When I Cleared the Death Game World, I Reincarnated as a Villainous Noble Even if They Talk About Doom Flags, I'm Actually Immortal. - Chapter 1

Gong… Gong…

The tolling of a bell echoed through a field of pure white flowers bathed in moonlight, trembling the air as if announcing something.

A lone young man walked through the field, sensing the subtle vibrations in the atmosphere.

He was clad in a black coat, its high collar concealing his mouth. His lifeless eyes were clouded over, and he silently stepped forward, trampling the flowers beneath his feet.

As he continued walking, he finally arrived.

A black cross towered over the white flower field, with a metallic figure nailed to it.

It resembled a fusion of a dragon and a human—a humanoid body with a dragon-like head and wings. Anyone would mistake it for a dragonborn-inspired automaton.

Its body bore the marks of time, covered in red rust, giving it the gruesome appearance of dried blood.

GONG! GONG!! GONG!!!!

The bell tolled faster, urging, demanding—pounding like the frantic heartbeat of someone gripped by fear.

A chill crawled over the young man’s body like insects scurrying under his skin. The relentless ringing stirred his heart into an uneasy frenzy.

Creak.

The metallic figure nailed to the cross let out a groaning sound.

At that very moment, the bell fell silent.

In the oppressive quiet, only the harsh grating of metal echoed.

Rust crumbled and fell from the figure, scattering over the flowers. As if awakening from a long slumber, its stiff limbs shuddered and began to move.

Creak—Creak, Creak, Creak!!

Slowly, it shifted its body. With that movement, the iron stakes impaling it were pulled free, tumbling into the white flowers below.

One by one, the stakes came loose.

Then, with an almost weightless grace, the figure descended onto the field—like a drifting dandelion seed.

“At last… it’s over.”

The young man murmured.

At some point, a single sword had appeared in his grasp.

The blade was as black as the night, shimmering faintly like a sky full of distant stars.

Raising it, he leveled its tip at the figure, issuing a silent challenge.

“Sorry, but this victory is—”

SLASH!!

By the time he noticed, it was too late.

A long tail extended from the figure’s back.

Sharp as a blade, it pierced straight through his chest.

As the tail withdrew, fresh blood spurted from the wound.

The crimson liquid stained the pure white field, and as the young man collapsed, petals scattered into the air.

“…I take that back. It seems the end is still far away.”

With a quiet murmur—

The flowing blood reversed.

The stained flowers returned to their pristine white.

As if nothing had happened, the young man stood up once more and pointed his sword at the figure again.

For a brief moment, his mouth became visible beneath his high collar.

A faint smile curved his lips.

“This fight won’t end until you die. So at least for the final battle—let’s enjoy it to the fullest.”

The figure remained silent.

At that moment, its tail tensed.

And the young man charged.

The battle between them raged on for a long time.

The once-pristine flower field was completely obliterated.

Only a rust-colored wasteland remained, with the lifeless automaton lying in ruins.

Its arms and tail had been severed, leaving it motionless.

The lone victor stood beneath the sky, gazing up at the floating moon.

Brushing the dust from his tattered coat, he muttered:

“…Is this truly the end?”

Above him, the starry sky crumbled.

The shattered heavens dissolved like grains of sand, vanishing into the air.

Not just the sky—buildings, land, space itself—everything was collapsing into nothingness.

“When I first arrived in Drag Machina, I had no idea how it would end… but somehow, I managed to finish it.”

The young man hadn’t belonged to this world.

He had arrived here—into the world of Drag Machina.

A renowned death game.

A harsh action RPG where the lone surviving protagonist ventures through a world where humanity and civilization have long since perished.

The protagonist’s sole objective was to end the world.

A rusted world, artificially prolonged by the remnants of humanity, had to be properly brought to its conclusion.

But that journey was brutal.

The protagonist experienced death over and over again.

Cursed with immortality, he had to die repeatedly in order to lead the world to its end.

And somehow, the young man had inherited the same role.

Like the protagonist, he fought, died, fought, died again—

Dying, fighting, dying, fighting—dying, dying, dying—

He had perished so many times that he had forgotten his own name.

Yet he had finally reached the end.

“…I wonder what happens now that the world is gone. Will I finally be able to die?”

The world crumbled, revealing a vast black void.

Nearly everything had vanished.

The encroaching collapse threatened to consume him at any moment.

Staring into the empty space left behind, he wondered what would come next.

Would he truly die, now that the world had ended?

Or would he be left alone in the void, existing endlessly in nothingness?

“If possible… I’d like to go to another world next.”

With that final whisper, the world of Drag Machina came to an end.