My Best Friend Is an Eldritch Horror Vol. 2 Review

My Best Friend Is an Eldritch Horror Volume 2 has one of those concepts that sounds like it should be a joke you enjoy for five minutes and then move on from. Damien wants to learn magic, accidentally bonds himself to an incomprehensible cosmic entity, and said entity would really prefer everyone call him Henry. That is objectively ridiculous. It is also somehow adorable, deeply suspicious and occasionally nightmare fuel. The reason it works is because the book never forgets that Henry is funny because he is terrifying, not because he stopped being terrifying.

Actus gives Damien enough awkwardness, insecurity and stubborn ambition to keep him from turning into Generic Fantasy Boy Number 47. He wants power, but the story keeps making him earn every inch of progress, which I appreciate because nothing kills a progression fantasy faster than watching somebody become absurdly competent before they have emotionally earned it. Damien makes mistakes. He misjudges situations. He wants things before he is ready for them. Very relatable, unfortunately. Henry is even more fun because he can go from clingy shadow friend to cosmic abomination without the story acting like those are two separate personalities. That contrast is the whole charm.

Sauerkraut’s adaptation handles the jump from long-form webtoon storytelling into a collected volume pretty well. You can absolutely still feel the original vertical-scroll structure in places, especially when conversations stretch across repeated reaction beats, but it rarely becomes distracting. The strongest moments come when the page turns are allowed to do something the scroll format could not. Reveals land differently. Magical sequences get a little more theatrical. Suddenly, you are not just moving down the screen. You are turning into the next image, and that changes the timing in a really satisfying way.

Soranokami and Blacklapiz Studio give the whole series this polished fantasy look that stays expressive without becoming stiff. Damien’s quieter scenes work because the facial acting is clear, while Henry gets to become this massive collection of black-purple shapes, impossible eyes and unsettling silhouettes without the page collapsing into visual soup. That balance is important. The softer character work keeps the world readable, then Henry shows up looking like reality made a terrible decision. The action can get busy when the effects start stacking, but I never felt completely lost in what was happening, which is more than I can say for a lot of effects-heavy fantasy art.

Makima’s reformatting and lettering are doing more work than they first appear to be doing because this story swings between comedy, exposition and action constantly. Most of the dialogue sits comfortably in the converted layouts, although a few longer exchanges still have that unmistakable “this was originally meant to be scrolled” feeling. I would not really call that a lettering failure. It is more like a little scar from the adaptation process. You notice it, then move on because it never gets in the way badly enough to break the read.

What I like most about Volume 2 is that it does not panic and start rushing Damien into becoming overpowered just because the audience already understands the premise. The relationships, training and consequences keep slowing him down in useful ways, and that patience pays off. The book stays funny without becoming weightless and dark without becoming exhausting. If you like progression fantasy but also want your supernatural companion to have the emotional energy of a needy best friend and the potential ability to erase existence, this series is very easy to keep following.

The collected format also helps the character work more than I expected. Smaller beats that might feel minor when separated week to week suddenly start building patterns when you read them together. Damien’s impatience. Henry’s weirdly intense attachment. The supporting cast slowly realizing that something about this entire situation is absolutely not normal. None of those relationships need one giant dramatic speech announcing that everybody has changed. You can just watch the shift happen. That slower accumulation is one of the reasons the comedy lands so well, because familiarity makes Henry funnier right up until the book reminds you, very politely, that he is still an eldritch horror and not just a cute shadow creature with an image problem.

Visually, the volume gives you enough variety that it never feels like endless illustrated conversation. Yes, there are plenty of quieter scenes, but when the magic ramps up, the creators actually let the scale expand with it. Energy effects get bigger. Spaces become stranger. Henry’s anatomy starts doing things anatomy really should not be doing. I would still love a little more variation in some of the repeated reaction beats, especially across a collection this large, but the consistency of the art team is impressive. The book knows when to be cute, when to be weird and when to make you remember that maybe, just maybe, being best friends with an eldritch horror is not the safest extracurricular activity.

CRUSADERS SCORE:
4/5 

Written by Actus 
Adapted by Sauerkraut 
Illustrated by Soranokami and Blacklapiz Studio 
Reformatting & Lettering by Makima 
Cover by Blacklapiz 
Publisher: Vault Comics / Aethon