My God-Tier Slacker System Is Out Of Control

Chapter 5 Dying For Those Daily Rewards

"Does the helicopter have Wi-Fi? Because I still haven't checked my daily rewards in my gacha game," Doni muttered, staring through the sunroof at the black silhouette of a military-grade chopper hovering above their tail. It was framed by the neon glow of the city's skyscrapers, looking like a mechanized bird of prey with a very personal grudge.

"Doni, for the love of everything that is holy and productive, shut up!" Dona screamed, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. She jerked the car to the left, tires shrieking against the asphalt as a red laser dot danced across the dashboard. "We are literally seconds away from becoming a charred smudge on the highway, and you’re worried about virtual waifus?!"

"They're not just waifus, Dona. They’re a significant emotional investment. Plus, there’s a limited-time 'Beach Episode' event ending at midnight," Doni retorted, his voice surprisingly calm despite the fact that his seatbelt was the only thing keeping him from flying out of his seat. "Besides, being stressed is bad for my skin. Stress causes wrinkles. Wrinkles lead to effort. Effort leads to... ugh, the workplace."

The roar of the helicopter’s engine intensified, a bone-deep thrumming that made the change in the cup holder rattle like teeth. Outside, the city of North District flickered by in a blur of gray and neon. Dona slammed her foot on the accelerator, weaving the sedan through a gap between two semi-trucks.

"Target lock! Target lock!" a synthesized voice shrieked from a tablet clipped to the dash. "Evasive maneuvers recommended!"

"Where are they even firing from? Is that thing actually carrying missiles? In a residential zone? That has to be against several municipal ordinances!" Doni cried, finally sitting up. He looked out the rear window. A hatch on the chopper's side slid open, revealing a cylindrical pod. A flash of light erupted from the tube.

"Missile incoming! Doni, do something!" Dona yelled, her voice reaching a pitch that could shatter crystal.

"Me?! I’m just the guy who snored at a server! I don’t have an 'Anti-Missile' button!" Doni panicked. He looked around the messy interior of the car. His hand brushed against a giant, 2-liter bottle of Blue Blast Energy Soda—a beverage so caffeinated it was banned in most developed countries. The lid was already loose.

"Gross, I hate this flavor," Doni grumbled. In a fit of sheer apathy and irritation, he decided to toss the sticky, half-empty bottle out of the open window. "Take my trash, you airborne vultures!"

As the bottle flew out, it spun wildly in the slipstream of the moving car. Just then, the car hit a massive pothole—the kind of pothole the local government had ignored for six years despite numerous complaints. The sudden jolt caused Dona to swerve violently, throwing Doni against the door. But it also did something else.

The flying bottle of Blue Blast didn't just tumble away. It sailed directly into the intake of the car behind them—a sleek black SUV full of corporate assassins. But before that, the Blue Blast bottle released its contents. The carbonated blue syrup sprayed onto the windshield of a delivery van nearby. The driver, blinded by a neon blue sugar-rush of liquid, slammed on his brakes.

The timing was impeccable. The incoming missile, guided by an infrared seeker that was currently being confused by the heat-waste of the exploding Blue Blast sugars and the sudden brake lights of the van, performed a sharp, aerodynamic U-turn. It ignored Doni's car and instead locked onto the nearest high-intensity heat source: the engine block of the corporate assassins' SUV that had just swallowed the plastic bottle.

BOOM.

The explosion lit up the night sky, sending a pillar of orange flame toward the stars. The SUV flipped, landing on its roof, while the helicopter pilot, startled by the sudden malfunction of his smart-missile, pulled back so hard the chopper drifted into a billboard advertising "MEGA-COSMO CLEANING SUPPLIES: WE DISSOLVE THE MESS."

The helicopter didn't crash, but it was forced to break off its pursuit as its rotor blades chewed through several layers of thick, industrial-grade vinyl. It was currently trailing a thirty-foot-long banner of a giant smiling housemaid.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: PURE LUCK TRIGGERED! EFFECT: 'REFUSE COLLECTION COUNTER-MEASURE.']

[LUCK RANK INCREASED: LEVEL 5 — 'CHAOS ARCHITECT.']

"Wait... did I just take down a hit squad with a diet soda?" Doni asked, staring at his empty hand. "That bottle was three bucks! Dona, I’m putting that on my expense report."

"Shut. The. Hell. Up. And keep your head down!" Dona panted, her chest heaving as she guided the car off the highway and onto a service road. "We’re almost at St. Jude’s Tech Med. The signal from the drive is coming from the bio-research wing. If that cat has really started a breakthrough, we have to contain it before the Board's cleanup crew burns the building to the ground."

"Containing a cat? Dona, have you ever tried to put a cat in a carrier? It's like trying to shove a bowl of liquid anger into a mailbox," Doni sighed, leaning his head back. "Can’t we just call animal control? Or the FBI? Or... literally anyone who isn't us?"

"The FBI is probably on the Board’s payroll, and animal control doesn't deal with cats that know 256-bit encryption," Dona snapped, pulling the car to a halt in front of a sleek, clinical-white building that smelled like disinfectant and expensive failure. "We go in, we find the cat, we take the drive, and we leave. No talking. No 'sleeping' in the lobby. No distractions. Understood?"

"I make no promises. My body has a very low tolerance for 'doing things,'" Doni muttered as he climbed out of the car, adjusting his rumpled suit. "Look at me. I look like I’ve been chewed up by a bear and spat out into a bankruptcy hearing."

"You look like a genius in the making. Or a very wealthy vagrant. Just keep moving," Dona commanded, pushing him toward the glass sliding doors of the facility.

The lobby of St. Jude’s was eerily quiet. There were no receptionists, no patients—only the sound of a distant, frantic alarm beeping from the upper floors. Dona scanned her "efficiency audit" pass at the elevator. It turned green.

"Top floor," she whispered. "Lab 4-C. That's where the signal is coming from."

As they stepped out onto the fourth floor, the scene was pure chaos. Or at least, it had been. Several high-level researchers in white coats were sprawled on the floor, looking like they had been hit by a tranquilizer dart or perhaps just a very aggressive realization. In the center of the main laboratory, sitting on a stainless-steel table, was the tabby cat.

"Mr. Whiskers!" Doni called out, a hint of genuine affection in his voice. "Hey, buddy! You got something for me? Hopefully not a dead bird this time?"

The cat looked at Doni, its eyes yellow and intelligent. It pawed lazily at a keyboard that was hooked up to a massive glass cylinder labeled STABILITY CHAMBER 01 - PROTEIN REPLICATION. On the screen, thousands of lines of code were scrolling by, but one word kept flashing in bold, neon green: SYNERGY COMPLETE.

"He... he’s running the simulation," Dona whispered, her tablet trembling in her hand as she stood next to a fallen scientist. "He isn't just typing. He’s using the encryption patterns from the flash drive to fix the holes in the protein’s genetic sequence. This is the immortality serum project they failed on three years ago. The Board wanted it for themselves. That cat... that cat is actually a better coder than you are, Doni."

"I never claimed to be the best. I’m comfortable with my mediocrity," Doni said, walking toward the cat. "Come here, you furry little industrial spy. Let’s go home. I have some tuna in the fridge that’s only slightly expired."

But the cat didn't budge. Instead, it let out a sharp, impatient hiss and nudged a half-empty test tube sitting next to the keyboard. The tube contained a pale, murky liquid that looked like dishwater. It was labeled SAMPLE X: NON-VIABLE.

"The catalyst!" a dazed researcher groaned from the floor, clutching his head. "We’re... missing the binding agent. The molecular bond is... breaking down. If it doesn't stabilize in sixty seconds, the whole serum becomes toxic waste. Years of work... billions of dollars... gone because of a damn feline."

"Missing a binding agent?" Doni asked, peering into the test tube. "Is that why it looks so boring? It looks like it needs some pizzazz. Some soul."

Doni was thirsty. Extremely thirsty. The chase had drained his electrolytes, and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his 'emergency' can of Giga-Zest Lime Soda. He’d forgotten he had it. He cracked the tab, and the sharp scent of artificial lime and chemical carbonation filled the lab.

"No! Not in the lab!" the researcher screamed, trying to reach out. "Contamination! You’ll ruin—"

"Calm down, Doc. I’m just taking a sip," Doni said. But as he went to drink, his foot tripped over a stray power cord on the floor. His arm flailed. A good two ounces of Giga-Zest Lime Soda—saturated with high-fructose corn syrup, citric acid, and blue-tinted dye—poured directly into the 'Non-Viable' sample tube.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The murky water didn't turn green. Instead, it began to glow with a brilliant, pulsing golden light. The liquid swirled, the carbonation bubbles creating a perfect, pressurized environment for the synthetic proteins to latch onto the glucose molecules from the soda. The computer monitors began to beep like they were having a digital heart attack.

MOLECULAR STABILIZATION: 100%.

POTENCY LEVEL: UNPRECEDENTED.

"Wait... what did you just do?" Dona asked, her jaw literally hanging open. She stepped toward the glowing tube, her eyes reflecting the golden light. "Doni, tell me you didn't just fix a three-billion-dollar medical failure with a can of discount lime juice."

"It was a limited edition lime," Doni corrected, his eyes wide as he stared at the tube. "Does this mean I don't get a refund? I didn't even get a sip of that."

The lead researcher, a man who had once been considered for the Nobel Prize before he lost his sanity to corporate greed, crawled over to the table and stared at the glowing liquid. He dipped a testing strip into it, then looked at his handheld scanner. He began to weep.

"Sugar... Citric acid... the exact pH balance we were missing..." the researcher whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "The 'immortality' factor was unstable because the amino chains were too stiff. They needed... they needed to be loosened by a sugary, carbonated suspension. It's... it's a breakthrough. A total breakthrough! You’ve cured cellular decay, Mr. Kusuma!"

"Technically, I just spilled my drink because your cleaning staff can't hide cables properly," Doni retorted, grabbing the tabby cat by the scruff of its neck. "Alright, kitty. Experiment’s over. Dona, we're leaving before the news cameras show up. I don't want to be known as 'The Soda Sage.' That sounds like a failed superhero."

"Too late," Dona whispered, pointing at the security monitor. The main gate of the facility was being swarmed. Not by hit squads, but by cameras. The CEO of Aura-V had already leaked the 'Sonic Security Legend' story, and now, combined with the hospital's sudden breakthrough, every media outlet on the planet was converging on Lab 4-C.

The elevator doors at the end of the hall opened with a ding. A woman in a sharp navy-blue dress and pearls stepped out. It was Ibu Laura, the CEO of the world’s largest health-tech conglomerate and the primary rival to the Board. She looked at the glowing serum, then at Doni, then at the cat.

"Mr. Kusuma," she said, her voice like warm silk over broken glass. "I was told you were an anarchist who snores. I didn't realize you were an alchemist who creates miracles from convenience store leftovers."

"I'm just a guy who wants a nap, Ibu Laura," Doni sighed, clutching the cat to his chest. "Seriously. Is that too much to ask? A six-hour window without a corporate takeover or a miracle discovery? Can I have that?"

"With that serum in your hand? Never," Laura smiled, though her eyes were cold and calculating. "The Board will send a battalion to take it from you. But I? I will offer you something better. A job. Not as an analyst. Not as a consultant. I want you to be our Chief Chaos Officer. Your only duty is to... fail. To do exactly what you’ve been doing."

"You want to pay me to mess up?" Doni asked, his eyes lighting up for the first time. "Wait, for real? That’s my specialty! I’ve been practicing my whole life!"

"Exactly," Laura nodded. "And the first order of business? You're going to come with me to our headquarters in Singapore. There's a private jet waiting at the hangar. No missiles, I promise."

Dona stepped in front of Doni, her hand reaching for her holster. "He's not going anywhere with you, Laura. He’s an asset under the jurisdiction of Aura-V and the efficiency board. And I still haven't cleared him for his 'Human Rights Award' press junket!"

"Oh, let him go, Dona," Doni pleaded. "She said the word 'fail.' I like that word. It feels like a hug from a fuzzy blanket."

Doni started walking toward the CEO, the glowing test tube tucked safely into his breast pocket. He felt the system hum in the back of his mind, a gentle vibration that suggested his 'luck' was far from being spent. He turned back to the lab, seeing the distraught researchers, the debris of the battle, and the sheer mess he’d created in just twenty minutes.

"Oh, by the way, Doc," Doni called out to the lead researcher. "Next time, try adding some popping candy. It might cure baldness. Or start a war. Hard to tell at this point."

As they reached the hangar, the night air was crisp and smelled of jet fuel. The private jet—a sleek, white G650—glinted under the spotlights. Doni boarded, taking a seat in the most luxurious leather armchair he had ever seen. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and prepared to close his eyes.

"Mr. Kusuma," Ibu Laura’s voice interrupted his dream of a ten-hour slumber. She was holding a champagne glass, staring out the window at the city. "There's one more thing you should know. That flash drive? It didn't just contain protein sequences."

Doni cracked one eye open. "Yeah? What else? My mom’s recipe for spicy chicken?"

"No," Laura whispered. "It contains the list of names for every individual with a 'God-Tier' system on this continent. Including your old friend... the one they call 'The Transcendental Sleeper.'"

Doni froze. His hand tightened around the armrest. "There are others? You mean... there's a club? Do we have meetings? Are there snacks?"

"No," Laura replied, turning to him with a grim smile. "There's a tournament. And you just accidentally registered yourself as the top seed."

Doni’s stomach did a backflip. He looked at the system screen one last time before it went dark.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: NEW SEASON INITIATED. RANKING: 1st PLACE (BY DEFAULT).]

[OBJECTIVE: DO NOT GET DEFEATED BY PRODUCTIVE PEOPLE.]

"Dona!" Doni yelled at the jet’s closing doors. "Tell them to cancel my Spotify subscription! I’m pretty sure I’m not coming back for a while!"

The jet roared to life, lifting into the black sky. In the corner of the cabin, the tabby cat licked its paw and stared at Doni, its eyes shimmering with a golden, carbonated light. The chaos had just gone international.

"Hey, cat," Doni whispered, closing his eyes at last. "Do you think Singapore has decent gacha signal? Because I’m one pull away from a Legendary Hero."

The cat just purred. But it wasn't a normal purr. It was the sound of a system loading its next disaster.

"Doni," Laura’s voice came from the front of the jet. "We just got a report. A meteor is projected to hit the Pacific ocean. Its trajectory changed... when you boarded the plane. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Doni didn't answer. He was already fast asleep, his snores beginning to match the vibration of the jet's engines.

"I guess that’s a yes," Laura whispered, looking at the radar. "Fasten your seatbelt, Mr. Kusuma. The world is ending, and apparently, only you can fail hard enough to save it."