Chương 6: Chap 6- Goddess Check In
Darkness.
Sweet, uninterrupted darkness.
The kind that feels like the universe is finally respecting your right to sleep.
No alarms, no AI enforcers, no flaming debug hammers. Just... peace.
Naturally, that meant something was about to go horribly wrong.
I opened my eyes slowly — not because I was curious, but because my eyelids decided to cooperate for once.
What greeted me wasn't reality. Definitely not.
Reality didn't have floating jellyfish chairs, lo-fi beats echoing from invisible speakers, or an endless white void decorated with neon "Welcome!" signs written in cursive sparkles.
Was I dead? Dreaming? In a really tacky VR spa?
The floor beneath me felt like a cloud made of memory foam. I sat up, yawned, and took stock.
No pain. No system alerts. No dev avatars screaming about reboots.
Just... weird calm.
A giant sign popped up in front of me:
[Welcome to the Goddess Check-In Lounge™]
"Where existential dread meets celestial customer service."
I blinked.
"Oh great. Heaven outsourced."
A soft chime rang out, followed by a robotic voice. "Please remain seated.
The Goddess will be with you shortly."
I looked around.
Beanbag thrones floated lazily through the air like they had a calling.
A coffee machine was brewing something suspiciously labeled "Ambrosia for Underachievers."
A timer appeared above my head, reading:
Estimated Wait Time: 3,281 Years
"(or 6 dream seconds, whichever ends first)"
I flopped backward into one of the beanbags, arms behind my head.
"Well, at least the afterlife has a chill playlist."
As the lo-fi kicked up a notch and a glowing cat drifted past me wearing sunglasses,
I muttered:
"If this is a dream, my subconscious has questionable taste... but solid aesthetics."
I was about to doze off again — yes, a nap inside a dream inside a nap, the Inception of epitome laziness — when the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
The temperature dropped, the beanbags stopped floating, and even the lo-fi glitched like a scratched record.
Which could only mean one thing.
She had arrived.
The glowing floor rippled like someone had dropped a divine pebble in a celestial puddle.
Lights dimmed, sparkles sharpened, and the lo-fi beat warped into this ethereal synthwave track that somehow made me feel like I was both vibing and being judged.
Then she arrived.
Not with fire, not with fury, but with the energy of someone who'd clearly clocked out three universes ago and got dragged back by upper management.
The Goddess.
Floating three feet above the ground, barefoot, halo flickering like a Wi-Fi signal, she looked exactly like the type of entity who'd smite a planet, then complain about paperwork.
Cloak of stars and eyes like black holes sprinkled with cosmic glitter,the Mood? Mildly annoyed with a hint of cosmic curiosity.
"Well, well, well…" she said, voice layered with sarcasm and static. "The system-breaker himself.
The accidental anomaly,the bug that refuses to debug."
I slowly raised a hand in lazy salute. "Hey. Big fan of your—uh—ambience and Nice beanbags by the way"
She blinked. "You fell asleep during a combat flag."
"Power nap," I replied. "Strategic. You wouldn't get it."
She summoned a glowing scroll midair. It unrolled with a dramatic ping, revealing every stupid thing I'd done since entering this world.
- Defeated: AI Enforcer(Method: Full-body flop)
- Skill Unlocked: Catastrophic Couching
- Title Gained: Hero of Minimal Effort
- Known Status: Probable Threat to System Stability
The scroll sparked at the end like it couldn't handle the absurdity anymore.
She just looked at me.
"I've watched Chosen Ones slay dragons, conquer realms, and rewrite prophecies," she said flatly.
"And then there's you who leveled up by sitting still and ignoring conflict."
"Hey, I dodged a plasma blade by napping."
She actually snorted. "That's not skill. That's cosmic trolling."
I smirked. "And yet, here I am. Still standing. Or, well, lounging."
The goddess pinched the bridge of her nose like a divine migraine had been summoned.
"I don't know if I should delete you or promote you," she muttered.
"You're either the most efficient chosen being I've seen… or the beginning of the system's downfall."
"Is both an option?"
She side-eyed me, lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh — or cry. Maybe both.
"You've caused more chaos in five days than some protagonists manage in five arcs. And you're not even trying."
I gave her a thumbs-up. "Natural talent."
She hovered closer. "Don't get comfortable. The universe is watching. You've poked the bear Devs and they will poke back harder."
"I'll schedule a nap before that happens."
She floated upward, glowing again. "You won't nap through what's coming next."
A chill ran down my spine. And not the fun kind obviously.
The void shimmered behind her as the beanbags dissolved like they'd never existed.
The lo-fi vanished, replaced with the ominous hum of "plot development." Yeah. Something serious was loading.
The Goddess snapped her fingers, and a row of glowing holograms appeared in front of me — each one showcasing a different flavor of "future headache."
First slide: a pale, smug guy in a crimson cloak sipping blood like it was expensive wine.
[Target: Lord Seraphiel – 3000-Year-Old Vampire King]
Currently brooding in a gothic castle with excellent lighting.
I squinted. "Is... is that a fog machine behind him?"
The Goddess ignored me and waved her hand again.
Next slide: a literal god, blazing with radiant energy, flexing like he was the main character of every mythology ever.
[Target: Solenox – God of Divine Judgement]
Rating: Too serious. Doesn't believe in naps.
"Hard pass," I muttered.
Then came the most terrifying one yet.
A group of nerds in hoodies.
Glowing keyboards with green code raining behind them like a Matrix cosplay convention.
[Threat: Hacker Guild – Name: 404_Souls]
Description: Modders, Glitch exploiters, Anti-System rebels and Obnoxiously clever
"Oh great another basement dwellers with admin privileges."
The Goddess raised an eyebrow.
"They've already tried accessing your code and You're flagged in their forums as a 'walking exploit.'"
"That's... oddly flattering."
"They're planning to steal your passives and resell them."
"Bold of them to assume I even understand my passives."
She sighed like a cosmic teacher tired of repeating herself.
"I'm warning you, lazy hero: You've stirred the pot. And one of these factions — or all — will eventually try to delete you."
I shrugged. "They can try and I've got sleep-based evasion down to a science."
Her eyes flared with divine light
"Mock all you want, but you're running out of time. They're getting closer, wiser, stronger. and Smarter."
I raised an eyebrow. "Smarter? What are you trying to say?"
Another pity sigh.
"I'm saying... if you want to survive, you'll need to evolve past lazy improvisation or at least pretend to care."
Before I could retort with something truly sarcastic, her form started fading.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added as her glow dimmed. "They've sent someone. A hunter. You'll know when you see them."
"Name?" I asked.
Her voice echoed like a dream glitching out.
"Reboot.exe."
[System Message: Dream Session Terminated]
[You've Gained: +1 'Goddess Awareness']
[New Passive Unlocked: Divine Shrug – Occasionally confuses enemies mid-fight]
I woke up face-first in the dirt, drooling slightly.
First thought: I forgot to finish that stay-still quest...
Second thought: Who names a villain Reboot.exe? That's so 2009.
Then again… I was gonna need a nap before worrying about it.
I jolted awake again, not from a nightmare, but from the system pinging me like an overly eager group chat.
"Alert: Incoming Threat Detected – Hunter 'Reboot.exe' Approaching Your Coordinates."
Great ,Just what I needed a villain with the subtlety of a Windows update notification.
I stretched like I'd just survived a battle but really had just fought the snooze button.
The village around me was suspiciously quiet — too quiet, like the calm before a software crash.
The NPCs? Either hiding behind bushes or peeking out like they'd heard rumors about a bug that eats lazy heroes for breakfast.
I shuffled my feet, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "Okay, system, hit me with the deets. Who's this Reboot.exe and why can't they just take a coffee break?"
The screen in my vision blinked, loading a 3D model of this "Reboot.exe." Think sleek, corporate assassin vibes — black armor that looked way too high-tech for this dusty village, glowing eyes that screamed
'I mean business,' and a voice that probably sounded like an error message played backward.
"Reboot.exe is designed to terminate anomalies like you.
You're flagged as high-risk due to system instability caused by passive exploits and unintended skill synergies," the system droned.
I smirked. "So, basically, I'm a glitch with a death sentence. Classic."
The system added, "Estimated time to encounter: 3 hours and suggest immediate preparation."
Preparation? For what? Me?
The master of 'Catastrophic Couching'? I glanced at the nearest bench and considered a tactical nap.
But no, apparently, that wouldn't cut it this time.
I looked around strategically.
Villagers were nervously clutching their farming tools, probably hoping their pitchforks could fend off a literal system reboot.
"Well," I muttered, "looks like the lazy uprising just got a forced fight upgrade
Time to find a way to survive without breaking a sweat. Again."
With zero enthusiasm but maximum sarcasm, I started walking toward the edge of the village, eyes half-closed but mind half-alert.
Because in this world, even a slacker can't nap through the apocalypse
Just when I thought the worst was the "Reboot.exe" hunter—coming in all shiny, serious, and definitely not chill—the system threw me a curveball bigger than my will to move before noon.
"Warning: High-level Developer Intervention Detected. Multiple Dev Avatars Approaching."
I blinked, because apparently the apocalypse wasn't just a solo boss fight—it was a full-on developer party crashing my lazy uprising.
From the horizon, silhouettes began to form, glowing with all the ominous intensity of code gods who probably hadn't slept since patch 1.0.
Each avatar looked like the embodiment of pure authority, wielding debug swords, wielding firewalls, and maybe a few sarcastic error messages.
The villagers scattered like they'd just seen a Blue Screen of Death, while I stood there, squinting against the divine glow.
"Seriously?" I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Can't these guys just send a friendly email first?"
The system beeped again, flashing urgent:
"Dev Intervention Level: Critical
Recommended action: Evade, negotiate, or break the system."
Break the system? That's my specialty, but this felt way above my pay grade (or my nap schedule).
One avatar stepped forward, voice dripping with code and contempt:
"Subject 2379: Your unauthorized exploits have compromised system integrity. Immediate termination required."
I crossed my arms, deadpan: "You've got to be kidding. I'm just trying to avoid work, not break reality."
The avatar's eyes flickered.
"Your 'Catastrophic Couching' skill alone triggered multiple fault alerts and we cannot allow this to continue."
I sighed, already feeling the weight of 'more work.' "Look, how about a compromise? I stay lazy, you don't delete me,we all win right"
The avatars didn't look convinced.
As their forms flickered and the tension spiked, I took a slow breath and muttered, "Great .More work."
Because apparently, surviving this chaos meant being the universe's most reluctant hero… and that was exhausting.
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