Chapter 167: Let’s Regret This
The creatures kept tumbling from the sky, pulverized into gore the second they hit the ground. For the first time, the battlefield wasn’t just blind panic—people were regrouping, pushing back, clawing for control.
And they were doing it because of him.
Everywhere Finn looked, adventurers were picking up on his trick. When they were about to be overrun, they called out his name. He answered. A flick of the arm, a stumble in the sky, another monster face-planting for the kill squad to finish.
Even the mages stopped wasting mana on crowd control. With Finn creating openings left and right, they could finally conserve their strength for the giant wing looming over the battle.
"Finn!"
He whipped his head at the voice—RahRah.
The little man stood beside Big Tim, who was getting completely mauled. A dozen creatures clawed, pecked, and tried to drag him off while RahRah and the others flailed, barely keeping him from being carried away.
Finn waited, heart hammering, then snapped his arm out. One by one, the creatures plummeted, wings tangling in midair. Big Tim roared, grabbed two like toys, and smashed them together—splattering slime and chunks everywhere like busted yolks.
For a brief moment, Finn felt relief.
Then his gaze shifted back toward the wing. And his heart plummeted.
Because what came crawling out of the gaping hole below wasn’t just more bird-things—it was every nightmare he thought he’d left buried.
Slime horrors of all kinds, dripping and writhing. The humanoid freaks. The catlike abominations. Even the four-armed monstrosity he’d seen with Seraphina, back in that hellish cavern.
It was like the underworld was vomiting up his worst memories for free.
He almost pissed himself at the sight. Almost.
The others saw it too. Victory cheers died in their throats, morale snapping like brittle twigs as the swarm poured out.
Hundreds of them. A tide of slime flesh and wings, surging forward with fresh horrors Finn didn’t even have names for.
’This feels like zombies all over again... oh, how I miss my childhood.’
***
They all froze, staring at the oncoming swarm. Too many to count. Too many to even imagine killing. They’d survived the flyers—barely—but now land monsters were clawing up from the pit too.
The air was thick with fear. Nobody knew what to do next. Nobody had answers.
Except apparently, Finn.
Because every single head turned his way.
’Oh, come on, guys. Don’t look at me! I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing!’
Finn’s cheeks flushed crimson as the weight of their stares crushed him. Too much pressure. Too much responsibility. He wasn’t a leader—hell, he wasn’t even reliable. He tripped things. That was it.
He scratched his neck nervously, eyes darting around. ’What am I supposed to say, man?! I’ve never spoken to this many people before! I can’t even order food without panicking—WHAT DO I DO?!’
A familiar, firm hand landed on his shoulder.
Theron.
He leaned down, voice calm, almost fatherly. "What seems to be the matter?"
Finn nearly died of embarrassment. "They’re looking at me like I’m supposed to do something. I can’t do anything—I’m just a young man with a hopefully beautiful future ahead of me." He side-eyed Theron.
"Why wouldn’t they look to you?" Theron asked gently.
"I don’t know?! You tell me, man!"
"Well... you gave them courage. Direction. You tripped their enemies out of the sky and gave everyone here a fighting chance. You made them believe they could win."
Finn blinked. "Did I..? I mean, I was just mad. I only helped out some people who—oh. Yeah. I guess I did kinda help."
Theron smirked. "You also saved Arsenio at the wizard tower, remember?"
"Ohhh yeah. I did do that."
"Exactly. They’re looking at you for guidance now."
Finn stood straighter, realizing. "I... understand."
He turned to the crowd, cleared his throat.
"Everybody! As you know, those creatures are, uh, rapidly approaching as I speak. But don’t worry—we got this. Totally fine."
Dozens of blank stares.
"Uh. Okay, um. If you can’t use magic and only fight melee—front line. If you’re, uh... big? Just big in general? You stand up front too. Mages, conserve your mana for the big stuff. Archers, help the mages—pick off the flyers." He raised his hands awkwardly. "Do you all understand, or do you need, like... a PowerPoint?"
Silence.
Then someone clapped.
Then another.
And suddenly, the whole battlefield erupted into applause.
"W-What the fuck..?" Finn’s voice cracked, but his lips tugged into an uncertain smile.
And then they cheered—actually cheered for him.
’What did I even do?! I just... gave orders. That’s it! What?!’ Finn stepped back, flustered.
"Well done, Finn. Let us prepare." Theron’s smile was soft, almost paternal.
Finn muttered under his breath, scowling. "I hate this so much. Why are you people acting like this? It’s pissing me off."
But the battlefield moved as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Knights and adventurers surged into position, swords drawn, armor clattering.
Mages lifted their staves, murmuring incantations under their breath. Archers nocked arrows, steadying their aim on the skies.
And despite himself, Finn felt... a little proud. Annoyed, but proud. At least everyone was actually preparing before the horde slammed into them.
Shield-bearers lined up in front, their steel planted firmly into the ground as they braced for impact. Behind them, giants like Big Tim waited like living walls, ready to crush anything that broke through—or tried to climb over.
The rest—regular foot soldiers, nervous but steady—stood ready to reinforce the line.
Meanwhile, the mages and archers formed the second wave, bows drawn and spells glowing, waiting for the first opening.
Another hand landed firmly on Finn’s shoulder. Theron again, this time looking down at him with unmistakable pride.
"That was good."
Finn groaned. "I really don’t think it’s the right time for compliments right now."
"Of course it is, it was great."
’You’re starting to feel like that over-complementing family member that claps when I eat a sandwich,’ Finn thought bitterly.
Then Isolde glided up beside him, smiling warmly. "That was the utmost excellent performance, Mister Finn. You always seem to impress me."
"Thanks momm—thank you, Isolde." His voice cracked with forced enthusiasm, nearly slipping the word mommy.
"You are always welcome."
Before Finn could process that near Freudian disaster, Silvara appeared like a shadow, sliding in beside Theron. He hadn’t seen her since she’d vanished the moment everyone else showed up. Her face was as indifferent as ever.
"You managed to do something somewhat impressive for once," she said flatly.
And—annoyingly—Finn actually felt good. Refreshing, even. Like a glass of cold water after being drowned in everyone else’s sugary praise.
Then, of course, came his "squad." If you could call it that.
Chestelle popped into place between him and Isolde, grinning like an overexcited child. Which, to be fair, was basically her mental age anyway.
Lickthorn strutted up next to Isolde too, moving like a man who’d just committed a crime Finn didn’t want to know about.
Seraphina followed after, calm but with that underlying panic in her eyes. Determined, though—ready for whatever came next. Somehow, her simply being there made everything feel more grounded.
Elise? Missing. Finn figured she was either playing dead somewhere or passed out in the woods. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. The last time he saw her she looked five seconds away from face-planting into mud.
And so, they stood together. Six of them. Sort of united, sort of not. Definitely dysfunctional.
Of course, it should have been seven of them walking together—but Majestria was nowhere to be seen.
After Finn tripped that creature onto her, she’d just vanished. Probably sulking in some corner, scrubbing herself raw and screaming into the void. Honestly? Good riddance.
Still, seeing everyone he kinda knew lined up next to him gave Finn a weird little confidence boost. Like, yeah—this was his crew. His squad. His... highly questionable family unit. Minus the Crazy German Maid Company.
From the outside, though? It probably looked like the dumbest lineup in history. A pair of perfectly dressed maids and a butler, some random hobo man, one pervy elf who forgot how shirts work, and a mud-stained monster girl smiling like she just finger-painted with mud chunks.
Finn looked at his crew—his truly bizarre, slightly terrifying, yet inexplicably loyal crew. He could almost hear the mental soundtrack of a ridiculous anime hero montage playing in his head, if he squinted hard enough and ignored the smell of slime. A tiny spark of excitement flared in his chest, mingled with panic and nausea. Yeah... this was definitely going to be one for the history books.
’Man, this sucks.’
But together, they marched forward—assembled into their own little group. Ready to kick some slime butt. Hooray.
Seriously, this is going to be fun. Not.
Honestly, Majestria missing was a blessing disguised as a problem.
Finn grabbed the brim of his awesome cool white wizard hat, tilted it with a smirk, and whispered to himself:
"Let’s regret this."