Nazgand stared down at the churning lava, the acrid heat stinging his nostrils. A single misstep on the precarious volcanic rock bridge and it was a one-way trip to oblivion. Below, the molten rock bubbled and writhed, a hungry maw waiting to claim him. Yet, a strange calmness washed over Nazgand. He wasn't afraid. Not truly.

He was Nazgand, a being touched by two kinds of immortality, an anomaly in the grand tapestry of existence. The first, whispered on the wind by ancient stories, was the immortality of the Many Worlds. The universe, Nazgand knew, was a sprawling labyrinth of possibilities, each branching decision point creating a new reality. Die in one, and you simply woke up, unharmed, in another.

The second was the crueler, sharper edge of quantum immortality. Every quantum fluctuation, every radioactive decay, was a potential life-or-death gamble. But here too, there was a twist. Nazgand only ever experienced the realities where he survived. It was a morbid game of roulette, with existence itself as the stakes.

Today's gamble? A rare flower, the Emberbloom, said to grant longevity. It clung desperately to the precipice opposite him, bathed in the volcano's angry glow. One wrong move, and Nazgand wouldn't just lose the flower – he'd lose this life, only to wake up, singed and desperate, in another reality where he'd have to risk it all again.

But the potential reward? Years, maybe even centuries, added to his lifespan. Time. Time to explore the infinite corridors of the Many Worlds, to delve into the secrets whispered by the very fabric of reality. The Emberbloom was worth the risk.

Taking a deep breath, Nazgand inched forward. The bridge groaned under his weight, spewing plumes of sulfurous smoke. He focused on the prize, the vibrant red flower a beacon in the infernal landscape. Each step was an eternity, his heart a drum against his ribs.

Halfway across, the bridge buckled. Nazgand tumbled, a scream ripped from his throat as he plummeted towards the molten abyss.

Then, darkness.

He woke with a gasp, sprawled on cool, hard rock. Relief washed over him, sharp and sweet. He was alive. He looked up to see the Emberbloom, miraculously within reach, nestled on a volcanic ledge a hair's breadth from where he fell. A cruel twist of fate, or perhaps a reward for his audacity? He plucked the flower, a triumphant grin splitting his face.

This was the life of Nazgand, the immortal gambler. He knew death was an illusion, a doorway to another reality. Yet, the thrill of the gamble, the knowledge that every choice held the potential for infinite reward, that was what truly made him alive.

His journey continued. The Emberbloom was just the first step. There were whispers of artifacts hidden in forgotten corners of the multiverse, whispers of beings who danced with the fabric of existence itself. And Nazgand, the immortal, the gambler, would find them all. He would spend eternity unraveling the secrets of the cosmos, one life-or-death gamble at a time.