Chapter 41: A Very Productive Day of Avoiding Work

For the next hour, Ethan and Germaine engaged in what could only be described as a "desperate diplomatic siege." They tried everything: bribery, pleading, appeals to the spirit of camaraderie, and at one point, Ethan even tried to explain a complex theory on why "helping people is actually a great way to clear your karma for future reincarnations."

Jay, however, was a fortress of indifference. He didn't argue; he simply existed in a state of profound "no." Every single request for his assistance was met with a blank stare or a sigh so heavy it practically shifted the tree's center of gravity.

Defeated and thoroughly ignored, the duo finally descended from the canopy, leaving the mysterious archer to his poisoned arrows and his silence.

Once they hit the forest floor, the reality of their situation returned. They were back in the "park," and as usual, the park wanted them dead. Germaine reached into her item box and pulled out her phone, checking the time with a grimace.

"Listen, tin can," she snapped, her voice tight with a mix of annoyance and financial anxiety. "I’ve only got three hours before I have to clock out and head home. I need a payout, and so far, my earnings for the day are bordering on pathetic. If we don't find something high-value soon, I'm basically working for free in a place that smells like wet dog and death."

"I feel you," Ethan replied, his voice echoing hollowly inside his helmet. "The grind is a lie. The system is rigged. We're just cogs in the great, cosmic machine of capitalism, grinding our youth away for credits that barely cover the cost of a decent sandwich."

Internally, Ethan was having a full-blown existential crisis. God, I want to just go in there and smack a boss into the stratosphere. It would be so easy. I could probably solo the whole place while eating a bag of chips.

But then, the fear kicked in. Not fear of the monsters—he was a walking tank—but fear of attention.

If I go in there and absolutely demolish a C-Rank boss with zero effort, someone is going to see it. Some high-ranking scout or a nosy guild member will be lurking in the bushes. Then what? 'Oh, look at Ethan, the mysterious powerhouse! Come join our Elite S-Rank Guild! Work ten hours a day! Take on world-threatening raids! Be a hero!'

He shuddered. The very thought was nauseating.

Being a 'hero' sounds like a nightmare. Who wants that level of responsibility? Responsibility leads to expectations, and expectations lead to... effort. And effort is the enemy of a quality nap.

He knew the bleak reality of his situation. If the world found out he was an E-Ranker performing at a C-Rank or higher level, he had two options: become a pampered slave to a top-tier guild or spend the rest of his life in a government research facility being poked with needles to see why he didn't follow the rules of mana.

The binary choice of the fraud: a golden cage or a concrete one.

"You know," Ethan said aloud, glancing up at the canopy where Jay was still hiding, "I've come to a realization. The pursuit of greatness is a trap. Why climb the mountain when you can just lie at the bottom and watch other people get tired? The true peak of human evolution isn't power or intelligence—it's the ability to be completely mediocre while everyone thinks you're trying your best."

Germaine stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to him, her expression one of genuine, unfiltered shock. She looked at the armored man as if he had just confessed to eating babies for breakfast.

"Where the hell did that come from?" she asked, her voice flat. "Are you actually having a mid-life crisis at twenty? Since when did you become a philosopher of laziness?"

"I'm not a philosopher, Germaine," Ethan replied, stepping over a fallen log with an exaggeratedly slow pace. "I'm a visionary. I'm envisioning a life where my only stress is deciding which flavor of potato chips to buy. Now, let's go find some mid-tier loot that pays well but doesn't require me to actually be 'noticed' by society. I'm aiming for 'vaguely competent'—it's the safest place to be."

As if on cue, the silence of the forest was shattered.

RRAAAAAAARRGGHH!

A Fulminar Wolf exploded from the underbrush in a blur of fur and snapping teeth. But Ethan's instincts, honed by a lifetime of wanting to avoid effort, flared into a brief, violent peak. He didn't even flinch. He stepped into the attack, his gauntleted hand shooting out like a piston and clamping firmly around the wolf's upper and lower jaws mid-howl. The sound was a visceral clack of metal meeting bone.

With a grunt of effort, Ethan pivoted his entire weight, rotating his body in a sweeping arc and slamming the wolf face-first into the dirt with a bone-jarring CRUNCH.

"Now!" Ethan barked.

Germaine didn't hesitate. She stepped in, her blade a silver flash. She drove the sword deep into the creature's stomach, her teeth gritted in a mask of cold concentration. With a sharp, guttural snarl, she ripped the blade upward in a brutal diagonal slash. The wolf didn't even have time to yelp before its body shattered, disintegrating into a cloud of glowing digital pixels that evaporated into the wind.

Ethan stood up, dusting off his chest plate. "Look, since we're on a clock and I actually want to be home in time to ignore my responsibilities," he said, his voice shifting from lazy to something dangerously mischievous, "I'll actually put in some effort this time."

He looked at Germaine. "You ready?"

Germaine blinked, her sword still humming. "Ready for wha—"

WHOOSH!

She didn't get to finish. Ethan gripped her by the waist and, with a sudden, explosive burst of strength, launched her straight up into the air.

"WAAAAAAAAAH!" Germaine’s scream echoed through the canopy as she was sent soaring upward like a very angry, very confused missile.

---

Woke up early. Drank an alarming amount of coffee. Posted this. Now I’ll just sit here in total silence, knowing that absolutely no one is reading this. Just me and my thoughts. It’s fine. I’m fine. ☕️💀