He had a long dream. As always, it was a nightmare. He wanted to wake up, but he couldn’t wake up. The sleep of consciousness didn’t permit free will. The Curse of Sloth imprinted on his soul had a terrible effect.

“......”

Fenrir cursed the progenitor Beriache, who had been driven out of hell. He hated his fate. Although he didn’t show it in front of other family members, he resented his mother. Why did she give birth to him for him to suffer...? He hated her helplessness and irresponsibility...

“......”

His consciousness pulled out of the nightmare. His eyelids—crushed by an immeasurable weight—opened, and the contours of darkness entered his field of view. Cold swirled inside the coffin. Fenrir felt a sense of alienation as he opened his eyes in a place where light couldn’t enter. He felt like he had an exceptionally long and terrible nightmare today.

Somehow, there was a bit of anxiety. He must be mistaken.

Fenrir’s expression stiffened as he sat up from the coffin. Standing before him was a person with a slender body covered in blood. Beneath her feet, the wolf that was Fenrir’s...