The air in the desolate, ash-choked realm crackled with raw power. Typhon, now raging in fury, stood before the obsidian mountain, his fists a blur against its unyielding surface.
BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!
Each blow landed with the force of a collapsing star, yet the mountain, ancient and steeped in primordial magic, stubbornly refused to yield.
Behind him, Gaea, her eyes the color of fertile earth, were raised in confusion. To her sides stood; Poseidon, his sea-green eyes narrowed in grim determination, he gripped his trident, the prongs humming with oceanic power.
Hades, cloaked in shadows that seemed to writhe with unseen energy, held his black sword, its edge whispering of oblivion, they stood silently and watched Typhon.
Their attention, however, was abruptly torn away by the arrival of two figures who materialized behind them with a silent impact that spoke volumes of their lethal grace.
