Rebirth as a Willow Tree, building the strongest tribe in all of eternity - Chapter 201 - 165: That Mysterious Forbidden Area_3

I was a genius in the Earthen Plane.

A Professional Transmigrator meets a newbie Regressor.

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He lived an average, fulfilling life and died of old age. The next moment, he opened his eyes as the Princess of Asmaria.

While looking forward to his new life, he died again.

And so began his 151,897,914th life as Samur Eckart.

Samur is a Professional Transmigrator- or so he says so, as he gets transmigrated into a new world every time he dies.

However, each time, his memories return only moments before his death. If he successfully survives, he gets to live that life, if he dies, well, he just moves on to his next moment of death.

Once again on the verge of death as Samur, he’s saved at the last moment by a young boy.

Surprise, surprise, the young boy is a Regressor.

As a man of honour, Samur intends to repay his debt then leave because the world is too inconvenient to live in.

Well, that’s what he thought, at least, but the Regressor and his friends are kind of… weird, and he can’t seem to get away at all?

However, not everything is as it seems. Samur’s whims have made him the part of an eternal lie.

Shadows dance in glee as they concoct a requiem far grander than anyone can imagine, while the Lights tremble in delight as the apocalypse threatens the Universe.

The dies have been cast, the play has been written, the characters are on the stage, and the sacrifices have been made.

And so, it’s finally time to let this game begin.

A suffering MC novel—the main character must be forced to suffer, be oppressed until they’re hovering between life and death, dying and living here and there. They can have a golden finger, but before getting it they must pay the price. They can also have beautiful women, but all are snake and scorpion beauties, able to look at but not eat.

I remember the story of a novel I had read in my previous life just before my marriage. If you don’t mess up the wedding, you’ll be poisoned by your husband! So I kissed the pastor who was in charge of the ceremony.

“Commander, are you alright?” shouted one of the holy knights as he approached the pastor who was kissed.

Huh, what?

Wait … are you the commander of the Holy Knights?

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Rurutia, who was about to die, wanted to spend her last moment in a temple where she felt at ease the most. She started a business with her friends for the temple, and it was a big hit.

“Miss, you have the world in the palm of your hands!”

“Are you a God who has descended to Earth?”

In the midst of being embarrassed by the large crown, the commander of the holy knights himself was also acting strange.

“All I wish for is to be your husband,” he said, his eyes shining with obsession. “Take responsibility for stealing my first kiss.”

This is all so wrong.

It seems that I changed my future.