The charge was a quake of muscle and divinity. The Titans hit the front line of the Infernal Guard like a meteor strike. The sound wasn't of clashing metal, but of shattering bone and splintering obsidian. A giant, hefting a mountain-sized chunk of hellstone, brought it down in a crushing arc, flattening a score of the eyeless warriors into a pulp of molten armor and black ichor.
But for every one that fell, three more clawed their way up from the dark earth. They didn't fight with strategy, but with the mindless, relentless hunger of piranhas.
From the midst of the advancing gods, a voice rang out, clear and brimming with insane confidence.
"Ah, look at this mess! Leave this little cleaning job to me!"
It was Wukong. He shot a grin back at Zeus and Ares, then launched himself into the air. As he spun, he plucked a handful of hairs from his arm, blew on them, and shouted, "Change!"
