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 scread as the chicken did a full front-flip.
The mont 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, anwhile, 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 scread, 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.
"Way to go, piss boy!" Beard Man shouted over the wind. "You’re sending all these shitters to hell—and yourself along with them!"
Ezgar snapped his head at Beard Man. "You’re going to die too!"
"I’m already dead, hahaha!" Beard Man burst out laughing like it was open mic night in hell.
Wind whipped through Finn’s hair as the giant chicken glided downward. Despite the sheer terror, the breeze felt kinda nice—if you ignored the part where their lives were hanging by a single feathery thread.
Finn looked off to the side.
To the right—the tower. And just below it... the two massive doors that led into the Library of Knowledge.
The one with all those smug, condescending wizard assholes.
Finn’s eyes lit up. And then he broke into laughter again—unhinged, wild, borderline concerning.
Ezgar and Beard Man both turned to look at him. Ezgar was pale with dread. Beard Man looked... kind of impressed.
"Don’t do any more stupid shit!!" Ezgar shouted. "If you do, we’ll REALLY die!"
Finn just looked at him.
And smiled.
Maniacally.
Like Ezgar had just asked the dumbest question in the universe.
Ezgar’s voice trembled with dread. "W-What are you planning to do?!"
Finn didn’t answer.
He just laughed.
That unholy, cackling, sleep-paralysis demon laugh.
Then—slowly, ominously—he stretched out his arm.
"No—NO!" Ezgar’s eyes widened in horror. "Don’t do it! Just take the damn head!" He shoved Beard Man forward in a panic, practically offering him like a sacrificial lamb. "Here! Take him! TAKE HIM!"
But it was too late.
Finn had already pulled his hand back like a man about to throw the dumbest pitch in history.
He aid toward the tower.
Was it logical? No. Was it smart? Hell no. But in Finn’s brain? If he tripped the chicken in the right direction, maybe—just maybe—it would faceplant into the tower and spare him the pain of walking all the way back up.
It was a gamble.
And Finn loved gambling.
So Celemothy tripped. Midair.
Again.
And now the chicken was nose-diving straight toward the tower—like a rogue aircraft with very suspicious timing.
"YOU’RE INSANE!!" Ezgar shrieked.
A single thought crossed his mind: "This might actually kill ." He ignored it. He had bigger concerns—like whether the impact would knock the head off the chicken’s neck so he didn’t have to pry it off himself.
And still, he laughed—head thrown back, arms wide, embracing the chaos like it was a part of him.
Technically, it was.
And—
Demons scread.
Feathers flew.
Beard Man was howling with joy.
Finn sounded like a deranged Joker on bath salts.
And then—
BOOOOOM!!!
Celemothy slamd into the front gates of the wizard tower like a battering ram covered in feathers and trauma. Wood exploded. tal broke. The massive double doors were destroyed along with wizard hopes.
The chicken crashed through, wings flailing, claws scraping against the floor, as it skidded—violently—into the room of the Library of Knowledge.
The chicken slamd chest-first into the floor.
The last few demons who had been clinging to dear life? Flung off like ragdolls, tumbling across the marble.
Finn hit the ground a second later—hard. He rolled like a wet sock in a dryer, finally landing upside down against a bookshelf, legs draped awkwardly over the shelves.
He groaned. Dazed. Head spinning.
The chicken—Celemothy—lay sprawled across the floor like a dying opera singer. Feathers drifted down in slow motion. The demons groaned as they started getting back up.
And then there were the wizards.
Dozens of them. Staring.
Not just stunned—furious.
Way more pissed than the last ti Finn waltzed in.
’Probably because I just ramd a giant poultry missile through their front door,’ Finn thought. ’My bad...’
"You vermin!" a wizard roared, levitating into the air and pointing a glowing wand. His beard was quivering with rage. "You dare desecrate the Sanctum of Lore?! You are worse than that brown-haired, no-mana, dungheap of a boy!"
The wand flashed.
A blue beam scread through the air and struck the chicken straight in the feathers.
And just like that, all hell broke loose.
Wizards launched spells like fireworks. Demons charged with blades and curses. Celemothy clucked sothing that might’ve been Latin.
Books exploded. Shelves toppled. Beams of light slashed through the air.
The Library of Knowledge?
Now a full-blown war zone.
And sowhere in the chaos, Finn—still upside down—started laughing.
Finn watched in awe as chaos blood all around him like a violent flower.
Was this his fault? Absolutely.
Was it wrong? Probably.
Was it justified after being insulted by a bunch of robed jackasses?
Hell yes.
But of course, his mont of reflection was short-lived.
"You—YOU!" a blue demon shrieked, pointing a sword at Finn with shaking hands. "You’ll pay for hurting my comrades and ruining everything!"
Finn, still upside down against the bookshelf, stared at the guy with a deadpan face.
"Prepare to—!"
The demon charged.
And imdiately faceplanted.
He tripped the mont he took his first step—slamd right into the marble like a sack of wet at.
Finn exhaled a long, dramatic sigh, finally lowering his arm.
The chaos-fueled madness was fading.
Now ca the worst part.
Cleaning it up.
With another groan, Finn swung his legs off the shelf and slumped to the floor.
Another sigh.
’Better get praise, paynt, and at least one breast in my face for this god-awful "Beginner’s Dung Rank" quest.’
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