The knights and adventurers fought with everything they had, blades flashing and shields buckling against the endless horde. But then—they all froze.

Every head tilted skyward as something impossible burned its way through the clouds.

A formation of flaming arrows.

Not just any formation.

A flaming penis.

The exact kind you'd find crudely etched into the back of a math textbook or carved into a school desk, now blazing in holy fiery glory above the battlefield.

Theron, mid-thrust as he rammed his cane into a humanoid monster's throat, paused to squint up at the spectacle. "What a strange arrow formation," he muttered in genuine confusion.

Beside him, Silvara yanked her knives from the chest of a four-armed beast, flicking off the slime as her eyes followed his. She exhaled a long, weary sigh—the kind reserved for moments when life simply gives up on dignity.

Theron glanced at her, curious. "Do you know what formation that is?"

"It isn't a formation," she replied, voice flat as stone.

"Then what is it—"

"It's a penis."

"What—"

Words failed him. Words failed everyone. Some soldiers recognized it instantly, grimacing as if personally embarrassed by the sky. Others whispered in awe, thinking it must be some secret tactic passed down by forgotten warlords.

And yet, the absurdity did not end there. By sheer, cruel coincidence, the writhing horde below had clustered in such a way that the battlefield itself looked like… an entrance. An opening. Something meant to be filled.

Then, with thunderous impact, the fiery phallus struck true. Arrows plunged deep into the mass of monsters, erupting in flames that spread like wildfire. Screeches filled the air as the horde was annihilated in one obscene, devastating stroke.

It was less of a tactic and more of a divine punchline—yet somehow, it worked.

***

Finn leapt into the air, fist pumping like he'd just got accepted by a high end college. "YEAH! COMPLETE PENETRATION, BABY! OH YEAH!"

Around him, the archers cheered, some high-fiving, others laughing at the flaming devastation they'd just unleashed. They gestured wildly to the rest of the army, beckoning them over to regroup and defend.

Meanwhile, the priest and priestess stared on in horror, their faces twisted as if they'd just watched someone spit on scripture.

Especially Seraphina.

They muttered prayers under their breath, the kind holy men recite when they witness something so blasphemous it can only be explained as "devil's work."

Seraphina, however, simply shook her head slowly, the way a disappointed father might when his son comes home with a report card that reads straight F's and one "see me after class."

Naturally, Finn didn't notice. He was too busy basking in his brilliance, tapping his foot on the ground with giddy excitement.

'God, I'm such a genius!'

Out on the battlefield, the results spoke for themselves. Knights and adventurers pulled back into a new defensive line, shields locking into place, swords and spears braced against the horde's next advance.

But the horde wasn't advancing.

They were burning. Screeching. Collapsing on themselves as the flames consumed them, writhing like overcooked shrimp in a pan. The fire wasn't just effective—it was almost too effective. What had started as a battle was fast becoming a massacre.

Finn took a step back, his excitement draining the moment he realized what he was actually looking at. The sight wasn't glorious anymore—it was horrifying.

The creatures weren't just burning. They were suffering. Their bodies thrashed, their melted skin sloughing off in grotesque sheets as they tried—almost pathetically—to resist the flames. For the first time, they resembled something human, and that made it worse.

The battlefield went quiet. Soldiers, adventurers, even the priests—everyone stared, their nerves rattled. The cheering was gone. Now it just felt… too real.

'This… feels like the part right before some big boss battle,' Finn thought, his throat dry. 'And I do not like this.'

As if his words cursed the air, the massive creature stopped climbing. Slowly, it turned its head, gazing down at its burning minions.

Its eyes glowed faintly, pupils reflecting the inferno below like mirrors. It didn't flinch. Didn't roar. Didn't act. It only watched.

And in that unblinking stare, Finn felt something crawl down his spine. The monster wasn't simply observing. It was trying to feel.

It was as though the creature had no soul of its own—so it reached, desperately, for one. Mimicking grief. Mimicking pain. Mimicking humanity.

But feeling nothing.

Then, at last—

"It's ready!" a mage shouted, his voice cracking through the tense silence like a whip.

Finn snapped his head toward them and froze.

The spell was finally complete… and what he saw both amazed him—

and made him deeply, deeply disappointed.

All the mages raised their staffs and wands high, their voices trembling as they funneled mana into a single point. Above them, a massive sphere of fire began to form—burning brighter and brighter until it resembled a miniature sun.

It was magnificent. Blinding. A ball of destruction so hot the air shimmered around it.

Finn's jaw dropped. He was amazed—

but also heavily disappointed.

"Really? Just a giant fireball?" he muttered under his breath, groaning. He had been hoping for something flashier—like the insane blessing Seraphina had whipped out earlier, or one of those absurd anime-style super-barriers from low-budget isekai slop. But no. This was just… a ball. A big, hot, ball.

'How lame. Yet still… kinda cool,' he admitted grudgingly.

Still, fire was exactly what they needed. If flaming arrows had shredded the smaller monsters, then surely this colossal sun-orb was about to cook the giant one alive.

The heat coming off it was unreal. The mages closest to the core were drenched in sweat, grimacing as if their skin might peel away. Even from where he stood, Finn felt it hit him like the blast of heat when you crack open an oven.

"Okay…" he muttered, shielding his face. "This might actually work."

The mages began to chant louder, their bodies swaying in unison, staffs moving in ritual arcs. The giant fireball lurched forward, trembling as it built momentum.

And then, with one final, unified shout, they cast it:

"FIREBALL!"

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