As an insignificant underling of Satan's, Fangs was lounging beside a hot spring, enjoying the attentive care of a female Hellhound.
Her tongue licked Fangs's back as she gave him a gentle massage. Even so, this life had grown dull.
After tens of thousands of years, even the finest pleasures lost their appeal.
But in the Hell Dimension, strength was everything. Without it, a Hellhound had no rights. However bored Fangs was, he did not dare change a thing.
Lately, though, things had been different.
Rumor had it that the great Lord Satan had met with some major upheaval, and the position of Hell Lord might soon change hands. Fangs could not help looking forward to it.
He did not imagine he could become a Hell Lord himself. But with a better master, he might finally leave this volcanic region.
Just then, he felt a shadow fall over him.
He looked up in confusion and saw a purple figure.
An overwhelming pressure bore down on him, leaving him sprawled on the ground and trembling.
He had only ever felt such a powerful, terrifying aura from the great Lord Satan.
Thanos ignored the Hellhounds fleeing in terror around him. He dropped the Succubus he was holding and looked coldly at the three-headed Hell Hound prostrate before him.
"Answer my questions, and I won't kill you!"
Fangs nodded at once. Frightened but relieved, he said, "Honored lord, please ask."
Thanos nodded. "Where did the nearby Hell Lords go?"
Fangs shook his heads frantically. "Honored lord, you think far too highly of me. How could a lowly creature like me know where such important figures have gone?"
Thanos realized he was asking too much of the Hell Hound.
How could a monster of only the Transcendent Level know anything about the Hell Lords?