The Idle God of Eternal Sloth

Chapter 11: Mending the Heavens with a Yawn

The jagged scar across the sky screamed with a sound that felt like teeth grinding against cold iron. It was a spatial rift, a raw wound in reality that pulsed with a sickening violet light, and it was currently tearing the atmosphere above the Grand Palace into shreds. Massive chunks of marble and gold-leafed masonry were being sucked upward into the vacuum, swirling like autumn leaves in a hurricane. Below, the survivors of the Syndicate’s elite were huddled against the walls, their faces pale and their eyes reflecting the end of the world. Nicolás did not move from the throne. He kept Renata settled on his lap, his arm draped possessively over her waist while his other hand adjusted the collar of his ruined coat.

"Is it just me, or is there a terrible draft in here?" Nicolás asked, his voice cutting through the roar of the collapsing sky.

Renata looked up at him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her silver hair was whipped into a frenzy by the gale-force winds.

"Nicolás, the entire palace is being pulled into a void dimension! The spatial stabilizers were destroyed when you shattered the roof! If that rift expands another hundred meters, the entire capital will be erased from the map!"

Nicolás looked at the swirling vortex and then down at the Supreme Overseer, who was still pinned beneath the crystal chandelier. The old man was laughing, a wet, rattling sound that bubbled through the blood in his throat.

"It is over, you arrogant brat! You triggered the fail-safe! If I cannot rule this world, nobody will! The Void-Drake was just the guardian! The rift is the master! It will eat your power and your girl and every single thing you think you have won!"

Nicolás sighed, the sound heavy with a boredom so profound it seemed to damp the noise of the wind. "You people are so dramatic. Every time something goes wrong, you start shouting about the end of the world. It is honestly exhausting. I just wanted to sit down for five minutes without something trying to implode."

A translucent blue box shimmered into view, pulsing with a lazy, golden rhythm.

[Quest Alert: The Draft is Annoying]

[Objective: Close the spatial rift before your hair gets messed up]

[Reward: 150,000,000 XP]

[Special Bonus: Convert the rift into a luxury light fixture]

"Finally," Nicolás whispered. "A quest with some practical application."

He didn't stand up. He didn't chant an incantation or draw a weapon. He simply leaned his head back against the velvet cushions of the throne and exhaled a long, slow breath. His eyes took on a dull, metallic gold shine. The air around the throne didn't just grow heavy, it grew stagnant. It was his Apathy Aura, but tuned to a frequency that affected the very fabric of space-time.

"Stop moving," Nicolás commanded.

The command wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of an absolute law. The roaring wind died instantly. The chunks of marble that were flying toward the sky froze in mid-air, suspended in a state of total kinetic arrest. Even the violet light of the rift seemed to dim, the swirling energy slowing down as if it had suddenly become bored with its own destruction. The nobles in the hall gasped, their bodies going stiff as they felt the crushing weight of the aura. It felt like their very souls were being told to take a nap.

"What... what are you doing?" the Supreme Overseer wheezed, his eyes bulging. "You cannot stop a spatial collapse with a mood! It is physics! It is the law of the universe!"

"The universe is working too hard," Nicolás replied, his gaze fixed on the rift. "It needs to relax. Everything is so tense these days. Why suck things up when you can just hang there and look pretty?"

He flicked his wrist toward the sky. The golden energy from his system poured out of his fingertips, moving like honey through water. It touched the edges of the violet rift and began to coat the jagged energy in a layer of shimmering, lazy light. The rift tried to pulse, to fight back, but every time it gathered energy, the Apathy Aura drained it away. The spatial tear began to shrink, its violent edges smoothing out until it looked less like a hole in reality and more like a massive, glowing oval of soft lavender light.

Renata watched in awe as the terrifying apocalypse was transformed into a floating decoration. The debris that had been suspended in the air began to drift slowly back to the floor, landing with soft thuds instead of destructive impacts. The sky above the palace was no longer a storm of void energy. It was a calm, star-filled night, centered around the beautiful, docile rift that now hummed with a low, soothing frequency.

"There," Nicolás murmured, his hand sliding back down to Renata’s hip. "Much better. The lighting was always a bit too aggressive in here anyway. Now it has a nice, ambient glow."

[Quest Completed: The Draft is Annoying]

[XP Gained: 150,000,000]

[New Passive Skill: Architect of Indifference]

[Level Up: 105]

The surviving nobles stood in the wreckage of the ballroom, their weapons discarded on the floor. They didn't even look at the Overseer anymore. Their gazes were fixed on Nicolás with a terror that was far deeper than anything they had felt for the Syndicate. They realized then that they weren't looking at a rebel or a mage. They were looking at something that could treat a cosmic catastrophe as a minor inconvenience. One by one, the lords and ladies sank to their knees, their foreheads touching the cold marble.

"We submit," a duchess sobbed from the front row. "The Syndicate is dead. We are yours. Spare us. Just let us live in this world you have broken."

Nicolás didn't even acknowledge them. He was looking at Renata, his eyes dark with a heat that had nothing to do with the spatial rift. He could feel the way her heart was racing against his chest, the way her skin was flushed with the lingering adrenaline of the fight. The scent of her perfume, mixed with the sharp smell of ozone, was starting to get to him.

"Renata," he said, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "I believe I mentioned something about a bed. And I am fairly certain this palace has a master suite that hasn't been completely demolished."

Renata bit her lip, her eyes searching his. She could see the god in him, the terrifying power that had just mended the heavens with a yawn, but she could also see the man who was looking at her as if she were the only thing in the room that mattered. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

"The master suite is on the third floor. It has a balcony that overlooks the entire city. And the doors have very thick locks."

"Perfect," Nicolás whispered.

He stood up from the throne, lifting Renata into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He didn't look at the kneeling nobles. He didn't look at the broken Overseer. He just started walking toward the grand staircase, his boots clicking rhythmically against the floor. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, people scrambling to get out of his way, their faces pressed to the ground in a display of absolute, existential dread.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the Supreme Overseer let out one last, desperate cry. "You cannot just walk away! The world is watching! The Over-Syndicate will hear of this! They will send the God-Eaters! You have declared yourself the enemy of the entire Awakened world!"

Nicolás paused at the landing. He didn't turn around. He just looked over his shoulder, his expression one of mild, flickering interest. "Tell them to make an appointment. I am going to be busy for the next twelve hours. And if they wake me up, I will do something much worse than turn their rifts into lamps."

He continued walking, his pace leisurely and confident. They moved through the silent, shadowed halls of the palace, past tapestries of ancient kings and suits of armor that seemed to bow as they passed. When they reached the heavy, gold-encrusted doors of the master suite, Nicolás kicked them open with a single, effortless motion. The room inside was a sanctuary of blue velvet, white silk, and a bed so large it looked like it could hold a small army.

He carried her inside and kicked the door shut. The lock clicked into place with a heavy, final sound. The moonlight from the balcony spilled across the floor, illuminating the room in a soft, silvery glow. Nicolás set Renata down on the edge of the bed, but he didn't let go of her hands. He stood between her knees, his presence filling the space, his aura no longer a crushing weight but a warm, enveloping heat.

"You are very quiet all of a sudden," Nicolás murmured, his fingers tracing the line of her throat.

"I am trying to remember how to breathe," Renata replied, her voice shaky. She reached up, her hands finding the hem of his shirt. "You just saved the city. You just ended a century of tyranny. And all you want is a nap?"

"I never said I wanted a nap," Nicolás corrected, leaning down until their foreheads touched. "I said I wanted to be comfortable. And right now, there is nowhere else I would rather be."

He captured her lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with a possessive intensity that made the room feel like it was spinning. Renata pulled him closer, her body arching into his, her fingers tangling in his hair. The system in his mind was chiming with notifications about his rising levels and the evolution of his skills, but he pushed them all into the background. For the first time in two lifetimes, he wasn't thinking about the next level or the next quest. He was thinking about the woman in his arms and the way her skin felt against his.

The air in the room began to vibrate with a soft, golden light, a reflection of their merging mana. The city outside was in a state of total upheaval, with armies retreating and citizens cheering in the streets, but inside the suite, the world had ceased to exist. Nicolás pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his thumb brushing over her lower lip.

"I think," he whispered, his voice thick with a dark, hungry promise, "that we should make sure the Syndicate knows exactly what they lost today."

He pushed her back onto the pillows, his body following hers down into the silk. The moonlight caught the glow of his eyes as he leaned over her, his hands exploring the curves of her frame with a familiarity that made her gasp. But just as he moved to reclaim her lips, a sudden, sharp chime echoed through the room. It wasn't the system. It was a physical sound, coming from the bedside table.

Nicolás froze. He looked over to see a small, black stone pulsing with a violent, rhythmic light. It was a long-distance communication relic, one reserved for the highest level of emergency within the Syndicate’s global network. A voice began to leak from the stone, a voice that was cold, metallic, and resonated with a power that made the golden rift outside the palace flicker.

"Overseer, report," the voice commanded. "The spatial sensors in the capital have detected a Level 10 anomaly. We are initiating a localized purge protocol. If you are still alive, identify the target immediately."

Nicolás looked at the stone, then back at Renata. His eyes narrowed, the lazy gold light in them sharpening into a lethal, focused edge. He reached out and picked up the stone, his grip tightening until the black surface began to crack.

"The Overseer is currently indisposed," Nicolás said into the relic, his voice flat and terrifyingly calm.

"Who is this?" the voice demanded, the metallic tone shifting into a snarl. "State your name and rank, or your entire district will be vaporized within the hour."

Nicolás smirked, a slow, dangerous expression that didn't reach his eyes. He looked at Renata, who was watching him with a mix of fear and mounting excitement. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling her into the crook of his arm, and spoke into the stone one last time.

"My name is Nicolás," he said, his voice echoing with the authority of a god who had finally been pushed too far. "And I am currently on my honeymoon. If you interrupt me again, I am going to come over there and personally show you why you should have stayed in the dark."

He crushed the stone in his palm, the shards of black rock falling to the carpet in a cloud of useless dust. The room went silent again, but the atmosphere had changed. The lazy god was no longer just resting. He was waiting.

"Nicolás?" Renata whispered, her hand resting on his chest.

He didn't answer. He just looked at the door, his senses expanding until he could feel the arrival of three massive, high-level energy signatures at the edge of the city. They weren't assassins. They weren't mages. They were the God-Eaters, and they had arrived exactly twelve hours earlier than he had expected.

Nicolás sighed, a long, tired sound that made the chandelier overhead tremble. He looked down at Renata, then at the comfortable bed, and then at the window where the first signs of a new, much more violent storm were beginning to form on the horizon.

"It seems," Nicolás muttered, his eyes glowing with a cold fury, "that I am going to have to cancel my breakfast plans."

He stood up, his body radiating a pressure that cracked the floorboards, and walked toward the balcony. He didn't look back as he stepped out into the night air, his gaze locked on the three streaks of black fire descending from the clouds, their targets set squarely on the palace.

"You three," Nicolás shouted into the wind, his voice a thunderclap that leveled the nearby trees. "Do you have any idea how much I hate being woken up?"