The giant chicken, Celemothy, tripped midair.
And all hell broke loose.
It was like a rollercoaster designed by Satan himself—if the rollercoaster was alive, airborne, and actively shitting.
"HOOOOLY SHIT—!!" Finn screamed as the chicken did a full front-flip.
The moment he triggered the trip, Finn was launched backwards, barely managing to grab hold of a clump of feathers before gravity threw him into the sky. Below, demons who were barely clinging on were flung like ragdolls into the great beyond, their screams Dopplering off into irrelevance.
Ezgar, meanwhile, clutched both Beard Man and Celemothy like a dad trying to hold a crying baby during a plane crash.
It was chaos. Pure, chicken-fueled, airborne chaos.
"Are you INSANE?!" Ezgar screamed, trying to hold his guts in place. "We're ALL going to die now—because of YOU!"
But then, miraculously, Celemothy leveled out. Sort of.
Now it was gliding downward—fast. Like a plane missing two engines.
