I don't know how I ended up in this world.
One moment I was walking home, thinking about what leftovers I had in the fridge. The next?
Bam.
Truck. Full speed. No brakes. Straight into me.
Yeah. That happened.
So, you know that old meme about "Truck-kun"? Turns out he's real. And he's got perfect aim. Death by traffic suddenly stopped being funny when I was the one flying ten feet in the air.
But even that wasn't the weirdest part.
I didn't wake up in a hospital.
I didn't even wake up in a coffin.
I woke up in some random-ass apartment I'd never seen before. New furniture. New view. A whole damn world I didn't recognize.
And then—because why not?—a glowing blue window popped up in front of my face.
Like a real status screen. Straight out of a video game.
At first, I laughed. I thought I was dreaming, hallucinating, maybe on meds from the accident.
Then I saw the name field.
It wasn't blank.
It just... wasn't mine.
Worse? I couldn't even remember what my real name was supposed to be but I'm sure it wasn't Japanese.
Nothing.
Just empty static in my brain where my identity used to be.
Cue the existential crisis. Full meltdown. I'm talking about one full week of lying on the floor, screaming into a pillow, barely eating, and wondering if I'd actually died or just gone completely insane.
What pulled me out of it?
Not therapy. Not sudden inner strength. Not some anime protagonist power of friendship.
No.
Aeons.
Yeah, I didn't know what the hell they were either.
Still don't, honestly.
All I know is they're some kind of divine beings. Entities? Spirits? Glitched-out cosmic gods? Take your pick. They'd randomly dropping strange advice and sometimes actual items into my inventory through the system.
Skills. Coins. A pat on the back. The occasional "Keep going, mortal" like I was in some interdimensional training arc.
It was weird.
Still is.
But... I'm not dead.
And I'm not alone.
So I guess that counts for something.
Still, I needed answers. A lot of them.
So I did what any sane, rational, totally stable person would do after surviving truck-based reincarnation and an identity crisis:
I opened the app.
Yeah. That floating blue screen wasn't just for show.
Anyway, here's what I saw:
————————
Name: Izugen Kamigami
Age: 17
Supporting Aeon:
Personal Attributes: [Being from Another World](Unknown); [Prodigy](Unique); [Fighter](Rare); [Poet](Uncommon)
Personal Skills: [MMA LV.5][Boxing LV.5][Karate LV.6][Krav-maga LV.5][Incite LV.2]
Overall Stats: [Constitution LV.2][Strength LV.2][Agility LV.3][Magic Power LV.1]
————————
…
Cool.
Awesome.
Fantastic.
Except—small problem—I don't remember training in any of that.
MMA?
Boxing?
Karate?!
Krav-maga?!!
Who the hell was this guy? A high schooler or a Street Fighter DLC character?
The only attribute that felt even remotely familiar was [Being from Another World], because, well… yeah. No arguing with that one. And [Poet]?
Okay, sure. I wrote edgy lyrics in middle school once. Maybe the gods were feeling generous.
Anyway, after getting over the whole "I'm apparently a martial arts prodigy and a secret poet" thing, I decided to dig deeper into the system.
Where was I? Who did this body belong to?
Turns out I'm in Japan. Chiba, to be exact. The city name sounded familiar, but I couldn't tell if that was from the body's memories or because I watched too much anime.
The system also let me read and understand Japanese perfectly. Whether that was a divine gift or just a fancy localization patch, I had no idea. But I wasn't complaining.
I was on summer break, apparently. One month left before I started my third year at Sobu High School, which was supposed to be some elite, prestigious place full of nerds and anxiety. The name also rang a bell… but again, the original owner attends to this school so it's normal.
After I stopped spiraling for the second time that week, reality kicked in.
Hard.
The fridge was empty.
No food. No ramen. Not even a half-rotten apple in the corner.
Just a cold, echoing void.
Which meant I had to do something terrifying.
Something brutal. Dangerous. Life-threatening.
Grocery shopping.
I checked the drawers and cabinets for cash. All in all, I found ¥50,000 in neat bundles. That's about $345, according to the search I did on the dusty smartphone that came with the apartment.
The phone unlocked on the first try.
Password? 1234.
Really, dude?
That's like the password equivalent of leaving your door wide open with a "Come Rob Me" sign.
There was also a debit card, but I had no idea how much was on it. Could be a fortune. Could be 5 yen and a curse.
So, to play it safe, I stuffed ¥8,000 in my pocket—enough to grab the basics, I figured.
I took a breath, grabbed the keys, and walked up to the door.
Time for my first quest in this brave new world.
Objective:
Buy groceries without dying or panicking
Should be easy.
Right?
Yeah… no.
First problem:
Everyone was staring at me.
And not the casual, "Oh, hey, there's a guy walking by" kind of stare.
I mean the full-on "Who the hell is that Greek statue pretending to be human?" kind.
Whispers followed wherever I went.
"Whoa, look at his face…"
"He's so handsome…"
"Is he a model or something?"
Okay, not gonna lie—that part wasn't bad.
I could've lived with that. Maybe even gotten used to it.
But then—things changed.
The moment I actually walked past someone, their expressions flipped.
Admiration turned to horror.
People winced. Stepped back.
Plugged their noses.
One guy even gagged.
And that's when it hit me.
Right.
I hadn't changed clothes all week.
Sure, I showered before leaving. I wasn't a complete animal.
But clean body + week-old shirt + sweat from existential panic = death by odor.
I stood there, frozen, as a mom dragged her kid away from me like I was some kind of gas leak.
Mission failed.
Abort. Retreat. Back to base.
I spun on my heels so fast that the guy behind me jumped and dropped his drink.
Then I ran. Hard.
Sprinted back toward the apartment with only one thought on my mind:
Clean clothes.
But halfway through my Olympic-speed escape, I realized something else.
This body?
Holy crap. This guy was BUILT.
I was sprinting like a pro athlete. Full speed. Perfect form. No wobbling. No side cramps.
No exhaustion. Not even heavy breathing.
And the crazy part?
I wasn't even trying.
I didn't even feel like I was pushing myself. My legs just moved, smooth and powerful, like they were made for this. It felt natural.
Too natural.
There was no way this was some regular high school body.
Either I possessed the protagonist of a shonen anime…
…or this guy was secretly a background character from Street Fighter.
Because normal seventeen-year-olds don't move like this.
And if this was what my Level 3 Agility did…
I couldn't wait to see what Level 4 felt like.
But first—deodorant.
Then maybe… world domination.
But first—deodorant.
Then maybe… world domination.
Wait. No. No, no, no.
What the hell am I thinking?
One bullet to the head and I'm done. Game over. Respawn not available.
Let's keep the power fantasies on low for now.
I took a deep breath, grounding myself in reality.
...and then immediately winced. Okay, maybe not too deep.
Step one: get changed.
I rummaged through the drawers in the bedroom until I found something usable.
White t-shirt. Blue shorts. Clean. Simple. Presentable.
No visible bloodstains or mysterious spirit goo. I'll take it.
As I pulled the shirt over my head, something suddenly clicked in my brain.
Hold on.
I hadn't looked in a mirror since I got here.
And based on the stares I'd gotten earlier…
I must look damn good.
With a weird mix of curiosity and dread, I made my way to the bathroom.
The moment I stepped in, I paused in front of the mirror.
And what I saw made my jaw drop.
Holy sh—
Standing there wasn't me.
It was someone who belonged on a billboard, in a perfume commercial, or walking down a Milan runway with glitter falling from the sky.
Jet-black hair, soft but wild—like he just woke up perfect.
Eyes: deep, dark blue. So blue it made the ocean look like a kiddie pool.
Skin: flawless. Not even a single blemish. Not one.
His face had that rare harmony—Asian structure, but with a touch of European sharpness.
It was unfair. Absurd.
And yeah, that someone… was apparently me.
I looked down.
Still me.
Svelte build. Smooth, but toned muscle definition. Like I'd been carved by an artist who really knew their anatomy.
Not bulky. Not stocky. Just… finely tuned.
A fighter's body wrapped in a dancer's grace.
No wonder people were staring.
I stood there, just staring at myself for what felt like several minutes.
A full-on narcissist moment. Zero shame.
And then—just as I finally turned to leave—
[The Valley Goddess is happy to see you clean]
[The Valley Goddess has sponsored you: +50 Coins]
…
Wait. What?
Ah. Right.
The Aeons.
They'd tossed me a few coins back when I was curled up on the floor, weeping over my lost identity.
Not much. Maybe 10 coins each, tops. Just enough to say "Hang in there, champ."
But apparently, to them?
Existential breakdown: 10 coins.
Taking a shower: 50 coins.
Amazing.
Was my stench so powerful that it transcended worlds?
Did I offend the divine with my odor?
That… actually sounded kind of badass.
Still. Free coins were free coins.
I opened the system tab, just to double-check the list of the Aeon who sponsored me.
There they were:
[The Warlock of Sins]
[Genuine Archer of Destiny]
[Valley Goddess]
[Queen Administrator]
[Dawn King of Black Blood]
[Nuclear Crimson Demon]
[Red Dragon God of Domination]
A delightful mix of edgy, dramatic, and vaguely terrifying.
They mostly sent me messages or tossed coins my way depending on what I did.
I'd figured out by now that I could use those coins to upgrade skills or boost stats.
Still not sure why they're watching me like some kind of reality show protagonist, but hey—better divine stalkers than normal one.
Alright.
Round two.
Time to take my revenge.