The odd man out, so to speak, is David T. Little’s gloriously thunderous “Hellhound.”

It was a hellhound—a black mastiff with its front paws up on the buffet line and its muzzle buried in the scrambled eggs.

After the Cyclops disintegrated—and stayed disintegrated, thanks to Death—Percy leaped off his hellhound and slashed wildly through the other monsters.