Finn just stared at her—slouched, drained, utterly betrayed by every molecule of her existence.
He didn't even have words. Just stood there, mouth slightly open, mentally buffering.
Majestria blinked at him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go fight it. Shoo, shoo." She waved her hand at him like he was a bug bothering her lunch.
Finn said nothing.
He turned around slowly, like a man accepting his fate, and looked back toward the slime monster.
The creature was now fully emerging, dragging itself out of the puddle on two gelatinous legs. Slime oozed off its arms, slapping the ground with each step. It looked like it was ready to attack—or hug someone to death.
Chestelle tugged at Finn's arm, her voice tight. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know… punch it or something…" Finn muttered, absolutely dead inside.
He glanced at Lickthorn, who stood nearby, contributing nothing. Just watching, blinking like an idiot.
