“Hm? Apparently it is news, then~”
He let out a short hum of amusement.
“Yes, it happens every few decades or so. All a part of keeping this place in order as it expands, of course. No better guard dog for the damned and the rotten than a Hellhound, once trained.”
He eyed over the short but familiar visitor lurking in the shadows as usual, and smirked.
“You’re welcome to try, if you think you can sneak out of Hell carrying a 1-ton demon puppy without being caught. Or having your flesh seared and chewed up like cheap dog food. Hellhound puppies are quite feral, you see. And the mother, well... let’s just say her bite is far, far worse than her bark.”