Chapter 1

Black flames burned in the dome of the Demon Palace. I knelt on the cold black stone floor, my forehead pressed against the stone slab. All I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat, as if someone was hitting my head with a hammer.

I was reborn. Just three minutes ago.

My wife, Lydia, stood before the throne of the demon Asmond, dressed in a pure white saint's robe, her long golden hair cascading to her waist. Her kneeling posture was as graceful as if she were receiving a royal investiture. She raised her head and uttered the words: "Great Demon King, I offer my husband, Marcus, as a double offering from humanity to the demons. Please take him with you to the cursed land, to serve the demons for eternity."

A burst of demonic laughter erupted within the hall. Some slammed their fists on the table, others whistled, and still others shouted in shrill voices, "The Holy Maiden is truly devout! She's even offered up her husband!"

The human delegation stood on either side of the hall; no one dared to laugh, and no one looked at me. They kept their heads down, as if afraid of being called upon to offer themselves up as well.

In this moment of my past life, I stood up and questioned her about why she had sold her soul. I said she had been bewitched by the devil, and begged her to turn back, to think of our little cabin in Green Village, and the wheat field we had planted.

Amidst the laughter, she turned to look at me, her eyes colder than I had ever seen before: "Marcus, what future can you have farming your whole life? My face shouldn't be buried in the dirt!"

Then I was dragged away. I suffered terribly in the cursed land, and finally breathed my last in the ashes.

She rose through the ranks in the demon realm, becoming the most beloved saintess of the demons, residing in a palace built from demon bones, and wearing a silk dress obtained through human tributes.

"Human, do you have any last words?" The demon's voice came from the throne, languidly intrigued, as if asking a rabbit about to be roasted what it wanted to say. The exact same question as in my past life. In my past life, I tried to persuade Lydia with my last words, only to be met with even louder laughter and a faster execution.

This life—

I slammed my forehead against the black stone ground with a loud thud. My voice trembled, tinged with a forced sob, as I cried out, "Thank you, devil! Sinner Marcus Green willingly goes to the cursed land to cultivate wasteland for the devil's domain, to atone for my sins of being unworthy to serve the saint!"

The demons were silent for a full second.

Then erupted a laugh even louder than before. The demon, doubled over with laughter on his throne, slapped the armrests with his black claws, each strike causing the ground to tremble slightly: "Interesting! Absolutely hilarious! Saintess, your husband is far more interesting than you! He actually thanked me! Hahahaha!"

Lydia glanced back at me. A hint of confusion flashed in her eyes—why had she suddenly become such a spineless coward, kowtowing in gratitude? She frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line, but quickly looked away, turning to the demon to continue her performance of loyalty: "My lord is wise; my husband will certainly serve faithfully in the cursed land."

I knelt on the ground, my forehead pressed against the cold stone slab, feeling the chill seep into my skull. No one saw my expression. No one saw the slight upturn of my lips.

Thank the devil for his grace? What a joke.

In a few months they will understand what I am thanking them for.

...

The escort to the Cursed Land consisted of only two demon soldiers. The demon lords valued this land utterly, considering even sending one more person a waste. As they pushed me towards the edge of the gray wasteland, the sun hung high on the horizon, illuminating the entire wasteland in a deathly gray. One of the soldiers tossed down a bag of moldy black bread and a jug of murky water, while the other, before leaving, kicked my shoulder and said in a demonic accent, "The saintess told us to tell you—don't think about her. She 'll be fine among the demons ."

I lay on the ground without answering. Only after their figures disappeared on the horizon did I stand up and brush the dust off my clothes.

The greyish-white plain stretched to the horizon, devoid of plants and animals; even monsters refused to nest here. The wind swept across the ground, stirring up greyish-white dust that drifted into my nostrils, carrying a rotten, sweet smell, as if something had been decaying underground for a very, very long time.

In my past life, I stayed here for three years. The curse began to erode my skin from the second day onwards, as if countless ants were crawling in my blood vessels.

I did not wait in this life.

I arrived at an abandoned ruin and dug through the ashes with my bare hands. One dig, another, and another. The ashes were loose, as if they had never been compacted, as if the earth itself had been hollowed out. At half a meter deep, my fingertips touched something hard. I dug it out—the size of a walnut, gray, with a dull surface, like an ordinary pebble. But it felt slightly warm in my palm, as if it had been waiting for a long time.

World Tree seeds.

In my past life, I was tormented for three years in a cursed land, only to have it awakened by chance when my blood seeped into the ashes. In this life, I simply dug it out. I bit my thumb, and a bead of blood oozed from my fingertip. I dripped it onto the seed. One drop. Two drops. As the third drop fell, a tiny crack appeared on the surface of the seed.

A faint light shone through the crack—not a dazzling gold, but the color of the first rays of sunlight in the morning, the color of ripe wheat fields, a color I had seen countless times in Green Village but could never see again.

I put the seed on the tip of my tongue and then swallowed it.

It sank into my chest, like a pebble sinking into a deep well, settling beside my heart. Then I heard its voice. Not words, not sentences, but a sigh from the depths of the earth.

That night I slept curled up in the dug pit. The night in the cursed land was as cold as an ice cellar; the wind howled across the ground, like someone was crying. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the seed's faint heartbeat. It was beating in unison with my heart. Thump, thump, thump.

I closed my eyes and remembered Lydia's expression in the demon palace. The coldness in her eyes, the resolute tone in her voice, the arc of her skirt as she turned. She thought she had sacrificed me, thought she would rise through the ranks in the demon realm , thought she had finally escaped that useless husband who only knew how to farm.

But the devil will make her pay the price sooner or later.

But for this seed to fully mature, I need to witness with it what the Demon Realm of the Human World has become.

I laughed out loud in the pit. The laughter was carried away by the wind and disappeared into the gray wasteland.