Chapter 37: Don’t Talk Dirty to the Goddess Unless You Wanna Die Horribly
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.