CHAPTER 57: MYTHIC TIER MISTAKE

"WHAAAT?" Finn screamed like he’d just watched his save file get deleted.

He knew something had been off. The important talking head-box-thing, the ominous warnings, the giant chicken clucking ancient Latin curses. And now it all made sense.

Even the guild crowd—who just moments ago were fawning over Ardin’s artificially gleaming teeth—went dead silent. All eyes were on Finn.

And to be honest, Finn hadn’t even meant to steal the spotlight. He was just mad. Mad that he’d almost died. Mad that a flying chicken demon had attacked him and the girls. And mad that apparently all of it was someone else’s damn job.

The receptionist looked like she was about to collapse into a pile of regret. Not because Finn had survived—but because she’d just given a Mythic Tier mission to someone whose rank was literally "Dung." Dung. She might as well have handed a toddler a nuclear briefcase.

"T-That quest..." she stammered, gripping her coffee like it was a holy artifact, "was meant for Ardin’s party. Mythic Tier. Not... you."

The crowd gasped again. Gasps on gasps. Shock level: maximum anime.

Finn blinked. "Wait..." he smirked, realization dawning like a beautiful, spiteful sunrise. "So you’re saying... I took Ardin’s big-boy quest... and finished it?"

He glanced across the room at Ardin, who looked like he just witnessed a crime. And also really pissed

’Lalalalala, I stole your mission, I lived, and your girl’s probably thinking about me now.’ Finn giggled internally like a gremlin.

Turning back to the receptionist, Finn clasped his hands together and leaned on the counter sweetly. "Well. The quest’s done. So it would be just wonderful if you could—" tap tap "—hand us our reward."

She looked horrified. "I... can’t. That quest was way above your level. If I pay you, or even if this gets out I could lose my job..."

Finn froze mid-tap. A twitch ran through his eye.

"Sorry. Mind repeating that?" he tilted his head slowly like a possessed doll. "I must’ve misheard."

"I said I can’t pay you."

There was silence.

Then Finn sniffed. Shoulders shook. Majestria fell off his back with a dramatic scream, flailed midair like a toddler kicked out of a shopping cart, and smacked the ground with a loud, hard THUMP.

"WHYYYYYYYY—!" Finn wailed like a man who’d just lost his last brain cell. "YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE! DO YOU KNOW THE HELL I WENT THROUGH?! THE HEAD?! THE TOWER?! THE TRAUMA?!"

Chestelle tried to console him by patting his ass again.

"STOP GRABBING MY ASS!" he howled.

The receptionist held up both hands like she was calming down a feral beast. "Please! Keep it down! You’ve already attracted enough attention—"

It was too late.

Every eye in the guild was locked onto Finn and his crew—silent, stunned, and absorbing what they’d just heard.

Ardin clenched his jaw so hard it looked like he was about to grind his teeth into chalk. "That damn manchild has no right to steal my glory. He probably lied. Probably faked it."

Seraphina leaned in, gently massaging his shoulders like he was a prized stallion. "It’s okay, my big man... you’re still better than him in so many ways. Especially in your—"

"He’s lying." Ardin slapped her hands off and stormed toward Finn with the grace of a pissed-off gym bro.

Meanwhile, Finn was still crying at the receptionist like a customer who got charged twice for fries. Majestria finally stood up, brushing dust off herself with a groan.

And then it happened. The room darkened metaphorically—or maybe just in Finn’s head—as a large shadow loomed over him.

Finn turned. Looked up. Sighed. "What do you want?"

Ardin glared down like a debt collector. "You think you can just lie your way into stealing my glory?"

He jabbed Finn in the chest.

Finn batted his hand away. "Dude, what are you even on? She—" he pointed at the receptionist, "—gave me the wrong quest. And we finished it. I didn’t steal jack."

The receptionist immediately started doing jazz hands of denial, like she could waft herself out of responsibility. "Nope, nope, don’t drag me into this."

"Oh yeah?" Ardin sneered. "Where’s your proof that you completed it?"

’Shit...’

Finn looked around desperately. Then pointed at his head. "This hat! The wizards gave it to me for protecting the tower. It’s a hat of respect. A token of prestige. Wizard-certified!"

Ardin paused.

Because damn it... it was a cool hat.

Still, his rage wasn’t about the hat. It was the girls. The spotlight. The narrative theft. And Finn standing there like some Dollar Store hero.

The guild watched silently, caught between confusion and secondhand embarrassment.

Ardin’s eyes landed on Majestria. On Lickthorn. On Chestelle. All standing behind Finn. And suddenly, something inside him cracked. Those girls weren’t supposed to follow Finn. They were supposed to follow him.

"He’s lying!" Ardin suddenly declared, voice rising with fake laughter. "Haha! Yeah, this is all just a play he’s been practicing! Some kind of, uh... theater piece! Right?"

The receptionist stiffened. "Uhhh... yeah! Yep! Just a big ol’ rehearsal! Method acting!" She forced a smile. "Real intense."

Finn stared at her in disbelief. "You can’t be serious. I nearly died—"

"You all heard it, folks!" Ardin shouted to the crowd. "This man is a fraud! A liar! He faked a quest and tried to steal someone else’s glory!"

He pointed dramatically at Finn like it was a trial. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"I’m not! I actually did it!" Finn protested.

Chestelle tilted her head. "Daddy did defeat those demons..."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING!" Finn screamed.

The crowd’s mood shifted fast. Awe turned to doubt. Doubt to muttering. Mutters to judgment.

A sea of eyes now stared at Finn with disappointment. Guild members shook their heads. One guy threw a peanut.

Even Majestria crossed her arms and looked down at him. "You dropped me, you idiot—" she raised a fist, ready to slug him, but then paused... realizing how truly screwed Finn looked. For once.

Even Lickthorn narrowed her eyes at Ardin. "What filth. That’s such a low, freaky thing to do..."

The contradiction hit like a brick to the face.

Finn just stood there, hollow-eyed.

He’d braved a crazy-wizard tower. Delivered a talking head. Got slapped by a flying chicken. And now... no pay, no praise, and no dignity.

He gripped the counter, trembling.

"How... how could things possibly get any worse...?"

And Fate said: let’s see if it can.

And it got so much worse for Finn...