Chương 10: Chapter 10 – Side Quest: Don’t Move
I was just settling into my usual spot — you know, the one that's basically a cloud pretending to be a bench — when the system pinged.
Not the usual "You leveled up" or "New quest!" notification.
No, this one had that special "Secret Quest" aura that basically screams:
"Probably going to be annoying but might be worth it if you don't die."
The message blinked in the corner of my vision, neon letters practically mocking my laziness:
Secret Side Quest: Survive 24 hours without moving in the Abyssal Dungeon.
Reward: High XP and passive skill unlock.
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then tilted my head at the screen like it had just asked me to solve a calculus problem using interpretive dance.
"Wait… what?" I muttered aloud.
"Survive without moving… for a full twenty-four hours… in a dungeon?"
Normally, that would be a nightmare.
Traps and Monsters , Creeping darkness.
Claustrophobia with existential dread.
This was basically a recipe for adventurer soup.
But then I actually thought about it.
Really considered my options.
And you know what? That's basically a day off with perks.
A full day of doing absolutely nothing and still leveling up? Sign me the hell up.
I reached out a lazy hand and tapped the accept button.
Honestly, I half expected the system to troll me: "
Just kidding, you'll die in five minutes."
Nope.
Instead, it hummed quietly, like it was approving of my laziness.
Then the robotic voice chimed in, monotone and overly dramatic:
"Warning: This quest requires absolute stillness.
Any movement may trigger traps or alert monsters."
I smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Lazy mode activated."
Stretching my arms like an Olympian preparing for the gold medal nap, I sank deeper into my cloud-bench.
Twenty-four hours of nothing?
This was going to be the easiest XP of my life.
The system didn't waste time.
One moment, I was cloud-bench royalty.
The next, I was plopped unceremoniously onto cold, uneven stone.
The air hit me like a slap from an ice elemental.
Damp, moldy, vaguely resembling despair mixed with wet socks.
Somewhere in the distance, water dripped.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
Each echo was a reminder that this place was designed to make adventurers lose their minds before they lost their lives.
Flickering torches lined the walls, casting shadows that moved like they were alive and way too dramatic.
Stalactites dripped menacingly overhead, as if waiting for me to look up so they could drop and say hello.
And the monsters? Oh, they were already here.
A goblin sniffed the air like it smelled free snacks.
An oversized rat with the aura of unpaid taxes scuttled past.
None of them had noticed me yet — probably because I was sitting so still I could've auditioned as dungeon décor.
I glanced at the system timer:
Quest Timer Initiated: 24 hours. Passive XP accumulation activated.
I exhaled. "Perfect."
Now, all I needed was the right posture.
I crossed my legs.
Adjusted my shoulders and rested my arms in a way that said:
'Yes, I am a statue. Please ignore me.'
The first drops of XP ticked into my bar.
A delicious, lazy drip-feed of progress.
Honestly, I felt unstoppable.
Or, at the very least, unmoveable.
Minutes passed. Or hours.
Time moved funny here, dripping like the water overhead — slow, damp, vaguely judgmental.
Monsters started to notice me.
A goblin tiptoed up to my leg, squinting suspiciously.
Its claws tapped the stone floor. "...Are you… alive?" it muttered.
I didn't answer. Couldn't, actually. The quest demanded silence and stillness.
The system rewarded me for my commitment:
Passive Skill Unlocked: World Ignores Your Presence Lv.1.
Enemies are less likely to detect user while stationary.
I smirked internally.
My laziness had just become a weapon.
The goblin gave up and shuffled off, probably convinced I was a new dungeon prop installed for ambiance.
Then came the real test.
The ground shook.
The air vibrated and an armored ogre stomped into view, its footsteps like small earthquakes.
Its beady eyes scanned the room.
It sniffed.
It stomped closer, waiting for me to panic, attack, or do literally anything.
I didn't move.
Not even an eyelid twitch.
The system chimed smugly:
Aggro Detection Reduced by 50%. Continue remaining stationary for increased effect.
The ogre blinked, confused.
Muttered something about "lazy mortals."
Then wandered off to terrorize the goblins instead.
Victory By not moving was absolute perfection to the core.
A trap even triggered nearby — spikes shooting from the floor with a satisfying clank!
Most adventurers would've screamed.. rolled and died horribly.
Me? I stayed put.
Trap avoided: zero movement detected. Bonus XP: +500.
I almost laughed out loud.
I'd just dodged a trap by existing.
Hours stacked up, XP trickled in steadily.
Monsters squabbled, Traps fired.
Shadows shifted dramatically for no reason.
And me? I remained the calm, immovable center of the chaos.
That's when the system decided to taunt me.
Warning: Extended inactivity may trigger Boredom Debuff.
"Boredom?" I whispered.
"Please. I'm the Picasso of patience."
But, admittedly, stillness had its price.
My stamina regen slowed, my back ached, and my legs had completely forgotten what blood circulation was.
Mental fatigue crept in.
My thoughts wandered to dangerous places:
Should I monetize this skill?
Could I trademark 'Heroic Laziness'?
Pizza.
Always pizza in this mind of mine.
Yet I pushed through.
Stillness wasn't just passive — it was discipline.
And the system noticed:
Skill Progress: World Ignores Your Presence Lv.2. XP Bonus +10% for mastery of inactivity.
Another trap fired randomly, skewering a confused goblin.
Trap avoided. Bonus XP: +750.
The goblin shrieked in frustration before limping off.
Monsters muttered in disbelief.
And me? I grinned.
Laziness wasn't just working — it was dominating.
Halfway through the quest, the dungeon itself seemed to sigh, finally accepting me as part of the scenery.
I leaned back slightly, eyes half-closed, and whispered my new motto:
"Maximum XP. Minimum effort."
And the world, for the most part, obeyed.
By now, I was well into the 24-hour mark.
Stillness had become second nature.
My legs felt like they were part of the stone floor.
My back had fused with the cold dungeon wall in perfect, heroic alignment.
Arms crossed, posture impeccable, I sat like some kind of lazy, sarcastic statue of legend.
The dungeon… still ignored me.
Monsters wandered by, traps fired and missed spectacularly, and even the ambient creepy noises seemed to hush themselves in reverence to my immovable greatness.
Then, as if the game itself decided to reward absurdity, a glowing notification appeared:
Secret Achievement Unlocked: The Invisible Man.
I blinked.
Invisibility? Free? I hadn't even asked for it.
Apparently, doing nothing well was now a cheat code.
Ghost Mode, furniture-mode, Dungeon-Ignored™ — whatever you wanted to call it, I was now officially untouchable.
XP ticked upward faster than my brain could compute — and trust me, that's saying something, because my brain was half-asleep and fully lazy.
New Passive Skill Acquired: Ghost Mode Lv.1 — enemies less likely to detect user when stationary.
I smirked.
Ghost Mode. Perfect.
I could now wander dungeons without worrying about monsters, NPCs, or trap-triggered existential crises.
I had achieved the ultimate level of lazy mastery: surviving, thriving, and leveling up without moving a single muscle.
Nearby, a goblin threw its arms in the air and muttered something about "cheating mortals."
The ogre somewhere down the hall was banging its fists on the walls, probably contemplating retirement or therapy.
I didn't care.
I just existed — and that was enough.
A quiet thought drifted through my mind, the kind only a true master of inactivity could have:
If XP can be earned while doing nothing… does effort even matter anymore?
Could I monetize laziness as a skill?
Most importantly… where's dinner?
The system, apparently in a mood to coddle me, pinged again:
Passive Skill Progress: Ghost Mode Lv.1 → Lv.2. Bonus XP +2,500 for completing 24 hours of inactivity.
Checkpoint saved automatically.
I didn't even have to touch it.
Of course not why would I, when the system itself recognized my supremacy?
I opened one eye to glance at my XP bar.
Let's just say… it was obscene.
Enough to make a hyperactive adventurer cry.
I leaned back fully against the wall, eyes half-closed, and whispered my mantra of ultimate laziness:
"never move,never care
Always level up."
The dungeon, true to form, continued to ignore me.
Traps continued,Monsters muttered in frustration.
Shadows danced their weird, dramatic dances.
And me? I remained perfectly still, perfectly lazy, and perfectly legendary.
I considered a brief victory nap… and then realized, of course, that I'd earned it.
This quest wasn't just about survival. It wasn't even about XP.
It was about proving, once and for all, that doing nothing could still be an art — and that I was the undisputed, immovable, sarcastic master of that art.
As the faint drip of dungeon water echoed around me, I let out a satisfied sigh.
Somewhere, a goblin squealed. An ogre grumbled.
And I… sat there, a monument to laziness, a hero without effort, a legend without movement.
Mission accomplished.
Level up achieved.
Quest completed.
And my ego? Absolutely inflated to heroic proportions.
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