Blanket Kick Reserved

America has fifty states. They split that massive landmass into fifty chunks, dividing it up piece by piece. And there was a man—self-proclaimed—who guarded all those enormous territories single-handedly. Self-proclaimed world's strongest guy. Self-proclaimed pioneer of awakeners worldwide.

"Hey, let's not make this tiring for both of us. Come quietly, and I'll guarantee your life."

"Bullshit!! Everyone knows what happens once you're branded a villain!!"

Prometheus. He was currently tracking an endlessly fleeing villain across a wasteland, taking it easy now that the villain seemed to be running out of steam.

"I... I didn't kill him on purpose, damn it. It was an accident!!!"

The villain wailed in injustice, his eyes glistening as if tears would spill any second.

His crime wasn't anything grand. With a bit of luck, it might've even earned him praise for a good deed. It was just a small mishap from coincidences piling up.

He'd used his skill to rush in and save a grandfather about to be crushed by a collapsing pillar from shoddy construction. He succeeded in saving the old man. But what he overlooked was the grandfather's frail condition. The speed snapped the man's neck clean, killing him on the spot.

"...Yeah. I know. I get it. That's why you should just come along quietly."

Prometheus, aware of the facts, was trying to coax the villain. Even though he'd been labeled a villain now, he was originally a B-rank awakener. Decent reputation around him too. Prometheus was probably being genuine in his persuasion.

Maybe.

"I... I don't wanna die... I've got a wife and daughter at home. I can't lose everything over one stupid mistake!!"

"..."

But the villain's mental state was shot. Guilt over killing someone, even if accidental. All the backlash from being branded a villain. The pressure of Prometheus chasing him down. The three combined, leaving him incapable of rational thought.

"...Tch."

Prometheus was starting to get frustrated. Still, he suppressed his emotions and kept coaxing.

"...Cut the crap and come here. I said I won't kill you. Can't trust Lord Prometheus?"

"..."

His persistent coaxing worked—the villain gradually calmed, raising both hands in surrender.

Seeing the signal, a smile crept onto Prometheus's face as he slowly approached the surrendering villain.

"Good call, buddy. Time to go home, right?"

"...Sob... sob..."

Tears streamed down the villain's face. Relief at not having to run anymore? Or despair that it was finally over? Prometheus watched, grinning.

Why the grin? Because the villain gave up and confessed peacefully? Justice prevailed, and the poor guy gets a fresh start?

As if.

"...Tch."

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"Disgusting villain scum bawling like that..."

He's a psychopath. Loves killing but hates the legal consequences.

"Once a villain, always a villain. Filthy pest. Heh heh heh..."

The villain, who'd just been weeping over his family moments ago, was now chunks of meat.

No one would ever know what emotion he felt in his final moments as he fled.

Forever.

"...Huh. Picked up. Why."

Basking in the thrill of crushing a man, Prometheus frowned slightly at the sudden ringtone.

"I'm heading back now. Yeah, caught him. He went berserk at the end, so I had to kill him."

He spat the casual lie and turned to return to base.

"Got something to say? What. Korea stuff? Told you I'm not interested unless it's America. What he'd hear back at HQ—Prometheus couldn't have imagined it then."

"Whoa, am I really this bad?"

The censored curse slipped out anyway. Am. Dark Mushroom Saga chat, dying to the boss's visible attacks for the umpteenth time.

"No, no!! Right side!! Roll right!! Damn it, seriously!!! Aaaahhh!!!!"

The boss's attack creeps in slow motion. Even marks the safe zone green on the right. Spoon-feeds you to roll right, not left—but this idiot judgment keeps rolling left into death.

Worse, it's a team raid, and dying solo like this racks up the party death count all on me. Total troll territory.

"Ah, died again..."

Ironic. Everyone else in the party unscathed, but my endless deaths max out the count, wiping the whole raid.

"...Uh..."

Staring at the massive failure message, I had nothing to say. Just a noob troll. Didn't even curse, just tried hard... an innocent troll.

If the game only had saints who'd overlook that, it'd be paradise.

---

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Dark Mushroom Saga, celebrating 35 years this year. A veteran game like that doesn't tolerate noobs—decent folks don't play it.

"Can't a girl mess up? Yelling like that and kicking me?? Total jerks..."

Logically, I get it. Past-life me would've booted a troll like this too. But that vicious roast before the kick? Overkill.

"So unfair. Everyone sucks sometimes."

I fumed, quitting the game. Skills in the gutter, daily abuse—might as well trash my temper too at this rate.

No need to keep playing what I did in my past life.

Past accounts and characters gone anyway. Maybe I'd clung to it as a last memento of my pre-reincarnation life. Something like that.

Even that's worn out now. Can't enjoy it with constant flaming, and sucking means losing rank anyway.

"Sigh... what now."

Quit, and exhaustion hit—flopped straight onto the floor.

Rustle—expensive clothes wrinkling, but whatever. Money's meaningless now.

Recently bought department store outfits—half burned by that fireball psycho. Saved some but forgot to grab on return, left by the roadside as flames raged. No recovery window.

Next day, stocked the closet with similar recs from another store.

Magic washer handles laundry, refills closet when dry. God-provided furniture magic.

"...Bored."

No chores—just play, eat, sleep loop. Love lounging, but daily repetition's soul-crushing now.

Since becoming a girl, these dull hours crawl unbearably slow. As a guy pre-reincarnation, time flew zoning out.

Weird emotional sensitivity—womanly curse?

Boredom nagging, grabbed phone for Mitube.

"...What the hell?"

Right after that roast-fest, algorithm shoves pro gaming guides. Trash algo.

Delete Dark Mushroom Saga later.

Irritably scrolling, spotted one.

"...Huh?"

Department store terror—that day I handled the fire guy, right?

"..."

Unconsciously clicked and watched. Partly reflecting, but mostly craving reactions and comments.

Mid-video, a shocking line jolted my limp body upright.

...Huh. God's proxy...?

Hands shaking, sweat pouring.

"D-did I... really say that...?"

Not that I didn't think it. Got powers direct from God? Scout-recruited to Earth? Deep down, felt like God's one true apostle. Proxy. Secretly proud.

What the hell did I say...!

Glance in mirror now? Probably not human—some red emergency button.

Covered face with hands. No one's around, no one knows this me. My unbreakable home—but had to hide.

Or I'd crumble.

Objectively: Took down dangerous villain instantly, healed injured, vanished mysterious woman. Mature, pretty, beautiful looks. Self-proclaimed God's proxy? Believable vibe and feats.

Definitely. Has to be.

Wanna die for real.

Phone blared on cluelessly.

"Shut up, please... shutupshutupshutupshutup...!"

How to go outside now? Face burning red, steaming like a kettle, face flushing harder.

.

Of course, no one would recognize Lea out and about. Transformed and base forms total opposites.

...Problem is, current Lea has no way to realize that.