Creator: A Superhero Epic Book

I have to admit that rating this book was a very difficult decision, somehow it became personal and even harder because of it. I'm not sure if projecting expectations on reviews makes me a good reviewer or quite the opposite.
But actually, might be the former, because one of writer's tasks is to create expectations and then, either ignore them completely (do not read), fulfill them to the letter (mediocre stuff) or blow them up in a way which makes your brain short-circuit. The last one is called inspiration and is the best thing one can get from reading. Of course most books are somewhere on the axis, in between aforementioned defining points.
Nine Layers of Sky creates so much promises at the beginning - awful, depressing, but still, very intense ones. Yet halfway through this intensity somehow burns down, or even worse, burns out. The author weaves this amazing atmosphere, both thick and chilly (for me even more striking since I'd qualify it as uncanny valley, not familiar enough to be perceived in a direct, conscious way, but also not alien enough to feel disconnected, something in between; all that spiced up with tales spun around historical references which is my favourite thing to do ever) and then kills it with infodump, almost nonexistent imagery and emotional shallowness. All this somehow simultaneously combined with complete lack of clarity about how this world works (Nine layers? Of sky? But why?) overdoing, or rather overusing (still, I wouldn't say abusing) folklore and multiplying angst.
Feeling nothing while reading your potentially favourite book's finale is the worst case of the promise being broken.