Overlord : Sword of Nazarick

Chapter 1: A Strange End

The room was dimly lit, a faint glow from the computer screen casting long shadows across the scattered manga volumes piled haphazardly on the desk. The sound of raindrops tapping lightly against the windowpane echoed through the quiet apartment. Jason, an avid gamer and manga enthusiast, was lost in the pages of the latest Overlord volume, his eyes tracing the lines of the panels with a focused intensity. His left hand clutched a half-eaten piece of bread, now slightly stale from neglect, while his right hand turned the pages with a practiced flick.

The world of Overlord had captivated him for years—the complexity of its characters, the dark allure of Ainz Ooal Gown's rise to power, and the intricate world-building that Yggdrasil provided. For Jason, it was an escape from the mundane realities of his life. Another bite of bread, another page, and he was completely absorbed in the machinations of Nazarick.

Without warning, his grip on the bread slackened. The piece tumbled from his hand in slow motion, as if time itself decided to stretch the moment out, making it last just a second longer. It hit the desk with a dull thud, sending ripples through the clutter that surrounded him. A stack of manga volumes teetered precariously on the edge of the desk, as though contemplating whether to fall. They finally decided to tip over, the weight of a particularly thick volume on the top pushing the others down like dominoes.

"Shit," Jason muttered, reaching out reflexively to stop the collapse.

But as he did so, something strange happened.

The ceiling fan above him, which had been creaking softly for weeks, let out an ominous groan. A bolt, barely hanging on by a thread of metal, snapped loose. The fan began to wobble violently, spinning off-balance, its rusted blades rattling louder and louder. Jason looked up, his eyes widening in realization.

"Wait, what the—"

Before he could finish the thought, the fan broke free from the ceiling with a deafening crash. Jason barely had time to register what was happening as the metal blades came hurtling toward him. His body tensed, but there was no time to move. The fan slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer, knocking him out of his chair and sending him crashing to the floor.

His last conscious thought, as the world faded to black, was an absurd one.

"Is this really how I go? Death by ceiling fan?"