One year ago.
When I suddenly opened my eyes in this world, I went down to the village. People looked at me with fearful eyes. I waved my hands in denial when they called out in terrified voices that a Demon God had arrived, but no one would listen to me.
The image of them rubbing their hands together and begging is etched into my eyes.
The sound of their pleading voices saying they were sorry seeps into my ears.
How did it come to this? I just wanted to ask where this place was and why I had become like this.
In the end, I had no choice but to leave without asking anything. I couldn't forget the voices calling me a Demon God. The fearful pleas directed at me still felt vivid.
The question of "why?" was soon answered.
Only after a week passed and I realized I felt neither hunger nor fatigue did I understand that I was far from being an ordinary person.
Did my past self really die? Could this be a dream or hallucination? While I was spending time in the cabin pondering these questions, someone came looking for me.
And that day, I died over and over again.