CHAPTER 53: CROSSING THE BRIDGE WAS A MISTAKE (AGAIN)

Finn continued his reluctant march back to Moistvile, every step feeling like a descent into personal hell.

It was like the first day of school all over again—except instead of meeting new kids, he was returning to a town that smelled like fungus, hated his guts, and looked like it was designed by someone with a foot fetish and zero building codes.

But as they made their way through the now-clearing forest—the same forest where the trees had whispered to them before—Finn noticed something strange.

Two things, actually.

First: the trees were completely silent now. No whispers. No eerie muttering. Just the sound of rustling leaves and rushing water in the distance.

Second: Finn suddenly wondered something.

"Hey... Lickthorn."

"Yes~?" Her voice chimed immediately, her head snapping around his shoulder like a demon summoning spell had triggered.

Finn jumped. "DON’T DO THAT SHIT."

She smirked, her face still hovering way too close to his. "Are you suuure~?"

"Yes, I am very sure." He sidestepped away like she was radiation.

She bit her lip in disappointment. "Mmm. Shame."

Trying to recover his soul, Finn coughed. "Anyway—have you ever heard of a place called Moistvile?"

She stopped mid-step. Tilted her head. "Is that some kink dungeon?"

Finn looked up. Thought about it.

...You could get turned on by all the ’moist’ there. Swamp gas... moist floors... rotting buildings... wet everything...

Disgusted, Finn shivered like someone just whispered "soggy socks" into his ear.

"No. But I’m guessing that means you’ve never been."

She shook her head. "Nope. But I have been to Yeastvale—"

"OKAY. NOPE. YOU DON’T NEED TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE." Finn slapped an imaginary red button to shut her down.

’I think I’m the first and last person in my bloodline to hear that word,’ he thought, visibly traumatized.

Who comes up with these names?!

He turned around to see Chestelle directly behind him—marching like a boot camp soldier, eyes dead focused on him like she was seconds away from blowing up a bus for fun.

She stopped at attention. Beaming.

Finn raised an eyebrow.

Chestelle didn’t blink.

"You ever been to Moistvile?"

"Can I finger you now?"

Silence.

Finn stared.

Lickthorn nodded approvingly.

A bird flew overhead and dropped dead mid-air.

Majestria, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, finally muttered in disgust. "Actually revolting."

Finn didn’t bother replying. He just turned around, face blank—like some overworked Victorian child who just got told to coal harder.

***

Soon, they arrived at the spot where they’d met that god-awful troll. Finn hated every second of that thing’s existence. Even it being in his presence pissed him off. Its breath alone had probably shaved a year off his life.

But for some strange reason... the bridge they had crossed—collapsed and exploded just hours ago—was back. Fully intact.

Like one of those video game structures that gets destroyed during a cutscene, only to magically reappear after you reload the area.

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have made sense. But here it was.

Finn, Lickthorn, and Majestria stood silently in front of it, eyeing the bridge with understandable suspicion.

Because... well, you know.

Chestelle, meanwhile, looked genuinely confused at the three of them hesitating.

"What’s the matter? Aren’t we going to walk across?" she asked, tilting her head like a curious puppy.

The three looked at one another.

And without exchanging a single word—they made a mutual decision.

Chestelle now stood on the bridge.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow they’d all agreed: she would go first.

Chestelle frowned, glancing back at them. "Why am I going alone?"

"Just keep going, Chestelle!" Finn shouted, watching her closely. "We’ll be right behind you."

Clearly uncomfortable, she walked a little farther and stopped at the middle of the bridge, glancing back again with a pout. "I don’t like this! Come on already!"

Finn sighed. He could feel it in his bones. Something was off. The air felt too still. Too normal.

No creaking planks. No fog. No ambient horror music. Not even a troll fart echoing through the trees.

Still, he took a step forward.

The girls hesitated, but when they saw Finn move, they followed behind—Lickthorn with a slight bounce, Majestria more reluctantly.

Now the four of them walked together across the bridge, Finn in the lead.

And that’s when he noticed it.

Nothing was happening.

No collapsing boards. No sudden monster. No "oops, you fell" event.

It was... stable.

Too stable.

And that was the most disturbing part of all.

And then—a creak.

All four of them whipped their heads around toward the sound.

Nothing.

Just silence.

And then—

SNAP.

The bridge lurched beneath them. Planks cracked. Ropes groaned.

Of course it was collapsing again. Of course it was.

"Damn it all!" Finn yelled, immediately breaking into a sprint.

He shot forward ahead of the girls like his life depended on it. Because it did. And somehow, yes—he was faster than all of them. Naturally.

But as the bridge disintegrated plank by plank, the danger crept closer to the girls.

Finn glanced back, cursed internally, and slowed just enough to try and help—

WHUMP!

Majestria landed on his back like she was docking at a personal airport.

Her arms wrapped around his neck. He nearly tumbled forward and screamed in disbelief.

"GO, YOU IDIOT!" she yelled, clinging tighter.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!"

But it wasn’t over.

The other two girls had apparently decided this was the move—because seconds later, they launched themselves at him too.

Now Finn was running with Chestelle tucked under one arm, and Lickthorn in the other, who let out a dreamy sigh and clutched his shirt like a bride being carried over the threshold.

Chestelle immediately began snuggling into him like a sleepy cat. Lickthorn looked like she was about to climax from the sheer intimacy of it.

"I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD WATCHING, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!" Finn screamed, staggering under the weight of three full-grown anime nightmares.

The bridge, naturally, began wobbling. Because why wouldn’t it. As if the universe personally hated him.

Finn ran harder—legs screaming, back breaking, soul weeping.

He sprinted like a man dodging a paternity test.

And just as the last few ropes snapped behind them—

WHAM!

He dove onto solid ground, all three girls still clinging to him like leeches on a warhorse.

Then... he collapsed.

Face-first into the dirt.

Unmoving. Broken. Done.

And the girls?

Still latched on.

Before his vision began to blur...