In my previous life, I was Ethan, a twenty-eight-year-old senior software architect who collapsed over his keyboard after a week of non-stop ninety-hour crunch shifts. When I finally reopened my eyes, I wasn't in a sterile hospital room. I was a newborn baby wrapped in royal silk, lying in a grand mahogany cradle inside the ancient estate of Duke Ashford—the most powerful magical noble house in the Valorian Empire.

Before I could even process the absurdity of my transmigration, a chime echoed inside my consciousness.

[GOD-TIER MAGIC SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

• Host: Lucas Ashford.

• Perks: 100% Instant Cast (Zero Chant Time), Infinite Mana Reserves, All Forbidden/God-Tier Spells Unlocked.

• Default Passive Skill: [Absolute Mana Concealment] — Masks your aura. To all external appraisal spells, gods, and artifacts, your magical capacity will appear as a frail, harmless Level 1 Novice.

I smiled inwardly. In my past life, I had worked myself to an early grave. In this life, with a cheat system this utterly broken, why would I bother becoming a heroic messiah or fighting for political power? I instantly made a firm lifelong decision: I would pretend to be an utter slacker, live a effortless parasitic lifestyle as a lazy noble, and enjoy a comfortable, stress-free existence.

Sixteen years passed in the blink of an eye.

While my elder brother, Leonard Ashford, was hailed as a "once-in-a-century genius" for awakening Level 5 Fire Magic at age fifteen, I—Lucas Ashford—became infamous throughout the capital as the "Trash Prince of House Ashford."

During every annual mana appraisal, I carefully calibrated my output, making the magical testing crystal glow with a pitiful, barely visible faint blue light—a perfect Level 1.

"What a tragic disappointment," the academy students would whisper while pointing at me as I napped lazily under the shade of an oak tree in the courtyard. "Leonard is a shining star, while his younger brother is a useless sloth who does nothing but sleep and read comics."

I would simply yawn, adjust my pillow, and go back to sleep. Let them talk all they wanted. Being labeled useless was absolute paradise! No dangerous military deployments, no aristocratic power struggles—just gourmet steak, high tea, and unlimited nap time every single day.

Until the day of the Royal Magic Academy’s Annual Evaluation Ceremony.

The grand outdoor amphitheater was packed with thousands of nobles, high priests from the Holy Church, and royal dignitaries. Leonard took the stage, chanting a complex incendiary spell that blasted a fifty-ton reinforced stone target into molten slag. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, the Church elders praising him as the future protector of the realm.

Suddenly, the sky turned a sickening shade of bruised violet.

A massive blood-red teleportation array ripped open directly above the stadium.

BOOOOM!

The academy’s ancient defensive barrier shattered like cheap glass. From the dimensional rift, hundreds of Level 6 Shadow-Direwolves poured down onto the stands, followed by a towering ten-meter-tall horror with obsidian horns and a flaming black scythe—The Abyssal Demon King, Astaroth (Level 9).

"A Demon Cult ambush! Protect the royalty!" the academy instructors screamed in blind panic.

The ceremony descended into instant hell. Concrete collapsed, barrier spells shattered, and nobles trampled over each other to escape. Leonard charged forward bravely, drawing his flaming sword, but Astaroth casually backhanded him into a stone pillar, causing my genius brother to cough up blood and collapse unconscious.

"Is this the pinnacle of House Ashford?" Astaroth rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. He raised his massive, fire-wreathed claw to crush Leonard into paste.

The Church elders wept in despair; the students froze in horror.

Amidst the screaming chaos, I gently set down my half-empty cup of boba milk tea on my velvet chair and stretched my arms with a long, lazy sigh.

"Man... I really just wanted to finish my tea and take a nap," I muttered under my breath.

I casually stepped out from the panicking crowd. My appearance was borderline comical: an unbuttoned silk shirt, messy bedhead hair, and a half-read manga volume tucked lazily under my arm.

"Lucas! What are you doing?! Run! That’s a Level 9 Demon Lord!" Princess Elena, my nominal fiancée, sobbed in terror as she saw me walking straight toward the monster.

Astaroth lowered his terrifying goat-like head, his burning yellow eyes looking down at me with supreme disgust. "A frail Level 1 human bug? Did you step forward to offer yourself as an appetizer?"

I stood before the ten-meter demon, scratched the back of my neck, and put on the most clueless, vacant smile I could muster.

"Hey, Mr. Demon Lord," I asked, tilting my head. "Quick question—do you happen to know a cleaning spell that can fix all this broken masonry? Because if this event gets canceled, they're going to make us retake the test on my nap day."

"Arrogant little insect! Die!" Astaroth roared in fury, slamming his massive ten-ton claw straight down onto my head.

The nobles shielded their eyes, expecting me to be turned into a crimson smear.

OAAAANG!

An impossible shockwave rang out. But there was no spray of blood, no sound of crushing bones.

Astaroth’s massive demonic claw stopped dead in mid-air, an inch above my hair. It could not descend a single millimeter further.

I was standing there, one hand casually tucked into my trousers pocket, holding up the full, devastating weight of a Level 9 Demon Lord using just the tip of my right index finger.

"WHAT?!" Astaroth’s eyes bulged in pure, existential terror. His soul shuddered as he realized my finger hadn't even trembled under his crushing blow.

I looked up at him. My vacant, foolish smile vanished, replaced by a pair of deep, golden eyes radiating the absolute, terrifying aura of an ancient god.

[GOD-TIER SPELL ACTIVATED: PRIMORDIAL ANNIHILATION RAY]

• Tier: Level 10 Forbidden Magic.

• Chant Time: 0.00 Seconds.

"I tried so hard to be a lazy, useless noble," I whispered, gently flicking my index finger against the air. "Why do you monsters always force me to do overtime?"

TICK.

A tiny, golden speck of light materialized at the tip of my fingernail. In a fraction of a millisecond, it erupted into a blinding pillar of radiant holy light ten thousand meters tall, piercing straight through the clouds and illuminating the entire continent.

There was no deafening explosion. Wherever the golden light passed, Astaroth, his army of hundreds of Shadow-Direwolves, and the massive blood-red portal instantly dissolved into harmless, sparkling dust. The thick demonic miasma was vaporized in one-tenth of a second.

The crimson sky cleared, returning to a brilliant, serene blue.

I lowered my finger and casually brushed a speck of dust off my shoulder.

The entire academy grounds fell into a suffocating, dead silence. Thousands of nobles, high priests, Princess Elena, and my unconscious genius brother—who had just woken up—stared at me with their mouths agape, looking at me as if they had just witnessed an ancient deity descend upon Earth.

Realizing I had slightly overdone it, I quickly suppressed my God-tier mana, put back on my clueless, dizzy expression, and flopped backward onto the grass like a ragdoll.

"Whoa... my head hurts so bad..." I groaned loudly, rubbing my eyes in fake exhaustion. "I found a weird magic scroll on the floor and read it... I'm passing out now..."

I closed my eyes and pretended to faint, leaving the entire Valorian Empire in absolute, mind-boggling chaos over the mysterious identity of the world's strongest "lazy cripple."

The aftermath of the academy disaster was an absolute circus.

While I lay in the infirmary pretending to be in a "magic-exhaustion coma," the entire Valorian Empire was turned upside down. The High Council of Nobles declared a national state of emergency, the Church launched an investigation into the mysterious "Golden Deity" who had vaporized a Level 9 Demon Lord with a finger flick, and my father—Duke Ashford—doubled the estate's guard detail.

Naturally, nobody truly believed that I was the one who cast that world-shattering Level 10 Forbidden Spell.

"The boy just happened to trigger an ancient single-use relic he picked up off the ground," the Grand Archmage of the Academy officially concluded during a press conference. "It is physically impossible for a Level 1 slacker like Lucas Ashford to possess such mana. He merely survived through sheer, absurd luck."

I nearly laughed out loud under my bedsheets when I heard the news. Perfect. The cover story wrote itself.

When I finally "woke up" from my fake coma three days later, I put on my best traumatized, clueless face. My father bought me a massive basket of rare mana-restoring fruits, my brother Leonard looked at me with a mix of pity and lingering suspicion, and Princess Elena—my silver-haired, fiercely competitive fiancée—sat by my bedside with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Lucas," Elena said, her violet eyes narrowing as she leaned in close. "Be honest with me. Did you really just find a magic scroll on the ground?"

I took a slow bite of an apple, chewing lazily before offering her a vacant, goofy grin. "Of course, Elena! I thought it was a coupon for free pancakes at the cafeteria. I opened it, there was a bright light, and then I woke up here with a massive headache. Magic is way too dangerous. I'm sticking to comic books from now on."

Elena let out a long, disappointed sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You truly are hopeless... To think I'm engaged to the biggest slacker in the realm."

"Hey, being hopeless takes a lot of effort," I replied, sinking deeper into my soft pillows with a satisfied smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my doctor prescribed sixteen hours of mandatory bed rest."

Three months passed smoothly. The commotion died down, and I returned to my holy routine: skipping morning strategy lectures, sleeping under my favorite oak tree in the academy courtyard, and enjoying high-grade Earl Grey tea funded entirely by my family's noble budget.

Life was paradise. Until the Academy announced the Imperial Summer Survival Trial.

The trial took place in the Forest of Despair—a sprawling, dangerous wilderness enclosed by a massive anti-teleportation barrier, teeming with venomous beasts, ancient ruins, and Level 5 monsters. Every student was placed in a four-person squad.

To my absolute horror, I wasn't allowed to stay in my dorm. Because of my "miraculous survival" during the Demon Lord attack, the Headmaster personally assigned me to the First-Rank Squad—consisting of my genius brother Leonard, Princess Elena, and the academy's top paladin student, a boastful noble named Sir Justin.

"Don't worry, little brother," Leonard said, patting my shoulder as we stood at the entrance of the dark, misty forest. "Justin and I will handle all the monsters. You just stay behind us, carry our extra rations, and try not to trip over any tree roots."

"Yeah, stay out of the way, dead weight," Justin smirked, tapping his glowing silver broadsword. "I won't waste my healing spells on someone who can't even cast a basic Level 1 Fireball."

"Deal," I said instantly, giving them a cheerful thumbs-up. "I am professionally qualified to be dead weight. I'll watch the bags and cheer for you guys from a safe hundred-yard distance."

Elena shook her head in utter disgust, drawing her thin rapier as we stepped past the shimmering magic barrier into the gloomy woods.

For the first two days, my squad cleared monster nests with ease. Leonard's flames incinerated Level 3 Giant Spiders, Justin's holy light cleaved through Level 4 Armored Bears, and Elena's ice magic froze incoming swarms of toxic hornets.

My role was blissfully simple: sitting on a mossy rock, munching on dried beef jerky, and pretending to be terrified whenever a monster growled.

[SYSTEM PASSIVE ALERT]

• Detection Radius: 50 Kilometers.

• Host Status: Perfectly hidden under [Absolute Mana Concealment].

• Alert: 1,000 High-Level Spatial Signatures closing in from the Northern Ridge.

I paused mid-bite, squinting through the dense canopy. A thousand signatures? Inside an academy training ground?

Before I could ponder further, the ground beneath our feet shuddered violently.

The sky above the forest turned an eerie, pitch-black color as a massive, translucent purple dome expanded over the entire woods, locking down space itself.

"The barrier!" Elena gasped, her face going pale. "Someone overlaid a High-Tier Sealing Matrix over the forest! We can't contact the instructors outside!"

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

From the shadowy tree line surrounding our clearing, hundreds of figures stepped out. They were clad in blood-red robes, their faces hidden behind bone masks. Leading them were three figures radiating suffocating, dark purple mana—the Three Bishops of the Blood Cult, all high-tier dark mages at Level 7!

Behind the Bishops marched three hundred Corrupted Blood Golems—fifteen-foot-tall constructs made of compressed bone and rotting flesh, each rated at Level 6.

"Well, well," the Lead Bishop sneered, his raspy voice echoing through the woods. "The royal princess, the Ashford heir, and the pathetic useless younger brother. What a bountiful harvest for our blood ritual!"

Justin’s face turned white as snow. His hands trembled so violently he almost dropped his broadsword. "Level 7 dark mages... three hundred Level 6 golems... We're dead. We're all going to die!"

"Stand firm!" Leonard roared, though sweat poured down his forehead as he raised his flaming sword. "Elena, fall back! Justin and I will buy time!"

"You can't buy time against an army, little boy," the Lead Bishop cackled. He raised his bone staff, pointing it at our squad. "Golems, tear them apart! Leave the princess alive for the sacrifice!"

ROAAAR!

Three hundred massive Blood Golems surged forward simultaneously, the sheer force of their stampede shattering the surrounding trees and shaking the earth like a massive earthquake.

Justin dropped his sword, fell to his knees, and began sobbing in panic. Elena raised a trembling ice wall that shattered in a fraction of a second under the sheer weight of the oncoming horde. Leonard charged forward, but a single swing from a golem's massive fist blasted him backward, spitting blood as he crashed into a tree right beside me.

"Lucas... run..." Leonard coughed out, his vision fading as he tried to stand. "Take Elena... and run..."

Elena stood in front of us, her rapier raised, her lips trembling as fifty massive golems raised their bone clubs right above her head.

I looked at my half-eaten bag of beef jerky, which had just been knocked into the mud by the shockwave.

I closed my eyes and let out a long, tired sigh.

Why can't people just let me eat my snacks in peace?

I slowly stood up, brushing the dirt off my trousers, and stepped past the trembling Princess Elena.

"Lucas! What are you doing?!" Elena screamed, grabbing for my sleeve, but her fingers missed. "Get back!"

I walked straight toward the three hundred towering Blood Golems. I didn't draw a sword. I didn't pull out a staff. I simply reached into my pocket, pulled out a small wooden toothpick, and placed it between my teeth.

The Lead Bishop burst into hysterical laughter. "Look at the trash brother! Has he gone insane from terror?!"

I stopped ten feet away from the front line of the roaring golem horde. I raised my left hand and casually snapped my fingers.

SNAP.

[GOD-TIER SPELL ACTIVATED: GRAVITATIONAL SINGULARITY - ZERO ABSOLUTE]

• Tier: Level 10 Forbidden Spatial Magic.

• Chant Time: 0.00 Seconds.

• Target: Enemies within 5 Kilometers.

The moment my fingers snapped, the air didn't heat up. It didn't flash with light.

Instead, a microscopic, pitch-black void—smaller than a grain of sand—appeared in the exact center of the enemy army.

VWUUUUUUUUUUUUM—!

The laws of physics completely broke down.

A gravitational pull equivalent to the core of a collapsed star erupted from that microscopic point. In less than one-hundredth of a second, the three hundred fifteen-foot-tall Blood Golems, the three Level 7 Bishops, and the thousand cultists hiding in the woods were violently yanked toward the black dot.

Armors crushed into tin foil, bone golems compressed into dense marbles, and blood mages were folded like paper. They didn't even have time to scream.

POP.

The microscopic black hole folded in on itself and vanished into thin air.

Where an army of three hundred giant monsters and a thousand dark mages had stood a second ago, there was now only a perfectly smooth, fifty-foot-deep crater in the dirt. Not a single drop of blood remained. Not a single piece of rubble was left behind.

The black sealing barrier above the forest shattered into sparkling blue dust, restoring the sunny afternoon sky.

A gentle, cool breeze blew through the quiet woods, rustling my hair.

I stood at the edge of the crater, took the toothpick out of my mouth, and tossed it into the pit.

Behind me, Princess Elena, Sir Justin, and my wounded brother Leonard were frozen in absolute, paralyzed silence. Their eyes were wide open, their jaws dropped so low they nearly touched the grass, staring at my back as if looking at a cosmic horror wrapped in human skin.

I turned around slowly, put on a dizzy, panicked face, and began flailing my arms wildly.

"WHOA! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" I screamed in fake terror, pointing at the crater. "A giant invisible meteor just fell from the sky! It saved us! Wow, what are the odds of a meteor hitting exactly where the bad guys were standing?! Science is crazy!"

I flopped backward onto the grass, rolling around dramatic-style. "Oh no, the shockwave gave me a concussion! I can't move! Someone carry my bags back to the dorm!"

I closed my eyes, pretending to pass out once again, leaving my squadmates standing in the forest, their minds completely shattered by the "meteor-summoning slacker."

The "Meteor Incident" in the Forest of Despair became the single most ridiculous urban legend in the history of the Valorian Empire.

Official reports filed by the Academy concluded that a "stray, ultra-compressed spatial anomaly" had randomly collided with the Blood Cult’s ritual site. Naturally, nobody in the High Council suspected me. To the public, I was just the absurdly lucky slacker who happened to be taking a nap behind a rock when a cosmic miracle wiped out an enemy army.

Only three people didn't buy the official story: my brother Leonard, Princess Elena, and Sir Justin.

Ever since we returned to the capital, the three of them looked at me not with pity, but with a terrifying, lingering paranoia. Whenever I yawned, they flinched. Whenever I raised a finger to scratch my nose, Justin would instinctively dive behind a sofa.

"Lucas," Elena said one afternoon, trapping me against the bookshelf in the Academy library. Her violet eyes burned with relentless determination. "Meteors don't snap their fingers before falling. I saw your hand."

I took a slow, lazy sip of my iced tea, giving her my most vacant, clueless gaze. "Elena, correlation doesn't equal causation. I was just trying to flick a mosquito off my wrist. If my finger snaps could summon meteors, do you think I’d still be failing Basic Alchemy?"

Elena stared at me for a full minute, trying to spot a single crack in my poker face. Finally, she let out a frustrated growl, stomping her foot. "You're hiding something, Lucas Ashford! And I'm going to prove it if it's the last thing I do!"

"Good luck," I muttered, sinking into a plush leather armchair and pulling my eye mask down. "Wake me up when dinner is served."

Two weeks later, the ultimate event of the academic year arrived: The Continental Grand Magic Tournament.

Delegations from all four major empires assembled in the Imperial Capital’s Colosseum—a massive stadium built to hold fifty thousand spectators. The tournament was a brutal show of political power, where young noble mages fought in duels to display their house's military strength.

Because I was classified as a Level 1 non-combatant, my job was gloriously effortless: sit in the VIP family booth, eat free candied nuts, and cheer for my brother Leonard while wearing a oversized banner that read Go Team Ashford!

The tournament progressed smoothly through the early rounds. Leonard reached the semifinals using his destructive Level 5 Fire Magic, while Princess Elena froze her opponents in seconds with her refined Ice Domain.

Then came the grand final match.

Elena’s opponent was a guest contestant from the neighboring Shadow-Sun Empire: Prince Valen. He was a tall, pale youth clad in obsidian armor, carrying a jagged black staff.

The moment the duel began, things went horribly wrong.

VWUUUUUUUM!

Prince Valen didn't cast a standard tournament spell. He slammed his dark staff into the Colosseum floor, unleashing a wave of pitch-black, suffocating miasma that instantly shattered Elena’s ice barriers.

Elena gasped, falling to her knees as the black mist ate through her mana armor like acid. "This... this isn't imperial magic... This is..."

"Necromancy!" Duke Ashford shouted from the VIP balcony, drawing his sword. "Halt the match! The Shadow-Sun Empire is using forbidden dark arts!"

"Halt?" Prince Valen cackled, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, blood-red light. "It's too late, fools!"

BOOOOM!

Valen shattered a black crystal in his palm. Instantly, a ancient, terrifying spell-circle covered the entire fifty-thousand-seat Colosseum. The sky turned dark red, and the air temperature dropped below freezing.

[SYSTEM PASSIVE ALERT]

• Threat Detected: Ancient Dark Ritual — [The Serpent of Abyssal Extinction] (Level 9 Ancient Beast).

• Spatial Status: Colosseum sealed by an Absolute Shadow Barrier. All exit routes blocked.

From the shattered floor of the arena, a massive, skeletal sea serpent over two hundred feet long erupted into the sky. Its body was composed of thousands of screaming souls, radiating a toxic miasma so dense that the grandmasters in the audience collapsed, coughing up black blood.

"Fifty thousand souls... what a magnificent sacrifice for my ascension!" Prince Valen roared, floating into the air on a throne of dark flames.

The Colosseum descended into absolute panic. Royalty screamed, guards fled in terror, and even the Grand Archmages couldn't break through the Level 9 Shadow Barrier surrounding the arena. Leonard tried to charge the serpent, but its toxic aura instantly overwhelmed his fire magic, knocking him unconscious.

Down in the arena, Princess Elena lay trapped beneath the serpent’s towering shadow. The massive skeletal beast opened its jaws, dripping with black venom, and lunged straight down to consume her.

"Lucas..." Elena whimpered, her vision fading as she looked up at the VIP booth where I sat.

In the VIP booth, my father was screaming orders, guards were scrambling, and noble ladies were fainting.

I looked at my cup of candied nuts, which had just been spilled onto the floor by a panicking noble.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

First my boba, then my beef jerky, and now my candied nuts? These villains really have zero respect for my snack time.

I stepped off the VIP balcony, stepping casually into mid-air.

I didn't fall. I simply walked down the invisible air like a flight of stairs, strolling through the toxic black miasma that was paralyzing grandmasters as if it were a light summer breeze.

"Look! Someone is walking in the air!" a noble gasped from the stands.

"Is that... the useless younger brother of House Ashford?!"

Prince Valen looked down from his dark throne, laughing mockingly. "A Level 1 trash stepping onto my battlefield? You seek a quick death, boy?!"

I didn't answer. I landed softly on the arena floor right in front of the trembling Princess Elena, stepping between her and the giant two-hundred-foot skeletal serpent.

I reached out my hand, gently patting Elena’s silver hair. "You did well, Elena. Take a short nap."

With a soft tap on her forehead, I cast a mild sleeping charm, letting her slide safely into unconsciousness so she wouldn't suffer from the miasma.

I turned back toward the two-hundred-foot Level 9 Abyssal Serpent and Prince Valen.

The lazy, vacant expression on my face melted away completely. For the first time since my transmigration, I stopped suppressing my natural aura.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire Colosseum—no, the entire Imperial Capital—shivered.

An overwhelming, divine pressure erupted from my body. The Level 9 Shadow Barrier surrounding the stadium shattered into dust like fragile glass under atmospheric pressure. The fifty-thousand spectators, the grandmasters, and Prince Valen himself felt their knees buckle, slammed onto the ground by a gravitational weight that felt like an entire mountain range dropping onto their shoulders.

[GOD-TIER SPELL ACTIVATED: REALITY OVERWRITE - CELESTIAL JUDGMENT]

• Tier: Level 10 Forbidden Divine Magic.

• Chant Time: 0.00 Seconds.

I raised my right hand toward the sky, my eyes blazing with golden celestial fire.

"I gave you dark mages three chances," my voice echoed, not through the air, but directly inside the minds of every soul within a hundred miles. "You ruined my naps. You ruined my snacks. And now... you dared to touch my fiancée."

I slowly closed my hand into a fist.

"Erase."

ZIP.

A wave of pure, golden divine light swept across the arena.

There was no sound. There was no collateral explosion.

The two-hundred-foot skeletal serpent, Prince Valen, and the entire dark ritual array didn't even get the chance to burn—they were instantly overwritten at the molecular level, dissolving into sparkling golden dust that rained gently over the Colosseum.

The red sky cleared, replaced by a warm, golden sunset.

The fifty thousand spectators sat on the ground in utter, dead silence, staring at the solitary youth in a messy noble uniform standing in the center of the arena.

I let out a long sigh, feeling the stares of fifty thousand people locking onto me.

Ah... yeah. There's no way I can pretend to find a magic scroll on the floor this time.

I slowly turned around, looked at the crowd, and put my hands in my pockets with a nonchalant smirk.

"Well," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet Colosseum. "I guess my peaceful slacker life is officially over."

The silence in the fifty-thousand-seat Colosseum was so absolute you could hear a feather land on the dirt.

The entire capital was in shock. The "Level 1 Trash" of House Ashford—the boy who spent his days napping under oak trees and reading comic books—had just obliterated an ancient Level 9 Abyssal Serpent and an imperial prince with a single, lazy word.

My father, Duke Ashford, stood frozen on the VIP balcony, his jaw practically touching the floor. My brother Leonard stared at me from the medical ward, his mind completely blank. The High Priests of the Holy Church fell to their knees on the spot, weeping and praying toward me as if I were a living god who had descended from the heavens.

I looked at the fifty thousand pairs of eyes staring at me in utter reverence and terror.

Yep. My lazy, parasitic slacker dream is completely, 100% dead.

I let out a heavy, disappointed sigh, reached down, and gently scooped up Princess Elena in a princess-carry. She stirred softly in my arms, her violet eyes fluttering open. When she saw my face—no longer wearing that goofy, vacant smile, but radiating the residual golden aura of a god—her cheeks flushed bright crimson.

"Lucas..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You... it really was you all along."

"Yeah, yeah, you caught me," I muttered, carrying her toward the medical bay. "Happy now? My peaceful nap schedule is ruined forever."

By the next morning, the Valorian Empire had gone completely insane.

The Emperor immediately issued an Imperial Edict declaring me the "Grand Archmage of the Realm" and the "Supreme Guardian of Valoria." Dukes, foreign ambassadors, and high-ranking generals lined up for miles outside the Ashford Estate, carrying chests of gold, rare magical artifacts, and marriage proposals from dozens of foreign princesses, all begging for an audience with me.

I, of course, locked my bedroom door from the inside, drew the heavy velvet curtains, and lay on my bed with a pillow over my head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Lucas! Open this door right now!" my father’s booming voice echoed from the hallway. "The Emperor himself is waiting in the drawing room! The Pope is offering to crown you as a Holy Saint! You can't stay in bed forever!"

"Tell them I died of magic exhaustion!" I yelled back from beneath my blanket. "I'm retired! I'm on strike! Leave me alone!"

CLICK.

The heavy mahogany door didn't break—it was unlocked from the outside using a spare key.

Princess Elena stepped into my room, wearing a stunning white-and-gold noble dress. Behind her stood my brother Leonard, who looked at me with a mix of awe and deep awkwardness.

"Get up, Grand Archmage," Elena smirked, crossing her arms as she walked over to my bed. Her tone was playful, but her eyes shone with undeniable pride. "You saved fifty thousand people yesterday. You don't get to hide under a blanket anymore."

I peeked out from beneath my pillow, glaring at her playfully. "Elena, I saved you because they ruined my candied nuts. I didn't sign up to become a national monument."

Leonard stepped forward, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Lucas... I... I'm sorry for calling you dead weight all those years. I had no idea you were... well, a god."

"Leonard, please stop," I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I'm not a god. I'm just a guy who hates overtime. I spent my past life working ninety hours a week until I dropped dead. In this life, all I wanted was to eat good food, sleep twelve hours a day, and do absolutely nothing!"

Elena sat on the edge of my bed, her expression softening into a warm, gentle smile. "Well... you can still do nothing. But from now on, you're doing it as the most powerful man on the continent."

Before I could complain further, the temperature inside my bedroom plummeted to absolute zero.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Frost rapidly crawled across my bedroom walls. The air grew so dense with dark, suffocating pressure that Leonard and Elena instantly gasped for breath, their knees buckling as they fell to the floor.

[SYSTEM EMERGENCY ALERT]

• Spatial Breach Detected: World-Class Barrier Failure.

• Intruder: The Empress of the Frozen Abyss — Krysha (Level 10 Divine Entity).

• Location: Directly above the Capital.

I frowned, throwing my blanket aside. Another one?! Do these high-level bosses have a tracking device on my sleep schedule?!

BOOOOM!

The roof of the Ashford Estate wasn't blown away—it was instantly frozen into brittle ice and shattered into a million sparkling crystals.

Looking up through the gaping hole in the ceiling, the sky above the Imperial Capital had turned into a swirling vortex of blue blizzard flames. Floating in the center of the storm was a breathtakingly beautiful woman with long silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and towering glacial horns, wearing armor forged from dark star-ice.

She was one of the Four Calamities of the World—beings that had slept since the ancient era, capable of freezing entire empires in a single night.

The entire capital froze in terror. Imperial knights collapsed from the sheer absolute zero cold, and even the Grand Archmages couldn't lift a finger.

The Frost Empress, Krysha, looked down through the shattered roof, her icy gaze locking directly onto me lying on my bed in my silk pajamas.

"So..." Krysha’s voice echoed across the frozen sky, sounding like ringing crystal bells, carrying a pressure that shook the continent. "You are the arrogant human who shattered the Abyssal Serpent and humiliated the Dark Cult."

I sat on the edge of my bed, wearing my cozy slippers, and looked up at the terrifying Level 10 Divine Entity floating above my house.

"Hey, Ice Queen," I called out, my voice flat and unimpressed. "First of all, you just destroyed my ceiling. Do you have any idea how expensive contractor work is in this capital?"

Krysha’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine shock flashing through her glacial gaze. "Insolent mortal! You stand before a Calamity, yet you speak of house repairs?!"

She raised her slender hand, summoning a massive glacial spear five hundred meters long—a spell capable of wiping the entire Valorian Empire off the map.

"I came here to test if the rumors of a human god were true," Krysha cold-voiced echoed, pointing the massive ice spear straight at my chest. "Show me your true power, Lucas Ashford... or let this entire realm burn in eternal ice!"

Leonard and Elena looked at me from the floor, their eyes wide with terror and hope.

I took a deep breath, stood up from my bed, and stretched my back, letting out a long, loud pop from my spine.

"Fine," I murmured, stepping out from under the broken roof into the freezing air, floating slowly up into the blizzard sky until I stood eye-to-eye with the Frost Empress.

The lazy, relaxed aura around me vanished in a fraction of a millisecond.

VWUUUUUUUUUM—!

A column of golden, divine mana erupted from my body, instantly melting the five-hundred-meter glacial spear into warm rain before it could even move an inch. The ancient blizzard covering the empire was vaporized in a single second, replaced by blinding, golden sunlight.

Krysha’s icy composure completely shattered. Her blue eyes bulged in pure, existential terror as she felt the true, limitless ocean of God-Tier mana radiating from my silk pajamas.

"Level 10...? No... this isn't Level 10..." Krysha stammered, her voice trembling as her floating body involuntarily backed away ten feet. "You... what are you?!"

I reached into my trousers pocket, pulled out a small, golden-sealed parchment—an official Imperial Slacker Contract I had drafted earlier that morning—and tossed it through the air, letting it float right in front of the frozen Empress's face.

"Listen up, Frost Empress," I said, my golden eyes flashing with absolute, terrifying Admin authority. "I am Lucas Ashford. I am tired, I am cranky, and I haven't had my morning tea yet."

I pointed a single finger at her forehead.

"Option A: You sign this non-aggression pact, promise never to disturb my sleep again, and pay for my roof repairs."

I narrowed my eyes, a terrifying smirk playing on my lips.

"Option B: I use a Level 10 Forbidden Solar Flare to turn your entire Frozen Abyss into a hot spring resort. Choose in three seconds."

The Frost Empress, Krysha—a legendary Calamity who had frozen entire civilizations during the Ancient Era—stared at the golden parchment floating in front of her nose, then at the teenager in silk pajamas threatening to turn her eternal ice realm into a public bathhouse.

For three suffocating seconds, the atmosphere above the capital was so quiet that even the wind dared not blow.

[TARGET ANALYSIS: KRYSHA]

• Entity Class: Level 10 Ancient Calamity.

• Current Psychological State: Utter Terror / Existential Realization.

• Calculated Survival Rate against Host: 0.0001%.

Krysha’s trembling hand reached out. With a soft flicker of her ice magic, she signed her name at the bottom of the non-aggression contract, sealing it with a binding soul-mark.

"I... I accept the terms," the ancient Empress stammered, her cold, majestic demeanor completely shattered. "The Frozen Abyss shall never wage war against humanity... and the roof repairs will be paid in full with royal diamonds."

"Good girl," I said, my golden divine aura snapping back into my body in an instant.

The suffocating pressure vanished. The sky returned to a warm, gentle blue.

I casually snatched the signed contract out of the air, tucked it into my pocket, and pointed toward the gaping hole in my bedroom ceiling. "Now, if you don't mind, Empress, I have a nap to finish. Tell your construction crews to keep the noise down tomorrow morning."

Krysha bowed her head in utter submission, turned around, and vanished into a rift of frost without uttering another word, desperate to get as far away from me as possible.

Down below, the entire capital watched in stunned, speechlessly paralyzed silence. The Imperial Knights, the Archmages, and the High Priests had braced themselves for an apocalyptic war that could end the continent. Instead, they had just watched a teenager in cozy slippers force an Ancient Calamity to sign a peace treaty and pay for home renovations in less than two minutes.

I floated softly back down through the broken roof, landing on my plush carpet, and let out a huge yawn.

"Well," I said, looking at Leonard and Elena, who were still frozen on the floor, staring at me like I was an alien conqueror. "That's taken care of. Anyone want tea?"

News of the "Pajama Treaty" spread across the four empires like wildfire.

In a single afternoon, the threat of the Ancient Calamities was permanently neutralized. The rulers of the neighboring kingdoms immediately canceled all their military mobilization plans, tearing up their war declarations. Nobody in their right mind was going to invade an empire guarded by a guy who treated legendary ice gods like unruly contractors.

Two weeks passed.

True to her word, Krysha sent a team of high-tier ice-elemental artisans who rebuilt my bedroom roof out of self-cleaning, indestructible starry quartz, complete with a skylight for optimal sunbathing.

With the threat of war gone, I finally got my wish: absolute, unadulterated peace.

The Emperor granted me the official title of "Grand Archmage Emeritus," which carried a massive royal stipend, zero mandatory duties, and absolute immunity from all noble protocols. I was officially permitted to sleep through royal banquets, ignore diplomatic summits, and wear hoodies to high-council meetings.

On a sunny afternoon in late spring, I lay on my favorite velvet lounge chair in the Ashford estate's private gardens, a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea sitting on the side table, and a stack of newly published manga volumes resting on my lap.

The birds were singing, the breeze was cool, and my System radar showed zero high-level threats within a ten-thousand-mile radius.

"Ah," I sighed, leaning my head back and closing my eyes under the warm sunlight. "This is it. Peak slacker perfection."

"Enjoying your retirement, Grand Archmage?" a soft, familiar voice teased.

I opened one eye. Princess Elena was walking down the stone garden path, wearing a simple, elegant sun dress instead of her usual heavy noble gowns. Behind her walked my brother Leonard, carrying a large picnic basket filled with fresh pastries and iced fruit tea.

"It's not retirement, Elena," I corrected lazily, adjusting my eye mask. "It's efficient long-term resource management."

Leonard set the picnic basket down on the grass, sitting beside my chair with a genuine, relaxed laugh. "You know, Lucas... for sixteen years I thought you were just lazy. Turns out you were just too strong for anything in this world to matter."

"Hey, being strong is hard work," I replied, taking a sip of my tea. "Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to suppress infinite mana so I don't accidentally blow up the continent when I sneeze?"

Elena chuckled softly, stepping up to my lounge chair and leaning down, her violet eyes shining with warmth as she brushed a lock of hair out of my face.

"Well, Supreme Guardian," she whispered, a gentle blush rising on her cheeks, "since the world is finally at peace, and you have no more disasters to freeze or meteors to call down... what are you going to do now?"

I pulled my eye mask back down over my eyes, settled deep into my soft velvet cushions, and let out a long, satisfied breath.

"I'm going to take a three-day nap," I murmured softly, a genuine, happy smile resting on my lips. "And if anyone wakes me up before Saturday... I'm turning the sun off."

Elena laughed, shaking her head as she sat on the grass beside my chair, resting her head against my arm as the peaceful afternoon sun bathed the garden in golden light.

The world was safe, the villains were gone, and the Supreme Magician finally got his eternal, uninterrupted nap.

Five years had passed since the day the Frost Empress was forced to sign a peace treaty and pay for my roof.

Humanity was enjoying an unprecedented era of absolute peace. The Demon Cults had completely disbanded, the neighboring empires had converted their military budgets into trade agreements, and even the monsters in the dark forests had learned to keep their voices down whenever they passed near the borders of the Valorian Empire.

Why? Because everyone on the continent knew a single, undisputed law: Do not disturb Lucas Ashford’s nap.

My life had finally reached the absolute pinnacle of slacker perfection.

The Emperor built me a private sky-villa floating directly above the capital—complete with zero-gravity lounge chairs, automated tea-brewing golems, and a massive library stocked with thousands of light novels imported from all over the realm.

On a warm, breezy afternoon, I was lying on my floating balcony, half-asleep under a golden parasol, when the spatial barrier of my villa flickered softly.

I didn't even open my eyes. "Elena, if that's another delegation from the Magic Academy asking for a guest lecture, tell them I've ascended to a higher plane of consciousness and won't be back until next Tuesday."

A soft, musical laugh echoed across the balcony.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Grand Archmage, but it’s just your wife," Elena said, stepping out onto the sunlit deck.

She was twenty-one now, even more breathtakingly beautiful, wearing a flowing white silk dress that caught the mountain breeze. Behind her walked a tiny, five-year-old girl with shiny silver hair and deep, glowing golden eyes—our daughter, Livia.

Little Livia ran across the balcony with tiny, energetic footsteps, diving straight onto my stomach like a miniature cannonball.

"Daddy! Wake up! Uncle Leonard brought a giant magical beast from the northern mountains!" Livia cheered, tugging on my ears with her small hands.

"Oof!" I opened one eye, letting out a dramatic groan as I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. "Livia... your daddy is a retired hero... my stomach is an endangered ecosystem..."

"You’re just lazy, Daddy!" Livia giggled, her tiny fingers crackling with faint, harmless sparks of golden divine mana.

Despite being only five years old, Livia had inherited my God-Tier Mana System. She could already cast high-level levitation spells while sleeping and accidentally summoned a rain cloud inside the palace dining hall last week because she wanted an ice cream cone.

I sat up, resting Livia on my lap, and looked at Elena, who was pouring fresh Earl Grey tea into two porcelain cups.

"So, what did my brother bring this time?" I asked, taking a sip of the hot tea.

"A Level 8 Thunder Dragon," Elena smiled, sitting beside me on the velvet bench. "He wants you to evaluate it for the Imperial Guard detail."

"Tell Leonard to turn it into a flying taxi for the capital," I replied lazily, leaning my head back against the soft cushions. "Dragons make terrible guards. They shed too much scale dust."

[SYSTEM STATUS REPORT]

• Host: Lucas Ashford (Grand Archmage / World Sovereign).

• Current Status: Absolute Peace / Infinite Mana / 100% Slacker Satisfaction.

• Global Threat Level: 0.00%.

I pulled up my holographic System interface for a brief second, looking at the peaceful green diagnostics covering the entire world map.

In my past life, I was Ethan—a nameless programmer who died of exhaustion chasing deadlines, buried under corporate stress and endless labor.

In this life, I was Lucas Ashford. I had defeated Demon Kings, tamed Ancient Calamities, redefined the laws of magic, and saved millions of lives—all while trying my absolute hardest to do as little work as humanly possible.

Livia yawned softly on my chest, her tiny eyes growing heavy as the warm afternoon sun washed over the floating balcony. Elena leaned her head against my shoulder, holding my hand as the quiet breeze rustled the silver leaves of the surrounding sky-trees.

I looked out over the glowing, peaceful horizon of the capital below, where thousands of people were living, laughing, and building their futures under a bright, clear blue sky.

I adjusted my eye mask, closed my eyes, and pulled my daughter and wife a little closer.

"Hey, Elena?" I whispered softly into the quiet afternoon.

"Hmm?" she murmured back, her voice filled with gentle warmth.

"Life is pretty great when you don't have to work overtime."

Elena chuckled softly, kissing my cheek as the peaceful world drifted into a quiet, perfect afternoon nap.