A massive presence loomed behind Finn.
As he turned around—everything went straight to hell.
And his soul… simply gave up.
What flapped its wings before him wasn't just a chicken anymore—it was Celemothy. But not the scraggly bird from before.
No. Celemothy had changed.
He was bigger now. The size of an elephant.
His eyes burned with an unnatural red glow—unblinking, full of pure malevolence. His beak had turned a cracked, scorched yellow like sun-bleached bone. His feathers, once pitifully white, were now blackened and ragged, with only faint white streaks left. His legs? Piss yellow. His wings? Stretched wide like a harbinger of poultry-based doom.
Celemothy hovered near the edge of the tower, glaring down at Finn with hatred. Then, with a mighty cluck—in Latin—he announced his return.
"…Fuck me sideways…" Finn muttered, tired, emotionally drained, and full of dread. The sight of the demonic chicken hit like a tax bill on Christmas.
Then came the heads.
Demonic ones.
Peeking out from behind Celemothy, horns gleaming in red and blue. One even climbed atop the giant bird's head like it was a throne.
This guy was different.
His skin was crimson red, textured like scales. Horns curled out from either side of his head. Yellow eyes gleamed beneath a cocky grin. His armor was mismatched plates slapped over a brown tunic, like he couldn't decide if he was going to war or to a medieval farmer's market.
The demon raised a short sword and shouted proudly, "I, Ezgar, the great demon, command you all to surrender and kneel before the might of the Demon Army!"
Finn stared at him. Then at the other demons.
Then back at the giant chicken.
With the most disappointed, soul-crushed expression ever recorded.
"…You expect us to kneel… to you guys… while riding a flying chicken?"
Ezgar flinched. He bit his lip, visibly offended, before flailing his arms like a pouty toddler. "You dare mock the great army?! You should be grateful we haven't wiped you out in an instant!"
Chestelle was still sitting on her ass, staring at Finn with pure worry.
Lickthorn's eyes burned with bloodlust.
Majestria looked at the entire scene with the blankest deadpan in history.
And Arsenio, bless his heart, sprinted over to Finn's side looking absolutely terrified.
Finn didn't even look at him. He just muttered in a mocking tone, "Yeah, yeah… why should—"
"Finn!" Arsenio cut in, frantically waving his arms.
"What? You suddenly wanna be useful now?" Finn threw his arms up. "Go ahead. Blast 'em! Shoot down the discount Doom Chicken!"
"No, wait!" Arsenio panicked.
'…He can't be serious…'
Celemothy flapped forward, landing hard on the tower with a BOOM, forcing Finn and Arsenio to stumble back.
The demons leapt off his back, each one sporting twisted black horns, red or blue skin, and light metal armor like budget cosplay extras. Brown tunics and all.
Ezgar, now standing before them, adjusted the red bandanna tied around his upper arm. The loose cloth dangled like it came straight out of a Fortknite knockoff.
He turned to Finn and Arsenio. "Luckily… you met him." He gestured at the demonic chicken. "If you hadn't, he never would've flown off to tell us you had the head. So now, thanks to you, we're here to collect it. And I'm about to get a fat raise, heh."
'So that's why the annoying chicken flew off after the bridge collapsed…'
Arsenio looked at Finn like all of this was his fault.
Ezgar let out a theatrical villain laugh—like a cheap RPG boss on his second phase—and pointed his sword at Arsenio.
"Listen here, old man! We'll be taking the head, and we'll be leaving this place. So don't try anything funny. You or your pathetic friends."
Finn turned to Arsenio, stunned. "So you're just gonna let them steal Beard Man?! Can't you just… I don't know, cast a spell?!"
Arsenio shook his head with a sigh of defeat. "No… not up here. The mana fields around the altar interfere with spellcasting. It'll make things worse."
Finn's disbelief grew into pure rage.
This tower, this ancient place of divine purpose or whatever—it'd apparently existed for hundreds of years, but you couldn't even use magic here without accidentally detonating a nuclear fart cloud? What was the point?!
Either Arsenio was telling the truth… or he was comically useless.
Either way, Finn had had enough.
He was not about to let some funk-ass demons steal the one thing they'd suffered, bled, and been humiliated to deliver.
Not after the bridge.
Not after the swamp.
Not after Chestelle offered to finger his urethra.
No more of this hell.
Finn was fed up.
No. He was done.
Done watching.
Done waiting.
Done letting funk-ass demons parade around like they owned the place.
This was it.
The demons unsheathed their blades, surrounding the altar like they'd already won. Celemothy stood proudly beside them—massive, winged, and ready to peck someone into a different zip code if they so much as sneezed wrong.
Ezgar strutted toward the altar with that smug "I just beat the tutorial boss" energy, as if victory was already in hand.
…And to be fair, he wasn't technically wrong.
The other demons started wandering the roof, eyeballing everyone. Especially the girls.
One red demon stepped in front of Chestelle, who—for whatever reason—was still on her ass, too scared to move. He looked down at her with a sneer of disgust.
That is, until a blue-skinned demon bumped him from the side and pointed. "She's a Vaultari," he spat, like he'd just stepped in something wet. "They look like us, but they're not. Just cheap knockoff bugs. Pathetic mimic trash."
He hocked a fat loogie and spat it right near her foot.
Chestelle flinched and covered her face, trembling, while the demons burst out laughing.
Meanwhile, another blue demon approached Lickthorn with a pervy glint in his eye.
Lickthorn perked up, fangs out, tongue practically wagging.
But the demon stopped mid-step, gave her a good look… and immediately turned around like he'd just walked into a haunted fleshlight aisle.
"Ugh—nope. Not today."
And then there was Majestria.
Two red demons made their way toward her, full of lust and bad intentions.
One whistled low. "Hoo-wee… what do we have here?"
He walked a bit closer, eyes devouring every inch of her legs. "What's a gorgeous thing like you doin' with these losers?" he grinned. "Tell you what, babe—come with us, and we'll treat you real good."
His friend hopped in. "Yeah! You can even ride me anytime you want—wrap those thick thighs around my head like a queen. You'd make one hell of a saddle, sweetheart."
Majestria blinked.
Her aura glitched.
One button from going nuclear.
And the demons? They. Kept. Talking.
Over at the altar, Ezgar and two of his blue cronies were casually admiring the severed head, discussing logistics.
"How do we pry it out?"
"Should we use the ceremonial blade or just yank it?"
That's when it happened.
A scream.
A loud one.
All the demons turned.
And saw Majestria punching a demon straight into next Tuesday.
The second was already airborne—tossed like garbage off the side of the tower.
She grabbed the second demon by the horn. Her hands glowed with raw divine fury.
"NO ONE TALKS TO ME LIKE THAT!" she bellowed.
Crack.
She crushed the horn in her fist, the demon howling in pain.
"AND I'M NEVER—EVER—RIDING YOUR NASTY ASS!"
With a furious spin, she yeeted him off the rooftop like a Smash Dudes. character getting Final Smashed at 300%.
Ezgar gasped. The demons collectively lost their minds.
Ezgar pointed at her in rage. "STOP HER! KILL THE OTHERS!"
Swords came out. Demons charged.
Majestria? She looked like a pissed-off gorilla in goddess form, glowing and ready to end someone's lineage.
And then—
One of the demons tripped.
Right on his face.
What followed next was a thing of legend.