"In the days before the Great Unmaking, the gods gathered to decide the fate of the world. Each stood, grand and proud, presenting their plans to save creation. One god spoke of war, of a cleansing fire that would burn away all impurity. Another spoke of order, of binding all to their will and reshaping the world in perfect symmetry. A third spoke of knowledge, to drown the chaos in endless wisdom until no corner remained unknown.

But at the edge of the council, the Great Slacker yawned and stretched, drawing irritated glances from the others. ‘Why do you sleep when the end draws near?’ one god demanded. ‘What will you contribute to stave off the apocalypse?’

The Slacker smiled faintly, reclining further. ‘You all rush to prevent the inevitable. Fire will burn out. Order will falter. Knowledge will twist into arrogance. The world does not need your frantic hands pulling it apart further.’ He gestured to the empty air. ‘Sometimes, the only way to survive the storm is to stop fighting it. Let the tide come, let it go, and those who endure will emerge stronger, less burdened by the weight of your endless intervention.’

The gods laughed, dismissing him as lazy, as weak. They unleashed their fire, their chains, their endless wisdom. And the world burned, crumbled, and drowned beneath their hubris. But when the ash settled, it was not the gods who endured—it was the ones who had waited in stillness, who had let the chaos flow around them, unresisting. The Great Slacker had been right, but none were left to tell him so." – The Tao of Idleness, Book 10, Verse 100

"Is that your real level?" Lia said, jabbing a finger toward the glowing text above my head. It looked to me that she’d put her Level 16 Progress Point into ‘being pissed off at James.’

Dammit. I really need to figure out how to hide that info box.

"Why were you pretending to be weak and pathetic if you're that strong?" Lia demanded, hands now firmly on her hips in full “disappointed mom” mode. ""I thought I was shielding a helpless little orphan boy from danger, and instead, I was babysitting a goddamn tank who couldn’t be bothered to roll forward!"

It appeared Dema wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to pile on in me, either. "You let me take on Berker alone? I nearly died while you stood around playing ‘Damsel in Distress Simulator 3000!"

"Hey!" I said, raising my hands defensively. "Can we tone down the whole 'James is a pathetic piece of shit' commentary for, like, five seconds, please?"

But they weren’t done.

Why are you pretending to be weaker than you are?” Lia said, getting dangerously close. “No wonder the Maker hates you. You’re basically a walking ‘fuck you’ to effort."

I opened my mouth to argue but quickly realised there was no winning this one.

Dema wasn’t done. Her face was red, her fists were clenched, and when she finally let loose, it was like a dam breaking.

“What, do you get off on playing the pathetic, useless, lazy, bottom-feeding, mother-fucking waste of space while everyone else risks their necks for you? Seriously, is that your thing? Sitting there, all smug, while the rest of us bleed for you? You’re like a brain-dead, soaking wet piece of cardboard that somehow grew legs and conned us into thinking you were worth saving!”

Okay, so that last simile was a touch . . . weird, but I’ll let it ride. Mostly because I don’t think she would appreciate me interrupting right now.

“Trust me, James,” Dema summed up, face almost glowing with rage. “This is absolutely the last time I pull your balls out of the fire.”

“Same,” Lia chimed in. “In fact, it’s the last time either of us think about your balls at all!”

And with that, they turned on their heels and marched off, arm in arm, leaving me standing there in stunned silence, replaying the verbal mugging I’d just endured.

Scar appeared beside me, watching Lia and Dema storm off, a thundercloud of righteous fury. He gave me a pat on the back that was either meant to be comforting or to check if I was still breathing.

“We’ve all been there, mate,” he said with a sage nod. “Do you want to hear the advice my old man gave me about surviving interactions with the fairer sex? Changed my perspective forever.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Sure,” I said, though I didn’t, really. But considering I was still reeling from that verbal beatdown, it was going to take me a minute to scrape my pride off the floor.

Scar’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial tone.“One day, when I was about fourteen or fifteen, he took me aside. Pipe in mouth, leaning on the old oak in the back garden, the smell of cherry tobacco hanging in the air. It was a perfect moment, you know? Sun setting, birds chirping, like the whole world was holding its breath for what he was about to say. He gave me a look that could’ve burned through stone, full of all the wisdom of his years of struggle and triumph, and said—”

Scar paused for dramatic effect, clearly relishing every second.

“‘Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t legally kidnap them and hold them captive in a sex dungeon.’”

I paused.

Nope.

That seemed to be it.

***

I left Scar to overseeing the clean-up and looting and went to have a sit-down on the edge of my favourite well again.

Nobody ever tells you that rapidly growing your stats is fucking exhausting. You hear "Level up!" and think, Cool, I’m gonna be stronger, faster, better. Like, bam—I’m Superman now, let’s lift a car and cartwheel away into the sunset.

Nope. Not even close.

What actually happens is your body becomes this weird, untrustworthy thing.

It’s like my muscles suddenly woke up and realised they had more horsepower but forgot to update me on the new controls. Every step feels like my legs are trying to audition for Cirque du Soleil, and my arms are swinging around like they’ve got their own agenda. I went to scratch my nose and almost punched myself in the face.

Twice.

Just the short walk from Lia and Dema’s roasting feels like I’ve been plugged into someone else’s save file—someone with way more talent but zero sense of subtlety. Every step is a gamble. Will my legs casually stroll forward? Will they launch me into an accidental parkour stunt? Who knows!

And it’s not just the doing that’s weird—it’s the not doing. Slouching on the edge of this well, normally my core competency, has become a health hazard. I’m genuinely worried I’ll break something just by existing on it too hard.

The real kicker, though, is how my brain isn’t quickly catching up. You’d think with all these upgrades, I’d feel invincible. Nope. My body’s trying to act like it’s a pro athlete while my brain’s still operating on slacker settings, screaming, What the hell are we doing?! It’s like putting a Formula 1 engine in a beat-up hatchback and hoping for the best.

Everything feels off.

Like my body and I had a nice, lazy equilibrium going, and now I’m trying to figure out what to do with all these upgrades I didn’t order. I keep overshooting footsteps because my feet have decided “precision” isn’t their thing anymore.

So here I am, ridiculously overpowered, ridiculously underprepared, and somehow managing to make it all look like the least graceful transformation ever.

Sure, it appears I can probably take down a small army without breaking a sweat, but at this point, I’d settle for just walking across the village without looking like a malfunctioning robot.

The world seemed to tilt slightly, like reality itself had hit the snooze button for just a moment. And then, unceremoniously, a familiar, lazy voice drawled in my head.

Finding all your hard-won power a trip?

I jumped, nearly falling down the Well again in surprise. "You're back?" I said aloud, earning a few side-eyes from Scar’s Unmerry Men nearby. I ignored them. “You’ve been gone for ages! What happened? You left me with ash, dude.”

Even gods need to rest, my child. But I must admit, watching you stumble around with your newfound... Strength has been a tonic. You look like a newborn ox learning to walk. Like that scene in Bambi. Good times.

“Oh, thanks. Real vote of confidence,” I said. “You’re the one who dumped me into this mess with no manual, remember?”

You were never without guidance," he replied, The Tao of Idleness is within you. It whispers in the quiet moments. And clearly, you have done quite well Freeloading on the goodwill of the universe.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. But I’ve seen this scene before. You’re here to warn me about something, aren’t you?”

Very astute, child. But do not mistake my return for strength. I am weak, a shadow of what I was, and I came only because you must prepare.

“Dude, nothing can be as hard as what I’ve just gone through. A three-army standoff, a literal god breathing down my neck, and, oh yeah, an epic verbal smackdown from Lia and Dema. You name it, I’ve survived it.”

There was a long pause, and I could feel his presence shifting, becoming heavier.

Ah, the Slacker said finally, and for the first time, his tone wasn’t languid—it was dark, almost cold. Then I suppose it’s best to tell you what comes next.

“What?” I asked, my bravado faltering. “What’s coming?”

And then he told me.

“Fuck,” I said.

The Slacker said nothing more, his presence slipping away as quickly as it had arrived, leaving me standing there, staring out at the village where the world felt suddenly darker.

Whatever came next, it was going to make everything I’d been through look like a casual warm-up.

And I wasn’t ready. Not even close.