A few days later—
[Current World: Final Destination 1]
[Plot Divergence: 32%]
[Purgators: 10]
[Mode: Survival (Killing another purgator grants you half of their reward points)]
[Plot Identity: Ordinary Civilian (Target of Death)]
[Primary Objective: Survive for one week – 5,500 reward points]
[Secondary Objective: Eliminate Death – 50,000 reward points]
__
Standing atop a high-rise, Orsaga scanned the mission briefing and murmured to himself:
"Huh, just a single secondary objective this time?"
After reading through the task details, he remained on the rooftop for a while, casually surveying the area below.
The building had at least a few decades of history. The streets below were part of a bustling pedestrian zone, and most of the passersby looked... a little on the heavy side.
On a digital billboard, the word New York flickered by.
'New York. Final Destination. Another world with a plot I know nothing about'
[Apparition]
In the blink of an eye, Orsaga vanished from the rooftop and reappeared in an alley below.
Ever since leaving the Harry Potter world, all his spells had undergone various adjustments to accommodate the differing rule systems of each realm—courtesy of the Matrix Purgatory's universal balancing mechanism.
Take Apparition, for instance.
It now required more energy and had a much shorter range than before.
The rest of his spells had similarly been nerfed.
It was like the difference between in-game skill descriptions and cinematic trailers—what you saw was not what you got.
Everything had become more formulaic, rigid, and… severely downgraded.
To Orsaga, this was a crude solution to multiverse compatibility issues.
Outside of beings like Abyssal demons—who could naturally traverse planes—most species had to undergo substantial adjustments before entering other worlds.
The Matrix Purgatory simplified this process:
It limited your power output and altered spell mechanics to match the local rules.
Basically, if the door's too short to walk through, the system just saws your legs down.
A crude fix, in Orsaga's opinion.
Abyssal demons, by contrast, had a more direct approach:
If the door was too short, tear down the wall. If the wall wouldn't come down, demolish the whole damn house.
Problem solved.
Of course, that wasn't an option here.
Being bound by the Matrix Purgatory's mechanics, Orsaga couldn't be bothered to make a fuss. He'd just deal with it for now.
---
After stepping out of the alley, Orsaga casually used a low-tier hypnosis spell to borrow some cash from a few generous pedestrians, then started wandering the streets.
Ten minutes later—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion split the sky.
Startled cries erupted from the crowd.
Orsaga looked up and saw a commercial airliner erupting into a fireball mid-air.
He was about to look away—until he noticed something.
A chunk of debris was tumbling toward him—maybe the size of a fist.
At that altitude, even something that small could easily smash a normal human's skull wide open.
With a slight shift of his foot, Orsaga stepped calmly one meter to the side, positioning himself closer to the inner edge of the sidewalk.
The debris slammed into the pavement seconds later, bounced once—then got run over by a passing car.
BANG!
A loud pop echoed as the tire blew out.
The driver lost control, the car swerving wildly across the street.
Panicking, she tried to slam the brakes—but her high heels slipped, missing the pedal entirely.
The vehicle didn't slow down at all. Instead, it continued careening straight toward the sidewalk.
Directly toward Orsaga.
He reacted with a light tap of his toes, sliding sideways a meter or two. The car sped past him, missing by inches.
CRASH!
The car plowed straight into a storefront.
Screams rang out from inside.
Several customers were seriously injured.
Bystanders rushed over in an attempt to help.
Orsaga, expression unreadable, glanced at the scene for a second—then turned and walked away.
He had more important things to do—like finding a place to stay.
---
As for the other purgators?
Some didn't fare so well during that first wave of "accidents."
One was hit by a derailed subway.
Another electrocuted by a downed power line.
A third was stabbed during a random robbery.
The methods of attack varied wildly, but they all had one thing in common:
They were unexpected.
Death gave no warning, no time to react.
One purgator, nursing a bruised arm after narrowly escaping disaster, sighed in defeat:
"A no-win mission world…"
He knew things weren't looking good.
He'd heard about the Final Destination worlds before—rumors whispered within the Matrix Purgatory.
This place was notoriously lethal, especially for lower- and mid-tier purgators.
Only a rare few managed to survive.
And these early disasters?
They were just appetizers.
As the mission progressed, Death itself would begin manipulating events more directly—slowly drawing purgators into the public eye, exposing them to the wider human population.
Then, using media, false charges, and fabricated stories, it would turn society against them.
Before long, purgators would be facing a dual threat:
Death + Humanity.
Indirect attacks, direct violence—24/7.
Even if a purgator had the patience of a saint, biting their tongue and refusing to retaliate, eventually they'd be arrested.
And when that happened, Death would make sure they got handed over to some ultra-extremist agency or private group.
Eventually, you'd be tied to a table, staring up at scalpels and syringes wielded by terrified humans looking to dissect you for answers.
No matter how peaceful you tried to be—eventually, you'd be forced to fight back.
The cycle of persecution and bloodshed was inevitable.
Thinking about that grim future, the wounded purgator couldn't help but wince in dread.
The situation was... dire.
But after some deep thought, he finally came up with a "non-solution" of sorts.
Avoid contact with absolutely everything.
He dove into a nearby lake and swam to the bottom.
Then, using a digging tool, he began to excavate a pit nearly twenty meters deep into the lakebed.
After creating a sizeable crater, he took out a hibernation pod and a scroll.
Once inside the pod, he activated the scroll.
[Soil Hardening]
The soft lakebed sand around him began to transform into compacted, concrete-like blocks.
Within moments, the hibernation chamber was buried and sealed.
So completely, in fact, that even with an industrial excavator, it would take hours to dig it out.
An extreme solution—but maybe… just maybe, it would work.
_____
T/N:
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