"Luck and leisure walk hand in hand, for fortune favours those who let things come to them. True mastery lies in the gentle art of waiting, of knowing that sometimes the best outcomes drift in unbidden when one’s hands are at rest." – The Tao of Idleness Book 2, Verse 17

So, my first instinct was to pile everything into Luck.

And my second instinct.

And, let’s be honest, my third.

I mean, who – when resurrected into a new world – wouldn’t want as much Luck as possible on their side. If the slaughter outside Lazytown had taught me nothing else, it was that Luck was my bread and butter.

I didn’t want to say that Luck appeared to be the very essence of the Freeloader way of life, but it was increasingly looking like it was a pretty important part. For all I wasn’t loving the death and destruction beneath me, rather them than me and mine.

But then I remembered Lia.

Watching her tear through Imperial soldiers like a divine (pocket) buzzsaw had been... educational. Sure, Luck was great, but relying entirely on the roll of the cosmic dice felt a bit thin when the object of your affection was out there kicking down the doors of destiny with her bare hands.

Yeah, let’s all pretend that metaphor didn’t happen. I blame all the rotting corpses. They're putting me off my linguistic game.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. Allocating progress points.

Well, as fun as being a chaos monkey was, I’d be a fool to think that every toss of the coin would come up in my favour. Especially with a literal God after me. And while being phenomenally lucky had gotten me this far, it was obvious buffing up the rest of me might help me stick around longer.

Again, I found myself looking at my Endurance. The debuff there was so brutal that it just felt like an epic waste to put anything in there. Putting a Point in my Constitution had a clear and obvious benefit: a point there moved my Health up two. And I had a starting position of a hundred.

On the other hand, a point in Endurance moved my Stamina up one and I was beginning at fifty. This world was leaning hard into me not having much snap in my pencil . . .

I looked over at Scar, who was still clearly wrestling with the possibilities of his own Progress Points, staring at his menu like it was a treasure map and he was trying to decide which island to plunder first.

For him, this must feel like a once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Six points to allocate, all at once? From the look on his face he was treating the occasion with the reverence of a devout pilgrim at the altar. Years would have gone by without him ever seeing the glint of a Level Up message, and here he was, flush with six points to spend. I imagined he’d be quiet for some time, savouring the moment, holding onto the weight of it.

But that wasn’t true for me, was it? I was barely a couple of days into my second go at life and was already sitting at Level 15, which—if I believed all the hype—made me a certified, bonafide powerhouse. At least in this part of the world, where folks treated anyone above Level 8 like they’d just sprouted wings and started spitting lightning.

And I’d barely lifted a finger, doing it.

Well, no. Let’s be real here. I’m all on board for a bit of self-effacement—makes an MC relatable, right? But while I will freely admit that James 1.0 hadn’t exactly been the hardest-working ant in the hive, the me that was now the Rogue of Eldhaven hadn’t just been parked on my arse playing PS5 while the XP rolled in.

Sure, I’d picked up a whole host of gains I hadn’t lifted a finger to earn (thank you, Freeloader Class), but it wasn’t exactly like I’d been coasting.

I’d taken down a Minotaur Dungeon Boss in a fight that, frankly, felt a bit biblical at the time. I’d built a village from a few sad shacks and a particularly dreary well into something that could actually hold its own. I’d soloed an entire Rebellion attack bent on turning that village into a crater. Oh, and I’d faced down a literal God—didn’t even blink, thank you very much.

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And let’s not forget, I’m currently 1 for 1 on the “successful battlefield general” front. Hardly a thing of beauty, but a win’s a win.

When I put it like that, yeah, I am absolutely killing it.

Was that all down to luck? Sorry, Luck.

You know what, I’m going to take it as a sign of personal growth that I don’t think it’s entirely down to that.

But if you’re going to rely on a coin toss to survive... best to stack the coin.

I stuck ten points into Luck and the other ten in Endurance.

As soon as the points hit, three things happened.

First, I felt slightly less breathless. Yay for 75 in Stamina. It was like I’d just had a hit from my blue inhaler after sprinting to the door to catch the pizza delivery guy—only this time, instead of wheezing on the doorstep, I could actually imagine jogging back to the couch with the pizza and maybe even opening the box without collapsing.

Secondly, the Tao of Idleness in my inventory was reconstituted completely. Which was interesting. I took the book out, whereas it had recently been a pile of lifeless ash, now it was showing more than a hint of a comeback, like the residue of something that had been burned to nothing but was somehow. . . regrouping.

Could the increase in luck, my Luck, really have anything to do with that?

I tried to think it through, turning over what I knew about the Great Slacker and his sudden intervention. When he saved me and Lia, it had been like a huge cosmic hand just reached down and yanked us out of the fire. I imagined that kind of rescue didn’t come cheap—was it possible he’d used up some enormous store of cosmic energy, drained it dry to pull us back?

Like he’d poured every last bit of his essence into that one moment, and I’d been walking around ever since with the ashes of a god in my pocket?

And now… now that I was pumping points back into Luck, was he somehow refilling that lost power? I’d not thought of Luck as something that could work on him too, but the more I considered it now, the more it almost made sense. Luck, my stats, the points—it was all intertwined, all feeding this mysterious, half-formed lazy entity that had shown up to greet me in that alley in Eldhaven.

I stared at the book, watching as tiny motes of ash floated back into place, like particles of dust coming together to reform something greater. There was a spark there, something that had been lost and was now finding its way back, piece by piece. I reached out, stretching my mind toward whatever might be inside, hoping to feel even the faintest echo of his presence.

Nothing. Not yet, anyway. But maybe, just maybe… I was bringing him back.

And I’d have spent a bit longer thinking about that if it wasn’t for the third thing that has happened. I got a pretty interesting notification.

Achievement Unlocked: Peak of Mortal Strength (Rank 1)

In a world where most struggle to lift themselves, you’ve raised yourself above the crowd. Strength of mind, body, or spirit—it doesn’t matter. You have surpassed the limits of common folk.

Effect: Upon reaching 30 in any core stat, gain a passive 5% increase in that stat’s effectiveness, representing your new mastery over it. Additionally, nearby allies gain a minor boost (2%) to the same stat as long as they remain within range, basking in the aura of your achievement.

Okay, so first of all, I don’t really know what it means when it says a ‘passive 5% increase in that stat’s effectiveness’. But it sounds like my numbers just got . . . purer? Like, each of my Progress Points just got 5% better, right?

And, on the face of it, 5% isn’t all that – although I had a feeling that was probably going to start being a thing the higher my numbers went up. Maths absolutely isn’t my thing, but while 5% boost to each point in 20 would be . . . not a lot. 5% of 200 would be a deal.

Plus, with most of my stats now hovering around 30, it wasn’t exactly a wild leap to think I’d soon be ranking that achievement up. And when that 5% core stat boost ranks up and then starts scaling up as I move into bigger numbers, well, I’d essentially have myself a permanent, stacking buff that was going to keep growing. A casual 45% boost sometime in the near future didn’t seem too out of reach. And from there…

Wowza.

I thought back to that morning I woke up late in my damp, dingy room. The floor with all those water stains that looked like they were plotting something, the whole place smelled faintly of mildew, and the alarm clock was buzzing angrily to remind me I was already late for a Job Centre appointment.

Another day in a life that was, at best, a steady trudge through a swamp of mediocrity. Absolute crap waiting for me around every corner, no real end in sight.

But now?

Now I was standing here, armed to the teeth with stats and abilities that defied anything I’d ever imagined. The entire world had shifted, turned itself upside down and handed me an edge.

A little light hit-and-run on fate’s behalf felt like a small price to pay.