At first glance, it is unmistakably clear that Stark Lee is no ordinary terrestrial being.
Stark Lee's appearance instantly marks him as a marvelous hybrid of humanity and aquatic biology—a bona fide fish-man. With iridescent scales that catch the light and gills that pulse with a quiet, oceanic rhythm, he cuts a striking, otherworldly silhouette against the mundane backdrop of the surface world.
However, the true revelation of his unique anatomy occurs in a seemingly innocuous moment early in the story.
In the seminal Chapter 1, Panel 26, Don makes a subtle yet groundbreaking artistic choice. Up until this point, readers might have assumed that Stark Lee’s prominent dorsal fin was made of rigid cartilage and taut, unyielding webbing, much like that of a great white shark or a marlin. But Don's pen strokes in this specific panel tell a profoundly different story.
With a meticulous flick of the wrist, Don drew Stark Lee’s dorsal fin with an unexpected, sweeping curvature—a soft, deliberate swoop that defied the stiff aerodynamics of standard marine biology.
This masterful inclusion of "bend" and "flow" in the ink work ignited a wave of realization: Stark Lee’s dorsal fin is not a rigid stabilizer, but rather a pliable, styleable appendage.
This anatomical quirk suggests that the microscopic filaments making up his fin behave much like human keratin. Instead of a stiff rudder, it operates like a luscious, aquatic mane. It can be manipulated, brushed, and shaped to reflect his current mood or the latest surface-dwelling fashion trends.
One can only imagine the implications this has for Stark Lee's morning routine. It opens up an entirely new world of amphibious grooming, likely involving specialized techniques and products:
The Morning Comb-Through: Rather than a standard plastic comb, Stark Lee might require a wide-toothed coral pick to detangle the delicate, translucent fibers of his fin after a long night of slumber.
Aquatic Pomades: Standard hair gel would simply wash away. He likely uses a proprietary blend of nutrient-rich kelp extract and sea-cucumber mucin to give his fin that glossy, swept-back pompadour look.
Thermal Protection: If he uses a blow-dryer—a dangerous game for a water-dweller—he must take great care not to dry out the sensitive, shimmering membrane connecting the spines.
Ultimately, Don’s artistic decision in Panel 26 does more than just give Stark Lee a unique visual flair. It humanizes the fish-man, turning a fearsome oceanic feature into a canvas for personal expression and undeniable, splashy style.
Channeling their late-night inspiration, the new introduction blossomed into a spirited YouTube parody of the Delicious in Dungeon opening sequence, an impressive feat willed into existence by Jon during a single, caffeine-fueled editing marathon. Propelled by sheer creative momentum, he spent the evening meticulously syncing clips to the anime's instantly recognizable, upbeat theme song. The resulting video treats viewers to a delightfully chaotic montage where the comic's eclectic cast flashes across the screen in dynamic action shots—brandishing weapons or fumbling with oversized utensils—perfectly timed to the energetic beats. By dawn, Jon had conquered what is typically a multi-day ordeal, flawlessly blending the whimsical essence of the source material with their own quirky characters to set a perfectly lighthearted tone for the adventure ahead.
Concept art of the British Grenadiers summoned by the Ghost of Beethoven
The Symphony of the Spectral Redcoats: The Evolution of Beethoven’s Phantom Legion
The conceptualization of the British Grenadiers—a ghostly regiment ripped from the pages of history and summoned from the ether by the furious, symphonic command of the Ghost of Beethoven—stands as one of the project's most visually ambitious undertakings. Originally, the creative team envisioned these soldiers as a literal manifestation of musical fury, but translating that abstract energy onto the page proved to be an uphill battle.
In the initial round of concept art, the design of these spectral soldiers suffered from a severe lack of a cohesive visual style. The sketches were a chaotic melting pot of competing ideas, with some figures appearing as gruesome, skeletal husks wrapped in tattered rags, while others bore the hyper-detailed, rigid uniforms of pristine 18th-century warfare. This created a jarring tonal clash on the page; the line work was disorganized, the silhouettes bled into one another, and the terrifying weight of an undead army was completely lost in the aesthetic noise. They looked less like a disciplined military unit and more like a disorganized mob of historical reenactors who had met a grim fate.
Fortunately, this aesthetic identity crisis was short-lived. Recognizing that the chaotic designs detracted from the narrative weight of Beethoven's grand summation, Jon took the creative reins to overhaul the regiment's look. By the time the phantoms marched into their second panel on the page, Jon had drastically refined their appearance, stripping away the clashing details in favor of a sleek, formidable uniformity. He settled on a brilliantly unified depiction that transformed the regiment into a cohesive, hauntingly disciplined force that looked as though it marched to the terrifying, rhythmic beat of a single spectral drum.
In this finalized design, Jon masterfully blended historical military precision with supernatural horror. The iconic woolen red coats no longer looked dirty or frayed; instead, they were rendered with sharp, clean lines and infused with an eerie, translucent luminescence that seemed to glow from within. Their bearskin caps were elongated to cast deep, dramatic shadows over their faces, obscuring their eyes and leaving only the faint, hollow glow of their spectral gazes visible to the reader. By anchoring their design in a uniform aesthetic, Jon managed to perfectly mirror the dramatic, haunting cadence of Beethoven’s own music—turning a disjointed group of ghosts into a terrifyingly synchronized visual crescendo.
At the very beginning of Chapter 2, Don initially mistook the distinct black circles on the "Agent’s" face for her actual eyes, a logical assumption given the stylized nature of the comic's art style. However, it was later explicitly clarified that these solid black shapes were actually meant to represent a pair of sunglasses.
Despite this major clarification, the "Agent" has stubbornly continued wearing them throughout the entirety of the chapter—spanning an impressive run of over 40 panels—without removing them even a single time, leaving her true face a complete mystery. Until these sunglasses are explicitly depicted as a physical object in a panel (such as being taken off, sliding down her nose, or showing a distinct frame reflection) rather than just implied by a minimalist design, their actual presence and purpose in the story remains technically non-canon.
This is just a 'reaction panel' Jon drew while Don was live-streaming his drawing of panel #15 for Chapter 2.
The 'Agent' is depicted without wearing her sunglasses.