Finn stared at the scroll.
"Do you have any history of sexually transmitted curses?"
’What kinda question is this?! What kinda world is this... It’s like soone modded Skyrim with STDs and bad decisions.’
His hand hovered.
He wanted to write "No."
He really did.
But then—
Flashback:
A moist, jiggling blob pinning him down in that cursed cave...
"IT’S—IT’S NUTTING?!"
The whispery giggle of the sli echoed through his mind like PTSD.
His eyes went wide. He clenched his chest as a shiver rippled down his spine.
’No... there’s no way. Right? ...Right?!’
He hesitated.
Majestria leaned over with a smug grin. "You’re hesitating. That ans yes."
"I’m just being cautious!" he snapped.
"Oh yeah, suuuper cautious—letting a sli latch onto your chest and stimulate you like it’s a honeymoon on Planet Nasty." She giggled, covering her smug mouth with divine fingers.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Sir... are you going to answer the question?"
Finn sighed in defeat and scribbled:
"No???"
(The tone of a man who absolutely ans yes.)
The scroll blinked.
BEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Gasps echoed around the room.
The scroll glowed violently red before a bold ssage flashed across it like a divine public service announcent:
"ANSWER FLAGGED: CURSED VIA HORNY SLI. USER IS TEMPORARILY INFERTILE UNTIL HE DRINKS A HORNUES POTION."
The guild exploded into laughter.
"HE CAUGHT A CURSE FROM A SLI?!"
"HE GOT JIGGLED!"
"TRIP GOD GOT SLID?!"
"THIS GUY GOT NEUTERED FOR SAFETY."
But Finn wasn’t even focused on them anymore.
His eyes had dropped to the floor. Breathing heavy. Clutching his crown jewels like a man on the brink of extinction.
A single tear slid down his cheek.
He turned to Majestria... hoping for support.
She was crying—not in sympathy, but from laughter, doubled over like she’d just seen the best stand-up routine of her life.
He snapped.
He was done.
No more humiliation. No more emotional damage. No more dignity.
He began slamming through the rest of the scroll, speedrunning the questionnaire like it owed him money.
Until he hit:
"Libido Score."
He blinked.
’WHO MADE THIS SCROLL?! I DON’T KNOW MY STATS—I’M NOT A DATING SIM!’
He wrote:
"12."
DING!
The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Wow... you actually answered truthfully. But still..."
She shook her head like a disappointed substitute teacher.
Majestria leaned in, glanced at the answer... and cracked up all over again.
"Twelve... and still gets no girls," she whispered like a holy curse.
Finn closed his eyes.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
’I will not strike a woman. I am better than this. I will not trip the goddess down a flight of stairs no matter how much she deserves it. I am peace. I am patience. I am—’
"I’m going to kill soone," he muttered.
Before he could even act on any of it—
Majestria shoved Finn aside like trash. "Hand a scroll. I’m registering too." She shot Finn a smug look. "Let show you how a real divine being does it."
She began filling it out with graceful, goddess-tier handwriting like it was nothing.
anwhile, Finn—still hunched over, guarding his violated jewels—glared at her, winding up to smack her in the back of the head like she just said dark souls is trash.
BANG.
Both their heads whipped toward the entrance, synchronized like two cheaters caught in 4K.
Standing in the doorway were four figures.
The guild exploded in cheers.
"IT’S THE SACRED BLADES OF HOPE!"
Finn blinked. "The who?"
The receptionist didn’t even look up. "They just said their na. They’re seen as gods among n."
Majestria scoffed, arms crossed. "Gods? Excuse , there’s a literal goddess standing right here with beauty that defy reality and no one’s clapping? This is sexism."
The elf pointed to the first figure:
"That’s Ardin LightBlade, chosen by the gods."
Finn squinted. This guy looked like every protagonist from a low-effort power fantasy ani. Shiny plot armor. Jawline so sharp it could filet a dragon. Windswept ani hair defying gravity.
And the sword—why the hell was it glowing?! It wasn’t even doing anything.
He had the audacity to smile at the room like he just sold you toothpaste in a comrcial.
The receptionist moved on.
"The guy next to him in black? That’s Raze Nocturne."
All black leather. Straps everywhere. Belts on his knees. One eye glowing red. The other hidden like it held trauma or taxes.
He dual-wielded daggers nad—
"Misery and Taxes," she added. "We don’t know why."
Finn blinked.
’Yup. This man’s entire backstory is just edgy fanfiction.’
Then ca the third mber.
"That’s Chunkus."
Finn’s brain stalled.
He was morbidly obese, but sohow still ripped under the fat. His armor was made of literal sausages and BBQ bones. His helt was a cooking pot. And he wielded a giant ham shank club like it was enchanted by Colonel Sanders.
Then—
The last one.
The receptionist practically sighed. "And that’s Seraphina Holywell."
Finn’s soul left his body.
She wore holy robes—white and gold—that looked like they were designed by horny nuns. Every curve was blessed. Every bounce was divine intervention. A priestess staff in her hand, glistening like an ani-only healing relic.
Her hair was honey-blonde, silky and braided, tied back with an elegance that said "I pray... but I sin." And her eyes—erald green, soft, pure, like they forgave you for your browser history.
Finn’s jaw slackened. This was it.
Love at first bonk.
He slowly raised a hand to his chin, eyes bouncing between the goddess and the priestess.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Compare and contrast: divine trash goblin vs. sanctified jiggle queen..."
"They’re both packing in all departnts..." He side-eyed Majestria. "But she’s more of a bitch than anything." Then turned back to the priestess.
"She might actually be better than the goddess."
His brain went full NASA-calculation-mode. He was calculating bounce trajectory, mass displacent, cup-to-waist ratio, gravitational resistance—like he was plotting a rocket launch through breast-based physics.
And then—
A radiant voice sliced through his perversion like holy judgnt.
"I never could have completed that quest without all of your support!"
SHING!
His teeth sparkled. Literally. Audibly. Like a toothpaste ad sponsored by the gods.
Everyone praised him.
"Oh, Ardin~! Your righteousness is so... BIG—I an, strong!"
Seraphina gasped, covering her lips with two dainty fingers like she just said the f-word in church.
Finn’s jaw unhinged.
His soul left his body.
He was spiritually neutered by their PG-rated flirting.
’I hate this punk already.’
Tap. Tap.
Finn flinched, snapping out of his internal ltdown. He turned to see Majestria standing beside him, poking his shoulder like a confused boor on Facebook.
"Um, Finn. Can you read this for ? I don’t know what it ans."
He blinked at her.
"You’re a literal goddess. How do you not—"
"Just help , okay?!" she hissed, cheeks slightly puffed in embarrassnt.
"Alright, alright." He stepped over, leaned toward the scroll—
Only for a voice behind them to cut in like an unwanted ani rival reveal.
"Young lady! Is this man bothering you?"
Finn froze.
He and Majestria turned in perfect sync.
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