Chapter 1: The Hundredth Time Doing That Kind of Thing...
From the edge of the continent, one could gaze out across the endless blue ocean. Far in the distance, just above the horizon, a strange tower-like structure pierced the sky.
At that moment, massive shadows swept over the coastline. Looking up, one would see colossal beasts soaring through the air dragons. Each one was a natural disaster in itself.
Dragons were prideful by nature. Since the dawn of time, they had never taken sides in the wars between humans and demon lords. And no side dared to provoke them. The only beings capable of making dragons take a step back were the gods those lofty figures who once looked down on all creation.
And yet now, those very dragons, who once raged against heaven, were flying toward that bizarre tower like domesticated beasts of burden. No worse, like donkeys. Harnesses hung from their backs, carrying strange transport pods filled with rare ore excavated from mines on the far end of the continent.
What a disgrace. No, not just disgraceful this was dragon-shaming. These were catastrophe-class dragons. When enraged, even gods would hesitate. And now they were nothing more than cargo haulers?
Surely, the entire continent's races would burst out laughing. Even the gods, if any still existed, would probably be rolling on the floor laughing.
But no one laughed. No race dared to. As for the gods they were long gone. If any remained, they were corpses, maybe even recycled into materials for that tower.
Of course, that didn't mean every god had been slain. Most were simply expelled driven from this world, forced into exile from their own homeland, wandering endlessly.
"Sigh~"
No one knew which dragon let out the sigh. But as it recalled the tearful eyes of the gods being cast out of this world, it couldn't help but feel a twinge of melancholy.
Its gaze lingered on the approaching structure. Their task was merely to deliver ore. Nothing more. They weren't being exploited constantly just once every ten days or so.
Soon, the base of the structure came into view. It was built atop an island. And on that island stood a fortress the Demon Lord's Castle.
Yes, the Demon Lord's Castle. The place where the one who ruled the entire world resided. The one who had expelled the gods.
But don't assume that the demon army under the Demon Lord was free to act however it pleased. The Demon Lord played no favorites. Anyone who crossed him, anyone who annoyed him, would face harsh punishment. Ironically, this had created a delicate balance between races a temporary peace, where humans and demons coexisted.
In a strange way, this world was actually more stable than the fragmented nations of old, where every race claimed its own territory and fought for dominance.
In a flash, the dragons reached the landing site and began unloading the special ore.
"Ahhh-haaa…"
From a door off to the side of a building, a man stepped out, yawning lazily.
His hair was darker than the night, long and unkempt, flowing past his shoulders. His eyes were the color of fresh blood, and a mysterious sigil was etched near his right eye its color the same crimson hue, like a seal carved from blood itself.
Twin black horns rose from his head. One of them was broken, rumored to have been snapped during a battle with a god. That god, they said, was tortured with unspeakable cruelty its screams echoed across the world, striking fear into the hearts of all who heard.
He wore a robe that fused the aesthetic of a black mage and a knight, with a long, jet-black cape trailing behind him.
He was the master of the island. The ruler of the world. The one who had driven the gods into exile.
The Demon Lord. No the Demon God.
His face was pale, as if he suffered from chronic sleep deprivation. He looked like he might drop dead at any moment, frail enough that even a dragon's breath could scatter him like smoke.
But beneath that fragile exterior lay unimaginable power. With a flick of his wrist, he could erase the entire island an island as large as a mid-sized human kingdom.
As soon as he appeared, the dragons held their breath. None dared make a sound. One misstep could cost them not just their lives, but their bodies and souls fodder for terrible experiments.
Thud. Thud. Thud...
His footsteps echoed across the floor, slow and unhurried. But each step felt like a drumbeat pounding against the dragons' hearts heavy, suffocating.
He approached the nearest dragon. Its once-proud head was lowered so far, it nearly scraped the ground. Cold sweat formed on its scaled brow.
With a flick of his hand, a chunk of ore floated into the Demon Lord's palm. His dark, infernal flames consumed it. In the blink of an eye, the solid mass was reduced to a crystal no larger than a grain of rice.
The dragon trembled.
This ore was nearly as hard as dragon-scale. To burn it to nothing in an instant... burning a dragon would be just as easy.
Then, with a snap of his fingers, the Demon Lord made the dragon flinch. It squeezed its eyes shut.
But nothing happened.
Peeking out, it saw the Demon Lord already walking away.
The dragon let out a shaky breath of relief. But then something felt wrong. Out of the corner of its eye, it realized…
Its companions were gone. Along with the ore.
"L-Lord Demon King!"
It forced itself to speak, summoning every ounce of courage. It even tried to glare in defiance.
"Hm?"
The Demon Lord stopped and turned. His eyes were utterly emotionless. Cold. As if he were peering into a dying world.
That gaze made the dragon's scales crawl.
"May I ask… what crime my companions committed?"
Its voice trembled. But it held on. If there was no reason, then even if it meant going down like a fool, it would bare its fangs.
"Eh? Oh my bad, my bad. Didn't notice. Accidentally packed them up too."
The Demon Lord scratched his head, looking oddly apologetic. He snapped his fingers again, and the missing dragons reappeared. The ore, however, did not.
"Oh, right. From today onward, don't bother me for the next hundred years. Also, pass this along keep this world in order. If I see it descend into chaos, I'll be… very upset."
His voice was oddly friendly.
But to the dragons, that friendliness felt like a death sentence, especially when his face showed no hint of emotion.
"Understood!"
One by one, they bowed their heads and retreated. Then, with quick flaps of their wings, they soared away from the island.
"Hehehe…"
Once the dragons vanished into the distance, the Demon Lord stepped beneath the strange tower and let out a soft, almost deranged laugh. His overwhelming magic began to surge.
Boom…
Above the island, clouds formed from nothing. The sky darkened. Thunder cracked across the heavens. It was a spontaneous storm triggered by his leaking mana.
"This makes one hundred, doesn't it?"
His face twisted as he muttered to himself.
"No way I'm giving up."
His true name was Yoru Moonshadow.
Originally, he'd been a first-year high school student. Summoned suddenly to another world, he wasn't made a hero. Instead, he was reborn as a demon. A completely ordinary, low-ranking demon.
Though he was a fan of isekai light novels and often fantasized about being summoned, the reality was soul-crushing.
No games. No manga. No anime. No novels. Nothing remotely two-dimensional. It was agony. Life without those things was worse than death.
So, he kept a low profile. Slowly, carefully, he climbed the ranks. Eventually, he became the Demon Lord. He repelled the invading heroes, defeated the gods, and claimed the world.
Then he began searching for a way home. After extensive research and countless ritual experiments, he succeeded in escaping.
Only to land in another isekai.
Expected. Yet still frustrating.
And strangely enough, the same story played out again. Once more, he became the Demon Lord.
Eventually, he realized: he had been cursed. By the god of the first world. Branded with the mark of the Demon King. He could no longer reincarnate as human.
That curse also ensured he was always alone. No family. No ties. No obligations. Most non-human races didn't care much for familial bonds anyway. It made things easier.
Over time, the curse morphed, causing darkness and evil itself to cling to him. As if it were simply who he was.
No matter the world, he was always born on the side of darkness.
This was his hundredth world.
Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't gone insane. Probably because of his otaku personality. Maybe it was his obsession that kept him grounded. That stubborn refusal to stop.
Wait. Was this the hundred-and-first?
His memories were fuzzy. Did he reincarnate even before his first isekai? Was there a time when he entered a 2D world?
Was that real? Or just confusion?
It didn't matter. He didn't want to think about it. He had to focus on the present.
Now then… what volume was Love Metronome at?
Was it finished?
Wait, what was the plot again?
And what about the Chrono Realms Chronicle RPG series? How many installments were there? What about the anime...?
Ah, would he be expelled from school?
What was his school called again?
Something-Chiba Sobu High?
There was a violent female teacher who acted like a middle-aged man... what was her name again?
No. Stay focused. This world hop was dangerous. If he died, it would all end.
And then there'd be no going home.