The Most Diligent Sloth

The Price Of a shout

"Laundry? Sari, I haven’t done laundry since the Great Ant Infestation of last year, and you know it!" Jaka barked, his voice cracking with a mixture of relief and sheer, unadulterated exhaustion.

He didn’t let go of her. If anything, he gripped her shoulders tighter, his fingers digging into the fabric of her floral dress. The grey ash was still falling, a silent, suffocating snow that seemed to muffle the very world around them, but for a second, the heartbeat in her neck felt like a drum in the silence.

Sari’s head lolled back, her eyes fluttering as they struggled to focus on Jaka’s face. A small, dreamy smile played on her lips—a smile that looked utterly wrong amidst the graveyard of the marketplace.

"Don't be so loud, Jaka," she whispered, her voice sounding like it was drifting from the bottom of a deep well. "It’s so nice here. Why are you shaking me? The ground... it doesn't feel like stone anymore. It feels like a cloud. A big, warm, fluffy cloud. I think I just want to float for a while."

"No floating! Absolutely no floating!" Jaka shouted, his heart hammering. He could see her eyes beginning to glaze over again, that terrifying vacuous look returning to replace the spark of recognition. "Sari! Look at me! If you fall back asleep, you’re going to stay that way. Look at everyone else! Look at the butcher! He’s been face-down in a pile of sausages for ten minutes!"

"Lucky butcher..." Sari sighed, her eyelids drooping. "Go away, Jaka. Go find your own cloud. This one is mine."

She began to slump back toward the orange basket, her body becoming heavy and limp. Jaka panicked. He looked up, expecting to see the countdown timer, but instead, a new screen erupted in front of his face, pulsing with a vibrant, sickeningly energetic gold.

[WARNING: SUBJECT 'SARI' IS RE-ENTERING THE ETERNAL RECLINED STATE.]

[THE ASH SPECTRUM IS ABSORBING HER WILLPOWER. MANUAL STIMULATION INSUFFICIENT.]

[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: INSPIRATIONAL ROAR (LVL 1).]

[DESCRIPTION: A SHOUT SO ANNOYING AND PRODUCTIVE IT FORCES THE BRAIN TO REBOOT.]

[COST: 50 SLOTH POINTS.]

Jaka stared at the screen, his mouth agape. "Sloth Points? What the hell are Sloth Points? I don’t have points! I have debt and a very small collection of polished rocks!"

[STATUS CHECK: JAKA.]

[SLOTH POINTS: 100/100.]

[NOTE: SLOTH POINTS REPRESENT YOUR SOUL’S PURITY OF INDOLENCE. THESE POINTS ARE THE SOURCE OF YOUR IMMUNITY. IF SLOTH POINTS REACH ZERO, USER WILL BE FORCED INTO 'NORMAL PRODUCTIVE CITIZEN' MODE PERMANENTLY.]

"Wait, wait, wait!" Jaka hissed, ignoring the fact that Sari was now practically snoring against his chest. "You’re saying if I use my laziness points to save her, I become... a productive citizen? Like, I’ll actually want to do things? Forever?"

[CORRECT. YOU WILL LOSE ALL IMMUNITY TO THE GREY ASH. YOU WILL BECOME SUSCEPTIBLE TO THE ETERNAL REST. YOU WILL LIKELY BECOME THE MOST DILIGENT PERSON IN THE CEMETERY.]

"That’s a death sentence!" Jaka screamed at the air. "I spent twenty-four years perfecting the art of doing nothing! I am a master of the mid-day nap! You’re asking me to trade my very identity, my safety, just to yell at her?"

He looked down at Sari. She looked so peaceful. If he just let her sleep, he could keep his points. He could stay immune. He could wander this silent world in perfect, lazy solitude, never having to lift a finger again. It was the dream he had always wanted.

But then he remembered the way she used to laugh at him when he tripped over his own broom. He remembered the way she’d bring him an extra bowl of rice because she knew he was too lazy to cook for himself.

"System," Jaka growled, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and genuine fear. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Taking a man’s only currency. Fine. Do it. Use the points."

[50 SLOTH POINTS CONSUMED. REMAINING BALANCE: 50.]

[SKILL 'INSPIRATIONAL ROAR' READY. AIM AT TARGET AND RELEASE.]

Jaka felt a sudden, violent pressure building in his lungs. It wasn’t the 'Burning Itch' this time; it was something else. It was an urge to organize, a desire to set an alarm clock, a sudden, terrifying impulse to write a to-do list. It was pure, distilled Productivity, and it felt like swallowing a bucket of hot coals.

He grabbed Sari’s face, forcing her to look at him.

"SARI! WAKE UP AND DO YOUR CHORES!" Jaka roared.

The sound that left his throat wasn't a normal human voice. It was a sonic boom of sheer, nagging energy. It echoed off the stone walls of the marketplace, shattering a nearby ceramic pot and sending a flock of sleeping pigeons tumbling off a roof. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the frequency of a thousand angry mothers demanding their children clean their rooms.

Sari’s eyes didn't just open; they practically bulged out of her head. She let out a sharp, strangled gasp and bolted upright, her forehead slamming into Jaka’s chin with a sickening thud.

"Ow! Mother of—!" Jaka tumbled backward, clutching his jaw, tears pricking his eyes. "You have a head like a coconut!"

Sari was gasping for air, her hands clutching at her chest as if she had just been plunged into a freezing lake. She looked around the marketplace, her eyes darting frantically from the sleeping bodies to the grey sky, and then finally back to Jaka.

"Jaka?" she whispered, her voice no longer a ghost, but sharp with terror. "Jaka, what... what was that? Why was everything so... so golden?"

"The skill worked," Jaka groaned, rubbing his bruised chin. "Though I think I just lost ten years of my life and my ability to enjoy a nap. Are you back? Are you actually back?"

Sari crawled toward him, her movements jerky and terrified. She grabbed the front of his tunic, her knuckles white. "I saw him, Jaka. I saw him."

"Saw who? The butcher? I told you, he’s busy with the sausages."

"No," Sari said, her voice shaking so hard she could barely get the words out. "The... the God. The God of Sloth. He was huge, Jaka. He was sitting on this giant, golden sofa in the middle of the sky. It looked so comfortable. It looked like the end of all worries. He was beckoning to me. He told me that if I just sat down next to him, I would never have to feel tired again. I would never have to worry about the harvest or the taxes or... or you."

Jaka felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the grey ash. "A golden sofa? Seriously? The deity of this apocalypse is a celestial couch potato?"

"It felt so real," Sari sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. "It felt more real than this. I wanted to go, Jaka. I really, really wanted to sit down. If you hadn't yelled... if you hadn't made that horrible, productive noise... I think I would have stayed there forever."

Jaka patted her back awkwardly, his mind racing. He had 50 Sloth Points left. That meant he could save one more person, maybe two if he was lucky, before he became 'Normal.' And in this world, 'Normal' was just another word for 'Victim.'

"It’s okay," he muttered, though he didn't believe it. "I’m here. I’m still lazy, I’m still a disappointment, and the world is still ending. See? Everything is perfectly normal."

"It’s not normal," Sari pulled back, looking at the silent village. "Where is everyone? Why isn't anyone moving? Father Pram? The elders?"

"They’re all on the 'Golden Sofa,' Sari," Jaka said grimly, standing up and offering her a hand. His limbs felt strangely light, a lingering side-effect of the skill. He hated it. He felt like he could run a marathon, and the very thought made him want to vomit. "We need to move. The System—this golden screen thing in my head—says I’m the only one who can wake people up. But it costs me. It costs me my soul's ability to be a bum."

Sari stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about? Systems? Screens? Jaka, did you hit your head when the rain started?"

"I wish," Jaka sighed. "Look, just stay close to me. Don't breathe too much of this ash, and for the love of everything, don't look for any sofas. If you see furniture in the sky, you tell me immediately, okay?"

Sari nodded, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "I don't like this, Jaka. It’s too quiet. Even the wind sounds like it’s yawning."

"Tell me about it. This whole world needs a cup of strong coffee and a kick in the—"

CRASH!

The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass cut through the silence like a thunderclap. It came from the town center, just past the fountain.

Jaka and Sari froze.

"What was 그—that?" Sari whispered, slipping into her native dialect in her fright.

"That sounded like Pak Gani's bakery," Jaka said, his eyes narrowing.

Another crash followed, accompanied by a low, wet, gurgling sound. It wasn't a snore, and it wasn't a breath. It was the sound of something heavy being dragged across the cobblestones.

Jaka peered around the corner of a silk stall. His jaw dropped.

At the end of the street, the village bakery's front wall had been completely demolished. Standing—or rather, slumped—amidst the wreckage was Pak Gani. But it wasn't the jolly, flour-covered man Jaka remembered.

The baker had tripled in size. His skin was a translucent, doughy grey, sagging off his frame in thick, heavy folds. His eyes were wide and milky, staring at nothing. He wasn't walking; he was leaning forward, his massive weight causing him to tilt, and as he tilted, he simply crushed whatever was in his path.

He reached a fruit stall. Instead of walking around it, Pak Gani let out a long, wheezing groan. He didn't lift his feet. He just leaned his massive, bloated body into the wooden structure. The stall collapsed instantly, crates of apples being crushed into pulp under his sheer mass.

"Is he... is he awake?" Sari hissed, her voice trembling.

"No," Jaka whispered, his hand going to his mouth. "He's not awake. He’s... he’s something else. System! What is that thing?"

[IDENTIFIED: SLOTH MUTANT - TYPE 'THE UNSTOVABLE'.]

[DESCRIPTION: A HUMAN WHOSE WILLPOWER WAS SO LOW THAT THE ASH CONSUMED THEIR PHYSICAL FORM. THEY ARE TOO LAZY TO CHANGE DIRECTION OR LIFT THEIR FEET. THEY WILL SIMPLY CRUSH ANYTHING IN THEIR LINE OF SIGHT.]

Pak Gani turned his head with excruciating slowness toward their direction. His neck made a sound like wet leather stretching.

"Jaka," Sari whimpered, pulling on his arm. "He’s looking at us."

"He's not looking at us, Sari," Jaka said, his voice dropping to a terrified pitch as the giant, doughy baker began to tilt toward them. "He’s just too lazy to look anywhere else. And unfortunately for us, we’re standing in the only direction he’s willing to fall!"

The ground began to shake with a rhythmic, heavy thump as the Sloth Mutant took its first, dragging step toward them, a mountain of grey flesh determined to take the path of least resistance—right through their bones