I'm Overpowered, But I'm Not the Protagonist?

Blood dripped on the ground, wholly diluted by the rain… a dead body laid on a pole; a soul in search of salvation… but whence shall salvation come? *** {Understood: the conditions have been met. Acquiring the Divine Skill to evade death... Processing…} {Failed. Acquiring the Divine Skill to evade death by sacrificing Extra Skills... Processing…} {Failed. Acquiring the Divine Skill to evade death by sacrificing Extra Skills and ordinary skills... Processing…...} {Unsuccessful… Formulating a more effective approach…} {Done: Acquiring the Divine Skill to evade death by sacrificing Extra Skills and Ordinary skills and the very aptitude to possess skills at all, besides the Divine Skill [Coach]... Processing…} {…Ninety-eight percent complete... Additional cost is required.} {Established: After revival, the Hero Candidate will supply a portion of their life force...} {Accomplished! The Divine Skill [Hel's Favor] has been acquired.} {Now... Ryū Jin... do you want to live again?} "...No shit..." *** It is a given, an inevitability whose truth peaks above every value, every belief, and every moral principle. That inevitability is known as “hierarchy.” The pecking order. The pyramid. No matter what path you take in life or what effort you pour into changing it, you will always find yourself stuck within one tier of that structure… Whether it is the low standing, the middle standing, or the high standing. Ryū Jin was a man who stood on the edges of the lowest standing, hovering on the borders of whatever level existed beneath even that. In the societal hierarchy, he was not just low; he was practically buried beneath the soil. *** In a dimly lit alley, a group of suspicious figures had gathered for equally suspicious deeds. "Hey, punk! We don’t have all day!" barked a young man dressed in a hooded sweater, the hood drawn over a cap that shadowed his face. "Quit acting like such a coward and bring out the dough already!" added another, his hands buried in his pockets, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. There were about ten of them in total, each one rough-looking and exuding a dangerous air. They surrounded a lone figure whose hood was pulled tight, concealing his face. The person’s fists were clenched at his sides, but not a single word left his mouth. "Tch, damn it!" one of the thugs snapped, "Maybe we should take out one of his legs first, then he’ll cough up something!" "Relax, Stripes," the one who clearly looked like the boss interrupted. His shirt was neatly tucked into brown chinos, an obvious attempt at authority amidst his ragged crew. Raising a hand to quiet the others, he smirked. "That kind of extortion ended ages ago, you know. Watch and learn how it’s done these days." He stepped forward, his pace deliberate, and rested a hand on the shoulder of the hooded prey. His voice carried a tone of exaggerated concern. "You don’t want other gangs coming around to hassle you like this, do you?" The hooded figure remained silent. Unfazed, the boss pressed on. "We’re offering you protection from all those hungry bastards out there. Don’t you think it’s only fair that you compensate us for such generosity?" Laughter erupted among the other thugs, their jeers filling the alley as they understood the angle their leader was playing at. After a long, heavy pause, the hooded figure slowly reached into his pocket. His voice trembled as he finally spoke. "I... I needed this money for my sister’s medicine... P-please, don’t—" Before he could finish, a short thug in baggy jeans darted forward and snatched the cash from his hand, tossing it over to the boss without a shred of hesitation. "Now isn’t that a beautiful transaction?" the boss chuckled as he began counting through the notes. "Don’t worry about your sister; we’ll protect her too, as a little bonus. Now... run along." Having stripped him of what they wanted, they immediately sent him away with a wave, his worth reduced even further in their eyes. The hooded figure stood still for a few moments, glaring at them through the shadows of his covering. The boss tilted his head scornfully. "What? You’re still here? Go on, get out of my sight!" The other thugs began to shift, eager for violence, and the hooded figure finally relented, turning sharply on his heels and bolting from the alley. He sprinted down the empty night streets, his breath unstable, until he eventually slowed. Then a sigh of relief escaped him. "...Thank goodness they didn’t check me out..." Sliding his hand into his trouser pocket, he carefully pulled out a small item wrapped tightly in black cloth. "But I almost let its cover slip... I’ll have to be more careful. After all, it’s not like I can actually fight them and win." Pushing his hood back, he revealed short black hair and a pair of piercing, deep red eyes. His gaze shifted, landing on a building a short distance away… An apartment, faintly illuminated against the quiet of the night. "Now I just hope there are no hoodlums waiting around there too," he muttered and walked toward the apartment. *** This guy was the underdog of Tobiya Street in Koito, a small prefecture in the nation of Napps. People mostly just called him Hooded Creep, but his real name was Ryū Jin. There is nothing special about him. Not yet at least. Because he was on his way to get hit (literally) with the biggest revelation of his life and basically become someone else. Still, he was the kind of silence that drifts in the dark, overshadowed by the main players but nonetheless rolling around and watching from a distance that was supposed to be safe but absolutely not safe at all. Anyway, this is his story: The story of the protagonist who is not the protagonist of his universe. *** I climbed the stairs with my eyes on full alert. You know, my bad luck tends to drag me into all kinds of trouble with street kids and gangsters, so I always have to be sharp. That little edge is what let me make it up to the second floor without anyone noticing, and I was about to open my door and slip inside like some spilled blood. As far as I was concerned, nothing could get past my senses. I was just like a hawk in the— "Brat!" Ah, my landlord. I did not see him standing there.