Chapter 161: Ranking My Party by Bitchiness
Looking at the disaster lineup that was his party, Finn dreaded even opening his mouth. Talking to them was guaranteed to be a headache.
But then again, every single day in this world was a headache. Today, though, was special — today was both the most dreadful and the most fun. A lot had happened.
’At least it’s more interesting than sitting in class and going home to do nothing...’
Still, the most unfortunate part of all this? He wasn’t getting paid. He couldn’t even pleasure himself. Sure, he’d just met another hot maid girl and was probably about to get a place to stay, so there was at least a small win. But the rest of it? Hell.
Now came the hardest part: deciding which girl to approach first.
In other words, ranking them from least bitchy to most bitchy.
Chestelle, currently cackling and rolling in the mud like a feral piglet, was the obvious "easy mode."
Finn closed his eyes, braced himself, and stepped forward. "Hey, Chestelle. Can you stop rolling around on the ground like some addict or... or disabled person and get up?"
She froze, blinked at him in confusion. "You want me to get up?"
"Yes. Get up and follow me. We’re finally leaving this dump and going somewhere cooler. Excited?"
"Yes!" she shouted, leaping up immediately, eyes shining with pure excitement.
Finn’s neutral face collapsed into disgust.
Her entire body was caked in mud, slime, and unholy chunks of swamp filth. It dripped down her scales and plopped onto the ground with every bounce. Some bits were wedged under her scales in ways that made him want to vomit.
Yuck...
Even Theron and Isolde were staring, their polite masks cracking into expressions of concern and mild horror.
"Are all your friends... of this nature?" Isolde asked softly, her ghostlike voice curling against Finn’s ear.
He almost lost himself for a second. "Yeah, I guess you could say that... most of the time. Unfortunately." He sighed.
"Oh, that must be very hard for you," she said, sounding like a gentle mother.
Finn’s eyes watered. He quickly wiped away a tear. "Yes. Yes it is." He tried to hold himself together, but his heart was already fluttering. He was falling for another woman — again — for literally no reason.
At least Chestelle finally stopped jumping, now standing still and waiting like a muddy soldier awaiting orders.
Finn looked her dead in the eyes. "Let’s go."
One down, two more to go. Chestelle had been surprisingly easy to wrangle—minus Finn nearly vomiting from how gross she looked. Now came Lickthorn.
This should’ve been simple... at least on paper.
She wasn’t far, buzzing around like some desperate mosquito, throwing herself at every knight within eyesight. Unfortunately, they all dodged her advances like she carried the plague. Some ignored her. Some turned their backs. One guy literally side-stepped her with military precision, as if dodging a spear trap.
Yikes.
It was a full-blown romantic disaster. And yet she persisted, still clinging to scraps of attention like a drowning elf in a sea of rejection.
The final nail came when one knight shoved her back a step, muttering she was "tiring to talk to." That single phrase broke her completely. She froze, hollow-eyed, like a survivor walking away from an artillery blast.
Damn... Finn thought, watching her crumble. For a second, he considered leaving her to rot. But no—he already had Chestelle. He couldn’t back out halfway.
Stepping forward, Finn coughed loudly—copying Theron’s dramatic cough—until she looked up. "Lickthorn."
Her defeated eyes dragged toward him. "What is it, Finn? Are you going to ignore me too?"
"No. Far worse."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Her eyes widened, trembling on the brink of a meltdown.
Panic surged. He had to act fast. Say something. Anything she’d care about.
’Think, think, think!’
Then—brilliance. Finn puffed his chest, stared her down, and declared, "Don’t cry because they ignored you. Be happy for what’s coming."
Her ears twitched. Her cheeks flushed. Somehow, that line managed to both confuse and arouse her.
"We’re leaving this dump," Finn pressed on, "headed somewhere new. Which means more time with me... and plenty of new men for you to annoy."
Her whole demeanor flipped in an instant. "Really?!"
"Yes. I mean it."
Drool pooled at the corner of her lips. Her eyes lit up like a pervert spotting a buffet of abs.
"But... where is it? When do we go?!"
"Just follow me. We grab Majestria, and then we’re gone." Finn smirked, satisfied.
Two down, one more to go.
Finn couldn’t remember how many times he’d had to drag these girls away from somewhere, but it felt like too many. And every time drained his soul just a little more. Now it was Majestria’s turn.
Unfortunately, the situation was already a nightmare.
She had somehow convinced even more knights to sprawl beneath her, arranging themselves like a living throne. Her plump ass rested proudly on a pile of sweaty men, their armor clinking as they groaned under her weight.
Finn’s jaw nearly hit the mud. ’What the actual hell...’
He hated everything about it. The sight. The idea. The fact he had to go up and talk to her.
With a sigh of pure suffering, Finn trudged forward—only to be stopped short.
Majestria lifted her chin, glaring down at him as if he were a bug. "And where do you think you’re going? Do you think you can just waltz over here and speak to me like I know you?"
Finn just stared, deadpan, considering walking away and pretending she didn’t exist.
His silence only fueled her rage. "W-What is this? You dare stand there and stare at me? Permission to gaze upon something so divine does not come free! To look at me is a privilege—one you cannot afford!"
"I stare at your body all day."
Her gasp could’ve shattered windows. She glared at him like he’d slapped her holy dignity across the face. "How dare you! To say such vulgar, perverted things to someone of my stature—a godd—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Goddess, divine, whatever. At the end of the day, people just see you as a loud, hot, revealing, abusive woman. Not exactly girlfriend material. Definitely not wife material."
The knights under her shifted but stayed dead silent, their silence louder than any insult.
Majestria’s face burned scarlet. Her breathing grew heavy, chest rising and falling as if she were about to explode.
Finn crossed his arms. "Well? Are you going to say something, or just sit there like a bratty kid about to cry?"
He had officially poked the bear.
***
Majestria’s fingers curled tighter around the knights’ helmets that served as her throne’s armrests, metal creaking under her grip. Her glare burned holes through Finn, her entire face promising a bloody murder.
"Are you going to keep sitting there huffing and puffing like a spoiled brat, or are you going to get your ass up and come on?" Finn shot back, unfazed.
Majestria went completely silent. For a moment it looked like she might ignore him. Then—
She launched herself from the living throne, hurling through the air straight at him like a divine missile.
Finn barely had time to flinch before Isolde glided forward, ghostlike, fingers weaving in the air. Strings naked to the eye whipped out of the mud, wrapping around Majestria mid-leap and yanking her down with a violent crash.
She slammed face-first into the muck, splattering mud everywhere.
The goddess let out a blood-curdling scream, thrashing in the filth. "MY BEAUTIFUL BODY! MY HAIR! HOW DARE YOUUU?!" She screeched like a woman being murdered, her voice cracking across the swamp.
Finn and Isolde stared down at her meltdown, uncertain if they should feel pity, disgust, or just let her drown in her own tantrum.
But then—something else demanded their attention.
The swamp hole.
It began to bubble furiously, frothing and churning like boiling tar. The popping intensified, splattering mud across the ground as the liquid sloshed violently. The sound grew louder, deeper, like something alive was clawing its way up from beneath.
The earth trembled. The rim of the hole sank inward, widening as if the swamp itself was collapsing, glass cracking under invisible pressure.
Panic rippled through the knights and onlookers. Weapons were drawn. Feet shuffled back. Everyone’s eyes fixed on the growing chaos.
Because there was no mistaking it now—
Something was definitely coming.
Finn’s stomach dropped. "Oh great. Just what we needed. Damn it! A swamp volcano. Maybe a mud dragon. Or hell, maybe it’s just a forgotten God finally coming back to kill me personally."
Chestelle clapped like a child at a fireworks show. Lickthorn started fixing her hair, muttering about whether if monsters would be willing to sleep with her. Majestria was still face-down in the muck, screaming about her ruined eyeliner.
Finn pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate this so much."