I Am Zeus - Chapter 227

Chapter 227: “Who wants to try their luck with the original?”
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!”

The air shimmered. And then, there weren’t one, but a hundred Monkey Kings, each one a perfect copy, landing with agile grace amidst the towering Giants and Titans. Each clone held a replica of the Ruyi Jingu Bang, their eyes alight with the same mischievous fire.

The original Wukong, perched on the shoulder of a marching Giant, beat his chest and let out a triumphant cry, his voice rising above the war-chants and demonic snarls.

“They call me the Great Sage, Equal of Heaven!

My staff can stretch from dawn to evenin’!

These hell-spawn think their numbers are vast?

I’ll show ’em a party that’s going to last!”

As he sang his own praises, his clones surged forward. They didn’t fight like the Titans, with overwhelming force. They fought like a whirlwind of chaos. They were everywhere at once. A clone would shrink its staff to a needle, dart between a demon’s legs, and then expand it with a deafening crack that sent the creature flying into a dozen others. Another would transform its arm into a massive, fur-covered fist, punching straight through a molten breastplate.

“They say I drank the Jade Emperor’s wine!

Stole peaches of immortality, so divine!

Fought Erlang Shen and his little mutt!

You think you lot can make me stay put?”

A group of winged horrors dove towards the Vanir, their chain-sigils flaring. Before they could get close, a dozen Wukong clones leaped high, their staffs transforming into a web of glowing poles in mid-air. The horrors shrieked as they tangled in the impossible net, which then constricted, crushing wings and snapping chains.

The original Wukong laughed, watching his clones work. He saw one transform into a tiny sparrow, flitting around a confused demon’s head before changing back and delivering a stunning blow to its temple. Another turned into a wisp of smoke, flowing through a crack in a Gate-Spawn’s chain-made body and re-forming inside it with a destructive explosion of splintered links.

“Seventy-two changes, that’s my art!

I’ll tear this rotten kingdom apart!

You can’t grab the wind, you can’t catch a dream!

You can’t beat the Great Sage’s ultimate scheme!”

He was a one-man army, a festival of violence and skill that was as effective as it was disorienting. The mindless advance of the Infernal Guard began to falter, their ranks thrown into disarray by this unpredictable, multiplying nuisance. Where the Titans created craters, Wukong created chaos.

From the rear, Zeus watched, his expression unreadable. A faint grunt of what might have been approval escaped his lips. “He buys us time. He draws their eye.”

Hades, standing immobile amidst the swirling battle, nodded slowly. “His soul is… loud. It disrupts the whispers of this place. Annoying, but useful.”

Hermes zipped past, a blur of motion, neatly beheading two demons who were trying to flank a struggling Giant. “I hate to admit it, but the monkey’s style is… efficient.” He paused, watching a clone use its staff to pole-vault over a swarm of enemies, landing directly on the shoulders of a Gate-Spawn and systematically dismantling its head with precise, brutal strikes. “And showy. Very, very showy.”

Apollo, his remaining two suns burning a protective circle around a group of Vanir, allowed himself a small, genuine smile. “He fights like he’s at a celebration. I can respect that.”

Meanwhile, Wukong’s song continued, now punctuated by the cracks and thuds of his clones’ work.

“My name’s a legend, my fame’s well-earned!

Every lesson I’ve stolen, every bridge I have burned!

You built a hell of fire and pain?

I’ll wash it with rain!”

As if to punctuate his verse, a clone transformed into a massive, feathery eagle, swooping down to claw at the eyes of a winged horror. Another became a great, coiling serpent, wrapping around the legs of a Gate-Spawn and pulling it off its feet with a ground-shaking crash.

The Giants, initially annoyed by the tiny, chattering figures, now began to use them. A Titan would swing its massive club, and a dozen Wukong clones would use the motion as a springboard, launching themselves like golden missiles deep into the enemy’s back lines.

It wasn’t a flawless victory. The demons were endless. A clone would get overwhelmed, surrounded by a dozen Infernal Guards. It would put up a fantastic fight, staff a blur, but eventually, it would be dragged down, dissolving back into a single, singed hair. Wukong would flinch slightly with each loss, but his grin never fully faded.

“Heh, lost one! But don’t you see?

There’s still a hundred-and-one of me!

You break a mirror, what do you get?

A thousand more faces you haven’t met yet!”

He was a force of nature, an unaccountable variable in Hell’s cruel equation. For a breathtaking, bloody moment, the endless tide of demons seemed to stall, its momentum broken not by overwhelming power, but by sheer, undiluted audacity.

The path forward was being cleared, not just by the crushing might of the Titans, but by the golden, multiplying storm that was the Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, who fought his battles with a song in his heart and an army of himself at his command.

Finally, the original Wukong leaped from his Giant’s perch, his real staff extending to a colossal size. He swung it in a wide, horizontal arc, clearing a swath fifty demons wide.

“Alright, you ugly lot! The main event is here!” he bellowed, not singing now, his voice full of fierce joy. “Who wants to try their luck with the original?”

The demons, for just a second, hesitated. And in that second, the united front of gods, Titans, and Giants pushed forward, their advance solidified by the monkey’s madness. The first line of Hell’s defense was buckling. The path to the black towers of Pandemonium was opening.