The Ancient Demon Cave, overhead, the infinite demonic mist swirls like scattered clouds, obscuring the sky and blocking out the sun.
In the middle, the Demon Mountain stands tall, unwavering for millennia, relying on the backbone of the heavens and the earth, like the bones of purgatory, proud and unyielding.
Below, the Magic River flows quietly, with demonic realm creatures wandering within, under the shimmering waves lies the inception of sin.
This is an enclosed world.
A place without a future.
For the Demon Lord living here, it seems that this world hasn't changed for hundreds or thousands of years.
They have already grown accustomed to such loneliness, such solitary days.
Doing the same things every day.
Or perhaps doing different things.
In any case, whatever they do is just to alleviate this loneliness, this boredom.
At this moment, in the great hall of the Demon Race.
A demon covered in curse marks sat there.
