Breaking the Black Egg

As the blood-creatures opened their mouths and fired their white spears, nearly invisible against the brilliant white of every visible surface, time seemed to slow down.

There was no magic to it, Achilles knew. He had heard about experiences like this.

Faced with certain death, a man’s life flashed before his eyes. His mind sped up to give him some chance, any chance, to save himself and those he cared about.

The monstrous, transformed demon was still laughing. Its Demonic Art was bewildering, transfixing.

“Hard-Boiled Wonderland,” it had said. Like the black night was an egg that had shattered, giving birth to a strange world filled with even stranger monsters.

Yet, as Achilles’s mind raced, he thought he knew what to do.

He and Medea had just found a vital clue. The corkscrew demon had thrown its own body in the way of the titanic tree to protect it from a blow.

Somehow, the tree was the key to all this.

They needed to attack the tree.