14 The Outer God #2

Whenever "the end justifies the means," someone is trying to validate an oopsie. The history-makers would beg to differ, as Alexander the Great took arrows charging in the front lines. Of course, as do most things, he croaked some odd years later. Some wounds fester slowly.

"What in the name of Satan's sweet starfish is this tentacle hentai ass shit?" Craig screamed from a distance.

"What?" Waking up, I rubbed my eyes, realizing I was covered in slime. And naked. Hmm...

"You really bent us over with that one, Ennui." Gordon smiled. His massive horse cock swung all over the place.

"Why are you fuckers all naked?" I trembled in fear.

"Here's a question: why are we all covered in slime? I'm Sergei, by the way." The lv12 Clownslayer, now hoodless, extended a hand. He was a bald redhead with a great crimson goatee.

All around, men were in birthday suits. They were chugging potions and cleaning themselves. Nightmarish severed tentacles writhed all around. The entire cavern had been coated in slime, dissolving none organic things until it fizzled out.

"What happened?"

"You passed out, grew tentacles out of your asshole, and began attacking us. You were spitting acid too, but you were not rapping." Sergei replied.

"Oh, did we? I mean, did you win?" I timidly asked. I tried to move before realizing I was paralyzed.

"I'd be surprised if you had any mana left. Don't move. You'll make it worse. Also, we won, even without casualties, which is rare." He chuckled, scarlet pubes dangling like a lion's mane.

"I got spare clothes if y'all want any?" I offered, loading up my inventory.

"Don't bother. We have to wait for the slime debuff to time out." Sergei pointed to Gordon, who accidentally brushed his quarterstaff with his shoulder.

How forlorn. Tears welled in his eyes. This was a man mourning his mistress.

A mistress who dissolved into thin air like a little mermaid.