The soft chair at Riverside Café felt like sitting on a cloud. Adrian let his head lean back into the cushioned fabric. He exhaled, the sound mixing with the noise of cups clinking and people chatting about expensive things. His old life had been exhausting, struggling with bills and cheap food. In this life, he’d found the ultimate trick. He didn’t need to fight with swords or speak strange words like the arrogant fools filling this city. He just had to be alive.A blue transparent box appeared before his eyes, only he could see it.[Lazy God System Active][Status: Resting / Sitting / Breathing][XP Gained: 6,000,000][Current Level: 99]Adrian held back a yawn. Five million points just for resting. It was almost too simple. He watched a man in an expensive suit pass by, puffing his chest with pride of a Level 12 Awakener. That guy probably spent eighteen hours every day in a training chamber to reach that weak level. Adrian shifted slightly, and the system gave him another wave of

Cole didn’t even flinch. He tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing behind his glasses. The glowing cane in his hand pulsed, casting long shadows against the broken walls of the ruined café. He looked at the receipt in Adrian’s hand, then back at his face with pure confusion.“A receipt?” Cole asked, his voice dripping with mean amusement. “You have seconds to live, you absolute fool, and you’re worried about a bill at a café that’s being turned into a graveyard?”Adrian sighed, the sound echoing through the quiet. He flicked the crumpled paper toward the floor with a bored look. It floated down, landing nearly in a puddle of spilled coffee.“You interrupted my coffee, Cole. That’s a serious offense in my book,” Adrian said. He didn’t get into a fighting stance. He didn’t even tense up. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking like a man waiting for a bus that was ten minutes late.Isabelle stepped up beside him, her breathing shaky. Her hand moved toward the small silver

Cole walked into the room with the elegance of a hunter stalking wounded game. He didn’t appear like an assassin who’d just been crushed under piles of rubble. His clothing was spotless, the fabric pristine and untouched by dirt. He held the crinkled café receipt between two fingers as if it were a treasured relic. His gaze shifted from Adrian to the bed where Isabelle sat, her complexion ashen against the charcoal sheets.“You genuinely should have disposed of that receipt properly, Adrian,” Cole remarked, his voice a chilly, crystalline tone. “It’s been quite an expedition pursuing the spiritual signature abandoned by a man who handles existence as his private playground. I have to acknowledge, the estate is magnificent. Rather extravagant for a hedonist, perhaps.”Adrian remained seated on the mattress’s perimeter, his physique loose, his stare lethargic with the variety of tiredness that typically indicated devastation ahead. He extended his arm and grabbed a tumbler of liquid fro

Isabelle held the steering equipment so hard her digits became pale, her gaze shifting among the pathway and the returning mirror. The motorcycle operators distributed like a lethal dark stream, their charcoal cables whistling via the atmosphere with a tone that made the hair on her limbs stand up. Adrian positioned himself on top of the moving vehicle, his posture as relaxed as if he were standing for a morning bus. He didn’t trouble to pull a cutting implement. He simply examined down at the gathering of operatives, his orbitals radiating with that sluggish, frightening golden tone.“You genuinely should have inspected the climate projection,” Adrian bellowed via the roar of the moving atmosphere.He didn’t hang back for a response. He positioned his footwear against the automobile’s covering, and the hard surface beneath the rushing motorcycles lifted upward in a ragged wall of material. Multiple bikes collided into the unexpected barrier, their operators launched into the evening