping in the air or phase-shifting into a different nightmare dimension. Typical. And probably possible in this unorthodox world.

But in all honesty, Finn didn’t understand why anyone would willingly explore slime caves. Then again, people back on Earth explored regular caves all the time.

The difference? Earth caves didn’t contain things that could violate you.

Fantasy caves absolutely did.

"Dumb fantasy world..." Finn muttered, heavily regretting letting the horny slime ever touch him.

And so, Finn found himself marching toward the slime caverns—his ragtag party in tow—on a noble quest to retrieve the sacred Slime Melo and restore his glorious fertility.

Surprisingly, the journey had been... kinda peaceful? Birds chirped. The wind carried a soft breeze. No one had tried to murder him in at least forty-five minutes. A miracle.

He was even in a decent mood, thanks to the Midwife handing out "anti-slime violation potions." Specifically brewed to keep horny slimes from hurling themselves at Finn’s sensitive manbits. A thoughtful gesture, truly.

Especially since it kissed his bottle before giving it to him.

Left a big, greasy lipstick mark right on the glass.

Yuck.

Still, Finn was grateful. He clutched the potion like a holy relic. No way in hell was he letting slimes grope him again. Not after the cave. Never again.

***

Now, for the last hour, Finn had been:

Carrying Majestria like some kind of divine sack of potatoes,

Arguing with said divine sack of potatoes about literally everything,

Watching Lickthorn try to grind on every rock, tree, and even a mossy boulder,

And being weirdly over-supported by Chestelle, who treated his every step like a national triumph.

It was exhausting.

As the chaos bubbled around him, Finn found his thoughts drifting—back to Earth. Back to simpler, lonelier times.

In high school, he used to walk from class to class with headphones on, imagining his favorite waifus beside him. Laughing. Teasing. Giggling like idiots as they ran through school hallways that never really existed.

A harem in his head. That’s how his mind worked.

Now he had real girls walking with him—insufferable, chaotic, deranged girls—but girls nonetheless. And despite everything, he kinda liked having them there.

He wasn’t sure if they really liked him, or if this was all just forced party dynamics and divine accidents. But it felt nice, in a weird way.

He’d made friends on Earth. A lot of them. But most of them?

They left. Eventually.

Even so, Finn tried to remember the good. College was hell. It shoved him into debt, ground his spirit into a pulp, and made him fantasize about swan-diving off the seventh floor more than once.

But he had some laughs. Some late nights. He’d say... yeah. He enjoyed it. In a messed-up, college trauma bonding sort of way.

And now here he was—carrying a goddess, walking with a chaotic support group, and risking his life for a slime fruit thing or whatever.

Although, really... none of this surprised Finn all that much. Weird was kind of his whole thing.

He only freaked out and complained to keep him from losing his mind—and because, in a twisted way, it made things more fun.

But back on Earth, bizarre stuff just gravitated toward him like he had some kind of cosmic freak magnet strapped to his soul.

There was that time a woman started secretly taking pictures of him in the school hallway—for weeks. Or the girl who gave him a bouquet of half-dead flowers as a gift. Like, romantic-dead. The kind you put on a grave. Then there was the time he accidentally caused a breakup just by saying a girl’s name out loud. Turned out the boyfriend recognized the name.

Yikes.

Oh, and how could he forget being accused of sleeping with a teacher?

He didn’t even talk to anyone—barely interacted with the woman—and yet somehow the rumor spiraled into a full-blown scandal.

Worse part?

The teacher actually did have a thing for him. Finn found out after she quit.

Which made it so much worse.

He sighed.

And then there was Lilith.

Sweet, sweet Lilith. She’d been an angel in Finn’s otherwise hellish college life.

He still missed her, honestly. Even here, in this slime-infested fantasy world, her memory clung to him.

He wasn’t sure why he had that dream about her and some bunny in a suit, though. That part was just weird.

Uncomfortably weird. Like nightmare fueled by expired gas station sushi weird. But also alluring.

Just thinking about it made his brain short-circuit.

But thankfully, distraction arrived.

The landscape began to change. The trees thinned. The rocks grew more jagged. And up ahead—looming like a gooey threat on the horizon—was the mouth of a dark, damp cave. Their destination.

Unfortunately, so was nightfall.

The sun dipped low, casting a burnt orange glow across the hills. Shadows stretched, and the air cooled.

Which meant one thing:

They’d have to camp out for the night.

In slime territory.

Because, of course they would.

Because life was about suffering.