Progue: Interrupted

People say genius like it’s a good thing, but in my case, it’s more like a curse. Nothing ever feels like it takes effort. Schoolwork? Too easy. Clubs? Too boring. Making friends? …also boring. Whenever something is simple, I can’t bring myself to care. And when I don’t care, I stop trying.

That’s why I spend my days lying around, watching anime, re-reading manga, or losing myself in video games. Anything except doing something that might actually move my life forward.

If you asked anyone around me, they’d probably call me lazy. And they wouldn’t be wrong.

But there was one thing I did put effort into... swordsmanship.

Not because I wanted to. Not because I had some grand dream of being a warrior. But because of my mom.

She was the kind of woman you’d expect to see in a battlefield, not in a laundromat. Her knuckles were harder than stone, her reflexes sharp enough to make professionals jealous, and her sparring sessions… brutal. Every time I picked up a wooden sword, I ended up flat on the floor, gasping for breath, covered in bruises.

She used to say that training was the only time she felt truly close to me. She never understood my hobbies, never cared about anime or manga or games. But when we held swords, when we clashed again and again, it felt like we were speaking a language only the two of us knew.

At the time, I thought she was just a battle maniac. I used to joke that she must’ve been born in the wrong era, that she should’ve been leading samurai into war instead of running a laundry shop. She would just laugh, then hit me harder in our next spar.

Two years ago, she passed away.
And two years ago, I still hadn’t beaten her. Not once.

Her last regret was never seeing me surpass her. That became my only regret too. Since the day she died, I haven’t missed a single day of training. It’s the one thing I take seriously.

I don’t live alone. Since I was little, I’ve been raised by Minako, my caretaker.

Minako-san is… complicated. She’s thirty-three, though if you didn’t know her, you’d swear she was in her twenties. Shoulder-length dark brown hair, a face without a single wrinkle, and eyes that could switch between soft warmth and sharp scolding in an instant. She’s the type people stare at without realizing it—the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you.

She has this “hot mom” vibe, but she’s not my mother. She’s more like… the person who keeps me alive.

At home, she dresses casually. Cardigans, jeans, soft sweaters but somehow makes it look fashionable. When she walks around the house with a laundry basket, she looks like she stepped out of some lifestyle commercial. Not that I’d ever tell her that.

To me, she’s just Minako-san. The woman who nags me about eating vegetables, the one who yells at me when I stay up too late, and the one who has threatened more than once to smash my PC with a hammer.

On the day everything changed, I was rewatching Sailor Moon for the twelfth time. Yeah, laugh if you want. Magical girls, transformations, glitter everywhere, it wasn’t exactly something I wanted people to know I liked.

The opening song was playing, and I was humming along without realizing it when Minako’s voice called from the hallway.

“Tengen? Are you in there again?”

My heart froze.

I scrambled in my chair, reaching for the mouse to close the tab. If Minako found out I was watching this, I’d never hear the end of it. But before I could grab the mouse, a faint glow spread across the floor under my chair.

At first, I thought it was the monitor reflecting weirdly. Then the glow grew brighter, sharp lines forming a circle under me. Strange symbols, unfamiliar writing, and pulsing light spread across my room like something out of an RPG cutscene.

“…What the hell?” I tried to stand, but my chair wouldn’t budge. My legs felt locked down, as if the air itself had solidified around me.

The door creaked open. Minako stepped inside, holding a basket of laundry.

Her eyes widened when she saw the glowing circle. My eyes widened for another reason. My monitor was still blasting magical girl transformation sequences in full HD.

“No! Not now!” I twisted and reached for the mouse, but it was too late.

“Tengen! What’s going on?!” Minako-san rushed forward, dropping the basket. She reached out, but before her fingers touched me, the circle flared.

Light swallowed me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in endless blue space.

No ground, no ceiling, no horizon. Just me, suspended in some kind of glowing void.

For a second, I wondered if I’d finally died from embarrassment. That actually made sense. Minako-san walked in, caught me watching Sailor Moon, my body gave out, and here I was, in the afterlife.

While I was trying to convince myself of that, a voice rang out. Clear. Mechanical.

[Amakusa Tengen. Confirming identity.]

“…Present.” I said with full confidence, raising my right hand.

[Age: fifteen. Height: one hundred seventy centimeters. Weight: sixty-two kilograms.]

The voice spoke without pause, like a machine reading data.

[Race confirmed: Human-Demon Hybrid.]

I frowned. “Wait… demon? Since when?”

[Resistances acquired: natural elements, pain, physical damage. Immunities acquired: poison, charm, dark attribute.]

[Unique Skill acquired: Plunder. Ability to steal traits, abilities, and souls from weakened or defeated enemies.]

My eyes narrowed. “Stealing souls? That’s… kind of terrifying.”

For a moment, I actually considered that I had died, and this was the system message before reincarnation. Honestly, it made more sense than anything else.

The voice continued.

[Reincarnation of Azul, the First God of the Surface. Inherited abilities: Thought Acceleration, Chant Cancel, Self-Regeneration, All of Creation, Mugengan Eyes.]

That froze me.
Azul? A god? And I was… his reincarnation?

I rubbed my forehead, trying to process. “So let me get this straight. I died because Minako-san caught me watching magical girls, and now I’m reincarnating as a god who already reincarnated once before? That’s… ridiculous.”

But the more I thought about it, the funnier it became. I couldn’t help but laugh, my voice echoing in the blue void.

And then, without warning, I was falling.

I hit cold stone hard enough to knock the breath out of me. The sound of dripping water echoed faintly. I sat up, coughing, my palms scraping against damp rock. The air was heavy, thick, like I’d landed somewhere deep underground.

A cave.

I staggered to my feet and found a shallow puddle nearby. My reflection stared back at me.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Same face. Same body.

It was still me.

I leaned closer, water rippling as I whispered:

“…What the hell is going on?”

The cave gave me no answer.

And that’s where it began.