Chapter 1:

The Hero Who Didn’t Get to Live

I Got Isekai’d With No Magic or Skills, But My Body Is Monstrously Strong

Ren sat at his desk under the dim glow of the office lights, tapping furiously at his keyboard.

His back ached. His eyes burned. He was the only one left on the entire floor.

No overtime pay. No thanks. Just deadlines and expectations.

His manager had yelled at him again today. Something petty — a typo buried deep in a report no one would even read. He had apologized like always—head down, voice low. That’s just how things worked. That’s how they’d always worked.

He glanced at the clock.

10:52 p.m.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. What am I even doing with my life?

Born, raised, and trained like a cog in a machine. Go to school. Get good grades. Clear the entrance exams. Get a job. Work until you collapse. Then one day—die.

Was that all there was to it?

He thought about the hero shows he used to watch as a kid. How brightly those capes flew. How the crowd would cheer. How villains were always punished, and good always triumphed. Back then, he truly believed he could become someone like that.

After high school, he fell off the path. He spent years doing nothing — unemployed, unmotivated — a shut-in with no direction.

A NEET.

His old friends had moved on with their lives. University, jobs, new social circles—things he never managed to catch up to. At first, they still kept in touch. A few messages here and there. The occasional game invite or link to a funny video. But little by little, those messages slowed down… and then stopped. He didn’t blame them. What could they talk about anymore? They were chasing dreams, building futures. He was just trying to wake up in the morning without hating himself. Eventually, they drifted away like everything else in his life. Quietly. Naturally. Like it was always meant to happen.

He got sick of being left behind. So he forced himself to change. Got a job. Cleaned up. Rejoined the “real world.”
And now... he was here.
Dying a different kind of slow death.

Ren packed his things into his worn-out bag and finally left the building. The last train of the night rumbled by as he stepped onto the metro platform, blending into a crowd of lifeless salarymen just like him.

He stood quietly inside the train as it rocked gently through the tunnels. No one made a sound.

Is this really what life is about? he whispered to himself.
Chasing money, paying bills, dying quietly without anyone even noticing?

He stared at his reflection in the darkened window.
The person looking back didn’t resemble anything close to a hero.
The train rattled on in silence.

---

By the time he reached the street near his apartment, it was nearing midnight. His stomach groaned. He hadn’t eaten anything since morning—he’d skipped lunch entirely, too buried in work.

There’s a convenience store nearby... he thought.

As he neared the glowing sign, a sudden shout cut through the night air.

“Put the money in the bag! Now!”

Ren froze.

He stepped closer, carefully peeking through the glass doors of the store.

Inside, a man in a ski mask stood with a gun pointed at the cashier—a girl, barely out of her teens, hands trembling as she filled a black duffel bag with cash. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Ren’s breath caught.
His legs refused to move.

This... this isn’t something I can handle.

He wasn't a fighter. He wasn’t brave. He was just a tired office worker. A nobody.

He considered backing away, pretending he never saw anything. It’s not my problem, he told himself. Robberies happen all the time. Someone else will help. The police will arrive. I’m not a hero. That was just a stupid childhood dream.

But then—
The robber raised his voice again.

“No witnesses.”

Ren’s chest tightened.

The girl’s face went pale. Her hands rose instinctively, but the man cocked the gun and stepped closer to the counter.

Ren clenched his fists.

He could walk away.
Live another meaningless day.
Forget this ever happened.

But... could he live with that?

Could he sleep knowing he could have saved someone—and didn’t?
"Just once," he whispered. "Let me be more than nothing."

He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“P-Please... just leave the girl alone,” Ren said, raising his hands. “You got the money. Just go.”

The robber turned to him. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m no one. Just... please let her go. Take my wallet if you want, just don’t hurt her.”

The man didn’t respond. He stormed forward and punched Ren hard across the face.

Ren stumbled, crashing into a rack of instant noodles.

Blood dripped from his mouth.

But he stood up.

The second punch knocked him to his knees. One eye was already swelling shut. He wiped blood from the corner of his lip, still breathing heavily.

The robber snarled. “Stay down if you know what’s good for you!”

Ren gave a faint, bloody smile. “I’ve never been good at that.”

The man began kicking him over and over, heavy boots slamming into his ribs, his stomach.

Ren curled up instinctively, arms wrapped around his head, trying to shield himself from the onslaught.

Each kick sent fresh waves of pain through his body, and yet—he didn’t cry out.

He just endured it, trembling, breathing hard, refusing to let go of the reason he stood up in the first place.

Outside, a couple of passersby had stopped, unsure of what to do. One of them pulled out their phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing emergency services.

Inside the store, the robber glanced toward the window and cursed under his breath.

He must’ve noticed movement—maybe the glint of a phone screen, or the way someone was pointing toward the store.

His panic started to show.
He knew he didn’t have much time left.

He turned his gun back to the girl.

She whimpered, paralyzed.

The man aimed—ready to silence her.

In that moment, Ren moved.
He lunged forward, grabbing the barrel, yanking it to the side.

They struggled.
Ren was weak, battered, but he didn’t let go.

The robber shoved him back into a shelf. He hit hard.

Ren gasped, barely able to breathe.

The man turned, aimed again—

“No!”