Fang ignored him and kept walking forward, dragging two chained fangs behind him... they were attached to his wrists and rolled up to his matted black-furred elbows. He was a mountain of blood-red muscle, covered in the same fur... he resembled a three-meter-tall werewolf that had escaped a brutal experiment and kept the chains as a reminder of what had been done to him.
"Why is he coming at us alone... has he lost his mind?"
Arthur asked, his pupils narrowed at the sight of Fang's yellowish fangs dripping with thick saliva as his eyes locked on them. Everyone could feel it... the intense bloodthirst building up around him with each step he took.
'Why do I have a bad feeling about him?' Levi frowned.
He had scanned Fang fully and found nothing bizarre besides his crimson, bloodthirsty spiritual aura... he didn't know why, but it reminded him of the Hound.
He could never forget the day he first saw it, nor the strange feeling it left in his chest.
