The morning sun peeked lazily through the window, but the inn room was already a den of despair. Not because of some dramatic enemy encounter or impending world-ending event—no, this was worse. Far worse.
Alaric lay face-down on the wooden floor, groaning into the floorboards. "I would kill for a meme right now. Just one. One spicy meme. Please, gods, grant me this."
Thorne was curled in a corner, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself. "I don't even like TikTok. But I miss it. I miss hating it."
Renna clutched a notebook like it was a lost smartphone. "I drew an Instagram post," she whispered. "Look—look, it's a selfie. Of a stick figure. With fake likes. There's a comment from someone named 'xXDarkMage69Xx.'"
Cael didn't even blink. He was seated cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by open books and scrolls, but his gaze was hollow. "I downloaded a browser history into my memory," he said solemnly. "It's all I have left."
Lys, meanwhile, sat by the window with her chin in her hand, staring at a pigeon. "If I squint hard enough," she muttered, "it looks like a YouTube autoplay thumbnail."
There was a long, defeated silence.
Then Alaric groaned louder. "We're losing ourselves. Three months without internet. No Discord. No Twitter rants. No cursed video compilations. No updates on anime drama. Not even a repost of that cat vibing to techno—"
"We don't even know what month it is back home!" Renna cried. "Do they even miss us?! What if the Wi-Fi thinks we died?!"
Cael rubbed his temples. "You are all severely unwell."
They began packing. Slowly. Grudgingly. Mourning their past digital lives like veterans of the Information Wars.
The room, though small and humble, had endured many things last night—snoring contests, interpretive screaming battles, even a sock puppet reenactment of their entire isekai journey. But it could not, would not, survive what came next.
The room, though small and humble, had endured many things these past nights—snoring contests, interpretive screaming battles, even a sock puppet reenactment of their entire isekai journey. But it could not, would not, survive what came next.
Renna started it. She stood on the bed and declared, "IF I CAN'T WATCH A VIDEO, I WILL BECOME THE VIDEO."
Then she leapt.
Alaric followed instantly, grabbing a wooden spoon. "AND I'M THE COMMENT SECTION—UNHINGED AND UNASKED FOR."
Thorne flipped the mattress in rage, then wielded one of the bedposts like a lance. "WE'RE GOING VIRAL, BABY!"
Lys, in a moment of lucidity, tried to crawl under a table. "Stop—please, we'll get banned from this inn's life."
"Too late!" Cael cried, flipping open a book dramatically. "I cast Ancient Algorithm!" He threw a scroll into the air, which exploded into a puff of glitter he definitely had been saving for "important ritual use."
The explosion knocked Renna into the door. The door, being structurally unsound and emotionally unprepared, flung open with a cracking boom.
Then Alaric tripped over a pillow.
Which knocked over Thorne.
Which launched Renna off the bed.
Which domino'd into Lys.
Which startled Cael, who tried to shield himself with an open book and misfired Mini Teleport.
And just like that, the entire party was flung out the door, down the stairs, and out into the main lobby—a tangled mess of limbs, screams, glitter, and at least one flying spoon.
They crash-landed in front of the innkeeper, who was sipping tea and absolutely not paid enough for this.
There was silence.
Then Thorne stood up, dirt in his mouth and fire in his eyes. "THAT'S IT. I NEED. OUTDOOR TIME."
"Too late," Cael muttered, already sprinting out the inn with his sigil summoned like a bouncing glowing orb. "Let's goooOOO I'M KICKING TRAUMA OUT OF ME."
The rest of the group erupted with him, stampeding out of town like a feral musical band powered by unresolved emotions and the absence of Wi-Fi.
The Forest, Two Minutes Later.
Cael was mid-air, drop-kicking his floating sigil like it owed him rent. "WORLD CUP CHAMPIONSHIP ARC, LET'S GO—"
BONG! The sigil bounced off a tree and whizzed back like a homing missile, knocking a squirrel out of its home. The squirrel screeched in ancient terror and launched itself into a bush.
Thorne was waist-deep in a river, hurling his summoned divine lance at fish like Poseidon on a caffeine high. "IF I CATCH A FISH I BECOME GOD."
"You said that last time when you caught a pinecone," Renna muttered.
This time, he did catch a fish. And screamed like a war hero as he hoisted it up. "SURVIVAL EPISODE, BABYYYYY."
Thorne immediately began trying to build a one-room survival shelter with mud, sticks, and overwhelming confidence. It was very… avant-garde. Maybe not waterproof. Or sane.
Meanwhile, Alaric had unsheathed his holy glowing sword and was circling it like a YouTuber on his 58th upload.
"Look at the balance. Look at the EDGE. Not too heavy, not too light. Great for slaying, stabbing, and chopping onions. If you're into flaming vengeance, this is the blade for you."
"Don't forget to like, comment, and subscribe!" Cael called while accidentally knocking over a bush with his sigil.
On a mossy rock, Renna sat cross-legged, holding her dagger up like a mirror, whispering to herself,
"...So today, I will stab gently... just soft little stabs... tingles, tingles... murder ASMR..."
Lys, sitting on a log, held her summoned bravery-bow like a vintage mic, looping humming sounds with her voice and adding little beats with sticks and rock taps.
"Late night, no light, we're lost in isekai ~
Wi-Fi died, we cried, now we all commit a crime... ~"
"WHY DOES THAT KINDA GO HARD THOUGH?" Alaric called.
Across the forest, monsters were not vibing.
Goblins peeked from their dens.
"Oh no," one whispered. "It's them. Again."
An orc tried stepping out of his cave—and heard Lys's lofi beat layered over Cael's demonic soccer shriek, Thorne's primal shelter-grunts, and Renna's whispering knife.
He immediately turned back and nailed a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign to his door.
Even the Stone Wolves—beasts made of ancient rock and war magic—burrowed themselves deeper into the mountain, whispering, "We wait. We wait until they are gone."
The trees themselves shuddered. Leaves fell out of sheer emotional damage.
The party? Still thriving.
Still deranged.
Still Wi-Fi deprived.
Renna leaned on her elbow. "So... wanna film an isekai cooking channel next?"
Thorne dropped his barely-standing hut. "Only if I get to eat the goblin king."
By now, the sun had begun its descent. A peaceful golden glow swept across the trees.
It should have been serene. It could have been beautiful.
But alas.
Cael somersaulted off a log and yelled, "I DECLARE AN OPEN TOURNAMENT. RULES? CHAOS. PRIZE? ETERNAL BRAGGING RIGHTS."
"I'm in!" shouted Alaric, holding his sword above his head like he was trying to summon divine lightning.
"Wait," Lys said, lowering her lofi-bow mic. "Does this tournament include punching?"
"It includes everything," Cael grinned like the villain of a game show.
Each hero summoned their divine weapon with anime-tier flair.
Sparkles. Glows. Ridiculous poses.
"Lys with the Bow of Brave Beats!"
"Thorne with the Lance of Overcompensation!"
"Alaric with the Sword of 'Please Let Me Be Cool!'"
"Renna with the Mirror Dagger of Dramatic Self-Love!"
"Cael with the Floating Sigil of Kicking Problems!"
Then they started throwing everything at each other. Not violently, but like kids on a sugar rush.
Cael punted his sigil and knocked a pinecone into Thorne's face.
Thorne retaliated by spinning his lance and flinging a fish at Alaric, yelling, "HAVE A TASTE OF OMEGA SEAFOOD JUSTICE!"
Renna danced around them, dual-wielding invisible ASMR mics, whispering curses in a made-up language.
"Ssshhh shhhhh suffer suffer... who wants scalp tingles and psychological trauma~?"
Alaric parried the flying fish, sheathed his sword, and stood on a tree stump. "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A POETIC DUEL!"
"NO," the whole forest yelled in unison. Even the wind.
Lys started DJ-ing with sticks again.
"Alright, this one goes out to the cow we left behind... Miss Moo. May you forever walk slow but live fast."
The others paused and saluted.
"Respect to the moo," Cael whispered, tears almost forming.
Renna lit a tiny candle.
Thorne tried to build a shrine out of rocks. It collapsed instantly.
Then it hit.
Cael snapped his fingers. "Let's build a SLIDE."
"A what?" Alaric blinked.
"A forest slide. Using logs, vines, dirt, divine weapons, dreams, pain, and ambition."
And just like that, the party spent the next hour building the worst forest slide in isekai history.
Thorne yelled, "IT'S TIME FOR THE FINAL TEST!"
He dove down the jagged dirt slope, bounced off two rocks, flipped, screamed something about tax fraud, and landed face-first in a bush.
"10 outta 10," Lys called, still making beats.
Alaric went next. "GLORY TO THE FIERY BLAZE!"
He made it halfway before flying off and being caught by a confused Stone Wolf who just wanted to go home.
Cael? He surfboarded his sigil down the slope like a possessed spirit. "FOR YOUTUBE—oh wait we don't have that anymore AAAAA—"
Night fell.
The party sat around a campfire made with summoned magic, snacks they may or may not have stolen from the inn, and a pot of suspicious fish stew.
Renna stirred it slowly. "Do you think Coe regret summoning us?"
"Probably," said Alaric, still bleeding slightly from the slide.
"Does that mean we're the main characters?" Cael asked, sipping from a bowl and tearing up a little.
Lys smiled. "No. But we're the loudest. That's basically the same thing."
And from deep within the trees, the monsters huddled close, prayed and begged for one thing:
"Please… let them leave our forest tomorrow."
And the party?
They raised their bowls.
"To cursed forests!"
"To bad decisions!"
"To cursed forests because of bad decisions!"
After a solid day of causing war crimes against common sense in the forest, the gang returned to the inn—
—dirty, scratched, bruised, sticky with tree sap, and smelling like they got into a fistfight with the entire ecosystem.
The innkeeper just stared at them as they walked in.
Not a word.
Just… the dead stare of a man who has given up on understanding adventurers.
Alaric limped in, covered in moss and glitter. "Good evening."
Cael followed with a stick still stuck in his hair. "We might've broken the forest."
Thorne trudged in last, proudly dragging a six-foot fish he refused to leave behind. "Dinner."
The innkeeper said nothing.
Just handed them extra towels and pointed toward the bathhouses like he was sending them off to war.
Alaric, Cael, and Thorne marched in like a trio of war veterans finally seeing civilization again.
"AHHH FINALLY," Cael shouted, tossing his filthy clothes into a random basket.
Alaric looked around. "This is nicer than our room."
Thorne dropped his fish into the bath.
"…Thorne," Alaric said slowly.
"Don't say it," Thorne replied. "He deserves this bath. He's a hero too."
Cael dove into the tub. "WHOEVER INVENTED HOT WATER IS A GENIUS. WE NEED TO MAKE A HOLIDAY FOR THEM."
Alaric nodded. "Water Day. The Day of Wettening. Sponsored by Soap."
Thorne flexed. "I shall fight for its recognition in the realm of noble traditions."
The water, once clear, now vaguely resembled soup.
Renna walked up to the men's bathhouse door like she had every right in the world.
"Alright, time to shower with the boys—"
A hand grabbed her collar.
Lys stared, eyes wide.
"RENNA. RENNA, NO. WRONG DOOR."
Renna blinked. "…Huh?"
"You're not a guy anymore, remember?"
Renna blinked again. "What do you mean—OH RIGHT!"
Lys pinched the bridge of her nose. "How did you forget your entire physical form changed?"
"I just have masculine habits, okay?" Renna huffed.
"C'mon," Lys sighed, dragging her like a gremlin into the women's bathhouse.
Inside, the atmosphere was drastically calmer. Steam curled lazily around the edges of the room.
Everything smelled like herbs and lavender.
Renna immediately shouted, "This place is nice."
Lys glared. "Because we don't bathe like wild raccoons with unresolved issues."
Renna dipped in and sighed. "...Okay, I get it now. This is nice."
"See?" Lys smiled. "Now stop trying to flash your squad."
Renna smirked. "But I miss them... I was one of the boys…"
"You can still be one of the boys," Lys replied, "just not naked with them."
Back in the men's bath, Thorne was now giving a dramatic speech to the fish.
"You were born in the stream… but today, you bathed like royalty."
Alaric stared. "You know what? I'm too clean to fight this."
Cael tried to whistle with bubbles.
And from across the inn, two bathhouses echoed with chaotic banter, the gentle sound of splashing, and the soul-soothing realization.
Sometimes, you just need a stupid, steamy reset with your idiot team.
And tomorrow?
They'd be chaotic again.
But clean.
For about 5 minutes.